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If she got asked before that morning if she was happy, Shiori Himi would have said yes.
Not in a dramatic, life-altering way. Just comfortably, quietly happy, the kind that lived in small routines and gentle habits. She lived with her family, planning to move out after graduating university.
She hummed as she stood in the bathroom, warm fuzzy house shoes protecting her feet from the cold tiles, as the Saturday morning sunlight fell through the frosted window.
Three drops of hair oil in her left palm. Two in her right. She rubbed them together until they warmed, then worked the oil slowly into the ends of her hair.
Taking care of her hair was always so grounding. And she was proud of it. It was long, naturally white, thick and heavy against her back. People commented on it constantly, asked if she dyed it, touched it without asking, stared too long. Shiori didn’t mind, besides the touching. She liked being memorable in a soft way, and how people seemed to adore her hair. She smiled at her reflection, thinking about putting her hair in fish braids today or leaving it open, before taking a round brush and deciding it would be an open hair day. A faint flush coloured her cheeks from the warm shower she’d just taken. She was going out with her sister Hina, which always put her in a good mood. Shopping, boba, and perhaps getting some tayaki from her favourite food vendor. The perfect Saturday to relax from a stressful week at uni.
Her phone buzzed on the sink's porcelain. Shiori picked it up and saw the message from Hina.
Hina: if you’re not done in 5 mins I'm leaving u!!!
Shiori laughed aloud. “Oh come on, I'm almost ready.”, she said out loud fondly, going through her shiny hair with the brush again before fixing it in place just a little with hair spray. She leaned closer to the mirror to smooth a flyaway-
and paused.
For just a second, her reflection didn’t smile back. The delay was so slight she almost missed it. Her heart gave a tiny, confused flutter. Then the reflection moved, perfectly normal, perfectly synchronized. She exhaled, shaking her head. “Maybe I should stop staying up so late.”, she murmured, amused at herself. Her heart started to calm down, but the slight unease remained.
She grabbed her bag and stepped out into the afternoon feeling light, warm, and entirely herself.
—
Hina immediately dragged her through three clothing stores to check out the latest collections. They tried on clothes they didn’t need nor intended to actually buy, laughed at ugly sweaters, argued cheerfully over whether warm or cool tones suited Shiori better. Hina took pictures of them pulling faces in the changing rooms' mirrors. At the boba shop, Shiori slightly choked on the first bubble and coughed, eyes watering. “You do this every time”, Hina said, cackling as she hit Shiori on the back. “One day I’ll learn”, Shiori replied, once she was no longer choking on a bubble. They crossed the street to the taiyaki stand, steam rising in soft clouds as the vendor handed them the hot pastries. Shiori broke hers open carefully this time, letting it cool before biting in. Sweet red bean paste coated her tongue. She was mid-sigh of contentment when she awkwardly ran into someone. The man caught the tayaki she had let go off in.
He was dressed traditional robes, made out of high quality fabrics, patched together professionally. His black hair was long and silky, a single strand falling into his face. And on his forehead…
Dark stitches crossed his skin in deliberate patterns. They were not inflamed, but looked real in a way that made her skin crawl. When he noticed her staring, he bowed deeply. “My apologies,” he said in a smooth baritone, handing her the Tayaki.
His voice was gentle as he seemed to study Shiori. She felt as if she was getting dissected under his gaze, like a monkey in a lab. “For what?” she asked, puzzled. His eyes flicked briefly to her hair, then her throat. And one casual up and down. The open curiosity made the hairs in Shiori' nape stand up. “For the trouble,” he said, smiling. The stitches pulled slightly when he did, stretching skin in a way that made her stomach clench violently.
Hina tugged her arm. “Shiori, we’re gonna miss the bus.” The man's smile widened just a fraction too much. “Be well,”, he said softly as they passed him by.
And then he was gone. Shiori swallowed hard. “Did you… feel weird just now?” Hina blinked. “Huh? About what?” Shiori shook her head. “That man just now… the stitches on his forehead were unsettling.” Hina looked at her so confused. "What stitches? I mean, the man seemed slimy as hell, but I don't know about unsettling.", before pulling Shiori along. Shiori blinked, unsure what to make of that.
—
It had been a few days since that uncomfortable feeling had started taking root. The feeling of being watched. Shiori had not slept well for several nights, even though she was trying to ignore the sensation of cold eyes staring at her from the walls, creeping into more and more of her life. As if dread was hiding in every shadow, just waiting to grab her shoulders.
The sun was setting when Shiori walked home alone. She felt it before she saw it. That creeping sensation crept up her spine, like someone had poured cold water down the back of her neck. She slowed, fingers tightening around the straps of her bag. Across the street stood a figure dressed in pale robes, with a black haori.
They were small. Most likely about her own height. Maybe one or two centimetres taller. They stood perfectly still. Their hair was white—white like hers, but different. Lifeless. Frosted. They were staring directly at her with an unreadable expression that made her feel chilly.
Shiori’s heart slammed painfully against her ribs, sending her blood roaring through her arteries. She took a step back. The figure did not move. Cars passed between them, headlights flaring. When her vision cleared again, the person was still there. Watching. Their lips curved faintly upward. The air around them shimmered, breath fogging despite the mild evening. Frost traced delicate patterns along the pavement at their feet.
Shiori's felt as if her heart would tear though her ribcage and leap out of her chest at any moment to run away. She turned and and ran, pulse roaring in her ears. She didn’t look back. That night, she dreamed of standing barefoot on ice that cracked beneath her weight, listening to something massive shifting far below the surface.
And she was cold. So incredibly cold.
—
She saw them again the next day. As she was walking to uni with her sister. This time, they stood at the end of her street. Shiori stopped dead in her tracks, heart hammering. The figure tilted their head as if amused. She looked around wildly. Neighbours passed by. A cyclist swerved past, shivering briefly as he crossed the space the stranger occupied. No one reacted.
“Do you see that person?”, Shiori asked her sister. Hina just looked at her confused. "What are you talking about?” She sighed. "I mean, seriously. you have been acting kinda out of it for days now. You sure you're OK?"
The stranger's smile widened. Throughout the day, Shiori caught glimpses of short white hair in reflective surfaces. In store windows. In the dark screen of her phone. Always creeping closer and closer.
By nightfall, she was shaking. No one else could see them. No one noticed them following her, how they appeared in every shadow, mirror and puddle. Shiori felt cold almost constantly by now. It was as if the stranger's presence was unforgivable winter itself.
—
HE came to her in dreams.
The first time, she stood ankle-deep in blood so warm it steamed in the cold air. Bodies lay strewn around her. Broken, flayed, skinned, torn apart.
At the centre sat… a man. Though Shiori was not sure if this was a man, or a monster. Or a God.
HE was gigantic, towering over her as HE rose to HIS feet, in a way no human man ever could. HE had four arms with hulking muscle, decorated with black ink. A giant, inhuman mouth was on HIS stomach, stretching into an obscene grin. And as Shiori looked up, she saw a deformed face with tattoos and four eyes, zoning in on her.
HE smiled at her like she was expected.
“Your timing is perfect.”, HE said. HIS voice was incredibly deep and rich, the tone one of clear approval. She felt herself kneel, felt the blood wetting the robes. Her head held low, words began forming in her throat, escaping without her consent. She heard a voice speaking, the words dripping from her own tongue, spoken in reverence. "Thank you, Master ******"
Shiori woke in cold sweat, throat raw, heart racing. She felt tears and sweat running down her face.
The second night, HE made her watch as HE tore a man apart with casual ease, laughing crazed as ribs cracked like thin tree branches and as HE tore out the man's intestines. Her mind in the dream saw a beauty in HIS carnage she could not name, an elegance in HIS wielding of violence. Her mind felt almost giddy at the prospect of being stained with the blood of HIS art forever, of being by HIS side until HE tore her apart. Until her flesh would nourish HIM. Until HE consumed the world.
The third night, HIS fingers captured her jaw. She felt her mouth open, and HE fed her a piece of tender meat. It was like communion. "Have a taste of the sorcerer who dared target you to weaken me. His meat shall nourish you, feed your hatred for those cowards who stand in my way." Her cold body felt so warm in HIS company. Her mouth obediently chewed the meat and swallowed, the flavour and texture perfectly cooked. HE softly dragged HIS thumb over her mouth, grinning as HIS eyes gleamed with madness as HE spoke: "Your cooking is always perfect. My ******".
Shiori woke screaming and sobbing, nails biting into her palms hard enough to draw blood. The door to her room opened abruptly as her parents stormed in, followed by a worried Hina. And yet, Shiori only screamed louder as her panicked gaze found the mirror on her closet.
There the stranger stood, a small, sinister smile on their lips.
—
Shiori was tired. Tired and so incredibly cold.
No blanket or jacket helped. It was as if her own veins had began to freeze. Her lungs began to hurt with every breath as the coldness spread further and further. Her parents had dragged her to the doctor they had known for ages, but there didn't seem to be anything wrong, besides a slightly too low body temperature.
Her fingers went numb first. Then her toes. Then her chest, as if frost was blooming throughout her body. She shivered constantly, teeth chattering even in heated rooms.
Her skin hurt. It felt as if it was was tightening around her bones. As if it was growing more dense. Her body felt so wrong and cold.
Sometimes she heard faint cracking sounds when she flexed her hands. As if her body was waiting to shatter like glass.
Her reflection began to look unfamiliar to her. Deep, dark circles had appeared under her eyes. The skin on her face had began to pale sickly. Even her hair began to loose its vibrancy.
HE continued to visit her dreams. Interacting with the person whose view Shiori was forced to sit through. Every dream bore new carnage and violence, depravity committed by hands that were not hers, but hers all the same. She could feel this overwhelming love and devotion for HIM in a heart that was not hers. How this body was broken apart and put back together by HIM, for every part of its existence was solely to please HIM.
—
One evening, the stranger appeared in the bathroom mirror without warning.
They stood directly behind her, breath frosting the reflecting glass. Their eyes gleamed with cruel delight.
Shiori screamed in fear and frustration. The sound ripped out of her violently, and the coldness in her throat felt as if she was tearing her vocal cords apart like taking a saw to a cello's strings. She saw frost appearing on her cheek and throat, spreading like a cancer over parts of her skin. Without thinking, she shattered the mirror with her fist. It broke, but now she saw her own reflection, as well as the stranger's, in every shard. A hundred eyes staring at her. Panic swallowed her whole as she saw the stranger's hand stroking along her long hair. She grabbed the scissors blindly, hacking at her hair in uneven chunks. White strands fell wetly into the sink, onto the floor, clinging to her skin like shed flesh. Anything to get their hands off of her, to finally leave her alone.
Her parents rushed in and Hina shouted something Shiori could not actually hear.
Instead, she collapsed, sobbing, clutching her skull in her hands. Her knuckles were bloody and pieces of glass were stuck inside her flesh, but she could only feel the numbness that had flooded her skin.
“I see someone,” she gasped. “They’re always there. Watching me." She rocked back and forth, her fingernails drawing blood from her scalp. "Mama. I am so cold.”
—
When Shiori woke, she felt trapped. Frozen.
Her fingers were translucent, veins trapped beneath ice like insects in amber. When she tried to move, they shattered, exploding into jagged shards of frozen flesh and bone. The pain immediately burned through her nervous system like lava, scorching her veins and overwhelming her mind. The feeling of being both frozen from the inside out and being burned alive by the pain of it all was indescribable.
The cracks travelled from her shattered hands up her arms, freezing from the inside out before bursting apart violently. The frozen flesh hit the floor of her bedroom, shattering on the parquet floor.
She screamed until her voice vocal cords ripped, snapping like wires that were pulled too tight.
"Shiori!", she heard her mother scream as her family burst into her room, her mother covering her mouth in horror by the incomprehensible horror before her eyes. Hina rushed to her sister's side, gripping tightly onto her shoulders in a panic. Too tightly, as the frozen skin on Shiori's shoulders formed immediate cracks and she continued to wail in white hot agony. "I have you, Shiori! I have you! Papa, call an ambulance or something!", Hina yelled, tears welling up in her eyes.
And suddenly, Shiori felt the cracks disappear. She felt the bones in her arms growing with the sound of cracking, flesh rushing to knit itself together and cover the newly forming nerves and arteries. Muscle tissue built itself up anew. Her previously frozen solid skin stretched itself over the new limbs. She sighed in relieve as the pain disappeared, looking her sister in the eyes, before… she blacked out.
When she woke again, she found herself sitting on the hallway floor. The house was completely silent. There was blood on the walls, on the floor, even on the ceiling. A faint layer of snow covered every surface. As she turned her head her eyes widened. Next to her sat her sister, placed leaning against the wall, her eyes staring at Shiori. Her arms and legs were ripped off, blood covering the wood. There was a huge shard of ice lodged into her throat and Shiori could hear the gurgling blood in her sisters lungs, slowly drowning her internally. "Hina-", Shiori whispered, lifting her hand to reach towards her sister. She saw Hina's eyes flickering between her and her hand in panic. Suddenly, the ice shard in her throat shattered, perforating her throat and lung from the inside out. Blood immediately splattered from the open wound, covering Shiori's face, upper body and hair. Hina's body slumped to the floor, her head landing in Shiori's lap.
Shiori could not move, could barely even blink. A soft whimper of "Hina…" left her lips. She lifted her sister's head off of her lap with trembling hands and stood up. "Mama? Papa?" No answer.
As she rounded the corner, she learned why. Her father seemed to have been decapitated mid run. His head was seated on a small spike of ice, and a pool of blood was still growing under his lifeless body, flowing along the wooden floor and onto the bathroom tiles. A thousand little ice shards were sticking out of his back and what was left off his neck, and his Achilles tendons were sliced. Her mother's body laid in front of him, her unseeing eyes staring at the ceiling. Her torso was torn open and Shiori could see ice burns the shape of thin hands on her face.
Shiori ran to the bathroom, retching violently into the sink, the vomit scorching her throat and tears burning her eyes. As she slowly lifted her head, she looked at herself in the mirror. She saw herself, bathed in the blood of her family. And suddenly, her face changed.
The stranger smiled at her from the mirror.
Her lungs froze solid. Each breath felt as if her lungs were shattering and regenerating over and over again inside her chest.
And suddenly, Shiori Himi got pulled into the back of her own mind.
—
Uraume rose where Shiori Himi fell. They stretched languidly, rolling their neck and savouring the way this vessel responded now. How muscle obeyed, how bones no longer resisted. Deep inside, the girl screamed, sobbing and hoarse, her consciousness crushed beneath layers of ice and despair. Uraume allowed themselves a small grin. They could have exterminated Shiori Himi's consciousness long ago. But breaking the mind over a period of time was just far more entertaining. They noticed the man's blood still running on the tiles, knelt down and dragged their fingers through warm, fresh blood. Slowly and deliberately, they savoured the first kills they committed in this body. Then they lifted their blood covered hand and dragged it vertically across their white hair, staining it crimson.
“It has been way too long”, they murmured, as they started washing their hands, arms and face.They bound their chest tightly with some bandaging they knew the family had in the medicine cabinet. While they finally had a woman's body now, they did not necessarily need to appreciate everything that came with the territory.
They found some baggier clothing in the sister's room, dressed themselves and pulled the front door shut behind them.
Outside, Kenjaku waited. The moment Uraume saw him, they sneered. “You held up your vow.”, they stated coldly. "Did you prepare everything, or did you just continue with your obscene experiments?"
Kenjaku chuckled, unfazed. “Why of course I did. And if you had any room to talk. You are still as obsessive and sadistic as ever. Tell me, does Sukuna know how eagerly you…" he gestured up and down their new body "… break your toys? He may find it endearing.”
The temperature in the air around the two dropped immediately.
“Mind your words, Kenjaku.” Uraume hissed, “Insult HIM, and I will freeze you in your puppet's skull."
Kenjaku smiled, lifting his hands in a mocking gesture. "Please, without me, you will not get your precious master back. Patience has never been your strong suit, Uraume. But I bid you to hold on a little longer." He turned to leave, beckoning them to follow him.
They huffed at the man's audacity, but followed.
They will do anything, as long as it assists HIM in HIS return
Soon.
Soon, Master Sukuna will return and bathe this world in fire and blood.
Soon they will kneel to their Lord again.
And Shiori Himi will witness it all, through eyes no longer her own.
How exciting this future will be.