Night in the mountains was cruel.
The winds howled like wounded beasts, clawing through the trees, and the mist had turned to shadow. Hizusuki moved with caution now, the red shard pulsing faintly in a pouch tied to his belt. The girl clung close to his side, her small feet struggling to keep up on the uneven path.
"We can't stop here," Hizusuki muttered. "Something is stalking us."
The girl looked up. "You saw it too?"
He nodded. "Only once. A flash of white fur… just beyond the trees."
The fireflies were gone. Even the crickets had fallen silent. That kind of silence only meant one thing in these lands:
A predator.
They pressed on until the forest broke, revealing a wide clearing bathed in moonlight. In the center stood a single, dead tree—twisted, hollow, and ancient. Beneath its crooked branches, a shrine stone lay cracked, and blood-red markings were painted across its surface.
"Stop," Hizusuki said suddenly, raising a hand.
The girl froze.
A low growl rumbled from the treeline, and a figure emerged.
Towering. Bestial. Fur like snow stained with ash. Golden eyes burning with fury and hunger. It was no ordinary wolf—it stood on two legs, claws as long as knives, a tattered prayer charm still clinging to one horn on its head.
"A yōkai," Hizusuki whispered. "But not wild. Bound."
The beast growled in a deep, broken voice. "You carry what belongs to the mountain. Return the fragment, or I will feast on your bones."
Hizusuki drew his sword with a single fluid motion, the blade gleaming in the moonlight. "You were once a protector spirit. I can feel it."
"I was Akaga, guardian of this land," the yōkai spat. "Until your bloodline's curse tainted the flow of spirit energy. Now I am hunger. I am rage. I am the Demon Wolf of Ashen Trees!"
And with a snarl, the beast lunged.
Hizusuki moved faster than thought. Steel met fang, sparks flying into the night. The impact threw him back several paces, boots skidding across the mud. The yōkai was relentless, slashing with both claws, its breath hot and foul.
But Hizusuki's eyes narrowed.
He wasn't fighting just to kill. He was watching. Listening. Every movement of the beast—every pause, every howl—told a story.
"...You're still in there," he said during a clash. "I don't need to kill you. I need to free you."
The yōkai roared and leapt again.
This time, Hizusuki didn't dodge. He stepped into the strike and plunged his blade—not into the heart, but the horn, slicing through the ancient charm tied to it.
A flash of light.
A howl of agony.
And then… silence.
The great beast collapsed, twitching. Its form shimmered, and before Hizusuki now lay not a monster—but a man. Older, eyes pale, skin marked with the scars of a hundred winters. His breath was shallow, but peaceful.
"You have your father's will," he rasped. "And… his curse."
Hizusuki knelt beside him. "What curse?"
The man raised a trembling hand, pointing toward the moon.
"There are six fragments… but only five truths. The sixth will break you. Or set you free."
And then, he was gone.
The girl stood at Hizusuki's side, silent.
"Come," Hizusuki said softly. "There's nothing left for him here."
They left the clearing behind, the wind quieter now. But above, in the dark canopy of trees, something watched.
And deeper still, beneath the roots of the dead tree, something stirred.