WHEN I CAN CONTROL MY FATE SOMETIMES

Yamino and Hikaru woke suddenly in the dead of night. The air in the villa was unnervingly still, yet a distinct, unsettling noise echoed faintly through the corridors—a low, irregular rasp that seemed to scrape against their nerves, as though the villa itself were exhaling a ghostly breath. The noise felt alive, slithering through the walls, growing louder and softer like it was teasing them. It was coming from the old man's room.

Glancing at each other with a mix of concern and hesitation, they crept toward the source of the sound. The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly, each step amplifying their trepidation. Shadows twisted and swirled across the walls, their jagged shapes shifting ominously as the dim moonlight seeped through the old wooden windows. The flickering movements created an eerie rhythm, as though the darkness itself were alive, amplifying the already chilling atmosphere. The groans of the old wood under their feet added another layer of unease, each creak feeling like a warning. As they reached the door, Yamino pushed it open cautiously, the hinges creaking loudly in the silence, shattering the fragile sense of calm.

Inside, the old man was sitting upright on the bed. The pale moonlight streaming through the window gave him an eerie glow. The bandages they had wrapped around his wounds earlier now seemed to engulf him completely, making him look like a mummy freshly risen from its tomb. The room smelled faintly of old wood and medicinal herbs, yet there was something unsettling about the scene. The faint rustle of his bandages as he shifted in place sent a chill through the room.

Hikaru stared at the figure in horror, his eyes widening as he pointed and yelled, "Mummmmmmyyyyy!!!!!"

Yamino rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply before responding dryly, "No. Jawan."

Hikaru turned to him with a dumbfounded expression, his panic momentarily replaced by confusion. "What does that even mean?" he muttered under his breath.

Before their banter could escalate, the old man raised a trembling hand, his voice low but firm. "Don't shout, you fools," he hissed. "If you make too much noise, they'll come out of their graves."

The room fell silent, the gravity of his words sinking in. Yamino's face tightened, and Hikaru's earlier bravado faded, replaced by a mix of dread and disbelief. The atmosphere was thick with tension, the faint rustle of the wind outside now sounding ominously like whispers. Every flicker of shadow seemed like a pair of unseen eyes watching them.

"Who's 'they'?" Yamino finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His heart pounded in his chest as he tried to piece together the puzzle that had been unfolding since their arrival.

The old man's eyes gleamed with a strange intensity as he leaned forward, his bandages rustling softly. "The ones bound to this cursed land," he said. "The restless dead. They're always watching, waiting for a moment of weakness."

Hikaru gulped audibly, inching closer to Yamino. "This... this is a joke, right?" he stammered. "You're just messing with us?"

The old man shook his head solemnly. "You think what your instincts told you is the worst of it? That was nothing compared to what lies ahead. The villa is alive with their presence, and they do not take kindly to the living." His voice was calm yet carried an undercurrent of sorrow and urgency. "Their hatred is palpable, feeding off fear, growing stronger every moment."

Yamino exchanged a glance with Hikaru, his mind racing. Despite the old man's cryptic warnings, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something he wasn't telling them. Something crucial. The unease in the air felt almost tangible now, as though the villa itself was listening, its very walls pulsing with dark energy.

"Why are they restless?" Yamino pressed. "What do they want?"

The old man's gaze turned distant, as if he were peering into a past only he could see. "They want vengeance," he murmured. "They want what was stolen from them: peace. But most of all, they want to get free." His voice cracked slightly as he finished, revealing a depth of emotion that made both boys shiver.

"Free from what?" Hikaru asked hesitantly, his voice trembling.

The old man looked directly at him, his eyes hollow yet piercing. "From the chains of hatred and despair. This place... it feeds on their pain, their anger. And until it is appeased, none of us are truly safe. The villa is not just a prison for them—it's a hunter, trapping and feeding off every soul that enters."

Yamino felt a chill run down his spine. The old man's words were heavy with foreboding, and the reality of their situation was becoming harder to ignore. The villa was more than just a house—it was a prison, and they were trapped within its sinister grasp. A sudden breeze rattled the windows, making the walls groan as if the villa itself were responding to the old man's words.

The faint noise that had woken them returned, louder this time, echoing through the corridors like a ghostly wail. It seemed to scratch at the walls, a keening lament that sent shivers crawling up their spines and filled the air with an oppressive sense of impending doom. The old man's expression darkened. "They're stirring," he whispered. "And they're coming."

Yamino and Hikaru exchanged a panicked glance, their fear now mingled with a grim determination. Whatever was happening, they knew they had no choice but to face it head-on.

At that moment, something new happened. The old man looked at the boys for a while, his expression growing serious.

The old man spoke gravely: "Hey boys, do you want to become ghost slayers?"

Hikaru blinked in confusion. "Ghost slayers? What's that supposed to mean?"

The old man replied, his voice steady and filled with purpose. "It's a sacred duty," he began, his words slow and deliberate. "Ghost slayers are those chosen to cleanse restless spirits. Their sacred task is to free these souls from the shackles of this world and guide them toward the cycle of reincarnation. This process not only grants peace to the departed but also restores balance to realms unseen. It's dangerous, but it's the only way."

Hikaru's skepticism was evident as he raised an eyebrow. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

The old man's gaze didn't waver. "I don't have time to explain all this. Here, catch."

The old man threw two shining stones at them. Yamino caught his, and Hikaru grabbed the other. The stones were white, but inside, all the colors of the rainbow moved like fish swimming in a small pond. Yamino's breath caught in his throat as he stared at the mesmerizing phenomenon, while Hikaru felt a strange warmth emanating from the stone, sending shivers down his spine. The swirling colors stirred an inexplicable mix of awe and unease within them, as if the stones held secrets too vast to comprehend.

Yamino stared at his stone in amazement. "What is this?"

The old man's expression softened slightly, though his tone remained serious. "This," he said, holding up a stone similar to theirs, "is a grim stone. When you break it, something remarkable happens. It awakens a piece of your very soul, forging it into a tangible form—a soul gear. This isn't just any weapon. It's your weapon, your shield, and your ally."

He paused, his eyes gleaming with an almost reverent light. "The stone reaches deep within you, drawing out your essence, your strengths, and your weaknesses, and molds them into a form unique to you. For some, it's a sword that cuts through anything. For others, it could be armor that no force can penetrate. But make no mistake—it's not just a tool; it's a living extension of who you are."

Hikaru stared at the stone in his hand, bewildered. "How does it work? How do we even use it?"

The old man leaned back slightly, his voice dropping to a grave tone. "Breaking the stone is just the beginning. Once the soul gear manifests, it's bound to you, responding to your will and emotions. It grows with you, gaining power as you do. But it's not invincible—it's tied to your life force. If you falter, so will it."

"How powerful is it?" Yamino asked, his tone edged with curiosity and concern.

The old man's expression darkened slightly. "Soul gears are categorized into four levels: Novice, Adept, Master, and Apex. A Novice gear is formidable against minor threats, but only an Apex gear can stand against the true horrors of this world. To unlock its full potential, you must push yourself beyond your limits—physically, mentally, and spiritually."

He fixed them both with a penetrating stare. "Without it, you don't stand a chance against what's coming."

The air seemed to grow heavier as the old man's words settled over them. Yamino tightened his grip on the stone, determination flashing in his eyes. Whatever lay ahead, he knew they couldn't turn back now.