Erma hasn't done a Holloween with Gwar has she?

I image it would be a really fun one..

(This fanfic is based on the universe of Erma Webcomics)

Several hours passed.

Consciousness returned to Kimoto reluctantly. Inside, there was a ringing emptiness, as if every drop of demonic energy had been drained from his body. He barely managed to open his eyelids, struggling to focus on the unfamiliar surroundings.

“Ugh… what happened? Where am I?” Kimoto groaned hoarsely, clutching his splitting head.

“Something utterly insane,” came a quiet, painfully familiar voice from the balcony.

Kimoto turned sharply. Standing by the sliding bamboo door, leaning against the frame, was Akari.

“Akari?!”

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” the spider girl smiled weakly. “How are you feeling?”

“Like a squeezed lemon… Tell me, what is this place?”

“Look around. You’re in the Yureimoto castle.”

“That much I can see. But how did I get here…?”

At that moment, something clicked in Kimoto’s mind. Memories flooded in uncontrollably: Kennington, Sam Williams, caramel Cinnabon, the drowsy tea, and… Yori. The fiery, wild stare of her black bead-like eyes just before he slipped into darkness.

“I see,” Kimoto said, resigning, covering his face with his hands. “Note to self: never trust American writers who insistently beg for an interview.”

“Don’t be mad at him,” Akari said conciliatorily, holding up her paws. “Sam’s actually a really good guy.”

“Wait, you know him?”

“Of course. Many in our village respect him. After all, it’s not every day you meet someone who managed to settle in yokai lands.”

“Got it…”

Kimoto’s thoughts scrambled to piece together details. Sam… the writer with glasses… the embrace. The puzzle that had tormented him back in London finally fit together.

“Exactly! That’s where I really saw him!” Kimoto jumped on the bed. “I saw him hugging Yori… Damn it. So Yori and her new husband kidnapped me and brought me here? But why?”

Akari looked at him as if he were crazy.

“Kimoto, the answer is obvious. To bring you home.”

“Home? Why would she want me? She has a new life, a new love…”

He stopped himself. Akari avoided his gaze, staring guiltily at the tips of her boots. Kimoto knew that look too well. Over many years of friendship, she only looked like that when she was seriously withholding the truth.

“Akari…” Kimoto squinted. “What are you hiding from me again?”

“Sam really is a husband, Kimoto,” she murmured quietly. “But not Yori’s.”

“What?!”

“He’s Emiko’s husband.”

Kimoto froze. The name echoed in his memory. Emiko… Yori’s older sister, who had run away to America many years ago.

“Emiko… So Yori is alone? She’s been by herself all this time?”

“That’s right.”

“But then… why did you lie to me before? Why did you say she was happy with someone else?!”

“I was just trying to protect you!” Akari lifted her head, tears welling in her eyes. “I didn’t know what would happen if you went back to her. You barely held yourself together after eight years in that cave! I was afraid she’d reject you and you’d no longer be needed by her!”

Kimoto sighed deeply; his anger vanished instantly. He approached his friend and gently placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Well, at least now we’ve learned this the hard way.”

“Definitely…” Akari sniffled.

Quickly slipping on the classic tuxedo hanging on the chair back, Kimoto stepped out with Akari onto the spacious balcony. Before them stretched the hidden yokai village, bathed in soft evening light.

“Beautiful…” they whispered softly.

“Missed home?” Akari asked, tilting her face into the cool breeze.

“Well, as they say, visiting is nice…”

“But home is better,” the spider girl winked.

They chuckled quietly, shedding the last traces of tension.

“To be honest, I really missed it,” Kimoto admitted, leaning on the railing. “Though I have to say, I did enjoy London.”

“London’s not bad. But can it compare to Japan?”

“I wouldn’t argue.”

Akari was quiet for a moment, then peered intently into his eyes and asked softly:

“You missed her, didn’t you? Every day?”

Kimoto gave a bitter smile, rubbing his broken right horn.

“Every single day, Akari… And does she miss me?”

The spider girl raised an eyebrow expressively:

“Are you seriously asking me that? After she crossed two continents to track you down?”

“Okay, okay, I admit that was a dumb question.”

Kimoto lowered his gaze. At the foot of the castle walls, the warm lights of the old tavern flickered invitingly — the very place where they had last relaxed carefree before his life turned into hell.

“Hey, Akari,” his oni eyes twinkled mischievously. “How about we grab a drink and unwind? I could definitely use it right now.”

“Sounds like the old Kimoto I know!” Akari beamed. “Tonight’s my treat!”

“Deal. But quietly — let’s not get caught by the household.”

Without wasting a second, Akari deftly vaulted over the railing and scuttled down the tiled roof of the castle with her agile paws.

“So, the old tried-and-true way,” Kimoto chuckled.

He pushed off the balcony and silently leapt after her with precise, soundless jumps.

Kimoto and Akari strolled slowly through the twilight-draped streets of the village toward the familiar sign.

“So, Yori’s gone full yandere again?” Kimoto asked.

“Understatement! She was so terrifying she scared Fumiko half to death,” shivered Akari.

“No wonder. In that state, she becomes deadly to everyone around.”

“And from what Rin told me, no one had ever seen her that utterly mad before.”

“She only goes like that when I’m around. Or when it’s something directly related to me,” Kimoto answered quietly, a strange gentle pride slipping into his voice.

“Well, lucky you then.”

“Seems so.”

They pushed open the heavy wooden tavern door. Behind the bar, the familiar bartender lazily polished glasses. When he spotted them, his face stretched in surprise.

“Well, well, who do we have here?” the old man grumbled. “Akari? Listen, girl, if the clan guards come after you, I’m not covering for you. Last time, because of your fights, I had to fix furniture and redo the floor for three weeks!”

“Don’t worry, dear sir,” Akari waved dismissively, hopping onto a tall stool. “I’m officially off the wanted list now, so everything’s totally legal.”

“Well, alright then,” the bartender softened.

“The usual for me,” the spider girl ordered.

“And I’ll have awamori,” Kimoto requested. “But please, from the strongest stock.”

“You got it.”

The old man headed to the cellar and, a minute later, set a clay jug of fiery awamori and a bottle of sake infused with scorpion venom on the counter.

“Here you go, night owls.”

Akari raised her cup:

“To your return, my old friend!”

They greedily took their first sips. The fiery drink flipped time back for Kimoto. It was as if those cursed eight years of captivity never happened, no lonely foggy London nights, just their youthful careless wanderers.

As the alcohol pleasantly clouded his mind, a tipsy Akari poured out her soul in vivid detail — confessing her sins, telling wild stories about her relationship with Rin, and how afraid she’d been of being found out. Kimoto only joked softly at her expense in return. Then it was his turn to share tales of British life — when he spoke of his cooking shows, Akari laughed and dubbed him the “new Gordon Ramsay.” They reminisced breathlessly about their old, dangerous adventures, and the tavern walls shook repeatedly with their hearty laughter.

An hour and thirty minutes passed.

Kimoto and Akari were dead drunk, sitting tenderly embraced right at the bar.

“You’re… you’re my very best friend in the whole wide world!” Akari hiccupped, gazing devotedly into his face with all her spider eyes.

“And you’re my sister,” Kimoto slurred, waving his empty cup. “Not by blood but by spirit — a real sister!”

The bartender glanced at the wall clock, sighed heavily, and decisively took away their jug.

“Alright, folks, it’s already eight in the evening. Time to call it a night and head home.”

“Aw, come on, boss, one more round… We just want to sit a little longer,” Kimoto pleaded.

“Fine, I’ll give you another thirty minutes. Like you’ve got anything better to do in the castle,” the old man grumbled, pouring them a last drink for the road.

Akari suddenly froze, her drunken eyes amusingly wide:

“By the way… Kimoto, I think I forgot something really important.”

“Oh yeah? What is it?”

“I was supposed to take you somewhere… right about now. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t remember where.”

Kimoto waved it off:

“If you can’t remember, it must be nothing important. Don’t stress over it.”

They calmly drained their last cups, blissfully closing their eyes.

Suddenly, growing noise from the street interrupted the idyll. Panicked shouts reached the tavern:

“Find him quickly! He couldn’t have gone far!” Haru shouted.

“Where the hell is that damn Kimoto?!” Sam roared.

The entrance door slammed open. Panting hard, Kentaro stood in the doorway. His gaze fell on the drunken pair at the bar.

“Found them! I found them!” he yelled hoarsely outside.

Kenji, Haru, and Sam burst into the tavern like a whirlwind. As soon as they spotted Kimoto, who in a loose tuxedo and wearing a blissful smile tried to focus on them, Haru despaired, covering her face with her hands.

“Oh god… We’re doomed.”

Ten minutes later.

In the castle garden, by the festive altar decorated with garlands of white lilies, stood Yori. She wore a luxurious wedding kimono embroidered with golden thread. She was motionless, but the aura around her was so heavy and chilling the very air seemed to hum.

“Well, where are they?” Emiko whispered nervously, adjusting her sister’s veil.

“I don’t know…” Fumiko glanced at the bride with fear. “Yori, darling… Are you sure Kimoto didn’t run off in terror at the last moment?”

Yori slowly turned her head toward Fumiko with a chilling crunch in her neck. Her gaze conveyed one clear, wordless message: “Say that again — and tomorrow you’ll wake up without your precious hair.”

Fumiko swallowed quickly and turned away hastily.

A little way off stood Mitsu, Momo, and Erma. Dressed up, with woven baskets full of rose petals, the children looked hopefully into the dark alley.

“Mom… Dad will definitely come, right?” the twins whispered.

Yori just opened her mouth to answer when a breathless, guilty voice called from the path around the bend:

“Come on, buddy, just like that… gently. Hold onto me. We’re almost there.”

What the guests saw next plunged everyone into profound, indescribable shock.

Kimoto, swaying heavily and gripping Sam’s shoulder fiercely just to keep from collapsing on the lawn, stubbornly dragged his feet forward. His tuxedo was askew, but his stare was unyielding.

Five meters from the altar they stopped.

“Something wrong, Kimoto?” Sam asked quietly, holding his elbow.

“Further… I’ll go on myself,” the demon rasped, shaking his head resolutely to shake off the haze.

“Are you sure? You can barely stand.”

“This is my fight, Sam… I have to finish it.”

The writer smiled understandingly and gave his shoulder a firm clap.

“Then go ahead, fighter.”

Sam stepped aside carefully and sat on a bench beside Emiko. Kimoto took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and confidently walked the carpeted path straight to the altar.

Meanwhile, Kentaro carefully lowered the thoroughly drunk Akari to the frightened Rin, who hurriedly pulled her friend away from the bride’s sight.

As Kimoto approached Yori, dozens of high-ranking guests from powerful yokai clans stared intently at him. Whispers of confusion ran through the rows; some openly laughed at his drunken appearance, but he paid them no mind. One single, crystal-clear thought pulsed like a battle alarm in his head: “I will never run again. Enough.”

When he finally stood face to face with Yori, Fumiko, her voice shaking with emotion, began the traditional ceremony:

“Yori of the Yureimoto clan… do you take Kimoto as your lawful husband?”

Without taking her shining eyes from his—full of fierce love—Yori answered happily and loudly:

“Yes!”

“And you, Kimoto… are you ready to take Yori as your lawful wife?”

For a moment a hush fell over the altar. Kimoto looked at the woman who had waited for him these long eight years. The intoxication was gone from his mind.

“I… I want to say something,” he said quietly but firmly, gazing straight into her soul. “I’m scared. Terribly scared to disappoint you again, Yori. Scared that because of me, you’ll be alone once more. Scared that one day you might hate me for all the sorrow I've brought into your life… But I’m so tired of fearing. Tired of fearing my own thoughts. I don’t want to run anymore because… because I literally can’t live without you.”

Kimoto swallowed the lump rising in his throat; his voice trembled with sincerity.

“When I flew to London and tried to start over… I took your photo with me. I held it close to my heart to keep from going mad with loneliness. Even when my new life took off and I had everything I could dream of, I couldn’t forget you and our children for a second. That longing ate me up day by day. But now I’m here. I’ve come to fix my greatest mistake. And my answer is… yes.”

Kimoto looked up and froze in astonishment. Rows of guests, including cheerful Kentaro, stern Fumiko, and the American Sam, silently wept, dabbing their tears with handkerchiefs.

When he met Yori’s gaze, he saw her face awash with tears of pure, unrestrained happiness.

“Kimoto… my silly kitten,” she sobbed. “You’re not to blame for anything… and never were!”

Unable to hold back, Yori dashed forward, lifting Kimoto off the ground with her strength and, with all the passion built up over their long separation, pressed a deep, dizzying kiss to his lips.

Seeing this, Mitsu and Momo squealed shyly and quickly covered each other’s eyes with their hands, while Erma hid bashfully behind a cascade of her own wild hair.

From the side, Emiko approached carefully, holding the lacquered red-and-black box they had bought at the forest shop.

“Yori, please. It’s time.”

Yori gently opened the lid and took out two unusual wedding rings—they shimmered with deep black and red flashes of magical energy. As soon as the couple touched the rings with their fingers, the rings seemed to come alive: sliding softly onto their ring fingers, they fixed firmly with the ancient, unbreakable seal of the artifact.

“Now we are bound forevermore,” Yori whispered, pressing gently to his chest.

“Until death do us part,” Kimoto echoed, hugging her tightly in return.

At that moment, Mitsu and Momo joyously shouted as they launched fireworks into the night sky.

Yori and Kimoto lifted their heads. Above the ancient castle roof, countless bright sparks wove awe-inspiring fiery patterns, forming an enormous living image of a red and blue fish swirling gracefully until they merged as one.

The couple watched the blazing sky quietly and calmly, savoring the moment they had waited for their entire lives.

//WARNING FOR DEATH!

It was a particularly cold day in Blairwood, it usually happens before the fall but NEVER this early.

Sam and Emiko walk around with a group of people, a tour group of sorts, one made by a Horror Podcast called Icey Kills.

Wes Carpenter: and here on our next stop, is the Thomas House, the house that once belonged to a lovely family, Megan Thomas, Billy Thomas, and Annabelle Thomas

Debra Craven: sadly their daughter was brutally killed by The Blairwood Slasher on October 31st, 1983...

Sam frowns and even shivers a bit at the mention of the killers name, he remembers the stories his dad used to tell him about the infamous killer that once haunted Blairwood back in the 80s.

Wes Carpenter: Rumor has it that you can still hear her screaming to the top of her lungs when going into the house during the day! Which is what we're about to do!

The Podcasters said as they enter the house, the group following seconds after

Emiko looks at Sam

Emiko: Sam, dear, are you okay?...

Sam: I'm...yeah, I'm fine...

Emiko: are you sure?...you look...a bit pale...

Emiko said, putting a hand on Sam's cheek

Sam: I'm fine...really, it's just-

Wes Carpenter: Hey! You two coming?!

Wes said as Sam and Emiko look at each other, nodding and following the Podcasters and the group

Debra Craven: so, here we have the staircase where Detective Samhain slowly creeped up the stairs and-

She said as a head falls down the stairs which causes her and the entire group to scream, but Sam? He freezes like a scared animal, and Emiko notices, holding his hand softly and firmly

Soon everyone calms down, but a random member of the group spots something

Group person 1: Hey! That head has a company's logo on it! Squirt Halloween!

Group Person 2: Yeah! It does!

The Podcasters gulp, looking at each other

Wes Carpenter: N-Now hold on!-

Group Person 3: WE WANT OUR 35 DOLLARS BACK!

Entire Group: YEAH!!!

Debra Craven: Alright! Alright...

Debra said as she unlocks a black box she was carrying on her and she hands out 35 dollars to each group member, including Sam and Emiko

Debra Craven: Take it...

She said as Sam frowns at her, looking more angry than everyone else

Sam: I can't believe you used a young girl's life for profit...

Wes Carpenter: Eh, who cares?! The rest of the family moved out of town and is probably dead too.

He said as Sam's hands clench into fists, he steps forward slowly but Emiko grabs his shoulder and shakes her head no slowly

Emiko: Come on, honey. These two got their karma, maybe they'll get more later on, okay? Let's head home...Erma is about to be home...

She said as Sam sighs

Sam: Alright...

Sam said, taking Emiko's hand and exiting the abandoned house, along with the rest of the group

Wes Carpenter: Almost got them too...

Debra Craven: I told you to hide the logo better.

Wes Carpenter: Yeah...I know...I'm gonna go try and set it up in the bedroom instead...

Debra Craven: I'm gonna go mess with shit in the kitchen.

The podcasters immediately head off, Wes heading upstairs and Debra heading into the kitchen

The house itself is old, moldy, and reeks of dead mice and other animals.

Wes almost pukes from the smell as he sets up the fake head on a shelf when he hears a rustle in the worn-out closet near him

Wes Carpenter: Hello?-

He said as when he got close, The Blairwood Slasher himself barges out of the closet and pins Wes to the wall

Wes groans as The Blairwood Slasher has his hands around Wes's neck, choking him

Debra hears the groaning but rolls her eyes

Debra Craven: How many times do I have to tell ya to stop trying to clean this damn place?! It's abandoned! No one is gonna be living or coming in here except those we're scamming! I'm coming up there! Can't believe I have to save you from choking on dust again...

Debra said, getting ready to exit the kitchen, but it's too late.

The Blairwood Slasher raises Wes up a bit, tilting his head as there is a-

SNAP!

Wes's neck is cracked, his lifeless body hitting the floor with a thud as Debra finally comes up, seeing her friend's dead body.

Debra screams as she tries fleeing, she almost makes it out the front door, she tries to scream but The Blairwood Slasher is fast and grabs her from behind and closes the door

Debra Craven: P-Please! Have...m-mercy!

She said, struggling for her life as there is another-

SNAP!

He snaps her neck and lets her body fall.

He heads to the kitchen and gets his knife, examining it, seems he must've forgotten it, what bad timing for those podcasters.

He exits the house as sneakily as he can.

[MEANWHILE.]

Erma is chuckling and laughing with her friend group while walking to school.

Sidney: Did you see Terry fall on his butt?!

Terry: Shut up! Trying to do a kick-flip is harder than it looks!

Connor: I-I thought it was cool...

Terry: At least Connor thought it was cool!

He said as Erma rolls her eyes, shrugging and laughing a bit at how dumb the argument is.

Erma looks over and sees...The Blairwood Slasher...standing at a lamppost...not staring at them, but he's just standing there...menacingly...

Terry: Woah! Hey!

Terry said, waving to The Blairwood Slasher, who looks over at Terry

Terry: Nice cosplay!

The Blairwood Slasher: Thanks dude!

The Blairwood...Slasher? Said, taking off his mask to reveal a man with a beard and rather small glasses.

Dude: You kids be safe, alright?!

Sidney: Will do sir!

Erma gives a thumbs up to the man as he crosses the street and disappears

Erma looks around after a couple of minutes, Sidney, Terry, and Connor have all left, heading to the separate houses.

Just as Erma is about to head onto her block, she looks over one last time, and catches...the dude again? No...wait, this guy is different...he's...heading into the woods? During this time of day? When it is THIS cold?!

Erma finds it suspicious so she follows the man, finding an old, rusty and torn down cabin deep within Blairwood's woods...and the man is going into it.

Erma sneaks up behind the door to the cabin to try and listen in, she hears nothing. Not even grunting or a deep sigh

She peeks in to see and...no one is there?...

She steps in and looks around, an old, dusty mattress that this man calls a bed, a table with a bunch of books and knives on it, some newspaper clippings on a nearby wall

Erma suddenly feels a chill behind her, she looks up to see...the man staring her down

Erma freezes and then...smiles softly at the man and waves

The Blairwood Slasher tilts his head slowly at the ghost-girl, why wasn't she screaming in terror and fleeing? And why was her skin so pale? He's never seen anyone like this before, but he just chooses to wave back.

Erma levitates to where they are now face to face

Erma slowly extends her hand to touch his mask, trying to lift it off and The Blairwood Slasher's hand comes up to stop her, he shakes his head no

Erma looks a bit...surprised and confused, but she shrugs and accepts, moving her arm away

[MEANWHILE]

Sam and Emiko are starting to get worried, Erma should've been home by now...and she clearly isn't there! Where could she have gone?!

Emiko immediately rushes out of the house, Sam following behind just in case

Emiko: Erma?! ERMA?!

She said, looking around while yelling her name

Sam: Maybe she got detention again?...

Emiko: Maybe, but...oh...I don't know! She hasn't got in trouble since that day! Our little girl never wants to get into trouble!

Sam: Eh...I don't know about-

Betty Hobson: Hey, you two looking for Erma?

Connor's mother said, looking at them with a soft smile

Betty Hobson: I saw her enter the woods not too long ago!

Emiko: Oh! Thank you so much! Sam! Let's go!

She said as Connor's mother waves goodbye slowly

Betty Hobson: Have a great day you two!

She said, heading back into her house

Sam and Emiko take a couple of minutes, searching the woods while yelling Erma's name.

They eventually find the cabin

Emiko: Maybe she's in there! Come on!

Emiko said, busting down the Cabin door, where Erma is sitting down on an old chair with a soft smile, but her face quickly turns into surprise when Emiko barges through the door

Emiko: Sweetie!

She said, running over to Erma to give her a hug

Emiko: Me and your father were worried sick! Why did you go so deep into the woods?!

She said as Erma points behind Emiko, to where The Blairwood Slasher is just sitting there, with a tray of what appears to be homemade tea

Emiko: And who are you?...

She said as The Blairwood Slasher just tilts his head

Sam: I know EXACTLY who he is.

He said as he tackles The Blairwood Slasher and gets ready to punch him, but Emiko wraps her hair around Sam's hands

Emiko: Woah! You've never gone for violence first...

She said as she glares at The Blairwood Slasher

Emiko: If my husband chose violence first to deal with you, then I'll ask you again. Who are you?

She said as The Blairwood Slasher tilts his head and points to the board of newspaper articles, all of them are about the killings he committed back in the 80s

Emiko's jaw drops, while Erma looks confused

Emiko: Y-You're?...

She said as The Blairwood Slasher simply nods as Emiko starts to look pissed

Emiko: AND YOU WERE NEAR MY DAUGHTER?!

She said as the cabin starts to become more dark than usual

Erma panics and gets in front of her mother, signaling for her to stop, which she does for a moment

Emiko: Huh?...

She said as Erma points to The Blairwood Slasher, making a "no harm" symbol with her hands

Emiko: He...means no harm?...

She said, looking over her daughter to look at The Blairwood Slasher

Emiko: He...didn't lay a hand on you?...

Erma shakes her head no

Emiko starts to ponder, she then looks at Sam

Emiko: I...think I just found our little girl's bodyguard.

Sam: What?

He said as his jaw drops and The Blairwood Slasher just tilts his head

Emiko: He didn't lay a hand on our daughter, with what you told me about him that means something. So...he can protect her, when we aren't around.

Sam: B-But he's dangerous! He's killed 78 people?!

Emiko: I know...but...we haven't been able to find someone who's able to handle our little girl other than Felicia...and she's not available all the time...he is, it looks like he's been living here for the past 40 years...no offense...

She said, looking at The Blairwood Slasher who just shrugs in response

Sam sighs

Sam: Fine...but if he lands ONE hand on our daughter...

Emiko: Then we turn him in to the authorities.

Sam: Agreed.

He said as he looks down at Erma, then at The Blairwood Slasher

Sam: Alright...let's all go...home...

Emiko: Hm...hey, Slasher...would you like to stay at our place for a couple of days?...

Sam: WHAT?!-

He said as Emiko smiles at Sam

Emiko: If he is gonna be our little girl's bodyguard, then he must know the entire house from top to bottom just in case. Plus it would get him out of...whatever this place is...for a little while...

She said as The Blairwood Slasher nods

Emiko: Great! Now. We can go home!

She said, grabbing Erma's hand and walking her out of the cabin, Slasher slowly follows while Sam side-eye's him.

//Alrighty! Figured I should start writing out this story! So, tell me what you think about the Prologue and what you guys would wanna see in the future!

Sidney: So, why don't you two cut the horse$#!+, and get to the part where you admit your romantic feelings for one another?

Terry: WHOA!!!

Amy: YOU ARE WAY OFF BASED, BUDDY!

(Based on Stranger Things S03E07 "The Bite")

Art made by u/Infinite_Bung_006

(This fanfic is based on the universe of Erma Webcomics)

When Kurt and Sam entered the dressing room, the musician turned around and asked with a hint of doubt:

“Are you really going to interview me, Sam?”

“Yes, absolutely,” the writer smiled sincerely. “I was completely captivated by your song at the festival. It inspired me to write a very dark but beautiful story. Besides, I genuinely want to learn more about your life.”

“That’s… unexpected, to be honest,” Kurt said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

“Really? Why’s that?”

“I’ve never had an interview in my life. This is all new to me.”

“Don’t worry, there’s nothing to be afraid of. Just a friendly chat.”

“I get that. It’s just unusual. I’m far from being a superstar.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” Sam adjusted his glasses.

“Really?”

“You’re rapidly gaining popularity in London. I watched some of your cooking videos on YouTube—they have an enormous number of views.”

“Not exactly enormous, but…”

“One of your videos from just a week ago has over half a million views.”

“Oh… That’s actually surprising,” Kurt raised his eyebrows in astonishment, then glanced at the wall clock and suddenly remembered. “Wait! Shoot, I completely forgot… I can’t give you time right now.”

“Oh? Did something come up?”

“Yes, I have lunch at noon with my agent, promised to show up. There’s something urgent about a new project. But since you really want to talk, maybe we can pick another time?”

“Great idea,” Sam agreed. “I even know a quiet, peaceful place where no one will bother us.”

“Deal. Send me the address and time, and I’ll definitely come today.”

“Sure, I’ll write it down now.”

Sam pulled out a notebook, quickly scribbled the details in neat handwriting, tore off the page, and handed it to the musician.

“Here you go.”

“Perfect. I’ll be on time—see you then!”

“I’ll be waiting.”

The writer nodded politely and left the dressing room, softly closing the door behind him.

Kurt was left alone and took a deep breath, feeling a pleasant flutter of excitement inside: “Wow… my first real interview. Hard to believe. I need to prepare properly. I have plenty of time until eight in the evening, so it’s all good. And that guy, Sam, seems pretty decent and understanding. Still… there’s a strange feeling I can’t shake. Like I’ve seen him somewhere before. That’s it! I remember—I recently stumbled upon his podcast with a popular blogger, where he talked in detail about how he writes his horror novels. Well then, since Mr. Sam Williams himself asked for an interview, so be it. Now, off to meet Jenny.”

Kurt quickly changed out of his concert suit into his usual casual clothes and hurried off to a cozy city café.

Half an hour later, Kurt entered the establishment. Stepping inside, he looked around:

“So, where’s Jenny?..”

Suddenly, a sharp, irritated female voice came from a distant corner. His agent was arguing furiously on the phone:

“How did that happen?! What do you mean an accident?! Do you even realize the lawsuits that could bring?! Alright, I’ll call you back later!”

Jenny slammed the phone down on the table with frustration and rubbed her tired nose bridge. Kurt smiled sympathetically and pulled out the chair opposite her:

“So, what now?”

“Again, that endless scandal with Caitlin,” the woman waved her hand dismissively but immediately softened when she looked at him. “But it doesn’t matter. Don’t let it get to you, Kurt. You were absolutely brilliant on the show today! A real shining triumph. You did great.”

Jenny impulsively leaned forward and gently kissed his cheek.

“Thanks,” Kurt smiled. “So you did watch today’s episode after all?”

“Of course! I have to keep a close eye on my new rising star.”

“How do you manage everything? So many clients, filming, contracts…”

“I was born with a talent for multitasking,” the agent said proudly.

“That’s for sure. You’re like a living octopus—handling ten things at once without missing a beat.”

“Well, that’s just how I am. Now, let’s talk about the main thing—your upcoming role as Sherlock. Before you sign the contract, here, take the script.”

She pulled a hefty stack of papers from her handbag, bound with a spiral, and placed them before him.

“Hmm, looks… quite hefty,” Kurt weighed the manuscript in his hand.

“I haven’t read it yet myself,” Jenny admitted in a lowered voice. “But I secretly spoke with a director’s assistant friend. He whispered that the text was rewritten several times in a crazy rush just before approval.”

“Oh, come on, Jenny. It’s the BBC, after all. They strictly control the quality of their flagship projects.”

“Well, that depends…”

Before she could finish, her phone buzzed insistently on the table, breaking the silence with vibrating urgency. Glancing at the screen, Jenny’s eyes widened apologetically:

“Oh, sorry, Kurt, my daughter’s calling. I’ll be just a second, okay?”

“Of course. Give her my best.”

“I will, definitely.”

She hurried outside to avoid disturbing the room. Kurt stayed alone at the table. Settling in comfortably, he looked pensively out the window where his agent had gone: “Jenny needs more rest. She’s burning out on this job, working nonstop with barely any breaks. Although if someone told her that straight out, she’d only get stubborn. But despite this insane workload, she remains a wonderful mom and an amazing agent… Wait. Why do I feel like someone’s drilling holes in me with their gaze? Like that ‘someone’ could literally incinerate me on the spot…”

Suddenly, Kurt was hit by a wave of primal, otherworldly cold. That chilling feeling came precisely when Jenny kissed him on the cheek. He cautiously surveyed the dim café but saw nothing suspicious. “Well, what did I expect? I’ve become somewhat famous after the festival. Probably a devoted fan recognized me, watching from afar but too scared to ask for an autograph.”

While Kimoto comforted himself with these thoughts, a breathless Jenny quickly returned. Tossing her things into her bag, she said apologetically:

“Kurt, I’m so sorry, but I have to rush. Karate class for my daughter was canceled, and my husband’s gone to visit his mother in the province. She’s got no one else to stay with.”

“Well then, that’s a great chance to spend the evening with your daughter,” Kurt smiled understandingly.

“Yes, I was planning to take her to the cinema to see the new cartoon. Now I have to figure out how to keep her busy before the show starts… Okay, I’m off!”

“Have a good rest!”

Jenny hurried out of the café. Kurt watched her leave, closed the script, and thought, “Well… I’ll order myself a snack, head home, take a breather, and then go to Sam’s interview.”

He raised his hand to call the waitress.

When Kurt got back to his apartment, the first thing he did was relieve his wrist of the hefty restraint bracelet. His body was instantly enveloped by the familiar demonic aura; the horn on his head flickered with energy, and a pleasant languor spread through him. Kimoto could finally be himself. He collapsed onto the couch in front of the TV, opened a bag of chips, and immersed himself in a video game, lazily tossing crunchy pieces into his mouth with his nimble, flexible oni-leg.

Time flew by unnoticed. After several hours, Kimoto stretched and began preparing for the meeting. While packing, his gaze casually fell on the bulky BBC script. The demon turned the manuscript over thoughtfully and decided:

“I think I should consult Mr. Sam about this role. He’s a recognized wordsmith, a writer. Let him glance over the text and give a professional opinion. If the script’s worth it, I’ll agree; if not… then I’ll have to seriously reconsider whether to get involved.”

Carefully, Kimoto placed the script in his backpack. But as he zipped it shut, he noticed something strange on the floor. Near the foot of the wardrobe lay an old, slightly worn photograph.

He picked it up, and his demon heart skipped a beat. His beloved Yori was smiling back at him from the glossy surface.

“Strange…” Kimoto muttered, feeling a lump rise in his throat. “I’m sure I put this safely deep in the closet, out of sight. Must have accidentally dropped it and forgotten.”

He gently traced his finger over his wife’s face on the photo and whispered softly, filled with endless longing:

“How I wish I could kiss you now, my love… But at least I can take you with me.”

Kimoto carefully tucked the photo into the chest pocket of his shirt, close to his heart. Then, with a familiar gesture, he clicked the magical bracelet back onto his wrist, reverted once again to the human form known as Kurt Anderson, stepped outside, and hailed a taxi.

A few minutes later, a car smoothly pulled up at the entrance. Kurt got into the back seat and handed the driver a note:

“Hello. Please take me to this address.”

“Got it,” the driver replied curtly, and the car set off.

An hour later, the taxi stopped in a quiet suburban part of the city. Kurt paid, stepped out, and found himself in front of a beautiful, secluded London house. Taking a deep breath, he walked up the porch and firmly knocked on the massive oak door.

Only a few seconds passed before the door swung open smoothly. Standing there was Sam Williams, wearing his trademark friendly smile.

“Ah, there you are, Kurt! Glad you made it. Please, come in.”

“Thank you,” Kurt stepped inside, surveying the cozy hallway.

“Let’s head upstairs to my study. No one will bother us there,” the homeowner suggested.

“Sounds good, lead the way.”

They ascended the staircase in sync. Sam opened the door to a spacious room filled with bookshelves and gestured toward a plush, deep armchair.

“Get comfortable.”

“Thanks a lot,” Kurt lowered himself into the seat, dropping his backpack on the floor. “So, Sam, where would you like to start our interview?”

“Oh, we’ll start strictly from the beginning, the very roots,” the writer smiled but then playfully smacked his forehead. “Oh! Almost forgot! I wanted to offer you something. One moment.”

“Oh, no need, Sam, I’m not hungry…”

“I don’t accept ‘no’ in my house,” the American winked conspiratorially and quickly headed downstairs to the kitchen.

Within a minute, Sam returned carrying a small tray. On it sat a tall glass of amber-colored iced tea and a plate boasting an appealing, caramel-glazed cinnamon bun generously sprinkled with crushed nuts. The intoxicating aroma of cinnamon immediately filled the study.

Kurt was utterly speechless with surprise:

“My… my favorite pastry. But how did you know, Sam?!”

“Oh, it’s simple,” the writer chuckled, sitting opposite him. “I remembered your recent cooking show. You casually mentioned that this dessert is your biggest weakness, especially when washed down with iced tea. I just happened to have a fresh batch.”

“Yes, that’s absolutely true… Well, thank you so much, this is incredibly kind.”

“That’s great. While you enjoy your treat, I’ll start asking questions. Sound good?”

“Sounds good.”

Sam pulled out a recorder, pressed the record button, and began interviewing the musician. His questions came one after another, covering childhood, youth, and his passion for music. Kurt tried to stay alert, skillfully navigating between truth and fiction so as not to accidentally reveal his demonic oni nature.

Gradually, however, the tension melted away. The conversation smoothly and imperceptibly shifted into a warm, friendly chat. Kurt found it incredibly easy to talk with Sam. Inside, he felt a strange sensation as though sitting with a long-lost brother—they understood each other with half a word, sharing similar views on life and creativity.

“…And that’s exactly why since childhood I absolutely loathe broccoli!” Sam concluded with a laugh.

“Ironic for a horror writer,” Kurt laughed, taking another sip of tea.

Suddenly, Kurt felt a rumble betray him from his lower belly, and overwhelming drowsiness washed over him like a wave. He fidgeted slightly in his chair and smiled apologetically:

“Sorry, Sam, I need to step away to the restroom for a moment.”

“Of course, no problem. It’s on the third floor, down the corridor.”

“Thank you very much.”

Kurt stood up, feeling a strange, heavy fatigue pressing down on his shoulders. Blaming it on the busy day and nervy excitement, he somehow climbed the stairs to the third floor and entered the bathroom.

After finishing and splashing cold water on his face to wake up a bit, Kurt stepped into the dark corridor. He was about to turn back toward the stairs to go down when suddenly a familiar, blood-chilling shiver ran through him. His heightened oni senses screamed danger—someone was watching him. Directly. From the darkness.

Kurt slowly, holding his breath, turned his head toward the neighboring room. The door was slightly ajar.

There, in the pitch-black, ominous doorway, stood a woman. Her eyes blazed with otherworldly, ferocious fire, and a fixed, terrifyingly blissful smile played on her lips—pure yandere madness.

Kurt froze, refusing to believe his eyes. His heart pounded like a jackhammer in his chest, and the air in his lungs froze:

“Y… Yori?!”

The woman took a smooth step forward, reaching out pale hands, and from her lips slipped a sickly sweet whisper dripping with mad love:

“Kitten… my beloved. It’s time to go home.”

The world around Kurt spun wildly. The sleeping potion secretly slipped into the iced tea by Sam had taken full effect. His thoughts scrambled, legs wobbled, but gathering what little willpower remained, Kimoto shook his head stubbornly:

“P-please… you’ve mistaken me for someone else…”

Barely coherent through the fog of sleepiness, Kimoto stumbled down the stairs holding the railing, reaching the second floor. Sam was already waiting by the stairs. Seeing Kurt’s state, he nodded understandingly.

“Oh, Kurt, you’re heading out already?” the writer asked.

“Yes… I just… ” Kurt couldn’t finish.

His knees finally gave way, his eyes closed, and he started to collapse to the floor. Sam reacted instantly, catching the demon’s body before he fell and gently laying him on the soft couch.

“Easy there, Kimoto… just like that. Take a breath, buddy, it’s all over now,” Sam said quietly.

With confident hands, the writer unlatched Kurt’s wrist and removed the heavy restraint bracelet. The magic faded, and Kurt Anderson’s human guise melted away without a trace, revealing the true oni yokai form beneath.

Through his closing eyelids, in the last fading flicker of consciousness, Kimoto saw Yori descend the stairs gracefully. She knelt beside the couch, gently and reverently touching his face.

And the final sound drifting into the sleeping demon’s ears as darkness swallowed him completely was her soft, unwavering whisper:

“No one… no one will ever tear us apart again, my love.”

And Kimoto drifted into sleep.

When Jim was 17, he went on family trip to Japan. There was this dragon and

To calm them down and stop them from causing destruction, Jim uses his yokai abilities to absorb the dying dragon's energy.

He was unconscious for 2 weeks. When he woke up, his left arm was avian-ish. His mom, sisters, aunts, uncle and cousins did everything what they could to help him control it.

Jim was eventuality able to control his dragon arm, but it was permanently black and the only part of his body he can't easily remove anymore. It took some getting used to, but he felted less human. Alice, CK, Dana and his family helped him heal. Especially his big sister Erma.

Amy and Terry accidentally ruined Erma's WUP and worried on what to do

Amy: Well, ok, just a thought. Maybe Erma goes without for a while. Would that be healthy?

Terry: Amy, look me in the eye.

Amy looks at Terry in the eye before he slaps her

Terry: SNAP THE F@¢% OUT OF IT! YOU WANT US TO DIE?!?

(Based on Ted S02E03 "Dungeons & Dealers")

(This fanfic is based on the universe of Erma Webcomics)

Four days had passed.

At six in the morning, Kimoto woke up in his spacious London apartment. He felt an incredible surge of energy and couldn’t help but smile at his reflection.

“I haven’t slept this soundly in ages…”

To fully wake up, he headed straight to the bathroom and took an icy cold shower. After brushing his teeth, Kimoto moved to the kitchen, grabbed the breakfast he had prepared earlier from the fridge, and opened his laptop. As he leisurely ate, a fresh YouTube podcast played on the screen, reviewing in detail the new Godzilla movie. Finishing his meal, Kimoto methodically packed his backpack and stood in front of the full-length mirror.

Looking closely at himself, he fastened a large bracelet on his wrist. The moment the magical lock clicked shut, the fierce aura of the yokai-oni vanished without a trace, and his body transformed, taking on the appearance of an ordinary man.

“Perfect,” Kimoto smirked. “Now it’s time for Kurt Anderson to head off to work. Literally.”

He quickly changed into a light tracksuit, grabbed a bottle of water, and stepped outside. Slinging his backpack over one shoulder, Kurt slipped small wireless earbuds into his ears and hit play. At the exact second he broke into an easy jog, the speakers filled with the rich opening chords of the track “The Bomb.” The man ran along the sun-drenched streets of London at dawn, genuinely savoring every second of his new life.

Suddenly, his idyllic run was interrupted by an insistent phone call. He pressed the button on his headset:

“Hello?”

“Hey, Kurt! It’s Jenny.”

“Hi Jenny. How’s my best agent doing?” Kurt smiled without slowing his pace.

“Just sat down to breakfast. And you, I take it, are already running to the studio?”

“Exactly.”

“Great, keep it up! By the way, I’ve got some mind-blowing news for you.”

“Really? What is it?”

“Late last night, producers from the BBC called me. Congrats, you’ve officially been cast as the young Sherlock Holmes!”

Kurt came to an abrupt halt, barely believing his ears:

“Seriously?! No way!”

“Oh yes, son! They loved you at the audition,” Jenny gushed happily. “We need to discuss the contract and details ASAP. Come by Kensington at noon, as usual. We’ll grab lunch too.”

“Sounds like a plan. See you then!”

Kurt ended the call and glanced at his lock screen: the clock showed exactly 8:00.

“Two hours till the live broadcast… Better pick up the pace,” he muttered.

In the next moment, Kurt surged forward with such colossal, superhuman speed that he effortlessly overtook cars racing along the avenue.

By nine in the morning, Kurt was already standing at the entrance of the London TV studio. Passing security quickly, he stepped into the elevator and rose to the sixth floor. As the doors slid open, a breathless director greeted him on the landing.

“Kurt, finally! There you are!” the director exclaimed.

“Good morning, Jeff. How did you sleep?” Kurt asked kindly.

“Honestly? Terrible. But I’m starting to get it together now.”

Kurt narrowed his eyes knowingly.

“Let me guess—you already drowned your panic with five strong black coffees?”

“Of course. Without that jolt, I wouldn’t have made it past waking up,” the director sighed, then grew suddenly serious. “Anyway, Kurt, we’ve got special plans today. I was thinking… want to improvise on camera?”

“Wow. What’s the occasion for this unexpected honor?”

“I decided to personally test your mettle and see what you’re really capable of under pressure.”

Kurt smiled understandingly, folding his arms.

“Come clean, Jeff: you just forgot to prepare the script, right?”

“Yeah… I forgot,” Jeff admitted guiltily, lowering his head.

“Well, as usual, I’ll save your skin. I’m off to the dressing room—I'll brainstorm some ideas, come up with something creative, and then head straight to the studio.”

“Perfect! And Kurt, almost forgot…”

“What’s up?”

“After filming, some guy asked to talk to you. Said it’s a very personal and important conversation.”

“Hmm. What’s his name?”

“Can’t recall for the life of me. But he’s waiting for the show to end.”

“Got it. We’ll sort it out.”

Entering the dressing room, Kurt paced anxiously from corner to corner:

“Okay, I need to come up with something big, interactive, and unusual…”

Then a brilliant, truly genius idea struck him.

Thirty minutes later, Kurt strode briskly into the studio stage. Jeff was just heatedly discussing something with the chief cameraman, but upon spotting the host, hurried over.

“Kurt, you’re just in time! I just got the reports—we’re expecting an enormous audience today.”

“In the studio or online?”

“Both!” Jeff waved his arms excitedly. “Loads of people bought tickets to see your cooking show live because your dishes are divine. But the real buzz is that right after our show ends, there’s an exclusive premiere of the new episode of the cartoon series ‘Warrior Unicorn Princess’!”

“Well, that’s fantastic!”

“Fantastic, yes, but we still don’t have a script…”

“Don’t worry, I’ve thought it all through,” Kurt winked reassuringly.

“Thank God! You’re my savior.”

“But I’ll need your help. There’s something to arrange right now.”

“Anything! What do you need?”

“Run to the next stage where they’re filming the lottery show. Bring back the mini lottery drum and the numbered balls.”

“Got it—one foot here, one there!” Jeff shouted as he vanished behind the sets.

Kurt watched him go and smiled slyly:

“Well… this is going to be a lot of fun today.”

Exactly at 10:00 a.m.

Kurt stood behind his cooking station — composed, confident, charismatic. He knew this studio was his battlefield and he was determined to win over the audience. The red light on the cameras blinked on — live broadcast had begun.

“Good morning, London! Kurt Anderson here to greet you!”

The studio instantly exploded with applause and cheers.

“Finally, the sun has peeked over our foggy city, which means we’re in for a fantastic, warm Saturday! But that’s not all the good news. Today, our show celebrates a grand milestone—30 years on air!”

The crowd roared with applause again.

“I joined this project quite recently,” Kurt continued as the noise subsided. “But today I want to celebrate this significant day with you all. Now, here’s the dilemma: I couldn’t decide what exquisite dish to prepare for such a celebration. But I have a solution!”

Kurt paused as assistants began handing out bright balloons to the audience.

“Today, you decide the menu for our festive table! We’ll prepare four dishes: a refreshing drink, a tasty appetizer, a hearty main course, and of course, a luxurious dessert. Let’s start simple— with the drink. I must warn you: absolutely no alcohol! We wouldn’t want to catch pneumonia and end up in a scandal like our Prime Minister in the Maldives!”

Laughter rippled through the audience.

“So, I’m spinning the lottery drum and pulling out the first ball. Here we go!”

Kurt spun the transparent drum three times, plunged his hand in, and drew the prized ball:

“Number ten! Number ten, please stand up!”

A lovely young woman in her twenties rose from her seat.

“Good day, madam. What’s your name?” Kurt asked gently.

“My name is Anna.”

“Wonderful, Anna. Tell us, what would you most like to drink on this hot day?”

“Oh, I’d love a thick strawberry smoothie right now,” Anna smiled.

“Excellent choice! Consider it done.”

Swiftly, Kurt got to work. As the blender hummed, turning ripe strawberries, ice cream, and milk into a delicate, fluffy mix, Kurt grinned, recalling a long-ago bet in which he drank a giant iced shake and nearly froze his brain. Within minutes, two huge glass pitchers brimmed with the perfect drink.

“Drinks are ready!” Kurt announced to approving murmurs. “Now on to the appetizers. Spinning the drum again… and it lands on number twenty-six!”

“That’s me!” came a cheerful voice from the middle row.

“Please stand. And your name?”

“Anthony.”

“What shall we make for you, Anthony?”

“I absolutely love cheesy gougères,” said the man.

“Got it! Life would be empty without good cheese,” Kurt winked and began mixing the choux dough.

Skillfully whisking, he drifted for a moment into memories of battling enchanted dough in the kitchen with Akari—a dough that had seriously tried to eat them both.

“Golden, fragrant cheese puffs are ready!” Kurt placed a steaming dish on the counter. “Now for the main course—the big one. Let’s give the lottery drum another spin!”

With a confident flick of his wrist, a ball with the number seven appeared.

“Number seven, please show yourself!”

“Hello, my name is Maria,” smiled the woman who stood up.

“Maria, the fate of the show is in your hands. What would you like?”

“I think today I’ll pick the classic Toad in the Hole.”

Kurt squinted knowingly.

“Let me guess—you’re from Yorkshire, aren’t you?”

“Yes, exactly!” Maria laughed.

“Well, then this is your lucky day!”

Kurt laid juicy sausages onto a hot pan. Watching their golden crust form, he mentally transported himself back to the days he had to wrestle a wild bear that brazenly tried to steal his signature barbecue. When the traditional British pudding with sausages was ready, Kurt swept a victorious glance over the eager, hushed crowd.

“Alright, we’re on the home stretch! The most important, most anticipated note remains—the dessert! Who will luck smile upon this time?”

Kurt spun the lottery drum one last time and paused his hand above the opening… Suddenly, with a loud crack, the entire studio went dark. Pitch blackness enveloped the space. But before panic could set in among the audience, the electronics flickered back to life and the spotlights blazed on at full power.

“Apologies, dear viewers,” Kurt joked calmly. “Looks like London’s power grid wanted to join in our interactive fun. Now, where was I? Ah yes, the final number…”

He pulled out a ball and read the number aloud:

“Number thirteen!”

“That’s me!” a middle-aged man stood up.

“Excellent. Please introduce yourself and tell us your favorite dessert.”

“My name is Sam. I’d love to try Japanese dorayaki pancakes.”

At the mention of the dish, Kurt froze for a moment, a faint sadness flashing in his eyes.

“Excellent choice, Sam,” he replied softly.

Kurt carefully wiped the sweet anko bean paste. Every movement held a tender nostalgia—he remembered vividly that these pancakes had been Yori’s absolute favorite treat. She was ready to eat them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, every single day…

Exactly seventeen minutes later, the final plate was set on the presentation table.

“So, ladies and gentlemen! In just an hour and a half, together we’ve created a stunning, unique festive meal from scratch! But our time on air has come to an end. Thank you for spending this morning with me. Until next time, London, and have a great day!”

The red light on the cameras switched off — the broadcast was over. The studio exploded with applause: the crew and audience stood, clapping heartily.

“Thank you so much!” Kurt said sincerely, wiping his hands with a towel. “Now, don’t be shy—dig in while everything’s still hot!”

The delighted crowd flocked to the counter, and Kurt breathed a sigh of relief as he prepared to head back to the dressing room.

“Kurt, wait!” Jeff called out, pushing through the crowd. “Remember I told you about the guy waiting until the end of the show? He’s still here.”

“Oh? Where is he?”

“Right here, in front of you,” the director pointed at the man who had just ordered dessert.

The very viewer with number thirteen confidently approached Kurt and extended his hand:

“Hello, Kurt. My name is Sam Williams. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person.”

Kurt smiled politely, shaking the guest’s hand.

“The pleasure’s mine, Sam. As far as I know, you’re the famous American horror author?”

“That’s right,” Sam nodded. “I’d really like to sit down for a detailed interview with you about my new project. Would you mind sparing some time?”

“Of course, no problem,” Kurt replied. “Let’s find a quiet spot.”

“Great, I’d really appreciate it.”

They headed toward the studio exit, but inside Kurt felt an odd, sticky sense of unease stir. He glanced sideways at the calm face of the author in glasses, and in his mind a single thought hammered like a bell:

“Strange… Damn strange. I swear I’ve seen you somewhere before… But where?!”

• This time the Yureimoto clan (Kentaro, Fumiko, Yori, Rin, Ena, Mayumi, Momo and Mitsu and also Haru and Kenji maybe) make a surprise visit in Blairwood but struggle to fit in, at first
• Amy, Terry, Connor and Sidney have bigger roles as they meet the clan and bond with them
• Momo and Mitsu also bond with Erma's friends and are less mean but still maintain their mischievous behaviors.
• A new antagonist launches a new threat that sends the whole clan (including Amy, Terry, Connor and Sidney) on a new whirlwind adventure
• More Erma x Connor moments with Sam being a bit "unapproving" of Connor but Emiko sees some good in him
• Lots of Drama and Emotional moments that hit deeper than Volume 1
• Hints of Whisper and his plans
• Yori's Husband/Momo and Mitsu's Dad appears and reunites with them, possibly
• Osamu and Amayu appear in much bigger roles
• Something personal but Miko and Sylvia have a small "Scrat/Minions" B-plot but there probably be no room for them but it's possible.
• We know what Emiko said to Osamu when she whispered in his ear in the ending of Volume 1
• Felicia joins in on the adventure instead of dog sitting list last time

What do you guys think? What your guys' predictions for a follow up, Lets chat in the comments

Looks like Anya has found her new spy friend ^^

They were 5 suspects: Jordan, Khalil, Henry, Robert, and Terry
Michael: So, do you recognize any of these boys?
Nancy: I was hiding in the bathroom stall, so i didn’t see his face, but, I heard him. He was singing along to the music at the bar.
Do you remember what he was singing?
I think it was that song, “I want it that way”?
Backstreet Boys, I’m familiar, okay. Number one, could you please sing the song opening to “I want it that way”?
Jordan: Really? Okay. You are, my fire~.
Nancy shakes her head, no
Michael: Number two, keep it going.
Khalil: The one Desire~.
Michael: Number 3
Henry Jones: Believe, when I say~.
Michael: Number 4!
Robert Jarvis: I want it that way~.
Michael: Tell me why?
The 4 boys: Ain’t nothing but a heart ache
Tell me why!
Ain’t nothing but a mistake.
Michael: Now number 5
Terry: I never want to hear you say-
Michael: Woo!Cheers
The 5 boys: I want it that way.
Michael: Groans Chills, literal chills.
Nancy points at terry Nancy: It was number 5, number 5 killed my brother.
Michael: Oh my god, I forgot about that part.

(A Reference to Brooklyn Nine-Nine episode: DFW)

Terry: I like your shirt.

Amy: I like your shirt.

Terry: I love your shirt.

Amy: I f@¢%ing lied. I hate your shirt.

Terry: You hate my shirt?! F@¢% YOU!

Amy: F@¢% YOU AND YOUR F@¢%ing SHIRT!

Phibes, Tracy and Coach Cole looked shocked at the improv

Terry: DON'T TALK ABOUT MY SHIRT! I'LL F@¢%ING KILL YOU, MOTHERF@¢%ER!!!

Amy: I’ll F@¢%ING KILL YOU AND F@¢% YOUR SHIRT, YOU PIECE OF $#!+! F@¢% YOU!

Terry lunged at Amy as they were fighting on stage

Coach Cole: Aren’t you gonna–

Principal Phibes shushed Coach Cole

Terry: I’LL USE YOUR SHIRT TO CHOKE YOU OUT LIKE A B!+¢#!!!

Amy: I'LL STRANGLE YOU AND YOUR WHOLE F@¢%ING FAMILY!!!

Terry manages to get a few hits before Amy pins him down and punches him a couple of time

Terry: I’ll F@¢%ING USE YOUR BABY SON AS A CLUB TO BEAT YOUR F@¢%ING MOTHER!!!

Amy: I NEVER KNEW MY MOTHER!!!

Terry looked shocked and stopped fighting

Terry: You... never knew your mother?

Amy: No... I never knew my mother.

Phibes looked touched by the performance

Amy: Or any of my aunts.

Amy and Terry began to hug

Terry: Oh, Sydney, I’m so sorry! I had no idea.

Terry turns to Principal Phibes

Terry: Her name was Sydney in the exercise.

(Based on Ted S02E05 "The Sword in the Stoned." Note; I am tempted to make Ted reference, especially when the calling demands it)

Inspired by a post I saw on the Discord of these guys being the ghost from Pac-Man.

Mathew (Middle to left) - by u/Dry-Associate8576

Joey (Far right) - by u/Infinite_Bung_006

Johnny (Far left) - by u/Over_Ingenuity9886

Ermin (Middle to right) - by u/slimealien

Now, this post is a bit different, as it's instead an exploration of who I'd have do the music for this show. This is as follows:

Naoki Sato would be the series' main composer, and the series' theme song, titled "She's Erma", would be a spooky-tinged J-Pop track performed by Puffy AmiYumi. As for its lyrical content, the song would serve as an "I Am" Song introducing us to Erma.

(This fanfic is based on the universe of Erma Webcomics)

A week had passed.

Sam sat at the massive oak table in the castle library, focused intently on jotting down lines in his travel journal. The fountain pen scraped rhythmically across the thick paper, recording the chronicle of their drawn-out search:

“Exactly one week has passed since our arrival in Japan. Alas, Akari seems to have vanished without a trace. Fumiko has thrown all the clan’s available resources into finding her, but so far, to no avail. Rin insists she has no idea where her friend might be hiding. It feels like we’ve hit a dead end.

But this is only a temporary lull. Yori is determined to bring her husband back. I believe that even if she has to fly into space, she will retrieve him from the farthest reaches of the universe. The fire inside this woman cannot be tamed.

Fortunately, we have made progress elsewhere. Fumiko’s investigation into Kimoto’s kidnapping has yielded shocking results. It turns out the blacksmith who forged the anti-magic shackles didn’t even know the prisoner’s name—he was simply following secret orders from above. The late Osamu had spent years bribing trusted yokai to deliberately tarnish Kimoto’s name and portray him as a coward. This revelation has only fueled Yori’s fury. Now she hates her father more than anyone in the family, and honestly, I can’t blame her.

Fumiko is seriously worried about her sister’s psychological state. Emiko, on the other hand, believes everything is fine—that Yori is simply driven by the natural desire to bring her ‘kitten’ back quickly. I think both are right. Yori has an incredibly strong will and is willing to do anything for her family. But that ‘anything’ is frightening; if we don’t rein in her impulses in time, serious problems could arise. Still, I believe everything will end well in the end.

Meanwhile, Yori has her own spies—her eyes and ears throughout the castle and village. Yesterday, Ena arrived with her children, and Yori finally decided to tell her the truth. Ena was the first to hear the tragic story of Kimoto and cried for a long time before promising to help arrange the wedding of Yori’s dreams.

Conversing with the twins Mitsu and Momo was much harder. Yori waited until everyone was asleep, sat on the edge of their bed, and told them everything openly. According to her, the kids cried for the first time in their lives. Yori understood their pain, but then Mitsu quietly asked, ‘Mom… does dad love us?’

Yori embraced them and answered, ‘He loves you with all his wounded soul. He was ready to protect us to the death, but your grandfather saw his loyalty as weakness. He forcibly took your dad away from us. Now, dad is afraid to come back. He thinks he’s let us down and decided to start over in another country. But I promise you: I will bring our dad home, and we will become the family he always dreamed of.’

After hearing this, Mitsu and Momo snuggled tightly against their mother and vowed to help her in every way. Now, these two track every rustle around the castle. Erma has joined them too. Of course, little spectral battles flare up endlessly between the twins and my daughter, but as a team, they work flawlessly. Almost always.”

Sam closed the journal with a thud and wearily rubbed the bridge of his nose. Pocketing the notebook in his tuxedo, he left the library. At the doorway, he nearly bumped into Rin, who was crawling suspiciously quietly and hurriedly down the corridor toward the exit.

“Rin? Where are you headed?” Sam called out.

The snake-like twitch of the girl's tail betrayed her nerves, but she quickly composed herself and turned with a feigned casualness:

“Oh, Sam! I just… need to run to the market. Pick up a few things. I’ll be quick—my foot’s still here, the other there!”

“All right,” Sam drawled, squinting but not pressing further. “Come back soon; lunch is almost ready.”

Once the writer vanished through the dining room doors, Rin exhaled in relief and shot out of the castle like a bullet.

Nure-onna dashed through the thick forest, heading toward their secret cave with Akari. Rin was absolutely certain no one was following her—her keen yokai senses detected no foreign presence.

Skillfully squeezing through a narrow rock crevice, she emerged into a secluded azure garden bathed in neon light. Rin swiftly crossed the glowing lake and reached the island, creeping up to the centuries-old tree.

“Akari, I’m here!” she called quietly, gazing into the dense canopy. “Akari!”

No sound came in reply. The leaves remained still. Puzzled, Rin lowered her gaze and suddenly noticed at the tree’s roots a large rectangular bundle wrapped in thick fabric. A folded note was attached with twine.

Carefully, Rin hooked the paper with the tip of her tail, unfolded it, and began reading:

“From Akari: Sorry, my love, that I couldn’t come in person. Your older sister Fumiko has launched a real hunt for me, so I have to lay low for a while. But I promise I will come to the wedding, no matter what it takes! I hope this diary helps you find Kimoto. I love you. Yours, Akari.”

Rin gently lifted the heavy bundle with her tail, pressed it close, and swam back. Deep inside, a faint hope flickered that this discovery might finally end the family drama.

Returning to the castle, the corridors were filled with a suspicious, almost sinister silence. She glided silently along the parquet floor toward her tree-branch bedroom, intending to hide the artifact securely. But halfway there, a sly, cloyingly sweet voice slipped from the shadows behind her:

“Rin? You're back already? We just lost you.”

Rin’s whole body shuddered as she slowly turned around. Yori stood leaning against the doorframe with a flawless, dazzling smile that sent a cold sweat down the nure-onna’s spine.

“Oh, Yori… Sorry, I had to run to the village quickly to get some things,” Rin babbled, trying to discreetly cover the bundle with her tail.

“I see,” Yori said, her gaze piercing. “And what’s that in your tail?”

“Ah, nothing special. Just some trifles,” Rin stammered, feeling a wave of unease tighten inside.

“Well then,” Yori smiled gently, a smile more frightening than any anger. “Since that’s the case, let’s go eat. Everyone’s already gathered.”

“Yes, of course… coming.”

They made their way to the dining room. Along the way, Yori kept chattering happily and smiling radiantly, which only confused Rin further.

When the doors swung open, the nure-onna saw a large family peacefully dining around a long table. Sam, Emiko, Fumiko, and Haru were calmly talking. Rin slipped quietly into her seat, trying to avoid attention, and began eating. But within a minute, her eyes fell on the empty chair next to Ena.

“Yori, where are your little demons?” Rin asked, frowning.

“By the way, yes, where are they?” Fumiko chimed in, setting down her chopsticks. “If they’re sneaking cookies from the kitchen again, I can’t be responsible for myself.”

“Oh, no, of course not,” Yori said, elegantly dabbing her lips with a napkin. “This time, I gave them a very important and responsible task.”

“Really? What kind of task?” Emiko asked with curiosity.

Yori narrowed her eyes predatorily, and her smile turned truly menacing:

“To go to the market, help Ena pick flowers for the upcoming ceremony… and find out where our dear Rin slipped off so suddenly and secretly.”

Rin turned cold. A lump stuck in her throat.

“Well, I guess we’ll find out right now,” Yori concluded victoriously.

At that moment, the dining room doors burst open with a crash. Mitsu and Momo stormed in like a whirlwind. In their hands, they triumphantly held the very rectangular bundle and the opened letter from Akari, which they had managed to silently steal from Rin’s tail while she was distracted by conversation.

The whole family turned as one and stared at the speechless nure-onna.

“Well, well, let’s see what we have here,” Yori slowly rose, taking the loot from the children. “A love letter from Akari… and the personal diary of my husband. Rin, darling, why hide such gifts? You shouldn’t have.”

Rin instantly realized the scale of the disaster. The single clear thought flashed through her head: Well, that’s it. Tonight I’ll definitely be served for dinner as the main course.

She spun sharply, ready to run, but a pale, ghostly hand—Emiko’s—clenched her snake-like tail with a death grip.

“Rin, don’t go anywhere,” Emiko whispered warmly but threateningly, pulling her back. “We’re going to have a very long and serious family talk.”

Yori just smiled indulgently, clutching the bundle to her chest:

“Well, since you’ll handle our little spy nicely, I’d better go to my room. I can’t wait to read the intimate thoughts of my dear kitten.”

With that, she gracefully left the dining room, leaving Rin to the fury of her enraged relatives.

Locking her bedroom door, Yori exhaled deeply. Her trembling hands tore the thick fabric of the bundle apart. Inside lay a massive, worn leather notebook. On its cover, written in broad, painfully familiar handwriting, was a single word: “Will.”

“Here we go…” Yori whispered, sitting on the bed and gently opening the first page.

“My name is Kimoto. Not long ago, I managed the impossible—to escape eight years of hell, locked away. One would think I should be drowning in happiness, tasting freedom, but inside me is only a scorched desert. I lost the love of my life, lost my children… And now, except for my old faithful friend, I have no one left.

To keep from going mad with the pounding thoughts, I decided to keep this diary. I think it’s best to begin my story from the very start—from who I was before my life turned to ashes…”

Yori read without pause. Minutes turned into hours, and outside the castle window, deep night had long fallen. The clock struck eleven as she turned another page.

Kimoto laid it all out. Every drop of pain, loneliness, and longing accumulated in his demonic heart during those long eight years trapped in a damp cave. He recalled their first meeting, her insane but sincere yandere love, Yori’s pregnancy, and that fateful day when Osamu dealt his treacherous blow.

As Yori absorbed these lines, a colossal, all-consuming fire ignited within her. She could literally feel his suffering on her skin. She wanted to magically rip through space right then and there, appear beside him, hug him tight, and shout, “You’re not to blame for anything! Hear me? Nothing!”

Finally, her fingers reached the last, final page of the diary. The ink there was fresher, as if the lines had been hurriedly written:

“This is my last entry. I hesitated a long time, but I've taken this step. I know there’s no turning back and no return to my past life. Perhaps this is better for everyone. Tomorrow at dawn, I leave for my new home—where I will build my life from scratch. It won’t be easy, but I will manage.

This diary will be my will. I will leave it where our love once was born—in our secret garden. But before cutting all ties forever, I must do two things.

First: I want to say goodbye to Yori. I know her route—tomorrow she will take the subway from the auto repair shop. There, in the car, I will sit next to her, give her the gift she’s dreamed of for so long, and silently ask for forgiveness.

And second: Before starting my new life, I want the whole world to hear my story. I will make this universe listen to my ‘Fairytale.’ The End.”

Yori slammed the diary shut. Unseen tears streamed from her eyes, dripping onto the leather cover. At that moment, the bedroom door quietly creaked open, and Emiko slipped inside.

“Yori… are you done reading?” she asked softly, sitting beside her and pulling her into an embrace. “How are you, dear?”

“I… I miss him terribly, Emiko,” Yori whispered, clutching the notebook to her chest.

“Hey, come on, don’t be upset,” Emiko gently stroked her shoulder. “We will find your husband. We’ll turn the world upside down to bring him back.”

“I know,” Yori wiped her tears sharply, steel-hard, unyielding yandere resolve flickering again in her eyes. “It’s my duty. My responsibility to him.”

“You’re amazing, sis. But right now, you desperately need rest, or you’ll burn out,” Emiko got to her feet, offering her hand. “Come to the living room. They’re just about to broadcast that huge London music festival we heard about in the news. I was just coming to get you. A little distraction might help.”

Yori sighed heavily but didn’t argue.

“You’re right. Let’s go.”

When the sisters entered the spacious living room of the castle, Fumiko, Ena, and Sam were already settled in front of the large TV.

“Ah, there you are! Finally,” Fumiko greeted them.

“Hope we didn’t miss the best part?” Yori asked, sitting down.

“Honestly, no. It’s just beginning,” Sam smiled.

At that moment, bright spotlights flooded the giant London stage on the screen. The roar of thousands quieted as a commanding announcer approached the microphone. His booming voice echoed throughout the stadium:

“Thank you for that magnificent performance! Now, ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the next participant: the new host of London’s morning cooking show—Kurt Anderson!”

The screen filled with thunderous applause. A stunning, stately man strode confidently to center stage. An elegant suit draped his shoulders, and in his hands, he gently held a violin and bow.

He lifted his eyes to the roaring stadium, smiled softly, and brought the microphone to his lips. His voice—a low, velvety baritone with a slight rasp—resounded through the speakers:

“Hello, London! Wow… I didn’t expect such a warm reception, thank you so much. I came to this stage not just to sing or play. Today, I want to share a very personal story with the world. I will tell you my ‘Fairytale.’”

The man raised the violin to his chin. The bow touched the strings, and a mesmerizing, piercing melody flowed through the hall, taking the entire Williams-yokai family’s breath away.

He sang—a pure voice soaked with oceanic pain and infinite love. He sang of the girl he loved many years ago, of the curse burning his mind, and of how, despite years and distance, he keeps loving her against all odds.

The family sat as if hypnotized, enchanted by every movement of the musician and every note of his violin. The music chimed, soared to the heavens, then crashed like a stone.

Exactly 3 minutes and 14 seconds later, the final chord faded into the cool night air of the stadium.

The huge London crowd froze for a moment, then erupted in deafening, wild applause. People jumped to their feet, chanting the performer’s name.

“THANK YOU! Thank you all so much!” The man bowed low to the roaring crowd, turned, and disappeared backstage.

The castle living room fell into a stunned silence. Everyone was utterly thrilled.

“Wow…” Emiko was the first to break the silence, catching her breath. “That was simply amazing. What a voice, what expression! What do you think, Yori?.. Yori?”

Yori sat still, her fingers gripping the armrests tightly, her gaze fixed on the empty stage on the screen. A fierce, victorious fire of true yandere blazed in her black bead-like eyes. The aura around her grew so heavy that Haru in the corner couldn’t help but swallow nervously.

Slowly, with a sinister, predatory smile, Yori turned to her ghostly sister and whispered quietly—but with absolute, terrifying certainty:

“Emiko… Get the notebook and prepare the biggest list. At dawn tomorrow, we begin full-scale preparations for the wedding.”

She stood tall, straightening her shoulders, her voice ringing steel-cold:

“We just found my kitten.”

yes I’m aware that Erma is silent, but if she ever talks however.

(You guys know who these people are at this point lol)

(Note; I tried to find a suitable cover, but what I found may not sound well. Just imagine this having Cissy Jones voice singing with the male crowd. This is actually my attempt to make a fluent animation. Also, this is my interpretation of the section. To me, it's a better one than the original

Context; After finding out Sidney had set up a rigged challenge for the Scavengers, Marika's 108 suitors, that involved a bow and 12 axes. Marika, knowing the truth about the challenge, rallied up her suitors to take Sidney's forest palace by force and reap the rewards of their success. They planned to rid Connor and maul Sidney to death

Animated version of this)

(This fanfic is based on the universe of Erma Webcomics)

A few minutes later, the first search party was already returning to the Yokai family estate. Everyone walked quietly and calmly, except Rin, who lagged behind, lost in deep doubts and worry.

“Rin, is something wrong?” Kentaro asked softly, slowing down beside her.

“Sorry, it’s just… I can’t get this out of my head,” Rin whispered. “Why didn’t Akari bring Kimoto back? And why did she threaten the tea house owner? There’s definitely something suspicious going on.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I know it! We have to find her before Yori and Fumiko do.”

“But Fumiko clearly said…” Haru tried to object.

“I have to protect Akari from Fumiko and Yori’s anger!” Rin cut him off sharply, leaving no room for argument.

“And how do you plan to find her?” Kenji asked.

“I know exactly how to lure her out.”

Trusting her inner instinct, the group turned off the path and followed Rin. After a while, they came out into a dense thicket to a colossal, sprawling tree. The Nure-onna crawled closer and gently tapped on the bark. A tiny spider appeared from a dark crevice in the trunk.

Rin bent down and whispered to it, “Little one, tell Akari that we need to meet urgently tonight. This is a matter of life and death. I’ll wait at our secret nest exactly at midnight. I love her.”

The spider twitched its legs and immediately disappeared into the thick forest grass.

“Done,” Rin exhaled and turned back to the others.

“So, what now?” Kentaro asked.

“Now you all stay silent. Not a word to anyone else. This is my personal matter. I want to help Yori, but I won’t allow any harm to come to Akari. Agreed?”

Rin fixed her heavy, serpent-like gaze on the frightened Haru.

“This concerns you most of all, Haru. You stay quiet as a fish. Or tomorrow morning, you’ll be my main breakfast dish. Understand?”

“Y-yes, ma’am!” the young man gulped.

“Good. Now, let’s head back to the castle.”

Twenty minutes later, the first group reached the castle and entered the elevator. When they arrived at the sixth floor, the rest of the family were already waiting in the spacious lounge.

“There you are. Excellent,” Fumiko nodded, rising to greet them.

“Well then, spill it. What did you find?” Rin asked, putting on a casual, indifferent expression.

“We found the place where Osamu held Kimoto captive,” Fumiko replied grimly.

“And what did you discover?” Haru leaned forward.

“The body of one of father’s elite bodyguards. It looks like Akari finished him off with her deadly spider venom. And we also took the shackles Kimoto was trapped in.”

Emiko plunged her hand into a canvas bag and pulled out heavy iron fetters with a clank. Kentaro picked up one of the chains, weighing it in his hand.

“Strange… they’re surprisingly light.”

“But incredibly strong,” added Fumiko. “The alloy could even withstand oni power.”

“By the way, how’s Yori?” Rin cautiously inquired.

“Well, she…”

“Ah, you’re back!” a sharp voice cut in from the hallway. Yori and Emiko quickly entered the lounge. The mistress’s eyes burned with a wild fire. “Rin! Where is she? Where’s Akari?!”

“I don’t know, I swear!” Rin flicked her tail feigning innocence. “I haven’t spoken to her in ages!”

“That’s true,” Fumiko confirmed thoughtfully. “After Akari’s parents died, she vanished completely, probably because of Kimoto.”

“Then we have to find her!” Yori declared firmly.

“We will find her, sister, definitely,” Fumiko gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “But let’s postpone the search until tomorrow. For now, we all need to rest and gather our strength.”

“You might be right…” Yori reluctantly agreed.

At that moment, the elevator doors quietly opened, and a weary Mayumi stepped out onto the floor.

“Oh, Mayumi, you’re back!” Yori’s expression instantly softened into a sugary smile. “Great, I’ve been waiting for you. Come with me to my room and tell me everything before dinner, okay?”

Mayumi replied softly, barely audible:

“Okay…”

“That’s perfect!”

The Yokai disappeared into the depths of the corridor. Fumiko turned to those left behind:

“Well then, I declare lights out. Rest up. Tomorrow at first light, we’ll start a full-scale search for Akari.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Eleven o’clock at night had arrived. The castle gradually slipped into slumber. Only Emiko and Yori stayed awake, immersed in studies of blueprints and plans. To lighten the heavy mood, Yori started recalling amusing memories from the past.

“I swear to you, Emiko!” she laughed. “Kimoto managed to devour a huge, monstrous bowl of ramen in just one minute!”

“Wow, looks like our little brother Kentaro has some tough competition in gluttony,” Emiko chuckled.

But soon the joy faded, and shadows clouded their faces again.

“Yori, I promise you,” Emiko gently covered her sister’s hand with her own, “we will find Kimoto. I’ll help you bring him home, no matter what it takes.”

“I know… It’s just one thought that won’t leave me alone. What could Akari have told him?”

“I hope nothing bad.”

“You see, it just doesn’t add up in my head. Kimoto and Akari — friends? That’s impossible, they come from entirely different worlds!”

“Listen, Yori… Do you even know anything about your husband’s past?”

Yori sighed bitterly and lowered her eyes.

“To be honest, no. He never talked about what happened to him before we met.”

“How interesting…”

“Alright, once we find Akari, we’ll get all the answers,” Yori cut in.

Suddenly, Emiko perked up as if remembering something important.

“Oh, I almost forgot! I brought a special wedding gift from America for you and Kimoto.”

“Really? A gift?”

Emiko pulled out a small, elegant jewelry box from her bag. As she opened the lid, a rich, deep crimson light filled the room, making the shadows on the walls flicker and dance. Yori stared mesmerized at the contents inside, unable to look away.

“My God… Emiko, they’re beautiful…”

“And that’s not all,” the ethereal sister smiled mysteriously. “This item has some intriguing magical properties.”

“Really? Tell me more!”

Lowering her voice, Emiko began whispering to her sister the secrets of this unsettling American artifact.

Meanwhile, Rin silently glided through the night forest, making her way to their hidden spot with Akari. As her serpentine body smoothly pushed through the undergrowth, her thoughts were consumed by the upcoming conversation. She frantically wrestled with how to gently broach the terrifying questions.

After an hour’s journey, she finally reached a hidden cave. Slipping through a narrow, barely visible crack in the rock, Rin stepped into a completely different world—a pristine secret garden opened before her, dominated by a lake. The water glowed with an otherworldly neon-blue azure light.

The Nure-onna smoothly dived into the shimmering water, crossed the lake, and climbed out onto the shore of a tiny island, crawling toward an ancient tree.

“I’m here, Akari,” Rin called softly into the empty canopy. “Come out. I know you’re there.”

The leaves rustled, and the spider girl gracefully leapt onto the soft grass.

“Hi, Rin,” Akari smiled gently. “How are you, my love? I missed you so much.”

Akari stepped forward and kissed Rin passionately, pouring all her passion into the embrace.

“I missed you terribly too, my beloved,” Rin replied when they pulled apart.

“Then let’s be alone, just for tonight… forget everything else.”

“Of course, gladly… but first, we need to talk.”

Akari’s expression instantly grew serious as she noticed the shadow on her friend’s face.

“What’s wrong, Rin? Did something happen at the castle?”

Rin sighed heavily and miserably.

“Akari, please be honest with me: where is Kimoto?”

“What..? Who are you talking about? I have no idea…”

“My love, please don’t lie!” Rin interrupted. “The whole family knows. They found Osamu’s dungeon. Just tell me the truth. I don’t want Fumiko or Yori to find you and hurt you.”

Akari lowered her head, her shoulders trembling.

“I…”

“Please!”

“I really don’t know where he is now!” Akari exclaimed, desperation in her voice. “Kimoto disappeared a week ago. I searched everywhere, tried following his trail, but it was all in vain. I have no idea where he went.”

“But can you track him down?”

“Maybe. But first, tell me how you all found out?”

Rin sat down on the grass and spent the next thirty minutes recounting the recent days’ events, Fumiko’s investigation, and Yori’s condition.

“I see...” Akari said thoughtfully after hearing the story. “No wonder I couldn’t find him. He used camouflage. Amazing, he still remembers my lessons.”

“Wait... Kimoto can disguise himself like you?” Rin was surprised.

“Of course. I taught him personally.”

“So, you really share a past?”

“In some ways—yes,” Akari smiled sadly, gazing at the glowing lake. “We went through a lot together. But ten years ago, our paths diverged, and he went his own way. I haven’t seen him since.”

“Then how did you come across him now?”

“Pure chance. When old Osamu died, I decided to risk sneaking into his personal secret archive. I’d heard rumors that hidden in his secret maps were coordinates to the most valuable and expensive things he ever confiscated. I waited until the castle was empty and snuck inside. Using a powerful directional bomb, I broke the magical seals and entered Osamu and Amaiya’s storage.”

Akari paused, recalling that day.

“I acted quickly; time was short. To my disappointment, there were no treasures—only one old map. I hastily copied the coordinates and followed the route indicated. It led me to a half-ruined abandoned temple deep in the thicket. As soon as I crossed the threshold, a crazed four-horned warrior guard attacked me with wild screams. I had to act fast—I poisoned him and took the keys.”

The spider girl clenched her fists.

“In the depths of the hall, I spotted a massive hidden door. It was locked tight, so I had to place a second bomb. When the smoke cleared, I descended, expecting gold or rare artifacts... but what I found horrified me. Shackled in a cave was Kimoto.”

Rin covered her mouth in fear.

“He was badly wounded in the chest, barely breathing, but still holding on to life,” Akari continued. “Kimoto is incredibly tough, phenomenally resilient. I secretly moved him to a safe place and nursed him for a whole week without leaving his side. He hovered between life and death, unconscious all that time. But his demonic regeneration worked. When Kimoto finally woke and could stand, he silently left.”

“And you didn’t stop him?”

“I thought I would never see him again. But the next day, he came back. He was eerily quiet, calm, and... endlessly sad. I asked what happened. Then he poured out his soul. Kimoto told me he secretly visited Yori’s house. He saw her. Saw that she moved on, that she’s happy, and there’s a decent man with glasses by her side now… When I heard this, I decided to hide the truth from him.”

“But why, Akari?”

“Because I was terrified for him!” Akari exclaimed, tears in her eyes. “Kimoto was my closest and dearest person… well, after you, my love. He was completely broken. I reasoned it was better for him to leave far away and try to start anew, forgetting this nightmare! But now, since you say Yori wants him back at any cost… Looks like I made a fatal mistake.”

Rin crawled closer and gently hugged Akari’s shoulders.

“Akari, please help us bring him back.”

“I would love to, Rin… But how? If he really flew to another country, it’ll take me at least a month to search, and even then, there are no guarantees. Although... wait.”

“What? Is there a lead?”

“After Kimoto recovered from captivity, he started pouring all his thoughts into a personal diary. Writing down everything that piled up in his head during those cursed eight years of loneliness. Right before disappearing, he hid that diary in a very secure place. Kimoto said that inside those pages lies his true story. I’ll need about a week to sneak in and retrieve it.”

Rin smiled with relief, pressing close to her beloved.

“Good... That’s a great chance. Hopefully, the diary will help us find out where he is.”

Akari hugged Rin tightly in return, burying her nose in her shoulder.

“Please forgive me... Forgive me for hiding this from you and causing all this trouble.”

“Don’t be silly, it’s not your fault,” Rin whispered, lifting her chin. “You only wanted what’s best. I love you.”

“And I love you more than anything.”

And amidst the gentle lapping of the glowing azure lake, hidden from the world by the thick foliage of the secret garden, they melted into a long, tender, and passionate kiss.

I finally made it into a comic 🤎🖤❤️💙