The deity ignited the remnants of Mount ōe, a night that always lingered within the nightmares of both Oni and humans. Shadows of hundreds of Oni swarmed beneath the light of the blood moon. At the peak of the mountain, two figures sat back-to-back—Shuten-dōji, the King of Oni, and Ibaraki-dōji, his once-adopted child and fierce warrior.

  The soft clinking of sake cups echoed quietly amidst the cold wind. The aroma of human souls and blood mingled, piercing through bone and memory.

  Shuten-dōji gazed up at the moon, “You know, Ibaraki, humans only know us through their fears and tales. But tonight, we write the next chapter in our story.”

  Ibaraki-dōji, still young and filled with hope, replied, “I don’t need stories, Master. I want a world where Oni and humans can sit and drink together—without death accompanying every meal.”

  Shuten-dōji smiled faintly, "A noble dream, child. But the world has never made room for monsters. That’s why I taught you to consume names and souls, not just flesh."

  Ibaraki-dōji clenched her fists, "Is that why you allowed my mother and father to be burned alive by humans? You said they could be forgiven—but in reality, they still perished."

  "You must understand the flow of this existence; we yokai need life energy," Shuten-dōji replied firmly, "Our power lies in our indifference to death. Each soul we take gives us strength; the fire from human souls is truly delectable," she said, raising her left hand. "We can transform their energy, turning it into power in our battles."

  Ibaraki-dōji, her voice chilling, exclaimed, “So you plan to turn me into a monster like you? I want to find another way, one where strength isn’t earned through suffering!”

  Shuten-dōji chuckled cynically, “You must learn, my pupil. We are yokai, spirits that walk between worlds. The pity you show is a weakness. Weakness is a curse. If you can't control it, you will be devoured alive by those stronger.”

  “Then what is all of this for?” Ibaraki moved closer, her gaze filled with doubt as she questioned not just her stance but also the role that destiny had handed her.

  Shuten-dōji rose, raising a cup of sake to the sky, “For you, Ibaraki, a true Oni is never born from hope—we are born from wounds and betrayal.”

  That night, human souls were sacrificed on the spiral altar. Shuten-dōji instructed Ibaraki to drink their blood and names, planting the first curse on her right hand. “Feel the power flowing through your soul, Ibaraki. Every drop of blood from those you steal will summon the Spirit of the Scroll, strengthening the bond between us and the darkness that lurks.”

  Shuten-dōji, chanting a spell, declared, “With this blood, you will be reborn. But remember, Ibaraki, no Oni is loyal forever—not even me.”

  Ibaraki-dōji, feeling the curse carve through her bones and flesh, asked, “What do you mean… not loyal?”

  Shuten-dōji glared at her sharply, “You’ll understand tonight. The fate of an Oni is to walk alone on a pile of the corpses of friends and family. The only way to survive is to ignite the fire of betrayal within your heart. No one escapes the laws of this world—the power takes everything.”

  Suddenly, the other Onis emerged from the darkness, wielding chains, knives, and ancient spells. Shuten-dōji smiled bitterly, “Forgive me, my child. The world does not need an Oni who is too human. This is the end of hope.”

  Ibaraki-dōji, struggling to rise, cried out, “Why are you—? I killed for you, I sacrificed my family for our dreams!”

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Shuten-dōji, her face turning cold, replied, “I don't need a student. I need a symbol. Someone I can burn to frighten the world. You see, Ibaraki, the fire you kindle from the depths of your heart bears a curse far deeper—it is an endless echo of the ghosts of those you have slain.”

  Ibaraki-dōji, howling in despair, shouted, “But I believed in you! This place has become like a home to me!”

  Shuten-dōji twirled the cup in her hand, “Home? Do you think living as an Oni is about having a home? No, Ibaraki. Every pillar you build from your hopes will collapse before this darkness. As we stand on the brink of death, the power of the curse will heed our call.”

  The chains of the Oni wrapped tightly around Ibaraki. Shuten-dōji chanted a spiraling incantation, transforming Ibaraki's right hand into Kurayami-no-Te—an eternal cursed arm, consuming names and sealing every act of betrayal into one body. “In this hand, the power of the Oni's dark nature is bound,” Shuten-dōji said, his voice eerie like the whisper of a haunting night wind.

  Leaning closer to Ibaraki, Shuten-dōji whispered, “I am the first and last traitor you will remember. Now, go into the world and become the curse itself. Remember, this world only values the strong; the oppressed must be erased.”

  Ibaraki-dōji, stifling a scream, exclaimed, “I… I don’t want to be a tool! Where is my humanity?” Her voice trembled with fear, her hands shaking as she felt the new dark power surging through her.

  Other Oni raised their weapons, shouting, “Kill! Burn away all weakness!” Their voices boomed like thunder, channeling dark energy throughout the air. “Let us witness how you turn betrayal into strength!” one of the Oni yelled with a gaze full of hatred.

  With a desperate movement, Ibaraki-dōji unleashed the full force of her new curse.

  “If all of you desire betrayal, then accept this eternal betrayal! Feel every bitter edge of this curse!” she cried out as black shadows danced around her.

  Wailing Betrayal Grip—the cursed hands snatched the lives of the Oni one by one, their screams transforming into seals on Ibaraki's arm. “One by one, you are the dark enforcers!" she cried as her black claws pierced the bodies of the resisting Oni. The spiral altar cracked, blood soaked the ground, and that night, the summit of ōe was enveloped in an endless wail, like ghosts echoing in the darkness.

  From the ruins, Ibaraki-dōji stood alone, her body covered in blood and wounds, but now, every name, every betrayal, and every hope had morphed into an eternal curse on her blackened arm. “In this curse, I've found the strength to defy my fate,” she thought as the fire consumed all memories, leaving only resentment behind. “But every price has its consequences.”

  Ibaraki-dōji gazed at her blackened hands, softly saying, “I… am alone. But if the world rejects my name, then I will swallow every name that exists. Each name is a verse in my sorrowful song, and I will write them upon my own body.”

  From the shadows, Shuten-dōji disappeared, leaving a message carried by the night breeze, “You have chosen the path of the true Oni, Ibaraki. The deeper you go into this spiral, the less of your heart remains.”

  “Heart?” Ibaraki stared at the wild night sky, her voice trembling, “What does it mean when reality has torn everything apart? What does heart mean when everything around me is a curse?”

  Shuten-dōji emerged once again, his silhouette blending into the dim light, "The heart is the source of strength, Ibaraki. Every spell you utter ties you more tightly to this world, but it also liberates you from the shackles of humanity."

  "So, every soul I take is just a step toward peace?" Ibaraki raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharp as a sword. "Or is it merely turning me into the very monster you speak of?"

  "You can't escape the fact that every Oni born carries a burden—a legacy of emptiness," Shuten-dōji stated. "Our magical power comes from sorrow and loss, and every curse is a soul trapped in dissatisfaction and resurrection."

  Ibaraki scoffed, "I don’t care about the legacy. I just want to remember who I truly am. Every curse spell is merely my own shadow."

  Shuten-dōji contemplated for a moment before continuing, "Be careful what you wish for, Ibaraki. As you bind those souls, you will find your own, but there is a price to pay—a pact with darkness."

  "Every soul I capture is one step closer to vengeance!" Ibaraki shouted, her right fist clenched, magical power flowing from her, creating a dark vortex around her. "This is my way of proving myself, not just amassing names."

  “Remember, every name you take from them isn’t just lost—they remain with you forever. Choose wisely, for every decision will shape you into an unstoppable monster or a ghost without an identity,” whispered Shuten-dōji as he disappeared into the shadows, leaving Ibaraki with a lesson that ran deeper than the magic passed down through the Oni generations.

  Since that night, every curse Ibaraki cast was a reflection of her first betrayal—betrayed by her father, by her master, by the entire world. She hunted the names of heroes, torched cities, bound the souls of both humans and Oni into her cursed arms, becoming a legend and a monster even the deities feared.