They had been running for days.

The attack on the temple had left them battered and exhausted, but there had been no time to rest. With the Onibane hunting them, every moment spent standing still felt like an invitation to be caught. The northern peaks had become their only refuge, their last hope for answers before their enemies closed in again.

The journey was grueling. Treacherous paths wound through ice-slicked cliffs, the cold gnawed at their bones, and sleep came only in restless fragments. Mei had tried to ward off their tracks, but the Onibane were relentless. They would find them again—it was only a matter of when.

Still, Aiko pressed forward.

The northern peaks loomed ahead, their jagged edges dusted with snow, bathed in the eerie glow of the Hunter’s Moon. Aiko tightened her cloak around her shoulders, her breath curling in the frigid air. The weight of the Kyūbi’s legacy pressed against her chest, a burden growing heavier with every step toward the ruins.

She should have felt anticipation—relief, even—at the prospect of answers. Instead, unease coiled in her stomach.

Ryou walked beside her, silent as ever, but she felt the way his gaze lingered, studying her in that quiet, unreadable way of his. Mei had gone ahead, scouting their path, leaving them alone beneath the watchful moon.

Aiko exhaled. “You don’t have to hover, you know.”

Ryou arched a brow. “Hover?”

“You’re watching me like I might fall apart.”

His expression remained unreadable. “Should I not?”

Frustration flickered in her chest. “I’m not fragile, Ryou.”

“No,” he agreed. “But you’re not invincible either.”

The way he said it—low, almost reverent—unsettled her more than she cared to admit.

Before she could respond, Mei returned, her breath visible in the cold air. “The shrine isn’t far. But we’re not alone.”

Aiko tensed. “The Onibane again?”

Mei hesitated. “Not yet. But something else lingers there. A presence.”

The words sent a shiver down Aiko’s spine, and she wasn’t sure it was from the cold.

They moved carefully through the ice-laden pass, the wind howling like a phantom’s wail. When the shrine finally emerged from the mist, Aiko’s pulse stuttered.

It was ancient, crumbling from centuries of neglect, yet power still pulsed through its broken stones. The remnants of fox statues lined the path, their once-proud figures now fractured and half-buried beneath the snow. And at the heart of it all stood the altar—weathered, but unmistakably familiar.

The moment Aiko stepped closer, the ground trembled. A rush of energy surged through her veins, a force both familiar and terrifying. Images flickered through her mind—

A woman with golden eyes standing where she stood now. A man beside her, his hand reaching out—his touch both a promise and a warning.

Then, fire.

Aiko staggered back, gasping.

Ryou caught her before she could collapse, his arms steady around her. “Aiko!”

She clutched his sleeve, chest heaving. “I saw something… Someone.”

His grip tightened, grounding her. “Who?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. But deep down, she feared she did.

A sudden rustling in the trees sent them all on edge. Mei drew her talismans, Ryou unsheathed his sword. Shadows slithered between the ruined pillars, and a voice—low, familiar, and laced with cruel amusement—echoed through the shrine.

“You should have stayed hidden, little fox.”

Aiko’s breath hitched.

The masked warrior.

The Onibane had found them.

As the Hunter’s Moon reached its peak, the battle began—one that would decide not just Aiko’s fate, but the fate of the Kyūbi’s legacy itself.

And deep in her chest, the fire stirred, whispering of power, of vengeance—of things she wasn’t sure she could resist.