Sakura half-crawled, half-limped her way through the battlefield like an angry zombie with unfinished business. Spectres hissed and lunged at her on the way, and she cut them down like she was swatting flies—very ugly, very persistent, demon flies. Her hair was a mess, blood clung to her jaw, and her breathing sounded like a wheezing tea kettle.
Still, she moved, stubborn as ever.
When she finally stumbled into the group, looking like she'd just crawled out of a haunted washing machine, she flashed a bloody grin.
"How are you guys holding up?" She asked, casually decapitating a stray Spectre mid-sentence.
Yamada stared at her like she'd grown a second head. "You look beat to hell."
"We'll handle the rest," he added, glancing toward the portal that shimmered like a mirage at the edge of the clearing. "Once the Spectres thin out, we'll perform the ritual and go home. Preferably in one piece."
"I can still fight." Sakura countered, wobbling on her feet like a drunk on stilts.
Yamada groaned. "Sakura…"
But he knew better. Sakura arguing her way out of a fight was like trying to argue with a rock that had a grudge. Words wouldn't reach her.
He sighed like a man who had just realized his team was composed entirely of chaos goblins. "Fine. But don't fucking push yourself too hard!" He barked, then immediately had to swat away a Spectre trying to claw his face.
The Underworld Realm pulsed around them like a living thing with bad intentions. Shadows flickered across the twisted trees, and every breath felt like inhaling a haunted soup. The ground bubbled in places—lava here, acid there, possibly cursed ectoplasm in others. No one really wanted to check.
This was the last place four half-trained Soshiki students should've been, but here they were: Yamada, the stressed-out healer with resting rage face; Ryosuke, the wildly overconfident samurai genius who never met a plan he didn't ignore; Ren, the spirited rookie who treated danger like a sport; and Sakura, the hot-headed kunoichi who needed an intervention and a nap.
They stood at the edge of the rift—the gap between their realm and this creepy underworld buffet of nightmares.
"Let's go at it again!" Ryosuke said, adjusting his headband as it slipped dangerously over one eye. He struck a pose that was probably meant to look cool but mostly made him look like he was auditioning for a boy band.
"We've trained for this moment. We cannot fail!"
Yamada shot him a look that could melt iron. "We trained for a lot of moments, and you slept through half of them. Stick to the plan. Watch each other's backs. Do not freelance your death."
Ren spun one of his twin short blades in a flashy arc. "This place is kinda cool, though. Feels like a haunted amusement park. With murder."
"I swear if I die here because of your anime protagonist behavior—" Yamada muttered under his breath.
Sakura grinned, flipping a few shuriken into the air and catching them lazily. "Come on, what's the worst that could happen? I mean, we already fought that swamp creature last week. This is practically a vacation."
Yamada nearly popped a vein. "FOCUS, idiot! This isn't a training sim! These things are trying to eat our faces!"
"Yeah, yeah…" Sakura mumbled, shrugging as she nonchalantly stabbed a Spectre trying to sneak up on her, like she was swatting a mosquito. "Mood killer."
Still, despite the banter and exhaustion, there was a fire in their eyes—well, Yamada's was more like heartburn, but it counted. They all knew this wasn't just a mission anymore. It was survival, redemption, and a test of everything they'd bled to become.
They shared a nod, that unspoken kind of acknowledgment between warriors who had no idea what they were doing but were doing it anyway.
Then they stepped forward together, into the swirling hellscape where the rules of nature came to die. Reality twisted around them—colors bled into each other like someone dropped a kaleidoscope in a blender. The trees bent like they were listening, and the ground shifted with every heartbeat. Rivers of molten lava glowed beneath cracked earth, casting eerie light across their faces.
Behind them, the portal pulsed like a heartbeat—their only way home.
In front of them, doom with teeth.
Ryosuke cracked his knuckles. "Let's make this quick. I left a pork bun on my desk and I want to be back before it gets cold."
Ren twirled his blade again. "I didn't bring my homework. So dying here would actually solve some problems."
"Stop trying to die stylishly," Yamada hissed, raising his dagger with precise intent.
Sakura just smirked, one hand on her hip, the other flicking blood off her blade. "Alright, boys. Let's show these freaks what happens when you mess with overworked teenagers who don't get paid enough for this."
And with that, they charged into the madness—kunoichi, samurai, healer, and rookie—making snarky comments, poorly timed jokes, and desperate, glorious chaos.
Because if they were going down, they were going down in style.
**
As the last echo of their footsteps faded, the ground rumbled like a hungry stomach, and the air turned thick with the smell of fried curses. Then came the whispers—not words, but gross little hissy noises that slithered straight into their ears like evil ASMR. Shadows danced at the corners of their vision, and as they crept forward, the whispers swelled into a mad choir of "You're all gonna die!" vibes.
"Uh oh. What now?" Ryosuke muttered, already gripping his katana like he'd just walked into his final exam without pants.
From the roiling dark, a horror stomped into view—a giant Spectre with too many limbs and flesh like a failed biology experiment left in the sun. It shrieked like a banshee chugging Red Bull and charged.
Ren tilted his head. "I think I feel a gruesome aura charging toward us…"
"Giant Spectre. Yep." Ryosuke confirmed flatly, adjusting his stance. "Stay close, dumbass. No solo side-quests this time."
Ren gave a mock salute. "Yes, Sir!" But is that gruesome aura from the Giant Spectre? It felt different…
"Get ready!" Yamada barked, his tone shifting into full team-captain mode. He dashed forward with Arata Eyes: precise, efficient, like a surgeon with a vendetta. His dagger—a birthday gift from V—glinted as he angled in for a clean upward slash—classic Arata form—but the beast twisted unnaturally, snapping its slimy jaws just inches from his shoulder.
"Don't get eaten before breakfast tomorrow!" Sakura shouted, flipping into the fray. Her movements blurred with chakra-infused grace, vanishing and reappearing in a blink, a flash of kunai cutting through shadow. Her blade bit into the creature's flank. It shrieked.
"Nice shot!" Ryosuke called. As if personally offended, the creature locked eyes on him.
"Run!" Yamada ordered. Sakura dashed back, the thing's claws swiping her ponytail by a hair.
Yamada clenched his jaw. "Dammit. Yakedo won't work yet. Sakura, keep it pissed off! We'll take it down fast!"
"I'm on it!" She shouted, slipping into full ninja Jutsu mode—body flickering, illusions multiplying. She ducked, slashed, vanished, and reappeared on its back, stabbing down with deadly rhythm. If murder were a ballet, Sakura was the prima ballerina.
Ryosuke surged forward next. "Let's end this!" His Minamoto fighting style stance snapped into place—legs wide, katana raised, eyes sharp as hell. He spun, the blade carving an arc of silver light. A clean shot—straight into the monster's eye.
Ren whooped, then froze. "Wait… I feel more. A lot more."
"Fight the others! You can sense them, right?" Ryosuke yelled without looking.
"Yup. Ghost buffet incoming!"
As Ryosuke's blade severed the beast's neck in a final, brutal slice, it dropped with a gut-churning *thud*, black ichor spilling everywhere like cursed slime.
"No time to chill!" Yamada warned, already sensing the surge of spiritual pressure around them. "They're still coming."
They moved deeper into the nightmare. Shadows thickened like oil. The air shimmered with pain and regret. And then—
A new horde of Spectres exploded into view—howling wraiths with twisted faces and hungry claws. They came screaming like rejected opera singers.
"Fight back!" Ryosuke yelled, charging with a war cry. He slashed in wide Minamoto-style sweeps, but the spectres flickered like broken holograms, reforming with mockery in their laughter.
"Strike at their despair!" Yamada called, parrying with pinpoint jabs, his Arata Eyes technique cutting through their energy trails with crisp precision.
Sakura leapt in midair, unleashing shurikens with chakra sparks. "Duck!" she shouted, launching a spinning kick that knocked one spectre into another. One lunged—she countered, slicing it in half as it briefly turned solid with a distorted scream.
"Back off!" She yelled as a ghost-serpent spiraled toward her throat. Her kunai met it mid-lunge, twisting deep. The spirit burst into shadow dust.
Meanwhile, Ren was going full Street-Fighter-mode—wild, unpredictable, somehow breakdancing between attacks. He spun on one hand, kicked a spectre in the jaw, flipped, then elbowed another in the face. His style was a chaotic storm of instinct and adrenaline.
"Ren! Watch your six!" Yamada called, tackling a lunging shade that almost nailed him.
"Got it!" Ren replied, eyes wild, fists flying. "I'm vibing with the ghosts now!"
"They're not a rhythm game!" Ryosuke snapped, parrying a leaping phantom.
"Could've fooled me!" Ren laughed, dodging an attack with a backflip.
The wave was relentless. Every spectre they shattered brought two more howling from the mist. Their spiritual energy attracted them like moths to a very sweaty, very panicked flame.
"Sakura!" Ryosuke shouted, parrying a strike. She hurled a kunai—*thwack*—straight into the forehead of an incoming wraith.
It popped like a piñata of nightmares.
"Keep moving!" Yamada shouted, slicing through the swarm. "We can't let them trap us!"
"But where the hell are we going!?" Sakura yelled.
"Triangle portal—just past them!" Yamada answered, slicing a spirit clean in half.
"Oh! Great! Just through the endless death horde, got it!" Sakura huffed.
As if to punish their optimism, the spectres surged again, a hurricane of screams and ghost-fire.
"Together!" Sakura shouted, her voice cutting the air like lightning.
In unison—well, as in-sync as four very different lunatics could manage—the Soshiki students launched their counterattack at the encroaching wave of shadows.
Yamada moved with sharp-eyed precision, his Arata Eyes fighting like a walking textbook of martial perfection. His stance was textbook-perfect, his sword swings executed at impossible angles with the poise of a samurai professor giving a deadly TED Talk.
Ryosuke, beside him, was every bit the Minamoto heir. His katana danced through the air in wide, sweeping arcs—one moment executing ancient clan techniques, the next yelling "KAMI STRIKE – THIRD FORM!" with a dramatic spin that nearly hit Yamada in the ear. He made that name up. There was no Kami Strike – Third Form. He forgot what the techniques called.
"Watch it, Ryosuke!" Yamada snapped, ducking as Ryosuke grinned unapologetically and posed like he was on a shōnen manga cover.
Meanwhile, Sakura flitted across the battlefield like a deadly breeze, her Ninja Jutsu Style making her practically invisible. She flipped through seals with lightning speed—"Shadow Clone: Slap You Twice Edition!"—and materialized beside a spectre to elbow it in the face with elegance. She made that name up as well, trying to be a lot cooler than Ryosuke.
"I thought that was supposed to be a Jutsu!" Ren shouted.
"It was—enhanced with attitude," Sakura replied, flicking a shadow off her kunai like it was lint on a black dress.
And then came Ren.
Oh, Ren.
A blur of flailing limbs and parkour insanity, he charged forward shirtless (when did he even lose the shirt?), somersaulted over a phantom, and elbow-dropped another into the dirt with a triumphant, "WRESTLE GOD MODE: ACTIVATE!" Another made up fighting style name. But he thought he wouldn't want to lose to his comrade either. This was his first mission.
He bounced on his toes like a cracked-out kangaroo, cackling, "No rules! No mercy! Just fists and friendship, baby!"
Together, the four somehow formed a chaotic-yet-effective offensive: a beautifully dysfunctional tornado of strikes, blades, smoke bombs, and body slams. Their spirits clicked in that precise moment—not because they were elegant, but because they were just unhinged enough to make it work.
"PRESS ON!" Sakura shouted, somersaulting over two enemies and snapping a kunai between her teeth like an edgy anime girl protagonist. "We're so close I can smell the plot twist!"
As the shadows swarmed, fatigue crept in. Yamada's arms trembled slightly. Ryosuke started wheezing between chants of "Eighth Form! No wait, Ninth! Tenth? What form was I on?!" Sakura's clone poofed mid-air with a dramatic "I regret nothing!" and Ren briefly tripped on his own nunchucks—where did he get nunchucks?
Then it appeared.
A searing flash of light burst from the cracked ground. The shadows parted, revealing a pulsating ruby gem, huge and entwined with dark tendrils.
"The Heart…" Yamada whispered in reverence.
"Oh? Is that—IS THAT A GIANT DEMON HEMORRHOID?" Ryosuke shrieked, pointing dramatically. "It's the Heart of the Underworld! We can end this, finally! Or at least… half-end it! It's just a small fragment!"
Before anyone could answer, a monstrous voice oozed out of the shadows like spoiled mayonnaise.
"You shall never reach it!"
A demon—twelve feet tall, face like a burnt sock puppet dipped in despair—loomed beside the Heart. Armor of pitch-black sorrow clung to its form as it raised a jagged claw.
"WHO DRESSED THIS GUY? GOTH LARP NIGHTMARE?" Sakura barked, backing up.
With a wave, the demon summoned a tsunami of shadow energy. The ground cracked and trembled. Yamada stood his ground, knees bent, eyes sharp.
"Everyone, brace!" He commanded. He leapt—perfectly, fluidly—dodging the blast with all the grace of a flamingo trained by samurai monks.
Ren tried to do the same.
He tripped.
Midair.
"AAAAAAAAAAA—" *thud* "I'm good!" He croaked, upside down.
Yamada barked, "Split up! Go for the Heart while I keep this emo kaiju occupied!"
"On it!" Sakura called, ninja-leaping over the wave like a gymnast on fire.
Ryosuke and Ren double-teamed the spectres, Ren punching one while yelling, "LEFT HOOK OF DESTINY!" and Ryosuke slicing through three with, "Minamoto-style... Chicken Cleaver Formation!"
"That's not a real formation!" Yamada screamed from across the field. "IDIOTS!"
"It is now!!" Ryosuke shouted, eyes blazing.
Sakura spun and struck, her blade flickering with chakra as she yelled, "NINJA JUTSU: WEAVE AND WRECK!" launching smoke bombs in every direction—one of which exploded confetti by accident. "Uhhh. That one's from my birthday stash. Sorry."
As they neared the Heart, the barrier shimmered, resisting them with holy energy. They poured their energy into it, breathing hard, souls linked in desperation.
"NOW!" Sakura called.
They struck.
Yamada's blade gleamed like moonlight. Ryosuke spun his katana with a dramatic shriek, nearly stabbing his own foot. Ren performed a triple-backflip punch that broke at least one law of physics. Sakura activated her final jutsu: "Overtime Pay Jutsu: Stab 'Til It Works!"
Light exploded.
The barrier shattered like glass hit by a musical crescendo.
The demon shrieked in agony, its monstrous body melting into smoke as it screamed, "NOOOOO! I JUST GOT PROMOTED TO CHIEF COMMANDER!"
The Heart pulsed.
Brilliant light surged across the realm, banishing the dark. The shadows hissed, evaporating like angry steam.
"TOGETHER!" Sakura yelled, hair wild and kunai high.
"YEAH!" Ryosuke hollered, lifting his sword with both hands like he'd just won a video game.
"I'M SO HUNGRY I COULD PUNCH A PLANET!" Ren cried.
Yamada just smiled—calm, proud, and a little winded. "Let's finish this."
They surged forward, blasting the remaining darkness with raw spirit, steamrolling over the remnants of the demon's army like a boss fight in easy mode.
Then silence.
Light bathed the realm. The dark evaporated like a bad dream. Flowers bloomed. Angels probably sang. A bird chirped and promptly exploded from leftover chakra.
They collapsed to the ground, panting.
"…We did it?" Ren croaked, eyes bugging.
"Yeah," Ryosuke said softly, clutching the still-glowing Heart fragment. "We did."
Sakura leaned back with a weary smile. "Remind me to never fight in this goddamn hell again."
"I'll schedule it for never," Yamada retorted, sheathing his dagger. "The ritual, let's do it." Yamada voiced out, panting hard.
Then in a flash, Ren eyes widened. "THE PRESENCE EARLIER! IT WASN'T THE SPECTRE" He gulped, his legs staggered. "IT IS HERE!"