Something was wrong-very wrong, that much Aoi knew.

She couldn't tell what exactly, but her stomach was doing loops in the worst way possible, her guts coiling up like an indecisive black widow's next meal. She tried to suppress the feeling by focusing on tuning her violin, but between careful turns of its wooden pegs, she found herself wondering whether it was just her routine pre-performance nervousness, or her senses picking up on something she hadn't noticed, or that her words to Noriko had backfired on her and that she was now the one with the unfortunate stomachache.

As she fiddled with her instrument on the carpeted platform of her float, Aoi shot nervous glances at the float in front, even though all she could see was the pale blue fabric draped over the back of it and being played were innocent flute chords. She had her left hand outstretched, twiddling with the pegs, while her right drew her bow across the half-tuned strings, producing a messy amalgamation of sounds. Her ears were filled with her own music, but remained alert for the starting bars of the triplets' piece, and didn't stop listening, not even when the jumbled notes from her violin finally coalesced into a perfect fifth harmony.

It didn't help that the violin on her shoulder weighed heavier that it had ever been. Aoi took it off her shoulder, inspecting the strings for fraying and traces of cobweb patterns before clipping the mic on. It looked perfectly fine, its surfaces spotless and new strings practically flawless. Unconvinced, the violinist twirled it this way and that, and even gave it a little shake, her eyes darting around immediately afterwards to make sure no one had seen the momentary lapse in her sanity.

"Five minutes till roll out!"

"Tsukada-san." Miss Sugiyama's tall frame stood against the side of the float, her friendly smile dusted with concern. "I came to check if you have any questions about the briefing earlier. Missing yesterday's rehearsal was unfortunate, but I hope you're feeling better and ready for the day."

Aoi shot her a smile and a nod, praying that Miss Sugiyama of all people hadn't witnessed her manhandling of her violin. Thankfully, the supervising teacher took her word for it, and walked off with a reassuring dip of her chin.

"Psst! Aoi!"

Aoi spun in the direction of the voice, spotting Noriko at the bottom of her float. The ballerina looked around furtively, making sure no one had noticed that she was missing from her position. She rummaged around in her pocket, pulling out a purple omamori embroidered with the kanji for 'safe childbirth' in silver thread and tied with matching white cords.

"I forgot to pass it to you." She held out the small rectangular amulet to Aoi, raising herself on tiptoe. "It's my mother's anzan omamori. I told her about yesterday, and she said she had a kannagi place some sort of protection over me when I was a baby. It's old, but hopefully it'll keep you safe from... her."

Aoi smiled. She bent down to take the charm, her fingers closing around its brocade covering. "Tha-"

Lightning struck up her arm. Aoi dropped the omamori, but the pain didn't stop. Invisible fire blazed through her muscles, scorching hot until all she felt was piercing cold. Her eyes bulged out of their sockets, pupils turning white, and her lips tore open to release a horrifying, inhuman scream.

It burnsss! It burnsss!

As quickly as she had emerged, Cho fell silent, but Aoi could still hear her wounded hissing in the corners of her head.

Both girls stared at each other in alarm, but before either of them could utter a word, a staff member had caught sight of Noriko's empty float.

"Float Nine's performer, please board your float now. I repeat, Float Nine's performer, please board your float now. One minute till showtime!"

Eyes never leaving Aoi's, as if wary she'd jump down from the platform to attack her, Noriko crouched down and picked up the omamori. She took one step closer, but hesitated as another staff member started calling after her, and eventually scrambled off to her own float, shooting Aoi a look that was both fearful and apologetic.

Aoi remembered her mother's words: if you feel that something is back, you must notify her immediately. Breaking her stunned gaze from Noriko's retreating form, she searched the street for her supervising teacher. "Sugiyama-sensei?"

Apart from staff walking around with their megaphones making sure everyone was in position and a few festivalgoers, the avenue was deserted. The stern matron was nowhere to be seen.

"Moving out in three, two, one-"

The churning sensation in the pit of her stomach intensified. Dread washed over Aoi as her float began to lurch forward. She whirled around, trying to find a way out. Instead, she came face-to-face with the wall of painted violins. The hexagons twirled all over the scroll in a feverish dance, their pencil-thin lines snaking over each other until they became tangled webs. Wind toyed at the ends of her skirt, just enough for the breeze to sink its cold fangs into her skin.

Aoi shut her eyes and planted her foot on the carpet. She turned her back on the dizzying array and set her violin on her shoulder. Her lips flattened into a determined line, her voice coming out in a muted whisper. "Kimura-san?"

The spirit didn't respond.

Aoi's float continued to trundle along the path, tailing the ones in front as they all progressed into the middle of the square in a steady stream of festive opulence. Every little thump echoed the hammering of the violinist's heart, every jerk shaking up the turbulence in her gut. Aoi's eyes fell on the stairs, wondering if it was too late to run off and disappear into the throng before her violin grew eight legs and decided to bite her in the face.

"Kimura-san, I know you can hear me."

The open grounds came into view, the streets filled with eager children and professional-looking scouts in formal attire. Distant cheers rang in the air, indicating that the floats had begun dispersing amongst the crowd. Aoi cast her gaze out into the sea of people, temples throbbing as their faces and clothes blurred into a colorful haze. Their shouts faded into dull white noise, the sound of her rapid gulps of air eclipsing her ears. The morning sun had turned blistering hot, its molten rays spilling over Aoi's jet-black hair, yet her ankles shook as the wind shrouded her in ice.

Further up ahead, Float Seven stopped. Aoi's float slowed down.

She sucked in a breath to calm herself, keeping her voice low in case the mic on her strings should catch anything. "Listen to me, Kimura-san. Don't do anything stupid, please. Stay in there and don't come out, okay? We can talk things over later, deal?"

Again, silence.

The wheels on Aoi's float ground to a halt.

Intensely aware of her shallow breaths, Aoi squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again. It did nothing; the world was still foggy, her body was freezing, and her head hurt like someone had bashed it through a wall. Even worse, she could still hear faint hissing, its pitch somewhere between bitter and malicious.

It was now or never. The crowd was waiting, and if she didn't start soon, someone was definitely going to notice a disoriented schoolgirl with a violin standing in the middle of a float parade.

She placed her bow on the strings, horsehair upon metal, and drew the opening notes of Caprice No. 1. The sound that came out was pristine, immaculate, and exactly like all the times she had practised before, Aoi realised. Apart from her, nobody could or would be able to tell that a deranged ghost was skulking inside her as long as the performance went on.

Armed with that thought, her breathing steadied as she proceeded through the next few caprices. The pads of her fingers worked the fingerboard, pressing down strings as her other hand pulled vibrant notes with confident flourishes of her bow. She bent forward and back in time with her music, her pinky plucking smooth pizzicatos almost naturally.

Aoi slowed down between Caprices No. 7 and No.8, her knuckles numb and heavy. Her mind seized up for a beat, and suddenly the muscles in her fingers forgot how to play anymore. As quickly as the old ones disappeared, a new set of notes ran through her head, and her hands carried them out immediately without a second thought.

You think some half-trained ssshrine maiden could get rid of me?

Aoi's eyes flared, and not just because Cho had finally emerged.

She recognised the song. The float in front of hers was playing it.

She wasn't the only one who heard the resemblance. Whispered gasps of confusion rose among the crowd, barely audible above Cho's enraged hissing.

"But it's the same... as Number Seven?"

You thought wrong, little violin girl.

"Why are they playing the same song?"

And you're not the only one who can play pretty little sssongsss.

"Is that allowed?"

My will is yoursss, and your will isss mine.

The cold crept up her spine, spreading out and up her scalp. Aoi schooled her features into one she hoped was a look of concentration, too scared to tear her gaze away from the hands that she no longer controlled. The song continued building up to the refrain, Aoi's bow gliding easily across her strings like this was the piece she had been rehearsing all along.

Music seeped into her chest, the mournful notes slicing her heart open and letting it bleed out. The melody tugged at her soul, as if she was infusing her own emotions into a tragic ballad of longing and regret. Her cheeks were now frozen to the point bits of skin started to flake off. Heat flowed up her torso to her face, culminating in warm, anguished tears.

The song peaked at its chorus. Aoi's mouth pried open, her vocal chords dragging out a high-pitched squeal that soon morphed into a full-on scream. She sobbed and shrieked, yet her fingers did not stop, bowing and plucking notes anew. Tears rolled down her face and her throat delivered agonising cries against the background of the lilting bridge.

"Cho-san!" Kenjiro appeared at the top of the stairs, one hand outstretched to Aoi. Desperation and horror pooled in his eyes, his gaze searing past Aoi's and deep into Cho's. "Let the girl go. None of this is her fault- none of this is anyone's fault but mine. Deal with me instead."

Cho turned Aoi's tearstained stare on him, wailing an octave higher. She yanked the bow off the strings, the unfinished song coming to an abrupt end. Aoi could only watch, helpless, as Cho jammed the tip of the bow into Kenjiro's chest. The wood snapped and broke under the pressure, its fractured end hanging on purely by the horsehair dangling off of it. Cho stabbed harder. Blood burst out of Kenjiro's flesh, scarlet staining his shirt. His eyes widened, mouth struggling to form words before he fell backwards off the float. A loud thump soon followed.

The cold withdrew in that same second, draining out of Aoi in a single breath. Her knees gave in. The girl crumpled to the carpet, gasping and wheezing. Her violin thudded to the ground along with its splintered companion. All around her, the crowd descended into chaos, screams erupting everywhere.

"She's gone," Aoi choked out, though nobody heard her. Her thoughts were quiet; the hissing had ceased. "For good."