The Binding Vow of Lazarus

Chapter 17

As he strode confidently out of the office, ignoring the scandalized gasps of the attendants who had clearly been eavesdropping, Satoru couldn’t help but feel a little smug. Sure, it was a little overkill, but desperate times called for desperate measures. And if anyone deserved a little roughing up, it was that old man.

By the time he reached the front gates, the adrenaline had worn off a bit, and his mind was already racing ahead. Family grave, secret wall, he thought, running a hand through his hair. “Of course it had to be the most cliché spot possible,” he muttered to himself. 

Teleporting straight to the family graveyard, Satoru landed gracefully amidst the sprawling, meticulously kept grounds. He paused for a moment, looking over the rows of stone markers and monuments. This place always gave him the creeps—not because it was a graveyard, but because of what it represented: tradition, control, and everything he couldn’t stand about the clan. 

“Alright, secret wall,” he mused, cracking his knuckles as he stepped forward, “Let’s see what you’ve got for me.” 

It didn’t take long for him to find the wall in question. It was a perfectly smooth slab of stone, unmarked and unobtrusive, blending seamlessly with the rest of the mausoleum. “Subtle,” he muttered, running his fingers along the edges. A faint trace of cursed energy tickled his senses, and he smirked,. “And lazy. You’d think they’d at least try to hide it better.” 

With a flick of his wrist, Satoru activated his Six Eyes, honing in on the weak points in the barrier. It was almost laughable how quickly it crumbled under his touch, revealing a hidden room behind the wall. 

Inside, nestled among a few other suspiciously out-of-place items, was a row of small, ornate urns. Each one was labeled carefully with the season and year. Five of them. One from fall of 2003, then spring 2004, winter 2004, spring 2005, and then the one he was looking for. Winter 2005. Right before his Birthday. Satoru picked it up carefully, examining the intricate designs etched into the surface. “Well, hello there,” he said softly, his tone almost reverent.

Satisfied, he sealed the wall back up and tucked the urn under his arm. He teleported back to the school's courtyard and strutted into Yaga’s office, the urn still in hand. “Got it,” he said triumphantly, plopping it down on the desk. 

Yaga looked up from his paperwork, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “That was… fast,” he said cautiously. 

Satoru grinned, leaning casually against the desk. “What can I say? I’ve got a way with people.” 

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Satoru's heart raced as he stepped back into the dimly lit ritual chamber. The air was heavy with the scent of incense and dust, the kind of place where time felt slower, thicker. Yaga followed close behind, a somber weight to his usually stoic presence. But when Satoru’s eyes landed on Sarah, waiting in the center of the room, a familiar warmth bloomed in his chest.

“Welcome back, Glacier Freeze,” Sarah greeted with a nervous grin. She fiddled with an amulet in her hands—that amulet, the one he had been given in 2018, the one she had left for him after her first sacrifice. 

His steps faltered as he recognized it. “Wait a second,” he said, pointing at the amulet. “Where did you get that? Is that the same one I used the first time?” 

Sarah laughed softly, the sound lightening the room for just a moment. “Yes and no. This is the same one but I haven't given it to you yet, I guess. I didn't steal it from you, I promise. My grandmother gave it to me before… well, before all this.” She spun the amulet absently, the memory clearly bittersweet. “Apparently, it’s been passed down in my family for generations. Seems fitting now, huh?”