In the depths of absolute emptiness, where nothing stirred, a divine presence—a Kami—levitated silently. He floated within a vibrant, otherworldly realm, brimming with the raw concept of universes, of time unformed and space undefined. His eyes, radiant and ancient, slowly opened. As he gazed upon this colorful expanse, there were no words to describe it—no thoughts to form.
Then his attention was drawn to a vast, gaping void of blackness opening before him. He stared into it and, without hesitation, descended.
Suddenly—shockingly—he awoke.
He found himself lying on a bed in a room dimly lit by lanterns. Surrounding him were several women dressed in elegant kimonos, their expressions a mix of awe and relief.
"He's finally awake," one of them whispered.
Startled, he sat up, his head aching with a piercing pain. "Who are you? Where am I?" he demanded, confused and afraid.
He reached up to hold his throbbing head, but as his hand lowered, he gasped in terror.
His body—his entire form—was wrapped in bandages.
Panic overtook him, and he shouted in disbelief.
"Please, calm down," one of the maids said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You're safe now."
Still overwhelmed, he asked one of them to take him outside. When she did, what he saw was unbelievable.
It was winter. Snow blanketed the earth, and around him stretched a large, vibrant village, alive with people, lights, and laughter.
"…Wasn't it autumn?" he murmured, confused.
Suddenly, a sharp pain surged through his head again. He collapsed to the snow, clutching his skull as fractured memories tried to piece themselves back together.
A maid rushed to his side, helping him up. "Please don't push yourself," she said. "You've been through so much."
"How… how long have I been asleep?" he asked weakly.
She looked at him solemnly. "It's been three years."
The words hit him like a storm. "Three… years…?" he repeated, shivering in disbelief.
She asked him his name, where he was from—but the only thing he could answer was:
"I… I am Shinsura Kami. But… I don't know where I'm from… or who I truly am."
Tears fell from his eyes, dropping onto the snow like silent snowflakes. He staggered back inside and fainted once more.
The maids rushed to him in panic, carrying him back to bed. Later, when he awoke, they were relieved to see him conscious again. One of them handed him a neatly folded set of clothes and a small bundle.
"These were with you when you were found," she said. "There's also… this."
She handed him a broken talisman. Though unfamiliar, something about it felt important.
"Thank you," he whispered, staring at the items with silent wonder.
---
Days passed. Shinsura slowly recovered and began to adapt to life in the village. The people welcomed him with warmth. He laughed with children, worked with the men, shared meals, and learned their customs.
Eventually, the day came when he was invited to meet the village head. The elder welcomed him with kindness and hosted a great feast in his honor.
It was then that Shinsura decided to uncover the mystery of the items he had been found with.
He stood before a massive statue of the god the village worshipped, the snow falling lightly around him. Carefully, he unwrapped the bundle and examined each item.
First, an old book—dusty and heavy, yet strangely preserved. He placed it gently on the statue's open palm.
Next, a strange ring, etched with unknown patterns. On instinct, he slipped it onto his right hand.
Finally, a sealed object—an artifact of sorts. As he inspected it, it slipped from his hands.
"Ah—!" he cried, lunging to catch it.
He saved the item, but lost his balance and fell to the ground. As he struggled to stand, his scarf caught on the statue's hand.
With a deafening crack, the statue tipped and crashed down on top of him.
The children nearby gasped and ran to get help. Villagers hurried over and pulled the statue off him—thankfully, he was bruised, but alive. The sealed artifact remained unharmed.
---
Later, Shinsura took all the items to a quiet place—a lonely snowy tree on a small hilltop. There, he opened the book again.
At first, its pages seemed blank. But then, faint writing appeared:
> Chapter One — Page One: The Will
Intrigued, he kept reading.
> The Will spoke of a choice—the decision to pursue forgotten truths at great cost.
Page Two: The Memory Elixir and the Dream Manifestation
The deeper he read, the more it revealed. There was a way to recover his memories. But it required two things: the memory elixir—and a ritual known as the Dream Manifestation. The ritual would plunge him into a deep, spiritual sleep, where he would face his fears and the remnants of his shattered past.
Despite the warnings, Shinsura made his choice.
That night, under the snow-filled sky, he prepared the ritual as described. He drew ancient symbols on the ground, lit candles and sacred fires, and sat at the center of the ritual circle.
"This sacrifice," he said softly to himself, "is for the memories I've lost. No matter the cost…"
He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, and let the flames and symbols guide him.
And so, Shinsura Kami fell into the Dream Manifestation—into the realm where memory, fear, and forgotten truths awaited.