The boat glided across the river of whispers, the ferryman silently guiding it towards the bleak landscape on the other side. As they approached, the skeletal trees grew taller, the crumbling monuments more imposing. The air grew colder, heavier with the weight of expectation.
Tsuihō stepped onto the desolate shore, his spirit shivering in the oppressive atmosphere. The ferryman pointed towards a towering structure in the distance, a dark and foreboding palace that seemed to pierce the sky.
"That is the court of Enma-Daiō," the ferryman said. "Prepare yourself. Your judgment awaits."
Tsuihō walked towards the palace, his pace quickening with each step. He had nothing to lose now. He had faced death, sacrificed a part of himself, and traveled to the very heart of the afterlife. He would not cower before some divine judge. He would fight for his right to exist, for his chance to rewrite his destiny.
The doors of the palace swung open, revealing a vast and cavernous hall. Torches flickered on the walls, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to writhe with malevolent intent. At the far end of the hall, upon a raised dais, sat Enma-Daiō, the Japanese god of death.
He was an imposing figure, clad in ornate robes and adorned with a fearsome mask. His eyes burned with an ancient power, piercing through Tsuihō's soul. Flanking him were rows of ghostly officials, each clutching scrolls and quills, ready to record every detail of the proceedings.
Enma-Daiō raised a hand, the gesture silencing the spectral officials. "Tsuihō," he boomed, his voice resonating with a power that seemed to shake the very foundations of the palace. "You stand before me, Enma-Daiō, judge of souls. Your life, or rather, what was meant to be your life, is now forfeit.
Suddenly, the hall dissolved around Tsuihō, replaced by vivid snapshots of his past. He relived the taunts of his siblings, the neglect of his parents, the bullying in school, the crushing loneliness of his adult life.
He saw himself as a small child, cowering in a corner, trying to escape the rage of his older brother. He saw himself as a teenager, being pushed into a locker, his face bruised and bleeding. He saw himself as an adult, working a dead-end job, his dreams slowly dying.
But there were also moments of kindness, of fleeting connection. He saw himself helping an elderly woman carry her groceries. He saw himself sharing a smile with a stranger on the street. He saw himself comforting a stray cat on a cold winter night.
Enma-Daiō watched impassively as the scenes unfolded, his expression unreadable. The ghostly officials scribbled furiously, documenting every detail.
The flashbacks ended as abruptly as they began, leaving Tsuihō feeling drained and exposed. He stood before Enma-Daiō, his past laid bare for all to see.
Enma-Daiō spoke, his voice laced with a hint of disappointment. "Tsuihō, your life has been marked by suffering. You have endured hardship and injustice, but you have also shown moments of compassion and resilience. However, your prevailing emotion has been anger, bitterness and a lack of motivation.
"You were treated unjustly," Enma-Daiō conceded, his voice echoing slightly. "You suffered much. But what did you do with that suffering? Did you rise above it? Did you find meaning in it? No. You wallowed in self-pity. You harbored resentment. You achieved nothing.
Enma-Daiō paused, his eyes boring into Tsuihō's soul. "Therefore, the judgment is clear. You willbe cast into the deepest pits of Naraka (Hell), where you will endure eternal torment. Your soul will be cleansed, reforged, and perhaps, in time, given another chance. But not for eons.
Tsuihō stared at Enma-Daiō, his eyes burning with a cold fire. "Eternal torment? Is that all you've got? Do you think I haven't already lived a lifetime of hell? Your fire and brimstone are nothing compared to the hell I've already endured."
The ghostly officials gasped, their quills scratching frantically on their scrolls. To speak to Enma-Daiō with such disrespect was unheard of.
Enma-Daiō remained unmoved, his expression a mask of impassivity. "Your defiance is meaningless, mortal. Your fate is sealed."
"Meaningless?" Tsuihō spat the word. "My defiance is all I have left! You call me a failure? You say I achieved nothing? Well, I survived! I endured! And even now, standing before the king of hell himself, I refuse to bow! You want me to suffer? Then make me. I won't make it easy for you."
He glared at Enma-Daiō, his spectral form trembling with barely contained rage. "My life was a joke. An insult. But I will not let it end with me groveling at your feet. I deserve more than this, and the people who made him suffer deserve more as well. "