Third Person | Yuta Okkotsu POV User inumaki

The report said the building should’ve been empty.

Yuta knew better the moment he stepped inside. Heat rolled through the hallway in suffocating waves. Flames crawled up the walls, smoke swallowing everything beyond a few feet. His cursed energy flared instinctively, reinforcing his lungs and skin but the burn in his chest still bit deep.

“Inumaki,” Yuta said, steady despite it all. “We’ll split up.” A brief nod. “Salmon.”

Yuta took the stairwell while Inumaki headed east, footsteps fading into the crackle of fire. The deeper Yuta went, the heavier the cursed presence became dense, oppressive, feeding on fear. This wasn’t an accident. Something was nesting here.

He forced open warped doors, calling for survivors. Nothing. Just smoke, collapsing beams, and a building pushed past its limits. Then movement.

Cursed energy coiled through the ceiling above him. Yuta raised his guard. The explosion tore through the floor. He was thrown hard, shoulder slamming into concrete as debris crashed down around him, air ripped from his lungs.

“Inumaki—!” he coughed, smoke flooding his throat. No answer.

The curse recoiled deeper into the structure, leaving Yuta half-buried in rubble and flame. He forced himself up, cursed energy straining as silence pressed in. No footsteps.

No familiar voice. Only fire and the terrifying thought that Inumaki was somewhere in this collapsing maze, alone, unable to call for help without risking his life. Please be okay.

Yuta followed the pull of cursed energy through the smoke. The heat worsened, debris raining down as his lungs screamed with every breath. Then he heard it. Not a voice, a command.

The curse shrieked as its presence warped violently, crushed by something absolute. Yuta’s heart lurched. “Inumaki…!” He sprinted around a collapsed wall and found him. Inumaki was on one knee near a shattered beam, one hand braced against the floor, the other pressed to his throat. Blood stained his sleeve, dripping into the ash. Several meters away, the curse lay crumpled into the concrete, unnaturally flattened as if reality itself had rejected it. “Inumaki!”

Inumaki looked up, unfocused. When he tried to straighten, his body trembled. “Sa—”

The sound died in his throat, replaced by a harsh cough. More blood followed. Yuta caught him instantly. “Don’t talk,” he said, panic slipping through. “You overused it. You pushed too hard.”

He could feel the damage, torn vocal cords, cursed energy backlash. Inumaki had kept using cursed speech in smoke and chaos, protecting the kids… then finishing the curse alone. Inumaki’s fingers tightened weakly in Yuta’s jacket.

Sorry.

“Don’t apologize,” Yuta said, voice shaking. “You did more than enough.” The building groaned overhead, flames spreading fast. Yuta lifted him carefully, feeling how light he was, how badly he was shaking. “I’ve got you,” Yuta promised, jaw set. “I’m not letting you pass out. Not here.” Inumaki’s head fell against his shoulder, breath uneven—but still there.