Youmu inhaled deeply, flicking the black ichor from her blade as it began to dissipate and fade from existence. Whatever these creatures were, they weren't simply slime given form and some sort of murderous intelligence. She could feel them as spiritual presences, and the very air itself felt rotten when she was close to them.

There was no denying it, even if she wasn't as adept at understanding such things as the miko. They were some sort of evil spirit, or something similar, their oozing appearance a symptom of what they were rather then their core nature. The simple fact they vanished after death rather then leaving a body made that plenty clear.

The doll girl and the big... tree... man seemed to think they were curses, and while Youmu wasn't exactly familiar with the specifics of such a thing she couldn't exactly disagree. They felt corrupted and rotten at their very core, after all.

The petite half-phantom took a deep breath.

"Kochiya-san is a miko, so she might be able to do something about them," she commented, "I can cut them, but it'd probably be better to identify the source. If we can do that, then cutting the source should put an end to them, right?"

It made enough sense to her, at least.

Noting that the green-haired miko had proceeded into one of the buildings, Youmu sheathed her blades and followed her inside. If anyone were still here, maybe they'd be able to help.

There was a girl. A single, lone girl in the entire village. Had everyone else been killed? It was a terrible thing to think about, one that made the half-phantom's body tense and her teeth clench.

But still, if nothing else, one person was still here, right?

...

Something seemed a little strange, though. Something about this girl seemed insubstantial, somehow. Youmu couldn't really put her finger on it, but at once she seemed strangely familiar and yet entirely unfamiliar.

The way her body was curled, it was clear how she must have felt.

And yet, at Kochiya-san's words, she stirred.

"... It's all rot," she murmured, "It rotted the air and it rotted the trees and it rotted... it rotted everyone."

Her voice was barely a whisper. Her appearance was doll-like, fragile, as if a strong breeze could carry her away. Her limbs with thin, her entire body slender, clad in nothing but a white patterned dress.

When she raised her head, her soft features were utterly devoid of expression. Her eyes, a strange shade of gold and purple that resembled the sky at sunset, were completely lifeless.

"... You're not rotten," she murmured, again, "But everyone it touched rotted just like it...."