[Choice B (WattpadSupernatural): Become the ultimate ghostbuster to purify the village.]

The gates to the village were broken and collapsing in on themselves. Tarah stood on the border between the road and the entrance to the community, fists clenched in the pockets of her long coat.

This is it, she thought, tilting her head back to stare at the smashed wooden posts. Malevolent energy positively poured out of the gates. Her fingers stroked the dozens of linen ofuda that the Shinto priestess and her acolytes had painstakingly crafted and blessed a few days ago.

"Only one who walks between both worlds can defeat the ghosts and bring the people back," the priestess had told her, days after Tarah had woken up on the steps of a shrine with no memory of getting there.

On the surface, the mission appeared easy—simply enter the village and slap ofuda on any ghost she came across. That was Tarah's opinion right up until the minute she approached the gates. The sheer amount of evil that emanated from the village was enough to turn any brave soul's bones to water and run screaming in the opposite direction.

That's what Tarah wanted to do right now. She wanted to run—run as far and as fast as her feet could carry her.

Heart hammering in her chest, she gripped the ofuda, crushing the linen between her fingers. The positive energy wrapped up in the charms reacted to her fear and gently soothed her nerves until the urge to bolt subsided and left her head clear.

She took a small step forward, then stopped. Other people had attempted to free the villagers from the curse, but when they tried to leave, a barrier prevented them from doing so. Then, before the horrified eyes of their family and friends, they simply vanished with looks of pure terror etched on their faces.

Tarah looked down at a simple line in the grass—a line between the living world and the dead. I can't do this, she thought, a cold sweat breaking out on her brow and beneath her armpits. She took a step backward and froze as a high-pitched cackle drifted out between the gates.

Poor little Tarah Mondadori, an ice-cold voice mocked. Look at you. Pitiful. You thought that this body would give you the strength and voice that you so lacked. But you are still a coward, no matter what form you wear.

Run, run, Tarah Mondadori, a dozen voices chanted. Run and forever be lost.

Run. Run.

Run, Tarah thought, taking another step back. They're right. I'm wearing this amazing girl's body, I have all of her skills, but in the end, I'm just me. And I'm nothing.

Her fingers tightened on the ofuda, nails digging into the palms of her hands. A sharp pain sliced through her flesh, causing Tarah to yelp. She jerked her hands out of her pockets and stared at her palms. Glowing gold sigils flashed to life on her skin, wrapping around her wrists like ethereal bracelets. Slowly, the sigils drew together until they disappeared into her flesh and bone.

Tarah lifted her head and dropped her hands. It was suddenly quiet, the chanting subsided.

Time to go. If Tarah thought about what she was about to do, she wouldn't go through with it. Steeling herself, Tarah broke out into a run and crossed the threshold.

Instantly, the sky above turned a sickly shade of purple, the air grew heavy, and dark, crackling energy appeared to coat every building, tree, and rock in the village. Tarah stared at the nearest hut, its door smashed down, the roof caved in, and waves of ghostly flame danced in the windows.

Foolish mortal!

Tarah whirled around as a dark entity lunged at her. She screamed as long, sharp claws lanced her shoulder and the rancid smell of death filled her mouth. Her free hand came up and attempted to grab the ghost's arm, but her fingers passed right through it. The ghost cackled and opened its mouth, revealing row upon row of spiky teeth.

Blood roaring in her ears, Tarah twisted around and shoved her hand into her pocket. Just as the ghost lunged again, she shoved an ofuda down its throat.

The ghost flew backward, howling as it clawed at its translucent, blob-like body. Smoke poured from the entity's maw, spilling onto the barren ground. Tarah backed up against a dead tree, clutching her shoulder, and watched as the ghost turned in on itself and disappeared with a sharp, golden pop.

She's bleeding! something cried out. Attack!

Tarah whirled and slapped another ghost right in the forehead with a charm. It loosed a hiss like a boiling kettle and exploded in a puff of red sparks.

Gasping as the movement pulled on her bleeding shoulder, Tarah pulled two more charms from her pockets and ran towards a pair of ghosts that emerged from the wreckage of an overturned cart, the bones of an ox sagging in its harness. Right before she could set the ofuda on them, something grabbed her by her long black braid and yanked her head back, exposing her throat.

Instinct kicked in and Tarah scrambled backward, dragging her braid over the top of her head. A sickly sensation crawled over her skin as she passed through the ghost. Swallowing her revulsion, Tarah punched her fist through the ghost's belly and released the charm. It immediately let go of her hair and exploded.

Panting, Tarah stumbled through the village, dispensing each ghost with an ofuda to the face, belly or right down its translucent throat. As the last one vanished, Tarah collapsed into the embrace of a dead tree, laying sprawled among its gnarled roots, and watched as the sky began to lighten. A quiet sort of singing blew through the bare branches as the color returned to the village.

As exhaustion swept through Tarah's bleeding, aching body, the last thing she saw before she closed her eyes were the villagers emerging from their homes in wonder. Knowing that she succeeded, Tarah passed out with a smile on her face.