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The case of Mr. Bellweather and the Fake Samsara Book
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The case of Mr. Bellweather and the Fake Samsara Book
++continuation of RP story between Yukiko and Momo @savvydemonflameyukii *
Momo, the girl god of death with flowing white hair, normally clad in white when gently pursuing souls was in human form, her hair a light blue bordering on white, her eyes red like her father Gintoki, that would sometimes turn blue. As she walked through the halls of the hospital , she did her best to make sure she had arrived dressed casually, she didn’t take on her shinigami form because this would only make the patients nervous.
She followed her sister Yukiko after doing some investigation on books in the Library of the Shinigami/Spirit World. It was rare to see her sister, Yukii stomped by a matter of this nature, Yukii is a seasoned exorcist with a pragmatic approach and an arsenal of traditional and modern tools and spiritual knowledge.
There must have been something different about this, it made Momo wonder if it was actually a possession.
They head over to Mr. Bellweather’s room where guard nurses stood outside his door so that no one would enter unless authorized. The guard nurses bow and step aside to let Dr. Yukiko and Shinigami Momo into the room. This was indeed an unusual case and understood why no one in the physical realm could deal with it. The book was designed to turn into a spirit.
She walked closer to the patient, and noticed that what she deemed as, The Fake Samsara Book, was pushing him through increasingly bizarre and self-destructive cycles of “reincarnation” within his own life. He seems to be reliving painful memories and making sudden, jarring personality shifts. These would probably be noticable to anyone who knew him but he lived alone. As Momo used her Shinigami eyes to read through some of his memories and lifespans she realized these were disruptive and corossive to his body, mind and soul.
At first glance, the Fake Samsara Book appears to be an ancient, leather-bound tome, filled with indecipherable symbols and strange, swirling patterns. It pulses with a faint, malevolent energy. From what Yukiko explained to her the book seemed to appear physical to those around them but it was actually too abstract to grab physically. Momo noticed the toxic green mist that began to surround the Mr. Bellweather’s body.
Momo looks at Yukii and inquires if she knew how this book had made its way to the new owner, Mr. Bellweather, Momo could not see clearly the details of this part of his life. Yukiko, then walks over to Momo with her tablet and shows her what person who witnessed Mr. Bellweather obtain the book give details of what he saw.
According to the witness, the Fake Samsara Book was obtained at an antique bookstall near the area where the worshippers of Satan had secret meetings and attended His Infernal Majesty’s church.
Momo would then explain to Yukiko what she could see in this man’s lifescyle.
He’s currently being driven to madness by this fake book of reincarnation he found at a antique book stall, he is essentially stuck in a series of horrifying “what if” scenarios fueled by the book’s corrupt energy. One minute he’s a loving husband, the next he’s reliving a childhood trauma, the next he’s convinced that he is a 19th century noble, and then he’s a homeless drunkard. The book is actively rewriting his reality, making him relive fragments of different lives, all warped and twisted by the book’s dark energy. Each cycle leaves him weaker and more fragmented, his mind struggling to hold onto his true self.
“Sis, I can’t simply pull this book from his hands although I am able to touch it. The book is a copy but it is tainted. We need to work together to sever the connection of this book to Mr. Bellweather, we need to exorcise the corruption within it and restore Mr. Bellweather’s mind and rebalance his life path. This will involve a combination of spiritual cleansing, ritualistic sealing, and potentially, a confrontation with the entity residing within the book.”
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*Alfonsina was asked to come along with Yukiko and Momo. Ali agreed, she left the lab and brought the potion she had been working on, and that had been requested by both her sisters-in-law for this particular patient. Arriving at the medical centers, she follows Yukiko and Momo to the patient’s room. She waits for instructions as she holds a bottle with a potion with three distinct colors, green, red, yellow. She is in a hospital room. Within the room there is a green mist, the walls are white, and the patients bed is covered with a curtain so he cannot be seen by her. *
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*Momo stood at the edge of the patient’s bed, her scythe become visible in her left hand, the medical room, although usually comfortable had a toxic sterile glow, the pulsing darkness of the Fake Samsara Book still clinging faintly to her soul-sight. In this realm of science and spirit, the line between life and death blurred—and it was here she belonged most of all. Her voice, calm yet steeped in sorrow, echoed softly as she addressed her sister, Yukiko, the room, and perhaps even the lingering remnants of the twisted force that had gripped Mr. Bellweather.*
“It’s strange… How a counterfeit echo of something sacred can twist itself so thoroughly around a soul that it feels more real than life itself. This book—it doesn’t offer rebirth. It offers a prison. Endless illusions of reincarnation, all hollow. It’s nothing but decay wearing the mask of destiny.”
*She stepped closer to Mr. Bellweather, who now lay still, the green mist swirling gently above him like fog in a dying dream. Her shinigami eyes—one now glowing softly blue, the other a blood-red shimmer—searched the tangled threads of his spirit, unraveling the damage.*
“I’ve walked souls to the afterlife who were more whole than this man. His essence is fraying, Yukiko. Every false life the book forced upon him tore at his spiritual core. He doesn’t need death. Not now. He needs his life returned to him.”
*Momo turned to Yukiko, placing her palm gently over Mr. Bellweather’s heart. Threads of dark energy recoiled under her touch but didn’t vanish. She met her sister’s gaze with quiet resolve.*
“But I can’t do this alone. My powers lie in death, judgment, transition. This book is a lie against life itself—and it takes someone who understands the balance of the living and the damned to purify it. That’s you, Yukii. You, with your flames, your precision, and your stubborn refusal to let darkness define you.”
*She closed her eyes, speaking to the room as a whole now, but also to the spirit inside the book.*
“Your cycles end here. I will tether his soul to truth. And you… you will be unmade.”
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*Yukiko stepped forward, purple flames licking faintly at her fingertips, her eyes glowing with purpose and centuries of knowledge—and pain. The corrupted book vibrated in defiance, invisible to human eyes, but to her and Momo, it was a snarling thing, dripping in venomous intent.*
“I hate books like this. Old, twisted relics dressed up in ancient power, pretending to be sacred when all they do is destroy. This is no samsara. It’s a parasite. And parasites don’t get mercy.”
*She laid her tablet aside, calling forth her ceremonial dagger—not a weapon for killing, but for **carving open spiritual falsehoods**. Her flame sharpened, condensed, circling the dagger like a coiled serpent.*
“You fed on this man’s regrets. On his fears, his traumas, his love, even. You forced him through a thousand lives, but never let him live even one. That ends now.”
*She turned to Momo and smiled faintly—a rare crack in her usually hard demeanor.*
“Let’s do this together, one last time. Just like when we cleansed the Akurei Temple, back in the old world. Your silence and my flame.”
*Yukiko walked to the foot of Mr. Bellweather’s bed, holding her hands over his body. Her purple fire expanded into a protective circle. Chanting in a language known only to her kind, she began a spiritual cleansing—an exorcism not just of a spirit, but of a concept, a false reality.*
“Purification by soul flame… Sealing by name and blood… Break and banish.”
*As her words pulsed through the air, Momo’s shinigami essence stabilized the fragments of Mr. Bellweather’s soul, anchoring them while Yukiko sliced through the book’s invisible chains one by one.*
**Yukiko (softly, almost like a prayer):**
“This man is not yours. His past may be haunted, but his future is his to write. You were never a path. Only a trap. Burn.”
*With a final flare of energy—white light from Momo and deep violet from Yukiko—the book gave a shriek only they could hear. It imploded into nothingness, its false pages curling in on themselves like rotting leaves caught in a divine firestorm.*
*Silence fell. Then, breath. Mr. Bellweather stirred. The mist was gone.*
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*As soon as Yukiko pulled the curtain open and the patient was within Ali’s view, she looked at Yukiko and Momo, the sisters stood side by side as Alfonsina rushed in with the stabilizing serum, applying it carefully. Mr. Bellweather’s vitals returned to normal. He would rest for days—weeks, even—but his soul was now his own.*
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“Another one saved. But the real damage was never the book. It’s the lies people believe when they’re alone. When they think their pain makes them unworthy of peace.”
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“We can’t burn all the fakes in the world. But we can make sure they don’t win.”
*And with that, sisters Yukiko and Momo, along with their sister-in-law Alfonsina, stepped out of the room. With a sharp snap of Yukiko’s fingers, her medical team swiftly entered, their movements efficient and purposeful. The room would be thoroughly cleansed—spiritually and physically—while the patient was monitored closely, made as comfortable as possible under watchful care.*
*Yukiko would personally oversee his recovery, checking in regularly until Mr. Bellweather’s mind, body, and soul had fully stabilized.*
*The echo of their victory lingered in the air like a calm breeze after a violent storm—subtle, but unmistakably felt.*
*And so, the three women returned to their roles: Yukiko to her duties as doctor and exorcist, Alfonsina to her work as a skilled alchemist, and Momo to the quiet path of the shinigami, where death walks gently beside the living.*
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