the realm of curses
The story of Yokai Art — where spirits, curses, and creation intertwine
Chapter 1
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Chapter 1 *
In an age drowned in silk and silence, there reigned an emperor whose heart was heavier than his crown.
His words once carried peace across the realm, until whispers of betrayal tore the throne from beneath him.
Exiled to a distant land, stripped of title and honour, he watched his empire fade into ink and ash.
Yet vengeance does not die — it festers.
In that darkness, the Sovereign bit off his own tongue and inscribed his curse in blood upon a sacred scroll.
Within those crimson lines, he poured his grief, his fury, and his name — binding them to the world beyond death.
When his body fell, the scroll breathed.
From his wrath came spirits — reflections of his suffering made flesh:
One who sees without eyes, bearing the burden of insight that no man should hold.
One who weeps without end, a lament for the innocent drowned in consequence.
And he — the one who rules without crown — the fallen emperor, now Sovereign of vengeance itself.
Together, they became the first seal.
The ink still bleeds through time, staining all who draw near.
Thus begins the Yokai Art Saga — Chapter I: The Vengeful Sovereign.
Chapter 1 yokai lore
Once, she was a woman betrayed by love and bound by silence.
In death, her soul refused release — her grief curdled into wrath, and her sorrow took form.
Clad in pale white robes, her hair a veil of midnight, she wanders the realm between worlds, seeking those who wronged her and those who resemble them.
Her tears fall like venom, seeping into the soil until spider lilies bloom where her pain took root.
She does not haunt for vengeance alone, but for remembrance — a spirit born of love so deep it could not die, even when she did.
She is Onryō, the weeping echo of betrayal — beauty and torment bound as one.
Once a blind man beaten and robbed by thieves, he died reaching for faces he could not see.
In death, his plea was answered in cruelty — his eyes reborn upon the palms of his hands.
Now he wanders the earth by touch and sight intertwined, his hands outstretched in endless searching.
The living say his gaze burns colder than any night, for those eyes remember the faces that struck him down.
He does not seek mercy — only recognition.He is Tenome, the seer who sees without eyes — cursed to witness what mortals should never behold.
Once an emperor of the Heian court, betrayed by blood and throne alike.
Cast into exile, he lived not as a ruler but as a ghost among the living — forsaken, humiliated, and consumed by silence.
In despair, he tore his tongue and wrote his curse in blood, vowing that his hatred would outlive the dynasty that damned him.
The scroll drank his agony, and when his body perished, his spirit lingered — twisted by grief into something divine and dreadful.
From the ink of that vow rose storms, famine, and rebellion — the empire itself recoiling beneath his lingering wrath.
He is Sutoku, the emperor who rules without crown — a sovereign not of mortals, but of vengeance eternal.
The Unfolding of curses
Each chapter is a fragment of a greater curse — an echo in ink, waiting to awaken.
Chapter 1-
Vengeful Sovereign
Once a ruler bound by sorrow, now an omen that walks between ink and vengeance.
His curse stains the realm — and those who bear his mark.
the first seal is broken!
Chapter 2 (sealed)
The parchment quivers beneath frost.
Whispers drift of women who wander where lilies freeze.
She lingers where warmth forgets to return.
She wears beauty like a wound.
She smiles where silk decays.
chapter 3 (sEALED)
The ground hums with chains unbroken.
The air tastes of storms yet to come.”
He drinks where blood remembers flame.
He laughs in the ash of kings.
He feasts on what mercy left behind.
Chapter 4 (sealed)
When the embers cooled, the light that remained was not kind.
A smile too perfect. A voice too still.
She wears divinity like a disguise.
He offers choice where none exists
Her beauty starves, but her shadow eats
the parchment ends here, but the story does not.
The Night Parade
After reading this far, the ink has already marked you!
The hand behind the seal
Yokai Art was born from the place where art and fear intertwine —
from the flicker of a brushstroke that turns shadows into something sacred.
Streetwear once carried meaning.
It was rebellion stitched into fabric, identity made visible.
But the story faded.
Designs grew louder, yet emptier — a world of noise with nothing to say.
We create to bring feeling back.
Inspired by the timeless spirit of Japanese folklore and the dark fantasy worlds that shaped our imagination,
every collection rekindles the emotion of the ghost stories we once whispered in awe —
tales that frightened us, moved us, and made the impossible feel alive.
We do this with reverence — for the culture, artistry, and storytelling traditions that inspire us.
Every yokai we reimagine is treated not as a costume, but as a tribute —
a way to carry these stories forward with care, creativity, and respect.
Each piece is crafted to make you feel that same spark —
to wear the beauty of a world where myth breathes through design.
The spider lily became our emblem —
a flower of parting and rebirth,
proof that sorrow can still create something beautiful.
Because we believe clothing should tell stories —
not just decorate, but remind.
Yokai Art exists to bridge art and emotion,
fear and beauty,
legend and life.
For those who still feel something when the world forgets to.
For those who honour the stories that came before us.
We are Yokai Art.
We are the Night Parade.
And we wear our ghosts proudly —
not to imitate,
but to celebrate the culture that made us dream.