Present Time

Cloud rolled around in the cave, shifting his position every few seconds in a futile attempt to find comfort. The ground was jagged and uneven, with sharp edges jabbing into his back no matter how he positioned himself. Each time he moved, the rocks beneath him scraped against his clothes, amplifying his irritation.

“Ahhh, can’t I rest in peace?” he muttered, exhaling sharply as he sat up and rubbed his sore back.

Sighing, he stood up and stepped just outside the cave. A gust of dry wind greeted him, carrying with it the scent of sand and something faintly metallic. He tilted his head up, his gaze landing on the two pale moons that hovered in the endless, starless sky. In the distance, the haunting screeches of the phantoms echoed, reverberating across the desert. If this had been a higher moon, the sound might have unsettled him. But now? Now, he was used to it. Their cries had become nothing more than background noise.

Tearing off a small piece of stale bread, he chewed it slowly, the dry texture scraping against his throat. It was the last of his rations, but hunger wasn’t his primary concern. Staying alive was. With one last glance at the cave, he turned away. Staying in one place for too long was a death sentence—if a group of phantoms cornered him there, escape would be impossible.

The wind howled fiercely, sending grains of sand whipping against his exposed skin. His oni mask protected his face, but the force of the wind was strong enough to make it feel as though it might rip away. Fortunately, oni masks were not so easily removed.

He trudged forward until he found a large boulder, its shadow offering a slight reprieve from the elements. He leaned against it, sliding down until he sat on the cold ground. His body ached, and exhaustion clawed at the edges of his consciousness. He stretched out one leg while bending the other, resting his arms atop his knee. The vast emptiness around him felt suffocating.

Time passed in an agonizing blur. Or maybe it moved too quickly? It was impossible to tell in the Yokai Realm, where the concept of time twisted unpredictably. Cloud wasn’t tired in the traditional sense, but the sheer monotony of sitting still gnawed at him, making his eyelids grow heavy. His head bobbed forward, only for him to jerk awake each time.

‘I need to stay awake…’

His own thoughts were a whisper of warning. He knew what could happen if he allowed himself to drift off. The last time he had closed his eyes for more than a few seconds, three moons had passed without his awareness. He wouldn’t let that happen again.

Shaking his head violently, he forced himself to his feet, jumping in place to keep his body active. When that wasn’t enough, he pinched the skin on his arm, the sting momentarily jolting him awake.

Then he looked back up at the sky.

One moon.

“What the hell?” he muttered, his pulse quickening. 'When did…? Was I actually asleep? No, I only closed my eyes for a second…'

A deep sense of unease settled in his stomach. No use questioning it now. He had to act.

Steeling himself, he left the cover of the boulder and ventured back into the desert, his mind set on one goal: finding a phantom and exorcising it. But as he walked, an unsettling realization crept in. The phantom screeches had vanished. The once-familiar cries that filled the air were now absent, leaving behind an unnatural silence.

A bead of sweat rolled down his temple. Something wasn’t right.

His pace quickened. Then, without warning, he broke into a full sprint, heading in a random direction. His heart pounded against his ribs as his breathing grew labored. He shouted, his voice tearing through the quiet if maybe phantoms could hear him, but the wind swallowed his cries. Desperation clawed at him. He flailed his arms, hoping to catch the attention of something—anything—but the desert remained indifferent.

Even amidst his panic, his thoughts drifted back to Takahiro.

The Night Before Takahiro’s Departure

Cloud had bombarded Takahiro with questions, taking advantage of the little time they had left together. Takahiro, though clearly exhausted, had answered each one patiently. He had an early morning ahead of him, but Cloud didn’t care—he needed to know everything.

“What should I do if I can’t find any phantoms during one moon?”

Takahiro had paused at that, his brows furrowing in brief contemplation.

“Well, firstly, it’s highly unlikely that you won’t be able to find them during one moon. They group up tremendously,” he had said. “But if that does happen, your best bet would be to radiate as much foxfire as you can. Phantoms can sense it when it’s external. Just envelope your hands with it and stay in place to concentrate it in that area.”

“But,” Takahiro had added with a warning glance, “this can be very risky. You’d be wasting your strength, and if you’re unlucky, the entire horde might come after you... But it’s better than the alternative.”

Present Time

Cloud halted in his tracks, Takahiro’s advice ringing in his mind. He sucked in a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as he steadied himself. Then, without hesitation, his hands ignited with electric-blue foxfire, the glow casting eerie shadows against the sand.

“Come on, sense it,” he whispered, as if willing the phantoms to appear.

The minutes stretched painfully. Cloud remained frozen in place, hands ablaze, his nerves on edge. Then, finally, a distant, piercing screech cut through the silence. His head snapped toward the sound, and his pulse quickened.

His gaze darted across the barren landscape, searching for cover. A dead palm tree stood a short distance away. Without a second thought, he sprinted toward it, diving behind its brittle trunk. His foxfire flickered before vanishing completely. Now, he waited.

‘I have to see how many there are… then hopefully catch one that’s drifting behind the group.’

Moments later, a group of phantoms emerged, sprinting toward where he had stood moments before. Their twisted forms loomed in the dim light, dark eyes scanning the area. Cloud exhaled in relief. Five of them.

‘Five… I can defeat five if it comes to it, surely…’ But doubt gnawed at his confidence.

The phantoms stopped, shoving each other before settling into stillness. One by one, they curled their elongated limbs close to their bodies, their forms resembling large, grotesque rocks.

‘Are they shifters?... Well, it doesn’t matter,’ he thought, his gaze flickering back up at the moon. ‘I have no time to waste… It’s now or never.’

Summoning every ounce of his resolve, he launched himself forward, his fist igniting with foxfire as he lunged toward his prey.