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Chapter Text

"Now that your soul is unbound, tell me-who will be your host?"
The voice was dry and raspy, like wind scraping over bone.

"The Raiden Shogun," came the reply-low, steady, laced with power.

A burst of laughter rang out, sharp and mocking.
"Bold of you to think you can possess the Shogun herself."

"Not bold-strategic. The body is a puppet. Far easier to control. And if I can fracture the soul... the husk becomes mine."

A thoughtful pause. Then the rasp returned, tinged with amusement.
"Interesting. But remember the rules: once you take a vessel, there's no switching. One shot-that's all. You could miss entirely and end up in one of her servants. Or worse... a dog."

Another cackle followed, dry as flame on ash.

The second voice went quiet. Then, with quiet conviction:

"My mission will not fail. I will still the tides, restore the sea's peace, and deliver justice to the one we once called friend. They will remember the name...
Shoyū-sha."

It had been several months since the Vision Hunt Decree was brought to an end-thanks to the efforts of the Traveler and those who stood beside them. In that time, the Raiden Shogun had offered personal apologies to every citizen whose Vision had been taken.

Only one name remained.

Thoma.

The man who hadn't flinched when he hurled a spear at her-protecting the Traveler without hesitation.

She couldn't quite place why the thought of this meeting filled her with such unease. Perhaps it was because Thoma had defied her not out of desperation, but with a calm certainty that it was right. Or maybe it was because she hadn't simply taken his Vision-she had made a spectacle of it. Tied at the wrists, forced to his knees before a watching crowd.

She'd heard whispers: that he was often treated as an outsider, born of Mondstadt with Inazuman blood in his veins. That moment must have cut deeper-more humiliating than for most.

The room was quiet, prepared with care. A low table set with pillows, fresh tea, and delicate snacks. A show of hospitality, or perhaps... penance.

She raised her cup and took a sip, then lowered it again-fingers lingering against the smooth porcelain, tracing a shallow groove around its edge. Her thumb moved back and forth in a silent rhythm, like she was trying to rub away a thought she couldn't shake.

"One last apology..." she murmured, eyes dropping to the reflection in her cup.

The same haunted expression stared back. The same fear she had seen mirrored in the eyes of every citizen before him.

Except this time, she feared it might be her own.

Thoma stood at the gates of Tenshukaku, Ayato and Ayaka close behind-for emotional support, of course.

"An audience with the Shogun..." he muttered, pausing to glance over his shoulder at the Kamisato siblings, a nervous look creeping across his face.

"You think she's still mad I threw a spear at her?" he asked, a single bead of sweat sliding dramatically down his temple.

Ayaka offered a hesitant smile. "No... well-maybe. It's hard to tell with her."

"Great," Thoma sighed, lightly tapping his index fingers together. "I just hope she's not still thinking about, you know, that spear incident. It was a very... spur-of-the-moment kind of decision."

"Relax," Ayato said calmly. "All parties affected by the Vision Hunt Decree are receiving a personal apology from the Shogun herself. That includes you, Thoma."

Ayaka nodded. "Besides, if you hadn't stepped in, the Traveler might not have succeeded."

Ayato placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "And I would have lost the loyalty of a very good friend."

Thoma smiled, the tension easing just a little. "Alright... here goes nothing."

He took a breath, squared his shoulders, and started toward the entrance.

Behind him, Ayato let out a quiet sigh, recalling his own formal apology from the Shogun.

"I owe the Kamisato Clan an apology," she said. "It must have been difficult to remain impartial throughout everything. Your sister showed great empathy... and I imagine it wasn't easy nearly losing someone so close to you amidst it all."

Ayato offered a soft, warm smile. "I would call him far more than a housekeeper. Thoma and I have grown close over the years-as comrades, and as friends."

"I see." The Shogun inclined her head slightly. "As a formal gesture of apology, I will grant you any request within my power."

Ayato hesitated for the briefest moment, carefully choosing his words. "I've heard you've extended kindness to many affected by the Decree. In that spirit, I ask just one thing."

He exhaled quietly. "I would like your blessing... to pursue Thoma in a more romantic way."

The Shogun raised a brow. "Interesting. You know I hold no prejudice regarding such matters. If you wish to be with your retainer, that is of no concern to me. But asking me for such a blessing seems... unnecessary."

Ayato nodded. "I understand. But not everyone sees things as clearly. There are... factors. Thoma is from Mondstadt. He already faces scrutiny for being a foreigner, even with Inazuman blood. And then there's the fact that we are both men-something not all will accept. Add to that my status, and his position as my retainer... it risks being seen as an abuse of power."

He lowered his gaze slightly, tone more solemn. "I realized how closely his loyalty is tied to who he is. He received his Vision through an oath-an undying loyalty to me and the Yashiro Commission. It's a quality I treasure above all else. If the gods deemed that worthy, then so do I. And if that loyalty were ever stripped away... it would be as if you had taken my own sense of eternity."

The room fell quiet.

"I see," the Shogun finally said, her voice softer now. "In that case, I offer more than just a blessing. I have suggestions-practical ones."

She uncrossed her arms and placed them neatly in her lap. "First: have you confessed your feelings to him?"

"Not yet," Ayato replied. "I wanted to speak with you first."

"Good. You will not-must not-until I have given him my apology. He is the last on my list." She looked him squarely in the eyes. "Until then, wait. I only offer apologies to citizens of Inazuma. Once I do, he will no longer be seen as a foreigner. His Vision bears the Inazuman frame. From that moment on, he has be recognized as one of us-part of our shared journey toward eternity."

She crossed her arms once more, a trace of finality in her tone.

"As for the other concerns-his gender, your rank-I will speak with Yae Miko. She's more... attuned to such matters. Likely due to the books she sells through Yae Publishing," she added with the faintest sigh.

"Until then, prepare yourself. When the day comes, and you do confess, make sure it's worthy of the loyalty he's shown you."

Ayato bowed his head respectfully. "Thank you, Your Excellency. It means a great deal to have your support."

"At this point," she said quietly, "all I want is the trust of my people again. If offering you a blessing-one you could've pursued regardless-helps restore that, then I'll gladly give it."

The great doors opened, and the Raiden Shogun looked up to greet them.

"Ayaka. Ayato. ...Thoma." Her gaze lingered on him for just a moment longer than the others.

"Good evening, Miss Shogun," Thoma said with a respectful bow, posture perfectly straight despite the anxious flutter in his chest.

"I brought some dango milk," he added quickly, stepping forward and placing a small glass on the table, wrapped neatly in purple paper. "I heard it's your favorite, so I thought I'd try making some myself."

"Oh-um... you didn't have to do that," the Shogun replied, her voice caught slightly off guard.

"Well, I mean... I just thought it'd be a good gesture. You know, considering the last time we saw each other... I was staring down the tip of your spear, and you were, well-staring down mine..." He let out a nervous laugh, hoping the joke would lighten the mood.

Silence.

No one else was laughing.

Thoma's smile twitched, and he immediately dropped onto the pillow, kneeling. "Right. I'll shut up now."

"You dare mock the Shogun within Tenshukaku?" Kujou Sara snapped, arms crossed and gaze sharp as steel. The tension in the room surged.

"Sara, it's fine," the Shogun said calmly, raising a hand. "Just some light-hearted banter before we begin. Besides, I imagine you all must be hungry. Please-have something to eat."

It was a lie, of course. Ei wasn't hungry at all. But the awkward silence needed breaking.

Ayaka and Ayato helped themselves to a few snacks. Thoma, however, only managed a single bite of onigiri before setting it down. He'd normally be all over a spread like this, but the knot in his stomach made it feel like swallowing lead.

Ei sensed his discomfort and cleared her throat, trying again. "So, Thoma... how have things been? I hope you've had some time to stretch your legs beyond the Komore Teahouse."

Thoma let out a short chuckle. "Oh, yeah. I went for a really long jog around the island-had to stretch them out. Well... not exactly. I kind of cannonballed into the bathhouse before I started."

The Shogun blinked, raising her cup. "I don't believe the bathhouse is that deep. I'd advise against jumping into it-it could lead to injury."

A beat of silence.

It was clear she hadn't caught the joke.

"R-Right..." Thoma rubbed the back of his neck, his chuckle trailing off awkwardly.

Moments passed in silence. Then the Shogun glanced up, her gaze meeting Thoma's.

But it wasn't eye contact.

It was more like he was looking past her.

Something about the way his eyes narrowed-so focused, so distant-sent a ripple of unease through her.

This is going to be harder than I thought.

Thoma had been looking at the Shogun-until something behind her caught his eye.

That candle... it's too bright. And that flame-what kind of color is that?

His gaze locked onto a red paper lantern. Or rather, what should have been red. At its center, the flame shimmered with an unnatural hue-white-lavender, flickering like a ghost's whisper. It was the only thing he could see. So much so that he didn't even hear the Raiden Shogun call his name the first time.

"Thoma?"

"Hm? Oh-ah, sorry. The mind tends to wander sometimes..." He let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I know things have been tense between us since that day," the Shogun began carefully, her tone searching-reaching not as an Archon, but as a person. "But I would like to..."

She hesitated. The words caught in her throat, too heavy to speak plainly.

"What I mean to say is..."

"Thoma, I want to apolo-"

She didn't finish.

Thoma suddenly bolted forward and rushed behind her, pressing a firm hand to her back and shoving her to the floor.

There was a blinding flash of light.

She barely registered Ayaka and Ayato's stunned faces. No one moved. No one shouted.

The pressure on her back vanished. She twisted around.

And saw him.

A glowing violet mark pulsed in the center of Thoma's chest-shaped like a snake, yet crackling with corrupted energy. For a moment she thought he'd taken a hit meant for her.

But it wasn't an attack.

It was an invasion.

The light slithered like a serpent, curling and digging deeper into his chest. Thoma staggered back, screaming in raw agony, clutching at himself as his body twisted under the force.

"Thoma!" Ayaka cried, rushing forward-

-but a surge of lavender smoke burst outward from his body, a gale of corrupted wind hurling her violently into the far wall.

"Ayaka!" Ayato shouted, rising to his feet in alarm.

And then Thoma turned.

Slowly. Horrifyingly slow.

His eyes were blank-devoid of life. No green, no black-only a pale, haunting violet glow. Beneath them, faint scales shimmered in triangular patterns, like something ancient pushing through the skin.

His hands rose—one to his temple, the other to his jaw.

The first set of horns curled from his forehead—dark purple, smooth, and cruel—tearing through his headband and curling backward against his skull. The second set jutted along his jawline, protruding like tusks that framed his face in something feral. And then came the smile.

His eyes—once blank pools of pale violet—now shimmered with a cold, inhuman sharpness. In each iris sat a single, thin slit: reptilian, watchful, wrong.

From beneath his tip-less gloves, his fingernails extended into long, black claws, each one curved and deadly. His hair, once a soft golden blonde, began to fade—strand by strand—into a pale lavender hue.

A tail erupted from the base of his spine, lashing behind him with a serpentine whip. Reptilian in form, it was lined with angular fins—sharp, edged like a sea dragon's, thrumming with the same pale fire.

This was no longer Thoma.

This was something wearing his shape.

A wicked, unnatural grin spread across his face-far too wide for someone like Thoma. And far too sharp.

His teeth had changed. Rows of fangs gleamed beneath the smirk. His lips parted with a low, rumbling chuckle-too deep. Too alien.

"Looks like I wasn't subtle enough... Raiden," the voice growled from Thoma's mouth, mocking and cold.

"Your husk was supposed to be mine," it continued, raising Thoma's hand and unclipping the red Vision from his belt. "But this servant of yours... didn't understand the cost of his loyalty."

The possessed Thoma tossed the Vision at her feet. It clattered as it spun, the glow vanishing entirely-just an empty shell now.

The Shogun's gaze lifted from the extinguished Vision to the creature in front of her. Thoma's body-twisted. Defiled.

Kujou Sara moved fast. An arrow flew toward the thing-but it caught it mid-air with a snap of its fingers, inches from its face.

"Pity," it said. "If I can't have your form... I'll settle for your head."

With that, it snapped the arrow in two.

Thoma's signature red jacket slid from his shoulders and hit the floor with a soft thud to reveal a black tank top. His transformation was now fully visible-patches of shimmering lavender scales coiled around his arms. One cluster spread across his outer biceps, another down his forearm. They vanished into the gloves he still wore, but it was clear:

Whatever he had become... it was only just beginning.

Chapter Text

The Raiden Shogun summoned her spear, gripping it tightly in both hands before spinning it with elegant precision-an intimidating flourish that radiated authority. The creature possessing Thoma, however, seemed utterly unimpressed.

"Who are you," she demanded, leveling the tip of her spear at him with one hand, "and what have you done with my citizen?"

The thing in Thoma's body let out a low, mocking laugh.
"Isn't it obvious? Your 'citizen' is no more. His soul doesn't live here anymore. A shame, really-but let's not dwell. He's irrelevant now. Just a husk."

Ayato's hands curled into fists as he stepped forward, fury in his voice. "Take that back. Now."

Ei shot a hand out to block him, her stern glare urging restraint. Not yet.

The creature's mouth curled into a wicked grin that didn't belong on Thoma's familiar, gentle features. It fed on their outrage, clearly entertained by the Kamisato siblings' reaction.

"Did I touch a nerve?" it taunted. "Don't feel too bad-your precious little retainer touched a nerve with me too. I had one chance, one chance, to claim a body of real value. And instead, I ended up in this... this domestic darling."

It sniffed at the gloves Thoma wore, grimacing.
"Ugh. Rice water and soap. Disgusting. A glorified housekeeper."

It grit Thoma's teeth in frustration, but paused as it summoned his polearm. Recognition flickered behind its reptilian eyes.

"Well now... not entirely useless, I suppose," it muttered, twirling the polearm. "Do all your housekeepers come this well-armed? Or is this just a new thing we're doing in Inazuma now?"

"That's enough. Explain yourself," the Shogun commanded, voice sharp.

The creature swung the polearm onto its shoulder and let Thoma's arm hang over it lazily, almost mockingly. "Alright then, here's a question for you: what comes to mind when I say the name... Shoyū-sha?"

The name struck like lightning. Ei froze, mouth parted in shock, her eyes going wide.

"Aha," the thing grinned wider. "So you do remember me. Good. Because I haven't forgotten you either."

With a sudden burst of motion, he launched himself at her. The polearm flew into the air-and he caught it mid-arc with his tail. Then, dropping onto all fours like a beast, he pounced with his claws extended, aiming straight for the Shogun's heart.

The moment Shoyū-sha lunged, claws gleaming and tail whipping behind him, the Raiden Shogun met him head-on with a blinding arc of lightning. Spear met polearm in a violent clang, the force of the impact sending out a shockwave that cracked the floor beneath them. Wind howled through the Tenshukaku halls as fragments of the ornate walls shattered from the sheer force of their clash.

He twisted midair, landing in a crouch on all fours. Without pausing, he lunged again, tail whipping up behind him and his body coiling like a serpent preparing to strike. The Shogun spun her spear in a defensive arc, deflecting blow after blow with practiced grace. But this wasn't just a brawl-it was a storm made flesh, and the air snapped with raw energy.

Their weapons collided again, sending both combatants sliding back across the polished floor-until Shoyū-sha leapt, shoulder-first, and tackled the Shogun clean through the wall.

BOOM.

The outer wall exploded outward in a hail of stone and shrapnel. The two figures spiraled through the air and landed in the courtyard below with a devastating crash, shattering decorative tiles underfoot.

A gasp rippled through the onlookers gathering outside the estate-guards, retainers, even common folk frozen in awe and terror. Some screamed. Others stared in stunned silence.

The Shogun rolled back to her feet in a flash of lightning, eyes burning with divine fury.

Shoyū-sha stood opposite her, rising to his full height for a moment-then dropped back to all fours with a beastlike grin. His claws tore through stone as he prowled in a wide arc, circling her like a predator. His tail lashed behind him. His reptilian pupils narrowed. And then, just as suddenly, he sprang back onto two legs, twirling the polearm in a spinning flourish before hurling it like a javelin at her chest.

The Shogun vanished in a streak of lightning, reappearing midair as she grabbed the thrown polearm in one hand-twisting and spinning to throw it back. But Shoyū-sha was already moving, darting forward with impossible speed, claws flashing as he slashed across the courtyard in zigzagging patterns.

Their battle was a blur of elemental power and primal force-blows fast enough to break sound, each strike lighting up the sky with flashes of purple, gold, and lavender flame.

Spectators ducked for cover as arcs of electricity split the ground and lavender lightning roared from Shoyū-sha's lungs in a serpentine hiss.

The creature tilted his head, lips curling into a cruel grin that didn't belong on Thoma's face. "Oh, don't look so surprised, Raiden Shogun. You were the one who buried me, remember?"

His tone was honeyed poison, thick with disdain. He stepped forward, claws clicking against the floor with each slow, deliberate step.

The storm cracked open above Tenshukaku, thunder rolling as if summoned by old memories and older grudges.

Shoyū-sha surged forward with a roar, claws gleaming like obsidian lightning, tail sweeping wide as he pounced. Raiden Ei pivoted smoothly, dodging with grace born of centuries of war, the tines of her spear parrying his descent. Sparks exploded as claw met steel, a flurry of motion as he twisted mid-air, tail curling around to swipe at her legs.

She jumped, high and clean-but still, a fin grazed her shin.

"You hesitate," he snarled, landing hard. "That wouldn't have happened before."

He lunged again, his movements animalistic-on all fours now, moving like a predator with too many joints. Ei dropped low, driving her spear upward in a crescent, knocking him back. The polearm cleaved a gash across his shoulder, but the blood that spilled was black-violet, not red.

"Still hiding behind your precision," he mocked, staggering backward but laughing. "I remember when you fought like a storm trying to drown the world. Now you dance like a priestess. Did grief soften you?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she charged.

The Shogun vanished for a blink, reappearing behind him with a crash of lightning. Her strike was blindingly fast, but Shoyū-sha spun with a snarl, catching the shaft of the spear with both clawed hands. His fingers smoked from the contact, skin hissing as it burned-but he grinned through the pain.

"You changed," he said, pushing back against her. "It's not that much fun now."

The force of his push threw her backward. She skidded across the stone floor, heels grating as she caught herself with her spear.

"Now you stop for this boy."

He spat to the side, disgust curling in his throat.

"How dull you've become, Raiden. I clawed my way back through centuries of salt and silence... and for this?"

Ei's grip on her spear tightened.

"He's still in there," she said softly. "And I will not destroy him to destroy you."

Shoyū-sha laughed-a wild, guttural sound that echoed off the stone.

"Then let him be your anchor-as you both drown."

Ayato stood frozen, trembling as he knelt and picked up the fallen Vision. It flickered-just once-as if trying to stir, before fading into a cold, empty silence.

He clutched it to his chest, willing it to glow again, to feel even a trace of Thoma's warmth. But there was nothing.

Ayaka stumbled from where she had been thrown, but quickly made her way to her brother's side. "Ayato..."

"He's gone," Ayato whispered, his voice cracking.

Tears fell freely down his face.

Ayaka's heart ached as she looked at him. She had always known about her brother's feelings for Thoma-had seen how his face would flush when Thoma smiled at him, or how he lingered just a moment longer when they parted ways. She had teased him gently for it, always hoping he'd find the courage to speak his heart.

Now, it was too late.

She wrapped her arms tightly around him as he collapsed into the embrace, unable to return it, too broken to move.

But then, Ayaka's grip on his robes tightened. Her shoulders shook, but her voice was firm.

"We'll restore his honor. No matter what."

She stood, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, and took a step forward. Her voice rang clear-steady with conviction.

"I will not let my best friend's name be tarnished by that thing wearing his skin."

She turned to Ayato, eyes burning with a fierce determination. "Stand with me, Brother. We may not want to raise our blades against him-but if this is truly the end, then let it be on our terms. Let his last memory be of us-his family-not the Shogun's blade."

Her voice cracked, the grief breaking through, but she pressed on. Ayato looked up at her-struck by the strength in her gaze. His little sister, once so delicate, now stood tall as a warrior of the Kamisato Clan.

He rose beside her, a new fire in his chest. Together, they drew their blades.

"Then let's make it count," Ayato said, his voice low, deadly. He clipped Thoma's now blank vision to his hip, a sign of his respect.

And in a flash, the two disappeared into the fray.

The clash between Shoyū-sha and the Raiden Shogun echoed through the courtyard like rolling thunder. Sparks danced across the floor with every strike, the air thick with electricity and tension. But something was shifting.

Shoyū-sha had grown bolder, his movements sharper, more experimental. It was as if he were testing her-not just her strength, but her resolve.

Then, he stopped evading.

As the Shogun lunged forward with her polearm-lightning crackling along the blade-Shoyū-sha remained rooted in place. His grin widened, smug and unshaken.

She narrowed her eyes. Why isn't he moving?

Still, she didn't hesitate. Her polearm shot forward like a bolt of divine judgment-yet as it struck his chest, something held her back.

The blade pierced skin, just enough to draw blood, but not enough to kill.

Time seemed to hang still as a thin line of dark purple ran down his chest, soaking into the fabric. Shoyū-sha's expression didn't twist in pain-it lit up with delight.

"Ah... so he wasn't such a lost cause after all," he purred, voice dark and triumphant. "You still care, don't you?"

He leaned in just slightly, the polearm still embedded shallowly in his chest. "Your refusal to kill him to stop me... it gives me more power over this body. It feeds me. Your compassion, your hesitation-it's quite charming, really. Almost endearing."

He took a step back, letting the blade slip from his flesh with a sickening sound. The wound glowed faintly, the purple scales pulsing around it like a heartbeat. With a low growl, he flexed his claws and surged forward.

The Shogun barely brought her weapon up in time to deflect his next strike-a flurry of clawed swipes and a tail whip that cracked the floor beneath them. She spun away, lightning arcing from her fingertips as she countered, driving a bolt into his side. He howled-not from pain, but exhilaration.

He lunged again, twisting midair, slashing down with Thoma's polearm-now crackling with corrupted electro energy. She caught it against her own, sparks flying, the impact sending both of them sliding back across the stone floor.

Her breathing was measured, calm-but her heart was pounding. Not from fear. From guilt. From recognition. She was holding back.

Shoyū-sha saw it. He felt it.

"You've changed," he said, circling her. "This isn't fun anymore. I wanted the thunderstorm, the terror of Inazuma."

He spat a trace of blood and smiled wide. "Where's the monster who locked me beneath the sea?"

"The only monster here is you!" a fierce voice rang out.

Shoyū-sha turned just in time to see a blur of pale blue and silver-Ayaka, eyes burning with resolve, blade glinting with moonlight, charging straight at him.

He had a moment to react-only a moment. He raised Thoma's polearm just in time to parry the strike, the force behind her swing enough to rattle his arms and send a jolt through his shoulder. Ice bloomed beneath their feet as Ayaka slid across the floor in a graceful arc, blade dancing like the wind cutting across a frozen lake.

Shoyū-sha clicked his tongue as Ayaka pressed forward, her strikes swift and precise. He sidestepped another slash and let out a low, mocking laugh.
"Who are you? Didn't expect nobility to hit that hard. Or maybe you're just angry that I broke your little pet."

Ayaka struck again, this time aiming for his shoulder. He twisted out of the way, tail lashing toward her, but she ducked under it and swept low, forcing him to leap backward. The moment his feet hit the ground, she was already on him again-this time faster, fiercer.

Every strike she delivered was controlled, elegant-but furious. Her blade shimmered with Cryo, frost trailing behind each swing like the trail of a falling star. Her movements were a storm of grief and precision.

"You won't stain Thoma's name any longer!" she shouted, tears mingling with the frost in her lashes.

Shoyū-sha snarled, parrying her again and again, but Ayaka's momentum didn't break. Her footwork was relentless, her speed nearly overwhelming. One swing slipped past his guard and slashed across his chest-purple scales cracked from the force, and corrupted ichor oozed from the wound.

"You'll pay for that-" he hissed.

"Not alone," came another voice-cool, composed, but lined with fury.

Shoyū-sha turned too late.

Ayato was already mid-swing, blade wreathed in hydro energy. His strike collided with Shoyū-sha's side, forcing the possessed man to stumble, snarling, trying to regain balance. Ayato didn't give him the chance-he pressed forward, coordinating with his sister in perfect synchronicity.

Ayaka dashed left, Ayato right-each strike coordinated, balanced, refined. Years of training together made their movements flow as one. Ayaka froze the floor beneath Shoyū-sha's feet, making his footing unsteady. Ayato followed with a swift upward slash, the water encasing his blade forming elegant arcs that cracked through the frost and into Shoyū-sha's ribs.

Shoyū-sha roared in frustration, forced to the defensive. "You think this is enough to stop me?!"

"It's not about stopping you!" Ayato shouted. "It's about preserving his name!"

Ayaka spun, blade glowing with a brilliant Cryo flare, and struck hard-sending a shockwave of frost that sent Shoyū-sha skidding backward, his tail dragging a deep gouge into the floor.

He rose slowly, snarling. Blood dripped from his mouth, and yet he laughed-a low, guttural sound. "How poetic. Two nobles fight together to rescue their precious housekeeper." His voice twisted mockingly. "Too bad he's already gone. All you're doing now... is dancing with a corpse."

Shoyū-sha ducked under Ayato's next strike, tail lashing out with terrifying speed. It coiled around Ayato's blade and yanked it from his grip, flinging it across the courtyard where it clattered out of reach. In the same motion, he twisted and drove a powerful kick into Ayaka's chest, sending her flying backward. She hit the ground hard, her breath knocked from her lungs, and lay sprawled and vulnerable.

"Tch. You break so easily," Shoyū-sha sneered, stalking toward her. He raised Thoma's polearm, its edge glinting with cruel intent. "Let me prove to you just how gone your precious little knight really is."

He drew the weapon back to strike.

But before the blow could fall-

Ayato dove, throwing himself between the blade and his sister without hesitation.

The air snapped with sudden heat.

Thoma's Vision-forgotten at Ayato's hip-blazed to life. Crimson light flared out, and for just an instant, Shoyū-sha froze. His pupils shrank. In the red shimmer of Ayato's shield, he saw them-Thoma's right eye. The real one. Soft, warm, alive. Even now. Thoma shielded them from his blow. It can't be.

Ayato's hand trembled as he reached down, touching the Vision. It was glowing faintly, pulsing with warmth-familiar, protective, defiant.

Shoyū-sha backed away, his breath ragged, confusion flashing across his twisted face. He fought back?! The boy is still alive?! How?! I expected fight from the Shogun, but not from some lowly mortal!

Shoyū-sha staggered back, the flare of Thoma's Vision still flickering in his peripheral. The red glow in Ayato's shield clung to the edges of his mind like a ghost he couldn't banish. His grip on the polearm tightened, claws twitching, jaw clenched-but he said nothing.

Instead, he lifted his head and locked eyes with the Kamisato siblings.

A cold, piercing glare.

Those once-warm eyes were gone-now white-violet, slitted and serpentine. Alien. Empty. Furious.

He held their gaze for a moment longer-silent, unreadable.

Then, without a word, Shoyū-sha leapt backward, landing atop the Tenshukaku's roof in a blur of motion. Wind rippled around him as his tail flicked behind like a banner of retreat.

And then he vanished-falling in silence into the sea below, swallowed by the mists and crashing tide.

Gone-for now.

Ayato and Ayaka stood frozen as the creature disappeared beneath the waves, swallowed by the dark sea.

With trembling hands, Ayato unclipped Thoma's Vision from his hip. For the briefest moment, it flared-a faint red glow, like an ember struggling to breathe-before fading back into silence.

He stared at it, eyes wide, chest tight.

"...He's still alive," he whispered, barely able to speak through the weight in his throat.

Ayaka turned to him, her lips parted, tears beginning to well in her eyes. Neither of them moved. Neither of them dared to hope.

But the Vision had flickered.

And that was enough.

Chapter Text

The Raiden Shogun approached Ayato and Ayaka, her steps slow, her head bowed.
"It seems... my past has begun to resurface," she said quietly. "But rest assured, I will get to the bottom of it."

She paused, turning her eyes to Ayato. The personal promise she intended to give him... it died on her tongue now that Thoma was no longer himself.

Taking a breath, she straightened.
"All debts the Kamisato Clan may have owed to Inazuma are hereby forgiven. I'm sorry, Ayato. That's all I can offer you in this moment."

She turned to leave-until a voice stopped her.

"Explain everything," Ayato said, his tone low but unwavering.

He stepped forward. "Something is using Thoma's body-and I need to know what it is."

Ayaka reached for him, gently trying to stop him, but he continued walking toward the Shogun.

"The matter will be handled by the Tenryou Commission," she said curtly, still facing away. "You are dismissed."

"Your Excellency, please," Ayato pressed. "Thoma is still in there. His Vision-it activated. Just for a second. It shielded me and Ayaka-"

She froze, slowly turning as Ayato held up the Vision in his hand.

Her gaze fell on it. She extended her hand.

"Give it to me," she said, calm but commanding.

Ayato recoiled slightly, stunned by the bitter déjà vu of the request.

"Lord Kamisato," she said again, her voice firmer now, "hand me Thoma's Vision."

A faint crackle of Electro shimmered in the air. Ayato could feel the Vision vibrating in his palm.

Then, with a sharp snap of energy, it tore from his grasp and flew into the Shogun's waiting hand.

"Your Excellency!" Ayato shouted, stunned by the suddenness-and the audacity.

The Raiden Shogun closed her fingers around the Vision and turned away once more.
"Ayato... I ask only this of you: let me handle it."

But Ayato wasn't done.

"Then tell me," he pleaded, his voice tight, raw, "will Thoma be safe?"

The question hung in the air like a storm cloud, heavy and aching.

She paused.

But no answer came.

Not today.

Wordlessly, she ascended the steps of Tenshukaku, disappearing behind its looming doors.

The last thing she heard-just before they shut-was the sound of Ayato sprinting after her.
His fists hit the wood with hollow, aching thuds.

"Talk to me! Please!"

But the doors stayed closed.

And silence answered him.

The Shogun began to walk away, only to hear Kujou Sara barking orders to the surrounding soldiers.

"You are to track down Thoma immediately. Bring him back-dead or alive. Understood?" Sara's arms were crossed, her expression stone-cold.

"No."

The Shogun's voice cut through the courtyard like a blade. She turned, her tone calm but resolute.

"Thoma risked his life-for me, and for Inazuma. Whatever is inside him now... we will find a way to expel it. I want him returned alive."

Sara's brow furrowed. "With respect, Your Excellency, if he's compromised-if he's beyond saving-"

"He's not," the Shogun interrupted, sharper now. "He shielded the Kamisato siblings. That flash of control was him. There's still something left."

Her gaze lowered for a moment. A flicker of doubt crossed her face.

"If... if that changes, then we will decide when the time comes." She looked back up, steel in her eyes once more. "For now-scout his location. Monitor him. If the chance comes to capture him, take it. But do not kill him."

Sara hesitated, then bowed her head. "Yes, Your Excellency."

Without another word, the Shogun turned and walked through the doors of Tenshukaku building. Once inside, she made her way to her chambers, sank to her knees, and sat cross-legged on the floor.

She rested her hands gently on her thighs, closed her eyes, and tried to quiet her mind.

She couldn't hold the meditation long-not when a familiar pair of arms draped gently over her shoulders.

"Well, well. So much tension in the courtyard, and you come in here to meditate? If it were me, I'd be napping on this floor instead."

It was Yae Miko-her fox familiar and longtime companion.

"A lot has happened," Ei murmured, eyes still closed. "I never thought I'd see him again. It's been so long that..." She raised a hand to her temple, then glanced at Yae. "Does the name Shoyū-sha ring any bells?"

Yae's smile thinned. "It does. Still stewing over what happened during the Archon War, is he?"

"The Tatsu were peaceful," Ei said softly. "Guardians of the sea, once. But when I looked into his eyes... there was only fury. Centuries of it, buried deep beneath the waves."

She opened her eyes again, searching Yae's gaze. "I thought sealing them away was an act of mercy. I truly believed I was sparing them from a worse fate. But now..."

Yae said nothing at first. Just listened.

"It tried to possess me," Ei added, her hand slowly pressing against her chest. "If Thoma hadn't jumped in the way..."

Her voice trailed off, remembering the blinding light that had leapt from the shadows and how it slithered into Thoma's body-twisting it, changing it.

"That boy..." Yae shook her head, smiling despite the weight in the room. "If he's not throwing spears at gods, he's shielding them. Quite the poetic irony, considering your history."

"It is," Ei agreed quietly. She looked down at the object resting in her palms: Thoma's Vision, now cold and dim. "He's loyal. Not just to the Kamisatos or the Yashiro Commission-but to Inazuma. To the people. Who knows what might've happened if Shoyū-sha had taken my body instead..."

She trailed off, remembering the unnatural expression on Thoma's face-grins that didn't belong, rage that didn't fit his gentle features.

"If we can save him... if we can get that thing out of him... then maybe my apology to him will finally mean something. Maybe... I can learn from his example."

Ei stood, holding the Vision close.

Yae rose beside her. "That's noble of you. But rumors are already spreading. People are saying Thoma's gone mad. That he carries a Delusion. That he's out for revenge after what you did to him during the Vision Hunt Decree."

Ei's expression tightened.

"If you want to protect his name," Yae continued gently, "you'll need to speak. Now. Before the court of public opinion decides for you."

There was a beat of silence before Ei exhaled slowly, her mind made up.

"I need to speak to the people."

"Ey, Boss! You okay?! That stray lightning bolt really knocked you off your feet!" one of the Arataki Gang members shouted, scrambling over to a shattered food stand. The rest would group up with him afterwards.

Itto groaned, rubbing his head as he stood up from the wreckage. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine... but totally worth it." In his arms was a small child, who immediately ran to their mother. It was clear that Oni took a hit of lightning for a kid and used himself as a shield.

"No 'thank you'? Ah well. Anyway, who the heck was that guy? The one fighting the Shogun? I get it, he's strong and all, but was there any reason to be wrecking everything else around 'em?" Itto grumbled, fists on his hips.

He scowled and slammed a fist into his open palm. "When I get my hands on that guy, I'm gonna give him a taste of the One and Oni, Arataki Itto!"

"Well, that's just it, Boss... it's who it was that's got everyone rattled," Genta muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Boss... that was Thoma," Mamoru said solemnly.

Itto blinked. "Thoma?! My bro? My man? My guy? The Kamisato Housekeeper and Inazuma's number one fixer? That guy took on the Shogun with all that power?! Nah-no way. No way."

Just then, the gates outside Tenshukaku opened, and the Raiden Shogun appeared at the top of the steps to address the crowd.

"I know you all have questions," she began, her voice carrying across the square. "Let me begin with this-Thoma is not the enemy."

"Ha! See? Told you!" Itto grinned, hands proudly on his hips. "That wasn't Thoma-couldn't be!"

"But... the monster inside him is."

"Wait, huh?" Itto blinked. "Run that by me again?"

A ripple of uneasy murmurs ran through the crowd, confusion and concern blooming from her poorly chosen words.

"I advise against spreading speculation about Delusions or other baseless rumors while the investigation is ongoing. We will compensate for damages and continue gathering intelligence. If you see Thoma, do not engage. Alert a city guard or Kujou Sara with any information. We will be solving the problem. Just know that Thoma is the reason why I'm standing here talking to you all today. Just be patient with us."

And with that the Shogun walked off.

"You can't be serious!" Itto shouted, planting his hands firmly on his hips.

"Uh, Boss?" Genta asked, glancing up at him as Itto stared off, clearly lost in deep, dramatic thought.

"Oh, Thoma..." Itto muttered, shaking his head. "Thoma, Thoma, Thoma..." His tone grew more intense with each repetition-until suddenly, he stomped the ground with enough force to rattle the dirt and summoned his massive club, flipping it onto his shoulder with a loud thunk.

"Has the One and Oni Arataki Itto not taught you better than to let anyone come after you?! Are you really gonna let some no-name creep waltz in, hijack your body, and trample all over that fiery fixer spirit of yours?!"

He raised his fist to the sky, eyes blazing with determination.

"Well then, I'm-gonna-do-what-I-gotta-do-because what I gotta do is... GET OUR FIXER BACK!"

"Uh, Boss? The Shogun explicitly said not to get involved-" Mamoru said, visibly sweating.

"What does she know?! Thoma doesn't need rules, he needs friends! The ride-or-die kind! The slap-you-on-the-back-so-hard-you-choke-on-a-rice-ball kind! Now, let's hit the streets and find our bro!"

With that, Itto charged off like a man on a mission, his gang trailing behind him with varying levels of enthusiasm and confusion.

All except one-Akira, who stood frozen with dread.

"I should tell Shinobu about this... maybe she can talk some sense into him," Akira muttered before sprinting off in the opposite direction.

Meanwhile, Ayato had taken Ayaka to Yae Publishing in hopes of finding something-a clue, a whisper, anything-about possession, yokai, or the name Shoyū-sha.

"Here you go, Ayato. Everything we've got on possession and yokai," Kuroda said, setting a heavy stack of books on the counter. "But I'm not seeing the name Shoyū-sha anywhere."

"Keep looking. I'll be back later," Ayato replied briskly, dropping a pouch of mora on the table before turning on his heel and walking off.

"Wait-Mr. Kamisato, is Thoma okay? Why would he do something like that? What could have possibly possessed him to take on the Shogun? And that power-where did it-?" Kuroda's questions chased him, but Ayato didn't slow down.

Ayaka trailed close behind, concern creasing her brow. "Ayato, please... don't let this consume you-"

"I'm only doing what needs to be done," Ayato cut in, his voice clipped. "Thoma is in danger, and the Shogun refuses to let us help."

"We just need to trust her," Ayaka pleaded gently. "She must have a reason for taking his Vision-"

Ayato stopped and turned sharply, his voice suddenly sharper than steel. "You mean the same Vision she tried to strip from him in the first place?" His words hit like a blade. "Do you not see the irony?"

Ayaka froze, her breath catching at the weight of his frustration. The anger in his voice wasn't aimed at her-but it still hurt.

Ayato's expression softened as quickly as it had hardened. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, closing his eyes. "I'm... I'm just scared. She didn't answer me when I asked if Thoma was safe. She couldn't. And if she couldn't..."

He looked at her then, eyes filled with a truth too heavy to speak.

"I know," Ayaka whispered, bowing her head, her own heart sinking.

Without another word, Ayato turned and walked away, his hand already pulling one of the books from the bag, desperate to find an answer before it was too late.

Ayaka remained in the street, alone in the fading daylight, holding her arms around herself as a cold breeze passed. That's when she heard a familiar voice.

"Lady Ayaka?! What happened?" It was Yoimiya, rushing toward her, eyes wide with concern. "I thought I saw Thoma and-Ayaka?"

"Yoimiya..." Ayaka choked out, her voice barely holding together. She reached forward, grabbing Yoimiya in a trembling hug as tears finally broke free.

"I... I don't know what to do..." she sobbed into her shoulder, her body shaking.

Yoimiya, stunned for a moment, tightened her arms around her friend and stroked her hair. "Hey, hey... it's okay. I don't know what's going on yet, but I can see you're hurting."

She pulled back slightly to offer Ayaka a gentle smile. "Come on. Let's go to my place. I'll make some tea, and we'll take it one breath at a time, okay?"

Ayaka nodded, silent and shaking, and allowed Yoimiya to take her hand and lead her away-if not to answers, then at least toward warmth.

Darkness embraced him the moment he plunged into the sea.

The ocean swallowed all light, save for the faintest shimmer of white-violet that pulsed from his scaled skin like a sickly heartbeat. Shoyū-sha didn't swim so much as slither through the water-his body moving with unnatural ease, fins slicing the current as his long tail propelled him deeper and deeper into the abyss. With every motion, the gills along his neck fluttered open and closed, exhaling slow streams of bubbles as he drank in the deep.

The wounds on his chest-left by their blades-bled sluggishly, dark purple threading through the blue. It stung, but the pain didn't matter.

The fire did.

That moment-that flicker-shouldn't have happened.

His eyes narrowed, glowing like pale lanterns in the dark. This damn mortal, that ember of will, had surged to life again. And for just a breath, it hadn't been him in control.

A low snarl vibrated through his chest, lost to the crushing silence of the deep.

He reached the jagged ravine where the seafloor cracked open like the maw of something ancient, glowing faintly with the residue of the seal that once bound him. He hovered there, claws flexing, tail coiled tight. The gills along his neck fluttered in agitation.

And there it was.

His true form.

Coiled deep within the trench like a slumbering god of the deep, the original Shoyū-sha lay half-buried beneath centuries of coral, silt, and sacred chains now rusted and frayed. The body was long and sinuous like an eastern dragon, its scales no longer shine but faded to a ghostly lavender hue-like moonlight seen through fog. Despite the erosion of time, its shape was regal: four sets of powerful, clawed legs, each tipped with webbed fins, were curled against its body as if still ready to leap into the sky. Great finned crests ran down its back, like wings of the sea, translucent and gently pulsing with bioluminescent light.

Its face was solemn and statuesque, horns sweeping back from its brow like a crown of coral and lavender. The once-brilliant eyes were closed, as if in eternal slumber-but even in that stillness, it radiated an ancient power. Around its throat and chest, the  the electro seal still shimmered faintly, divine runes scorched into the flesh where the Shogun's judgment had struck. Old burns webbed like lightning scars beneath the scales.

Shoyū-sha stared down at it-at himself-and for a brief moment, he hesitated.

That body had once answered prayers. It had stirred storms to shield fishermen, raised waves to ward off invaders, and sung to the whales in deep tones only they could hear.

But that was before the heavens betrayed Orabashi.

Before they buried him and his kin in the dark.

Shoyū-sha cut through the water like a serpent reborn, white-lavender scales flickering in the deep. For the first time in centuries, he could move-truly move-and despite the rage boiling in his chest, a strange sense of peace welled up alongside it. The silence of the ocean, the slow rhythm of the current against his gills-it felt like breathing again.

This was what he had been robbed of.

Imprisoned in the crushing dark for ages, forgotten by the surface he once protected. But swimming again, even in this stolen body, gave him something he hadn't had in a long time: clarity.

A chance to reflect.

And a vow to ensure the past would never repeat.

Thoma sat in the darkness, a small flame flickering in his hand. He wasn't sure what had happened. One moment, he'd seen a strange spiritual light moving toward the Shogun—and without thinking, he'd thrown himself in front of it, shielding her. Then came the pain: a sharp burst in his chest, a pounding behind his eyes... and then nothing. Just the dark. Just the flicker of a flame to keep the shadows at bay.

He pressed a hand to his temple, trying to sort his scattered thoughts. And then it happened—he saw Ayaka in danger, a blade ready to strike her down. His body—his own body—was moving to attack her.

"No! Please, don't!" Thoma shouted, arm instinctively reaching forward, as if he could still shield her somehow.

And then he saw it—Ayato, throwing himself between them, blocking the blow meant for his sister.

A flash of red. A burst of heat. His Vision, still clinging to Ayato's hip, flared to life. A shield erupted from it, wisps of flame curling around Ayato's frame, just like they would if Thoma had summoned them himself.

For one moment, it felt like he was back in control. Like he had reached out through sheer will—and been heard.

Relief surged through him—before a new wave of pain surged into his chest and skull. The thing inside him didn't appreciate the interference. It fought back.

Thoma gasped for breath. The force that gripped him felt ancient—like a ruined temple, long-decayed but still defying time. It smelled of rot and wet stone, the kind of moisture that sank into your bones and never left.

He watched his body dive into the ocean—not like a man, but like something meant for the sea. The swim was swift, effortless. A predator returning to its domain.

Thoma slumped, his spirit drained, watching his own body move like a puppet in a nightmare. Then—claws. Sharp, curling around his throat from behind. One dragged along his artery, slow and deliberate.

"Hello there, boy," a deep voice rumbled behind him. "Listen, I didn't want to do this. Really. You were just a bystander."

A clawed finger traced his cheek, almost tender. Almost.

"But you changed my plans the moment you shielded the Shogun. So if anyone's to blame for what happens next... it's you."

The claw pressed harder against his neck.

"Wh-Who are you? What do you want?" Thoma asked, his voice trembling.

"What I wanted," the voice hissed, "was the Shogun's body. I wanted revenge for what she did to my kind. To be sealed away for centuries beneath the sea. If I couldn't rule her domain, then I'd settle for destroying her."

A beat of silence.

"And what better way... than by using one of her loyal lapdogs? It would be quite poetic considering what she did to you." It sneered.

Thoma flinched. "You know about—?"

"I'm in your head, boy. Your body. Your memories. You think I missed the day you were bound in front of all Inazuma, your Vision ripped from your side? I watched you throw a spear at her. A blade. With intent to kill."

Hot breath grazed his ear as the voice drew closer.

"I respect that. But don't confuse it with mercy."

Thoma was shoved to the ground, rubbing at his neck. "I didn't intend to—."

And then he saw him.

Himself.

But twisted. His pale lavender hair, his body adorned in jagged scales. A cruel smile spread across a familiar face, now filled with monstrous, razor-sharp teeth. A tail lashed behind him, and his once-warm eyes had turned ghostly, glowing with fury and reptilian in nature.

"I'll be generous," the creature said, stepping closer. "You stay quiet, suppress yourself... or I'll break you."

Thoma tried to rise, but the thing grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back.

"I'll make you relive every failure. Every doubt. Every time you weren't enough. And I'll keep going until the very idea of reincarnation makes your soul scream."

"I don't care what you do to me," Thoma growled. "I won't let you hurt anyone. Not Ayaka. Not Ayato—"

It laughed. Low. Bitter.

"I was never going to kill them. They got involved on their own. Distracting me, yes, but not my targets. I wanted the Shogun to think I was going to cut her down, then knock that noble out. There's a difference between being a monster and being... me. Got it?"

He let go and stepped back.

It turned away. "Now sit here and think. You want to resist me? Fine. But it'll be a long, painful resistance. Or you can surrender and make it quick."

Thoma charged forward. "I'm not letting you get away with—!"

CRACK.

He was kicked in the stomach and thrown against something invisible. An unseen wall kept him trapped.

"Stay put, lapdog," the thing growled. "Or I'll take your Vision and hurl it so deep into the sea that no mortal will ever retrieve it. Understand?"

And then it vanished.

Thoma was alone again. He reignited the flame in his palm, just enough to keep the dark from closing in.

His soul ached.

His body wasn't his. His mind was torn. The world was moving on without him.

He fell to his knees and finally, exhausted, drifted into a restless sleep—haunted by the monster in his own skin.

Chapter Text

"Boss! Slow down! Please! It's been an entire night! Can't we head back to Inazuma and grab a bite or somethin'?" Mamoru huffed as he trailed behind.

"Yeah, I could really go for a few rounds of Z's," Genta added, bent over with his hands on his knees, panting.

The group was trekking along the eastern shores of Tatarasuna, exhausted and irritable.

"Not until I find this guy and punch the evil right outta him!" Itto declared, slamming a fist into his palm. "Thoma's gonna get his body back, and I'm gonna be the one to make sure of it!"

"Um, sir?" Genta asked hesitantly. "Wouldn't that... also hurt Thoma?"

"I'm sure he'd prefer a black eye over being possessed by some creepy sea demon!" Itto barked. "Now hop to it!"

That's when a loud splash shattered the day's quiet.

Something emerged from the ocean.

It crawled up onto a small, rocky island off the coast, dragging itself from the waves with a grotesque, wet slither. Its limbs moved with slow, deliberate weight, claws gouging deep into the stone. It slumped onto its stomach, its breath heavy, before arching its back in a stretch-arms folding back over its head with a wet pop of joints. Then it collapsed forward again, crouching low, head angled downward as if it were savoring the feeling of land beneath its hands.

And that's when Itto saw it-the familiar tie of Thoma's ponytail swaying gently behind its neck.

His blood ran cold.

It was Thoma... or what was left of him.

Too stunned to speak, Itto's lips parted, breath caught. The silhouette was wrong-elongated, twisted. Gills flared at the sides of his neck. Pale lavender scales shimmered in the moonlight, hugging his forearms and neck. Clawed fingers twitched lazily against the rocks.

"Ah, Boss?" Mamoru's voice cracked from the other island. "I... I don't think that's Thoma."

Itto shook himself back to his senses. "No. That is Thoma. It's just... a new look! A makeover gone wrong because whatever's inside him won't let my buddy be himself! Well-not on my watch!"

Without hesitation, Itto plunged into the water and swam across the channel.

"Boss, wait!"

He hoisted himself up onto the rocky outcrop, planting his feet wide and putting his hands on his hips. "Alright, big and ugly! What makes you think you can just take over my pal like this?!"

The figure moved, slow and deliberate. It raised its head, one eye narrowing into a razor-thin slit. That expression wasn't one of fury or rage.

It was annoyance.

Icy, disdainful annoyance-like Itto was a gnat buzzing in his ear. He didn't speak. He didn't rise.

He just stared.

Itto puffed his chest and combed back his hair with swagger. "Not going to talk, huh? Stunned speechless 'cause you're standing in the presence of the Almighty Arataki Itto?! I get that a lot."

Still nothing. Just that cold, reptilian stare. White-violet eyes like frozen moons. Watching. Waiting.

The silence was unnerving.

"No autographs today," Itto added, planting his club into the dirt beside him, "because right now, you're going to get out of Thoma. And if you don't... well, I'm pretty sure Thoma wouldn't mind a few bruises if it means gettin' rid of you!"

The creature didn't flinch. Didn't blink. It just watched, the way a predator watches a mouse that hasn't realized it stepped into the trap.

"Boss! Get back! I don't like this!" Mamoru yelled from the safety of the other island.

"This guy doesn't scare me!" Itto shouted back. "Sure, he creeps me out-but that's not gonna stop me from turning him into freaky reptile-guy soup!"

And with that, Itto charged.

Shoyū-sha twisted his body with fluid, inhuman grace and brought his leg up in a wide arc, landing a brutal kick squarely against Itto's jaw. The Oni was sent flying into the air with a yelp, limbs flailing.

Before gravity could reclaim him, Shoyū-sha leapt after him-launching with the ease and power of a true sea dragon. He caught Itto by the leg mid-air, spun him like a ragdoll, and hurled him into the nearby cliffside. The impact left a visible crack in the rock before Itto crumpled to the sand, groaning as he landed face-first with a dull thud.

"Wise guy! You think you can-!"

He didn't finish. A sudden weight pressed down on his back.

Shoyū-sha had seated himself atop the fallen Oni, using him as a makeshift stool. His pose was almost regal-one leg crossed over the other, elbow resting on his knee, chin propped in his palm. A picture of dignified contempt.

"I had her," Shoyū-sha muttered, voice simmering with frustration. "She was right there. If this mortal hadn't seen me-if he hadn't jumped in-her body would've been mine."

"Stop talking like I'm not here and-!"

The weight lifted.

Shoyū-sha rose and strode toward the edge of the rocks, casting his gaze over the crashing waves, tail dragging lazily behind him. Its finned ridges twitched with agitation.

"Even when improvising... none of that should have happened. Those nobles had to step in and ruin everything."

He turned and began pacing, tail coiling behind him like a serpent. One flick sent sand flying. A second flick lashed a fallen branch clean in two.

"Stop ignoring me and-fight me-!"

Itto charged, but was intercepted mid-run by a sharp jab to the gut-an elbow driven hard into his stomach. He doubled over, only to feel a cold hand wrap around his throat and lift him partway off the ground. The grip was tight but not suffocating-just enough to daze him.

"The taunting... the strikes... all calculated," Shoyū-sha hissed, eyes glinting. "She's older now, more restrained. But her weaknesses still shine through-physical, mental, emotional. All laid bare for me to break."

He slammed Itto into the ground again with bone-jarring force-and then, with a sigh of irritation, sat on his stomach like it was a bench.

"But then-they stepped in. And something changed. That mortal's soul... responded. But why? What triggered it?"

Shoyū-sha leaned forward, tapping his chin thoughtfully, tail flicking sand across Itto's face.

"Stop sitting on me and stop ignoring me!" Itto wheezed, swatting sand away. "I don't know what you've done to Thoma-you've changed him, his Vision's gone, and he's not able to-!"

A sharp black claw gently pressed under Itto's chin, tilting his head upward.

"That word," Shoyū-sha said, voice silky with menace. "Say it again. The one that starts with 'V'."

"V... Vision?" Itto croaked, neck straining to avoid the claw's tip.

And then-Shoyū-sha laughed.

It began as a low chuckle, then escalated into a wild, echoing cackle that rattled Itto down to his bones. It wasn't Thoma's laugh. It didn't belong to Thoma.

"You might've just said the smartest thing in your life, Oni!" he declared with glee. "A shame you wasted it."

With a flourish, he summoned Thoma's polearm-twirling it lazily-then let it fall.

Right onto Itto's most vulnerable region.

Thunk.

"OWWW! My Onikabutos!" Itto howled, curling into a fetal ball, hands protectively cupping the pain.

Shoyū-sha gave him a passing glance and muttered, "Truly, you're a creature built for misfortune."

He leaned in close to Itto's face with that wicked grin.
"I really needed this. You're like a stress ball I didn't know I needed-loud, durable, and dumb enough to let me think while I break you."

Shoyū-sha raised a finger and tapped one of Itto's horns.
"You're persistent... but then again, most insects are."

He stood to his full height, regal and cruel.
"I'll see you around, Great and Powerful Barking Beetle."

As he turned to walk away, a familiar voice barked behind him.
"Don't you walk away from me!"

Itto charged, but before he could even get close, Shoyū-sha's tail lashed out, coiling around his ankle and yanking him upside down like a hanging decoration.

"Even cockroaches know when to scurry from danger," Shoyū-sha sneered. "What makes you any different?"

The taunt didn't match Thoma's voice. It didn't even feel like a voice meant for mortals.

Then-
A flash of violet.
A katana struck the sand, driving between Shoyū-sha and Itto like a line drawn in judgment.

Kuki Shinobu stepped forward, calm but stern.

"Oh? Another one?" Shoyū-sha tilted his head. "I don't mind stomping two bugs... but..."

He examined her eyes. Her posture. Her restraint.
That look in her gaze-it wasn't fear. It wasn't anger.
It was the same look he gave Itto: stay back.

"I think comparing you to a bug would be... insulting," he admitted with mock sincerity, bringing a clawed hand under his chin.

"I apologize for my boss's recklessness. It won't happen again," Kuki said, rising from her stance and sheathing her sword. Her voice was composed, but tight with emotion.

Shoyū-sha laughed darkly.
"That thing is your boss? Please. I was only using him to get some aggression out. Better him than this cliffside."

He studied her a moment longer-thoughtful, even amused.
"You're probably one of the more intelligent mortals I've seen since I woke. If you ever tire of dragging around a brute, come find me... I might offer you a better title."

And with that, he turned. His body coiled and launched itself into the sea, vanishing beneath the waves in a flourish of spray and mist.

Silence settled. Shinobu stared after him.

Then-

"Shinobu! What the heck?! A few more minutes and I would've had him panting on the beach!" Itto puffed, stumbling upright and brushing sand off his back.

Kuki didn't answer.

"Hey-hello? Shinobu? Your boss is talking! I already got ignored by the lizard jerk, don't you start-"

He stopped.

Tears slid down Shinobu's face. Her jaw trembled.
Usually composed, strong, reliable-this time, she broke.

"That was really him, wasn't it?" she whispered, voice cracked. Then she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his chest.

Itto blinked, stunned-but didn't hesitate. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her firmly.

"Yeah," he murmured, voice softer than usual. "That was Thoma. At least... part of him. But he's still in there. I know he is."

Shinobu didn't speak-she just held on.

"He'll come back to us," Itto said, voice tight with conviction. "Thoma's stronger than people give him credit for. We just gotta keep reaching for him. No matter what."

He knew she'd chew him out later. Knew there'd be a long lecture about charging into danger.

But right now?
Right now, this mattered more.

He'd take the scolding-because this was his family.
And Thoma was still one of them.

"Holy smokes... no wonder the Shogun looked so shaken," Yoimiya said, handing Ayaka a cup of tea as they sat together in the warmth of her home. Ayaka stayed there all night, trying to wrap her head around the feelings she felt about the situation with Thoma.

"It all happened so quickly," Ayaka murmured, fingers curling around the cup. "My brother and I barely registered what was happening until Thoma pushed the Shogun out of the way..."

She paused, placing a hand over her heart. "It slithered right into his chest."

Yoimiya's eyes widened, but she said nothing, letting Ayaka speak.

Ayaka let out a soft, breathy chuckle. "You know... if Thoma were here, I'd probably compare it to one of the strays that would nuzzle against him after he fed them."

Yoimiya smiled gently at that. "He was good with strays. Animals, people—didn't matter. He always made time."

Ayaka nodded, but her smile faded. "That's just it... the way he acted, it wasn't him. I can't shake the image of that smile. It was too... too wrong."

Yoimiya tilted her head. "Wrong how?"

Ayaka stared into her tea. "It was like trying to force a puzzle piece into the wrong place. The shape almost fits, but the picture is all off. That smile—it wasn't Thoma's. It wore his face, but it didn't carry his warmth. It looked... hollow. Cruel."

Yoimiya's expression softened. "You're scared he's really gone, huh?"

Ayaka's eyes welled up. "I'm trying not to be. I want to believe he's still in there, but every time I remember that look on his face, it gets harder to hope."

Yoimiya reached over and placed a steady hand over hers. "Then I'll hope with you. You don't have to carry it all on your own, Ayaka."

Ayaka blinked, touched by the words. "Thank you... truly."

They sat in silence for a moment, the quiet broken only by the soft clink of teacups. The air smelled faintly of lavender and ash from the Naganohara firework stand—comforting, familiar.

"You know," Yoimiya added with a wink, "if anyone can be brought back with love and determination, it's Thoma. That guy's built different."

Ayaka laughed—a real, fragile thing. "He is, isn't he?"

"Yeah. And he's lucky to have people like you fighting for him."

Ayato sat hunched in his office, surrounded by stacks of books—on possession, yokai, curses, anything that might explain what had happened. The dark circles under his eyes spoke of a sleepless night, but he kept reading, turning pages with the same desperation as someone clinging to a raft in a storm.

None of this was supposed to happen.

Yesterday was supposed to be an important day—one of hope and closure. The Shogun was to offer her apology, and then, afterward, Ayato had planned to pull Thoma aside. Just the two of them. He was finally going to confess his feelings.

But fate had torn that moment from him.

Instead, he watched as Thoma's body was twisted into something monstrous. His warm, strawberry-blonde hair dulled to a pale violet. The sound of bones snapping echoed in Ayato's mind as those horns tore through his skull. His skin shifted and split, scales replacing what once held warmth. But worst of all... were Thoma's eyes. That soft green, always so gentle—gone. Replaced by something cold, pale, inhuman. Like twin moons with thin pupils, watching but not seeing him.

The memory played on repeat, unbidden, each frame burned into his mind with excruciating clarity.

Ayato let out a low, tired chuckle. "You'd probably tell me to put the books down and get some sleep," he murmured.

His voice echoed in the quiet of the room, met with silence. And the smile faded from his lips.

He looked up from his notes and across the table—toward the door, half-expecting to hear it open, to see Thoma standing there with that apologetic grin, arms full of tea and snacks, scolding him for overworking.

But there was only stillness.

Slowly, Ayato reached forward and lifted the edge of the tablecloth. Beneath it, embedded in the polished surface of the wood, was a faint handprint-shaped burn mark—charred into the grain.

His fingers brushed against the sheet of glass he'd placed over it, protecting it like a relic.

A quiet, wistful smile tugged at his lips.

"It's still here..."

He pressed his palm over the mark, closing his eyes for a moment. Trying to remember the warmth it once held.

But there was only cold.

And silence.

And the echo of a voice he missed more than he could say.

A Few Years Ago —

Thoma stepped quietly into the room and immediately noticed Ayato had fallen asleep at his desk again. Papers were scattered across the floor, some barely clinging to the edge of the table where his hands had likely pushed them aside in his attempt to rest.

Thoma blinked, hesitating. He didn't wake him right away—Ayato clearly needed the rest. But he also knew how much it would stress the young master to wake up to such a mess.

So instead, he moved gently, fetching a blanket and a pillow. He draped the blanket over Ayato's shoulders and carefully placed the pillow beneath his head, making sure not to disturb him.

While Ayato slept, Thoma quietly gathered the fallen papers, organizing them back into neat stacks. Once the desk was tidied, he disappeared briefly, returning with breakfast—his signature miso soup. He set the tray on the table, then circled around to Ayato's side and gave his back a gentle pat.

"My lord, it's time to wake up," he said softly.

Ayato groaned and slowly lifted his head, rubbing his eyes. "Did I fall asleep?"

"You did," Thoma replied with a small smile, pouring him a fresh cup of tea.

Ayato sat up and let out a tired sigh. "I'm blaming you."

Thoma blinked. "Huh? Why me?"

Ayato chuckled. "It's what you said yesterday. Do you know how many staff members practically spat in my face when I told them that there was a chance that their pay would be docked? The trouble that could befall their very reputations? But you said you'd stay. That you'd be loyal. For the first time in a while, I felt like I could breathe. I guess my mind finally relaxed."

Thoma smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, well... I guess my loyalty's the brightest part of me. My Vision proves that much."

Ayato blinked and turned his head. "Vision?"

Grinning, Thoma motioned to the newly acquired Pyro Vision clipped to his belt. "It showed up after you left yesterday. Just popped right into my hands."

Ayato raised a brow. "It's not a small thing, Thoma. The gods recognized something in you."

Thoma looked down at it for a moment, his fingers gently tracing its edges. "Maybe they're telling me I'm doing something right. That I'm following what my father taught me—to always be loyal, no matter what." His voice softened. "He's gone now... and I don't know where he ended up, but maybe this is the gods' way of saying I made him proud."

Ayato smiled, a touch of something tender in his eyes. "A Pyro Vision suits you. A warm Vision... for someone so warmhearted."

Thoma's cheeks flushed as he looked away, flustered. "M-My lord..."

"You're burning the table, Thoma," Ayato said flatly.

Thoma snapped his gaze down and yelped—sure enough, a small scorch mark had begun to form beneath his hand.

"I-I'm sorry, Master Ayato! I'll clean it right away! I swear I'm still trying to control this thing—please don't fire me!" he babbled, already scrambling for a cloth.

Ayato reached out, but Thoma was already halfway out the door.

Left alone in the room, Ayato glanced at the smoldering mark on the table. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head fondly.

"I might just keep it," he murmured. "Gives the table some character."

Thoma jolted awake, snapping his fingers in a panic to spark some Pyro—anything to see through the dark.

Nothing.

Again and again, he tried, sweat forming on his brow as the flames refused to come. Finally, he gritted his teeth and let out a frustrated scream. It echoed endlessly into the void around him.

"I can't do anything! What am I supposed to do?!" he shouted, stumbling forward, hands outstretched, searching blindly.

That was when he saw it.

A light. Small, faint... but to Thoma, it was everything.

He ran toward it, heart pounding. There, resting on a nightstand, was a single candle, softly glowing.

"Huh? What's this doing in my noggin'?" he muttered. His gaze drifted upward—and he froze.

A bed. A small bed.

And curled up in it... was a child.

No. Him. It was him, as a boy.

Thoma stood there, stunned. Then he let out a small sigh. "A memory, huh? I guess that makes sense. Why else would kid-me be hanging around here?"

The young version of himself rummaged through the drawer of his nightstand, then proudly held up a book and climbed into bed.

Moments later, a man stepped into the room.

He had long black hair tied into a low ponytail, and kind green eyes that crinkled when he smiled.

"Alright, alright. Ready for another yokai story?" the man asked, settling beside the bed.

"...Dad," Thoma whispered.

The realization hit him like a warm wave. His chest ached—not in pain, but in longing.

This was real. This happened. And he'd almost forgotten it.

From somewhere deeper in the house, a woman's voice called out: "Not a scary one! He'll have nightmares!"

His father chuckled. "Alright, dear. We'll leave the nightmares to you."

"Your snoring gives me nightmares! It's like sleeping next to a pack of wolves!"

Her playful retort earned a giggle from little Thoma, who tugged the blanket over his nose.

His father smiled and shook his head affectionately, then laid down beside the boy, letting him curl up into the crook of his arm.

"Don't worry," he said, adjusting the pillow behind his back. "We'll save the scary ones for tomorrow—after you've done your chores."

"Or..." kid Thoma grinned, "you could read me one before chores, and I'll do them after."

His dad raised a brow. "Last time I did that, you didn't clean your room like you promised."

"I scared off the Mimimushi! You and Mom felt fine that day, right?" little Thoma insisted, puffing out his chest.

His father chuckled. "You've got me there. Still, cleaning your room is a more efficient way to deal with pesky yokai."

The younger Thoma giggled and hugged the book tightly, snuggling close.

In the present, Thoma sat down quietly on the floor beside the memory, cross-legged, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

A familiar warmth bloomed in his chest, slow and steady, as a gentle wave of nostalgia seeped into the room.

Thoma's father opened the book and began to read, his voice low and soothing.

"The Singing Tsukumogami.
There once was a traveling bard who carried with him a shamisen. It sang with him in every village, every mountain path, every lonely inn. People would say the shamisen itself was alive, humming with every joy he carried."

Kid Thoma gasped. "Wait, really? Was it like... a magic shamisen?"

His father chuckled. "In a way. Tsukumogami are objects so well-loved and well-used, they gain a soul."

"Oooh..." Kid Thoma whispered, eyes wide.

His dad continued:

"...The bard was taken as a prisoner of war, dragged far from his home, while his beloved shamisen was left behind—cracked, broken, and forgotten..."

Kid Thoma's face dropped, and he hugged his pillow tighter. "That's not fair...! Why didn't the shamisen go with him?"

Present Thoma couldn't help, but chuckle at his kid's self response.

His father gave the younger him a reassuring pat on the head and read on:

"Even cracked, even broken, the shamisen began to move. It limped through forests and towns, playing soft songs in the wind. People who heard it cried without knowing why. In return for its songs, they repaired the cracks and gave him new strings. Where he brought joy, kindness was his reward. However, it knew where it was meant to be."

Kid Thoma's jaw dropped. "It was looking for him, wasn't it?"

"That's right," his dad said with a proud smile. "It remembered him."

"Decades passed.
One day, a little girl stopped in her tracks as she heard the familiar song echo through the streets.
'That's the lullaby my grandpa used to play!' she cried. She took the shamisen home and showed her grandfather."

"The old man, blind and frail, took the instrument into his hands. Though age had taken his sight and strength, the moment he touched the shamisen, his face lit up."

'This... I remember this,' he whispered.
'My old friend. My shamisen. You remember our song.'
Tears streamed down his face.

Present Thoma felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. This moment with his father was the very moment that made him the man he was today.

"I bet he cried, huh?" Kid Thoma said softly, wiping at his own cheek.

"I bet he did," his father answered gently.

"I can't play anymore... my fingers no longer work like they once did,' the bard whispered, his hands trembling as they traced the instrument's polished frame. 'You've come so far... and look at you now. You're still whole, still singing. If you're disappointed in what I've become... you're free to find another bard. One who can make you sing the way you deserve to.'

"And in reply, the shamisen played another melody—soft, warm, and familiar. A lullaby not for a child, but for an old friend. The bard cried—not from sorrow, but from joy."

'Thank you,' he whispered. 'For staying... for never leaving me behind.'

"The shamisen never left. It remained with the family for generations—singing lullabies to newborns, playing love songs for sweethearts, and filling homes with music at every gathering."

Kid Thoma was quiet for a long moment. Then:

"...I'd stay too," he whispered. "Even if I was broken. Even if the bard couldn't play anymore."

His dad closed the book slowly. "That's what loyalty is, Thoma. It's not always about fighting or shouting. Sometimes... it's just staying. Even when it's hard."

Present Thoma placed a hand over his heart, mirroring the younger version of himself now curled safely in his father's arms, the candlelight casting a soft, golden glow across his small face. A quiet chuckle escaped his lips as he glanced down at his hands.

"I hope I made you proud," he murmured, voice low and uncertain.

But even as the words left him, his surroundings began to dim. The warmth of the memory was fading—slowly, inevitably—like a tide pulling away from shore. The flickering light was shrinking.

The memory continued to play. His father picked up the candle, thumb hovering above the flame.

"No—don't!" Present Thoma cried out, reaching toward them, panic rising in his chest. "Please don't..."

But his father just smiled gently in the fading glow.
"Good night, Thoma," he whispered, pressing a kiss to his son's forehead...

...and blew out the candle.

The flame vanished.

And with it, the memory collapsed into black.

Now there was nothing.

No flicker of warmth.
No soft sheets or steady heartbeat beside him.
No stories. No home. No voice.

Just the cold silence of his own mind. And Thoma—alone.

Chapter Text

Nazuchi Beach was Shoyū-sha's next stop.

He needed a place to hide-and what better refuge than an old battlefield soaked in old blood and forgotten stories? Anyone who dared approach would be easy to deal with.

With a sudden motion, he stabbed his tail into the ankle-deep water, impaling a fish through its belly. He pulled it free and stared into the horizon.

"They probably already know his Vision is the trigger," he muttered, voice low and dangerous. "And that's a problem."

He bit into the fish, raw and wriggling, tearing into the meat without hesitation. Shoyū-sha never understood the human need to cook food. The taste, the texture-it was better like this.

As he chewed, his thoughts returned-again-to that moment. When Thoma broke through. For those brief, infuriating seconds, his body was not his own. The glowing vision he tore away sat on the Noble's hip flared to life as if responding to a command.

"It was glowing. That has to be it."

Another bite, bone cracking between his teeth.

"Of course Visions can't be destroyed," he said aloud, the words bitter. "But I can bury it. Sink it to a trench so deep, even the gods would forget it existed."

He chuckled, dark and dry.

"Or feed it to a whale-let it rot in some creature's gut for the rest of eternity. Fitting, don't you think? Let the ocean devour what you cherished most. A small taste of what you put me through..."

He threw the fish spine into the sand, jaw clenched.

Then-a scream.

High. Wet. Panicked.

His eyes snapped open. The slit of his pupil thinned like a blade.

The fish carcass hit the sand with a slap as he turned and dove, body cutting through the water like a spear.

He moved fast, trailing bubbles, the sea parting with each powerful stroke of his tail. Ahead-two ships had cornered a third, their silhouettes looming like predators.

He drifted beneath the besieged ship's hull, silent as a shadow, and listened.

"That all you got, huh?! You crawl back from Fontaine with two hundred mora and expect gratitude?!" a man barked.

"Please, sir..." a woman's voice, choked with fear.

And beneath it, soft and trembling-a child sniffled, trying desperately not to be heard.

A sharp cry pierced the misty air.

"Give me my baby back! Please!" the woman begged, voice cracking with panic.

"I told you already," the bandit sneered, yanking the squirming infant from her arms. "If you don't have enough to pay your debts, maybe you can pay with your brats."

The baby wailed in terror as the man stepped toward the railing of the ship, holding the child out over the open sea like a piece of worthless cargo.

The woman screamed, stumbling forward, only to be shoved back by another thug. Her older child, a boy no older than six, clung to her skirt, wide-eyed and shaking.

Below the hull, the water rippled unnaturally. A quiet hum vibrated through the wood.

Then-without warning-a hand surged from the sea and grabbed the edge of the deck.

The bandit holding the baby barely had time to turn before a figure vaulted onto the ship, sea-slick and inhuman. Tall. Broad. His clothes clung to scaled skin, streaked in pale violet and seawater. Gills flared at his jawline, and his eyes glowed-cold and reptilian.

The bandits froze.

The one with the baby took an instinctive step back, still dangling the infant over the water.

"I don't know what the hell you are," he growled, "but don't come any clo-"

The creature's voice cut him off, low and sharp as broken glass.

"The sea takes what it must... but it does not do so out of malice..." Shoyū-sha took a single step forward, the boards creaking beneath his weight, "You have no such excuse."

His tail flicked behind him-slow, measured, like a warning.

The bandit's grip trembled as the baby screamed louder.

"I'll drop it!" the man barked. "I swear, I'll-"

Faster than anyone could react, Shoyū-sha vanished in a blur of motion. The bandit had only a breath to register a shadow sweeping the deck before a scaled claw was around his throat, pinning him to the mast so hard the wood cracked.

In Shoyū-sha's other arm, the infant rested safely, but still crying.

The man gasped, feet kicking midair.

"You threatened a child," Shoyū-sha hissed, voice thunderous and guttural. "That's not desperation. That's rot. And rot doesn't belong in the ocean."

With a powerful twist, he flung the man across the deck like driftwood. The bandit crashed into a pile of barrels and didn't get up.

The others hesitated-then ran.

Shoyū-sha turned back toward the woman, gently kneeling to return the child to her arms.

"Get below deck," he said softly. "It's not safe up here."

The woman stammered a thank-you and hurried off, clutching both children close. As their footsteps faded, Shoyū-sha stood alone on the deck, staring out over the sea.

He clenched his fists.

The woman barely had time to retreat below deck with her children before a rough voice barked from one of the raider ships:

"Boss is down! Sink it! Burn the whole damn thing-make it look like pirates never touched it!"

Shoyū-sha's gaze cut toward the two remaining ships flanking the cargo vessel, their crews already moving to light arrows and ready grappling hooks.

Big mistake.

Without a word, he turned and dove from the deck. The sea welcomed him like an old friend.

Moments later, chaos broke the surface.

A bandit looked over the rail-only to scream as the hull beneath him groaned and split open. Shoyū-sha erupted from the water, his tail like a whip of iron slamming into the ship's side with enough force to shatter support beams. The vessel lurched violently, throwing men overboard and snapping one of its masts like a twig.

He didn't stop to admire the damage.

Mid-air from his leap, Shoyū-sha landed hard on the deck of the second ship with the grace of a predator and the weight of a wrecking ball. The impact left a crater in the planks beneath his feet.

"W-What the hell is he?!" one of the raiders shouted, blade shaking in his hand.

"Move!" the captain barked.

Two rushed in. The first didn't make it-Shoyū-sha caught the man by the face and slammed him down into the deck so hard that boards cracked beneath the weight. The second managed a swing, but Shoyū-sha dodged low and swept his leg around in a brutal spin-kick that knocked the man clean off his feet and into the sea.

The captain raised his weapon-only to be disarmed a second later by a clawed hand that crushed the blade like scrap metal. Shoyū-sha drove his elbow into the man's gut, folding him in two, and casually tossed him into a heap against the broken rail.

More crew tried to flee-clambering onto the remains of the first ship. But they wouldn't be going far.

Shoyū-sha stalked to the edge of the deck, coiled his tail, and launched it like a battering ram into the stern of the final vessel. The entire rear splintered with a deafening crack. The rudder snapped clean off, the deck tilted sharply, and the pirates slipped and skidded as water rushed aboard.

One tried to jump-he didn't make it far. Shoyū-sha leapt across the shattered gap, grabbed the man mid-air, and drove him down onto a barrel with a crunch. The man didn't get up.

By the end of it, two ships floated dead in the water, crippled beyond repair. Most of the raiders groaned where they lay, bruised, unconscious, or barely clinging to debris in the tide.

Shoyū-sha stood atop the wreckage, chest heaving, arms soaked to the elbows in saltwater and sweat.

He glanced back to the third ship-the woman's-still intact.

Satisfied, he turned to the last raider still conscious, crawling pitifully across the ruined deck.

Shoyū-sha crouched and grabbed him by the collar.

"This ocean is cruel," he snarled, voice low and deadly, "but you? You chose to be worse."

He dragged the man to the edge of the ship and tossed him overboard like trash.

Shoyū-sha vaulted from the water and landed heavily on the woman's ship, water streaming from his limbs as he surveyed the damage. Bandit ships lay in pieces across the waves, their crews clinging to floating wreckage, groaning or unconscious.

He strode toward the cabin door and rapped his knuckles lightly against it. "You can come out. It's safe now."

The door creaked open. The woman emerged slowly, clutching her baby close with one arm, her other hand gently guiding her older child by the shoulder.

"Oh my gosh... thank you so much, I-" Her voice caught in her throat. She froze.

"T-Thoma?" she asked, her voice wavering.

He turned to look at her. The face was familiar-too familiar. The hair, once a warm honey-blonde, had turned a ghostly pale lavender that shimmered oddly in the light. He still wore the same sleeveless black top she remembered, the red sash tied firmly at his waist, and the dog tags clinking faintly against his chest.

But everything else was wrong.

Scales traced along his face and arms like cracks in porcelain. His eyes, once gentle and green, now gleamed like slit silver moons-sharp and unfeeling. And trailing behind him, curling with restless energy, was a draconic tail.

"You're not Thoma," she whispered, more to herself than him.

Shoyū-sha tilted his head slightly. "No," he said quietly. "But I kept his hands steady. That should count for something."

Her lips parted in surprise at the gentleness in his tone. There was something unsettling about him, yes-but also something strangely familiar.

"I'm Sauvanne," she said, still cautious. "If you hadn't shown up when you did... we'd be..."

She didn't finish the sentence.

He nodded once. "Bandits in the open sea. Pathetic."

There was a pause-long and heavy. Sauvanne's eyes searched his face, flicking between the pieces she recognized and the pieces she didn't.

"Why... why Thoma?" she finally asked, her voice low.

He shrugged, a ripple moving down his scaled shoulders. "He didn't have a choice. And honestly? Neither did I." His tone hardened slightly. "What is he, some kind of saint? Everyone I meet knows him. Nobles, guards, even the damn Shogun hesitated. Some Oni threw himself at me on a beach because of him."

Sauvanne gave a small smile, despite herself. "That sounds like Thoma. He's... he's a community pillar. Everyone knows him."

"It was rhetorical," Shoyū-sha muttered, cracking his neck. "Truth is, I couldn't care less about this Thoma."

Her smile faded.

Sauvanne hesitated before asking, "Then... what are you?"

Shoyū-sha paused. His tail curled behind him, thoughtful. "Something old. Something forgotten. But back in the day? Your ancestors might've offered prayers to things like me."

"I don't understand," she whispered.

"You don't need to," he replied flatly.

He turned toward the railing and looked back at the drifting bandits, now struggling to paddle scraps of wood. "Get back to shore. Tell someone. Guards, scouts, anyone. These scum aren't going far, but they'll try to crawl back. Unless..." A wicked grin tugged at his lips. "You'd rather let the ocean keep them. I hear she's always hungry."

There was a beat of silence-uneasy, uncomfortable.

Then, a small tug at his sash.

He glanced down. The older child was staring up at him, pointing.

"Your scale is falling off."

He blinked. One of the scales on his shoulder was loose, tilted from a shallow gash.

"Huh. Must've been a lucky shot." He plucked it free. "Good thing they grow back."

He balanced it on his thumb, then dropped it into the boy's outstretched hands. "Tatsu scale. Keep it. Not every day you get one of those. Might bring you luck."

The boy grinned, cradling it like a treasure.

Shoyū-sha looked back at Sauvanne one last time. Her expression was conflicted-grateful, but cautious. It was a strange kind of thank-you. A thank-you wrapped in uncertainty.

He gave a small nod.

"Stay safe."

And with that, he dove over the side, vanishing into the sea with barely a splash.

Kujou Sara's patience was wearing thin.

She had come seeking information-real leads on Thoma or the entity possessing his body. Instead, she was bombarded with a whirlwind of speculation, half-truths, and outright nonsense. One particularly loud man had even shouted in the middle of the plaza that the Shogun was covering up the truth-that Thoma was a failed Fatui experiment. She had him detained on the spot.

Enough was enough.

"No more questions!" Sara's voice cracked like thunder through the crowd. "Only approach me if you have seen Thoma or possess concrete evidence of his whereabouts!"

The square fell silent. One by one, the crowd dispersed, murmurs trailing in their wake.

All except for one woman, who remained behind-cradling a baby in her arms, with a wide-eyed child clinging to her side.

"M'am," Sara said sharply, crossing her arms. "If you have nothing credible to offer-"

"I do," the woman interrupted quickly. "My name is Sauvanne. I... I don't know what's going on exactly, but I saw him."

Sara narrowed her eyes. Sauvanne pressed on, voice trembling only slightly.

"Before I tell you anything, there are men-bandits-drifting out on the ocean. They attacked me and my children. Their boats were destroyed... they're barely clinging to debris. Someone needs to retrieve them before the sea does."

Sara gave a curt nod to the guards behind her. With practiced precision, they saluted and jogged off to carry out her command.

The general turned her attention back to Sauvanne, her gaze steely and unwavering.

Sauvanne looked down at her son. "Show her what he gave you."

The boy, still clinging to his mother's sleeve, stepped forward proudly and held out the shimmering scale in both hands.

Sara plucked it from his grasp without warning.

"Hey!" the boy shouted, trying to grab it back. "That's mine!"

He leapt upward in protest, but she simply raised the scale higher, examining it against the light with a furrowed brow.

Sauvanne shifted the baby on her hip, her eyes still fixed on the scale in Kujou Sara's hand. "I... I don't really know what I saw," she admitted, her voice unsteady. "At first, I thought it was Thoma. He saved me and my children-he fought off those bandits like it was nothing."

She paused, gripping her son's hand a little tighter.

"But when I looked closer... it wasn't him. Not really." Her brows knit together. "His hair-it was this strange, pale lavender. And his eyes... they weren't Thoma's. They were cold and slitted like some kind of creature. And his voice-there was something ancient in it. Like it didn't belong to him at all."

She shook her head, almost in disbelief at the words leaving her mouth.

"I don't know how to explain it. He looked like Thoma, but he felt like someone else entirely. Something else. He was brutal to those bandits-strong, terrifying-but... he still made sure we were safe. He gave my son that scale and told us to stay safe before diving back into the sea."

Sara didn't respond immediately. Her eyes remained fixed on the scale, turning it slowly between her fingers. Its texture, sheen, and weight were real. It matched the ones that now lined Thoma's shoulders-those gleaming, violet-tinged scales that should never have existed on a human body.

Sauvanne's voice was sincere, steady despite her shaken appearance. No hesitation. No signs of deceit.

Sara made her decision.

"You will come with me," she said at last, lowering the scale. "You will present this to the Shogun and recount everything you've witnessed."

"No!" the boy cried. "Give it back! The dragon man said it was good luck!"

He darted forward again, fists clenched in protest. Before he could reach Sara, Sauvanne gently held him back by the shoulders, whispering a calming word into his ear.

"We'll get it back," she said softly. "After we do the right thing."

Reluctantly, the boy nodded, casting one last longing glance at the scale as he followed his mother. Together, they walked behind Kujou Sara, who led the way in grim silence-her grip tightening around the scale as her mind whirled.

Ayato stood in the quiet stillness of Chinju Forest, his eyes drifting down to a familiar lump nestled in the bushes-a small, sleeping shinobi with a leaf stuck in her hair.

"Surprised you managed to sleep through the night?" he asked, a faint smile on his lips.

Sayu grumbled and stretched lazily, barely opening one eye. "Well, I had to catch up after all that chaos yesterday. What even happened? I just remember a bunch of purple lightning lighting up the sky."

Ayato's expression dimmed. He paused for a moment before speaking, his voice low.

"Thoma's body has been taken over. By something ancient. I haven't been able to identify what exactly... but it's powerful."

Sayu sat up a little straighter, now more awake. "Yikes... that sounds like a lot of hassle." She lowered her gaze, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. "Poor Thoma..."

"And that's why I'm asking you to handle a few tasks for me." Ayato's voice shifted back to that calm, commanding tone she knew too well.

Sayu let out a long groan and rubbed her eyes. "Okay, fine. What is it?"

"Track down the entity possessing Thoma. Keep a safe distance. Do not engage. I don't know what it's capable of if it realizes you're tailing it."

Sayu blinked. "So basically... follow a dragon-thing wearing my friend like a kimono. Cool. No pressure."

Ayato chuckled softly despite the grim situation. "I wouldn't ask this of anyone else. You're the best at staying hidden. Just... be careful, Sayu. Please."

Sayu glanced at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. After a moment, she gave a small nod.

"Alright, alright. But you owe me a week of uninterrupted naps after this."

Ayato's lips twitched into a small smile. "Deal."

When Sayu disappeared, Ayato's face fell back down. That was when he heard a familiar voice.

"You're not going to give up, are you?"
It was Ayaka, her voice soft but firm as she stood behind him.

Ayato didn't turn around. He closed his eyes, shoulders tense.
"I'm having a hard time trusting the Shogun with his life," he admitted. "You'd think she'd let the two people who know him best help... but no. She has her own plans. And I fear those plans will lead to losing him entirely."

Ayaka stepped closer, folding her hands in front of her.
"And when you get the information you need-what then? What are you going to do with it?"

Silence. Long, heavy, and loaded with meaning. Ayato didn't answer.

"Brother..." her voice trembled now, "I'm begging you not to go after him. We haven't seen the full extent of what he's capable of. That thing inside of him-whatever it is-it's dangerous."

Ayato turned to face her then, and his expression made her fall quiet.

"I have to," he said, voice low, raw. "I just... I need him back."

Ayaka stepped forward, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.
"I know this is hard," she whispered. "But we're not ready. We still don't understand what we're dealing with. Let Sayu gather more intel. Please, promise me you won't go alone."
Her voice cracked as she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around her brother.
"I can't-" she choked back her words, "I can't lose you too."

Ayato hesitated, his arms hovering mid-air for a moment before finally returning the embrace. Her words pierced through him. He remembered all too well the pain of losing their parents-the way it changed them both. And now, they were on the edge of losing Thoma, too.

He held her tighter, eyes closing.

"Alright," he murmured. "I won't go. I promise."

But when he opened his eyes again, guilt weighed heavy behind them. Because he knew-even as he spoke-that it was a promise he couldn't keep.

Not when someone he loved was still out there, trapped in his own body. Someone who had been more than just a loyal friend. Someone who had been the warmth in Ayato's coldest days.

I will bring you back, Thoma. I swear it. Too many people are waiting for you to come home.

Thoma reached out blindly into the dark, hoping to feel something—anything—but there was nothing. No surface beneath his fingers, no wall to guide him, no object to grasp. Only the sound of his own breathing echoed back to him. The rapid thud of his heartbeat pounded in his ears.

He was panicking. There was nothing to stimulate his senses except his own breath, his anxiety, and the hollow emptiness all around him.

Then—he saw it.

A flicker of light in the distance.

Without hesitation, he ran toward it, chasing that glow through the oppressive dark. As it grew closer, he recognized what it was: sunlight pouring through a window. Just beside it, an oil lantern hung on a wooden post.

And the smell hit him.

Ale. Warm wood. Roasted meat. The faint clinking of mugs and low murmurs of laughter. This was the Angel's Share.

Then, the unmistakable sound of retching.

Thoma turned to see a version of himself—older than a child, but still young—leaning over a bucket in the kitchen, groaning.

Beside him stood a woman with strawberry-blonde hair and hazel eyes, rubbing his back with gentle circles. His mother—Ulrike.

"Did we learn our lesson about switching drinks with your mother?" she asked with a tired but amused smile.

A pitiful groan was his only answer.

"Looks like someone inherited their father's alcohol tolerance," she teased, still soothing him.

"Mooom, I'm not that—BLEGH!" Right back into the bucket.

"Don't argue with your mother. Drink some water," she said, handing him a glass. He took small sips, face still hovering miserably over the rim of the bucket.

"Am I in trouble?" young Thoma asked, barely glancing up.

"I think not being able to hold in your sticky honey roast is punishment enough," Ulrike replied, brushing his hair with her fingers.

She paused, examining him more closely. "Growing it out?"

"Just a little. Trying to grow it like Dad's," he mumbled.

"Well then," she said, hand still on his back, "he'll have to teach you how to brush and take care of it properly."

Young Thoma looked down into the bucket. "If he even has the energy to do that..."

Present Thoma's smile faded. He remembered this. His father had been withdrawn during this time—low on energy, quiet. The man who once taught him how to carve charms or play Inazuman games with his friends from Mondstadt had faded behind tired eyes.

His mother caught the shift in her son's voice and gently placed her hand between his shoulders. "Your father's going through a hard time. He's homesick, sweetheart. If you were separated from Mondstadt—your home, your family—you'd feel it too."

"Then why don't we go?" Thoma asked, looking up at her. "Why can't we take a trip to Inazuma?"

"Inazuma is surrounded by storms. It's too dangerous. But..." She smiled softly. "If those storms ever clear, your father wants nothing more than to take you there. He wants you to meet your other grandparents, show you the land where he grew up."

A quiet moment passed before a barkeep stepped into the room and gently tugged the curtains shut. "Alright, closing time. Uh... keep the bucket."

Then he reached out toward the lantern.

"No—don't! Please don't turn off the—" Present Thoma reached out in desperation.

But the memory couldn't hear him.

The barkeep snuffed the flame, and the light disappeared.

Darkness fell again like a hammer.

Thoma's breathing grew ragged—not from exertion, but from sheer panic. He was alone. Again. Swallowed by the dark.

And this time, it felt colder.

Chapter Text

Ei held the scale in her hands, examining it closely before lowering her gaze.
"There's no question about it. This is a Tatsu scale."

"Can I have it back now?" Sauvanne's son piped up, holding out his hand with a pout.

"Ohta! That's the Shogun you're speaking to!" Sauvanne scolded, gently pulling her son back. "I'm so sorry. He's just a child."

"It's quite alright," the Shogun said with a small sigh. She looked down at the scale once more, then at the boy, and returned it to him.

"Your Excellency, aren't you going to need that for evidence?" Kujou Sara asked, standing beside her.

"There's no need. We've gained useful intel-on both the creature's nature and standing with the people of Inazuma." Ei turned back to Sauvanne. "Thank you for your time. Take your children home and get some rest. I'm sure it's been a long day for all three of you."

"It has been. Thank you," Sauvanne said, then hesitated.
"Question... what-what happened to Thoma?"

"You weren't here for it?" Kujou Sara asked.

"I was over in Fontaine visiting family and selling amethyst lumps. They sell quite well over there," she said. Her expression dimmed. "It would've been one year since I last saw my husband... before the Sakoku Decree."

Ei stilled at that, watching as the woman lowered her gaze-though she kept a soft smile.

"I'm from Fontaine, and my husband's Inazuman. I came here during a trip, just before the decree. I didn't know the customs or rules at the time, so it was easy for scammers to take advantage of me. Luckily, Thoma stepped in before one of them could swindle me out of a million mora I didn't even have." She gave a breathy, almost embarrassed laugh.

Ei listened in silence, resting her chin against her fingers.

"Honestly, he's also the one who introduced me to my husband. He digs up amethyst clumps for a living-we started with a business partnership, and that slowly became something more. Now we have our two little ones, Ohta and Aurore. When the decree ended, we were finally able to come back home."

Sauvanne looked conflicted now, twisting her fingers in her sleeves.

"That thing inside Thoma... it was terrifying. Twisted. But it protected me and my children. So forgive me if my feelings are complicated. I don't know the full situation, but... maybe there's a way to spare both Thoma and-"

The Shogun raised a hand, gently cutting her off.

"Slow down."

She set her hand back down, her voice steady but sincere.

"First, I'm sorry your family was separated during the Sakoku Decree. I hope that, moving forward, your journeys between Fontaine and Inazuma will be smoother, and you will be able to see your family again freely. If time permitted, I would grant you a request of your heart's desire. But under the current circumstances, I must postpone that."

She paused, her expression softening.

"Thoma meant a great deal to many. I'm beginning to see that now. Even those from far-off lands have come to know and appreciate his work here. We'll handle the matter as fairly and justly as we can. Please be patient with us."

She nodded. "And send your husband my regards."

Sauvanne bowed deeply. "Thank you, Your Excellency."

As she stepped out, a man in a white tank top and dirt-streaked pants from hard-work rushed to greet her. His hair was tied up in a messy bun. From the way they hugged and kissed-and the way he effortlessly scooped up the young boy-the Shogun could easily tell: this was her husband.

As Sauvanne reunited with her husband just outside the chamber doors, their quiet laughter and soft whispers carried into the hall. The man knelt to ruffle Ohta's hair and gently kissed the top of Aurore's head, now peacefully asleep in her mother's arms. It was a small, intimate moment-but it radiated with warmth, one Ei could feel even from where she stood.

The Shogun's gaze lingered on them.

"So that's the kind of future Thoma helped make possible," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "A family that might never have formed... if he hadn't intervened."

Kujou Sara stood silent beside her for a moment before speaking.
"He was always the kind to notice what others overlooked. Not just in combat or court politics... but in people. He never acted for credit. Just... because it was right."

Ei nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. "I saw him as the Kamisato retainer. A diligent housekeeper. I didn't understand how deeply he was woven into the lives of others-how far his reach extended beyond simple duty."

She turned her head toward Sara. "I thought I was protecting Inazuma by shielding it alone. But perhaps I've overlooked those who've been protecting it alongside me."

Sara nodded. "There's one more person."

That was when Arataki Itto and Kuki Shinobu stepped into the room. Itto had a few bandages wrapped tightly around his ribs, but his grin was as wide as ever.

"Hey there, Miss Shogun! Fancy running into you here. Don't be too dazzled by the physique-comes with the territory," Itto said, striking a confident pose and rubbing his nose proudly.

The Shogun blinked slowly, looking him up and down. "...I'm sorry, who is this? And why is he speaking to me like we've met before?" Her gaze shifted. "Ah, Kuki Shinobu. Do you have something to report?"

Itto froze mid-pose, his jaw dropping slightly.

"She... doesn't know who I am?" he whispered to Shinobu, stunned. "The Shogun has no idea who I am? Me? The one and Oni Arataki Itto?!"

Shinobu sighed, already bracing herself. "Here we go..."

The forest was still. Even the wind dared not rustle the leaves.

Sayu clung to a high branch, perfectly motionless, eyes fixed on the figure below. She'd been tailing him for two days now-long enough to know he barely slept, barely ate, and walked with the weight of something ancient pressing down on his shoulders.

But then-

"I know you're there."

His voice cut through the silence like a blade. Cold. Calm. Final.

Sayu froze.

After a long pause, she sighed and dropped from the branch, landing in a crouch with a soft thud.
"I was doing great until that twig betrayed me."

Shoyū-sha turned. Even in Thoma's body, he looked different-harder. His lavender hair shimmered faintly in the moonlight, and his reptilian eyes glinted with something primal.

"You were spying on me."

"I was just doing my job," Sayu said with a yawn. "Oh well. Listen, I don't want to fight-"

"Neither do I." Shoyū-sha crossed his arms.

"Huh? Aren't you supposed to be some dangerous monster who'd kill me just for breathing too close?" Sayu asked.

"You're mistaken. The only life I intend to take is the Shogun's," Shoyū-sha said. "I have no desire for any other blood than hers to stain my claws."

He flexed his large, gleaming claws.

"So Inazuma wouldn't have an Archon-or even a Shogun?" Sayu asked quietly.

"It would have me." He looked out toward the sea, spreading his arms wide. "I would take full leadership of Inazuma and lead it into a glorious future."

"And what about Thoma?" Sayu's tone softened.

"A sacrifice to pave the way." His words were almost casual. "Considering how often I've heard his name, there will be ceremony. Maybe I'll dedicate a holiday to him..." He flicked out his long, dragon-like tongue to pluck a fish bone from his teeth.

Sayu lowered her gaze. "Thoma may bug me about teaching him ninjutsu, but he's actually a really good friend. When it rains and he finds me napping outside, he'll move me somewhere dry, give me a blanket, even leave a glass of milk sometimes. I'd really miss him if he were gone."

"War demands sacrifice, little one." His voice darkened. "Besides, he should have thought about himself before pledging loyalty to her."

His tail lashed sharply behind him. "The woman tried to take his Vision, and he still forces himself to accept her apology. I can feel it in his soul. He's afraid to say that he doesn't forgive her for what she did and for what? A sense of loyalty? If you want to lick the palm of your masters because they gave you a treat after they beat you with a stick then you're weak."

Sayu frowned. "Thoma doesn't really hold grudges. When someone's mean to him and then apologizes, he just... expects better from them next time."

"An apology shouldn't be treated as a hill to climb-it's a mountain." Shoyū-sha's tone softened slightly, but his eyes burned. "You climb and claw your way up, earning each inch. Forgiveness isn't words-it's effort. If she truly wants it, she knows what to do."

Sayu bowed her head. "Just... reconsider, if you can. Maybe find a way for Thoma to stay, even if you get what you want?"

He paused, thoughtful. "If there's a way to carry out my plan without his body... I'll consider it."

Sayu exhaled in relief. "Thank you, Mr. Shoyū-sha. I can tell my boss not to worry so much."

Shoyū-sha chuckled. "You have a good night, little tannuki."

"I'm not a tannuki! I'm a ninja!" Sayu huffed, pouting as she ran off into the trees.

Shoyū-sha watched her go, a faint smile ghosting his lips before fading away. He lifted his gaze to the night sky.

"If things were different, Thoma... you could have your body back."

His expression darkened. "But these are the consequences of your loyalty to her."

And with that, Shoyū-sha turned and walked into the misty shoreline, the waves swallowing his footsteps one by one.

Ayato stood on the shores of Inazuma, arms crossed tightly. He hated this stagnation-the gnawing sense that he could act, should act, but was being forced to wait in helpless stillness.

His gaze pierced the horizon, as if expecting that sea-bound creature wearing Thoma's face to breach the water like a furious whale, ready for confrontation.

"You know, staring at the ocean isn't going to make Thoma leap out of it," came a familiar, teasing voice behind him.

He turned to see Yae Miko standing there, arms crossed, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

"What else am I supposed to do, Yae?" Ayato replied, frustration burning in his eyes. "The Shogun refuses to let me help. All I can do is wait. It's maddening."

"Easy, Ayato," she said, stepping beside him. "You wouldn't want to wear out those refined hands of yours before the real work begins."

"I shouldn't even be here. I should be out there, trying to find him-trying to figure out how to bring him back," he muttered, voice tight.

Yae Miko gave a soft, faux-sympathetic coo. "Aww. Missing your retainer already, do you?"

The silence that followed was heavier than it had any right to be.

"I know what your plan was," she said quietly. "Ei told me. A quiet truth you've been holding onto... a feeling you were too afraid to voice. A confession of love you never believed he'd return."

Ayato exhaled sharply. "It's not me I worry about. If word got out, Thoma would face harsher scrutiny than I ever would."

Yae Miko nodded. "That's why I've been digging. Quietly. But I didn't come empty-handed." She turned to face him and reached into her sleeve.

"I could get into serious trouble for this, so please-use it responsibly."

She held out an empty Vision, letting it dangle from her fingers.

Ayato's eyes widened. "Is that-? How did you-?"

He reached for it, but she pulled it back with a playful grin.

"Tsk. No questions. I'm a kitsune, remember? Crafty by nature."

She tilted her head. "Now, I know you sent your hard-working little ninja to track him down. And I also know the second she gives you a report, you'll go after him."

"I am," Ayato admitted, cautious. "So why give this to me now? Why not report to the Shogun instead?"

"Well," she said, a glint of mischief in her eye, "you made two promises to Ayaka. One: not to go alone. Two: not to act rashly. If I come with you, you're only breaking one."

"...How did you-?"

"I've been keeping an eye on you," she said, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from her sleeve. "Making sure the ever-composed Kamisato Ayato doesn't do something reckless."

She smiled, this time softer. "You're usually so poised, Ayato. But now? You're staring at the sea like it's already taken him. And I have to admit... I'm curious what you'll do when you finally find him."

"Alright, I accept. You can come," Ayato said, folding his arms. "However, I want to ask... who is Shoyū-sha?"

Yae Miko gave a small smile. "A yokai who spent the past few centuries as a prisoner of war."

She turned her gaze to the sea, eyes distant. "A long time ago, before the Shogun slew the Great Orobashi, there existed a group of yokai known as the Tatsu. Dragons-though not quite like the ancient ones from the old tales. Smaller, not as world-breaking, but still powerful in their own right."

She tilted her head slightly. "If I had to compare them, I'd say they were like the saurians of Natlan-except less adorable, larger, and far more dangerous. The Tatsu were guardians of the sea. They calmed storms, summoned rain during droughts, and punished anyone who committed cruelty on the open waters. They were worshipped, even feared, though admittedly a bit petty when it came to their hoards."

Ayato frowned. "I've never heard of them before. Why were they erased from history?"

"Because history is written by the victor," Yae Miko replied, her tone quieting. "During the Archon War, when Watatsumi Island grew desperate for resources, Orobashi attempted to claim more land. You know how that ended."

Ayato nodded solemnly. "The Shogun struck him down."

"Exactly. But what most people don't know is that the Tatsu were Orobashi's allies. They fought alongside him. And even after Orobashi fell, the Tatsu didn't submit. The war was already dragging on, and the Shogun didn't want more bloodshed-so instead of killing them, she imprisoned them."

Ayato's brows furrowed. "Imprisoned where?"

"At the bottom of the sea," Yae said, voice cool. "Bound in Electro chains, paralyzed and left to sleep. All records of them were erased-wiped clean so no one would ever try to free them."

"That sounds... cruel," Ayato murmured.

"War usually is." Yae's gaze narrowed. "To avoid further conflict, all records of the Tatsu were erased. No shrines, no prayers, no stories. And as the centuries passed, Inazuma forgot them."

Ayato's expression darkened. "But one got out."

Yae nodded slowly. "Somehow, yes. I don't know how. But Shoyū-sha isn't just a spirit lashing out randomly-he's a voice that was silenced for far too long."

Yae Miko placed her hands on her hips. "From the sound of it, your retainer ruined his plan. Instead of taking over the Shogun, Thoma shielded her. Now he's improvising in a body he never wanted. I almost wish I could tell him to his face-he's better off stuck in someone merciful like Thoma, rather than someone who could've easily fought back, like the Shogun."

Ayato furrowed his brow. "Why the Shogun's body, though? Why target her specifically?"

"Well, there are two ways to get revenge," Yae said, gazing out toward the water. "Especially when you're dealing with someone powerful. You can take their life in one of two ways-by killing them, or by controlling them. I think he would've been content with either outcome. But if he had succeeded in taking her body, imagine the benefits."

She turned back to Ayato. "He could have pretended to be the Shogun. Ruled Inazuma however he pleased. And with that authority? He could've unsealed the other Tatsu still chained beneath the ocean. He came here with two backup plans. Unfortunately for him, Thoma foiled the first."

Ayato crossed his arms, his voice grim. "Then it's up to us to make sure the second one never comes to pass. Before the Shogun makes her move."

Yae Miko gave him a curious look. "And what move do you think she'll make?"

A long silence passed between them.

"...You think she'll kill him."

Ayato nodded slowly. "She refused to answer when I asked if Thoma would be safe."

"She didn't answer," Yae replied gently, "because she doesn't want to lie. But listen-whatever you believe, I don't think that's her first option."

Ayato turned to face her, his voice sharp. "Then what did she think of him before this? Before he risked himself for her?"

Yae closed her eyes. "That's something you'll have to ask her directly one day. But believe me, killing Thoma isn't her end goal. She'll exhaust every other path before it comes to that. And if, if it came to that... it would hurt her more than you know."

She placed a hand under her chin. "Besides, if anyone had to bear that burden, she'd rather do it herself than let you."

Ayato looked back at the sea, his voice low. "That helps... a little. It doesn't stop me from going behind her back. But at least I know she won't make killing him her first move."

Yae smirked. "Of course. You've still got to get down on one knee and-"

Ayato cleared his throat, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. "Thank you, Yae. But it's far too early to be discussing that. Let me make the confession first."

Before she could tease him further, a gust of wind spiraled beside them, revealing Sayu. She stumbled a bit, catching her balance.

"Master Ayato, I-"

"It's alright," he said, nodding. "You can speak freely in front of her."

Sayu took a breath. "I found him. But... he saw me."

Ayato's eyes narrowed. "Did he attack you?"

She shook her head. "No. We just... talked. I'm not seeing this evil monster everyone's talking about. He's kind of just a grumpy dragon guy who looks like Thoma."

Ayato paused, the certainty he once had starting to unravel.

"Where is he now?" he asked, voice tightening.

Sayu pointed west. "Close to Nazuchi Beach. He's heading further out. Still going west."

"He's taking his time," Ayato murmured, hand to his chin.

"Or he's been busy," Yae offered. "You haven't heard the stories, have you? Heroic rescues. Saving ships. Even now, he still slips back into what he once was. The Tatsu were protectors, after all."

Ayato frowned, tension simmering just beneath the surface. "That may be true. But he's still taken over someone's body. He has plans to remove the Shogun permanently. Deeds or not, that makes him a threat we can't ignore."

"Thank you, Sayu. You're dismissed."

"Oh, okay. But only because I'm tired..." Sayu let out a yawn. "Hopefully Thoma's back by the time I wake up..."

With that, she vanished in a whirl of wind.

Yae Miko let the silence settle before speaking. "Watatsumi Island, then. He's heading there-slowly."

"Good. That means we can catch up to him," Ayato said, already thinking ahead. "We leave in an hour. Meet me at the shores below the Kamisato Estate. I have a way to travel by water-small, discreet, and fast. If he's still in the sea, we might even catch sight of him."

"Oh my," Yae said with a playful grin. "Leaving so soon? Then I'll come with you. A gesture of good faith, so the Shogun doesn't hear about your rebellion from me."

Ayato gave a small, grateful nod. "Thank you. Even if we can't fix this immediately, we might still learn something-something that helps us bring him back."

He looked out across the sea, fists clenched.

"Don't worry, Thoma. We'll get you back. I promise."

Thoma continued to scramble through the darkness, searching desperately for any source of light.

That was when he saw it — the faint sun doing its best to pierce through the storm clouds, its dim rays blending with the red glow of his Vision.

And then, he saw himself. Tied up. Surrounded by guards. This was it — the Vision Hunt Ceremony. The moment that would have made him another milestone in the Shogun's crusade to strip Visions from their bearers.

This was before the Traveler had come to his aid.

"Miss Shogun, please. I can't lose this. I can't lose my Vision. It means—"

"You can perform your duties as the Kamisato housekeeper even without it, correct?" the Shogun interrupted, her voice calm yet unyielding.

"I mean, I think I still can, but that's not the impor—"

"No reason for you to keep your Vision then," the Shogun said, beginning her slow ascent toward the statue.

"Wait! Please! Let me say my piece! My father always taught me that loyalty was important! This Vision... I like to think of it as a sign that I made him proud! That I was loyal to—"

"Loyalty isn't an ambition, Thoma," the Shogun said coldly, turning to face him.

"It's instilled in you. You don't need a Vision to stay loyal."

She glanced around; the crowd had already begun to gather, murmuring in reverence and fear. Then she looked down at him again.

"You should feel honored. A foreigner who chose to remain on our soil, marking a milestone in our history. You will be remembered for your gift to the statue," she said before turning and walking away.

Thoma could only watch her go, struggling helplessly against the ropes that bound him.

Then he heard it — the metallic snap of the clip that held his Vision to his waist. The crystal drifted toward her outstretched hand until—

The memory ended.

Thoma collapsed to his knees, the echo of it still burning in his mind. Facing that moment again stirred old feelings — ones he had buried beneath duty and politeness.

The truth was... he wasn't ready to forgive. He wasn't sure he could even accept her apology.

But he knew what was expected of him. Like most of her subjects, he would have to wear the mask of acceptance. It was the proper thing to do... right?

He sat there in silence, confusion weighing heavy on his chest. Maybe this was what it felt like — the consequence of being separated from his Vision.

Yeah, that had to be it. That's why he was starting to feel resentment toward the Shogun. His ambition — his loyalty — had been torn from him. His sense of purpose was slipping.

But then again...

Unable to see clearly in the darkness, he didn't notice how his hands were trembling. The thought that his own principles might be weakening — that he was changing — terrified him.

Becoming someone he didn't want to be.

Chapter Text

Yae Miko and Ayato sat across from each other in a small, covered boat en route to Nazuchi Beach. The vessel gently rocked with the waves as an assistant quietly handled the steering and rowing when needed.

Yae Miko sat cross-legged, one hand propping up her chin, eyes fixed on Ayato with amused curiosity.

Ayato looked up, brow raised. "Something's amusing you?"

"I've just never seen you look this serious before," she said, her foot bouncing lazily. "You must really love this boy, don't you?"

Ayato held her gaze for a moment before exhaling through his nose and glancing toward the waves. "No one ever really gets it."

He closed his eyes for a beat, shoulders tense, then relaxed as he began to speak.

"When my parents died, everyone doubted I could carry the Yashiro Commission. I was too young. There were attempts on my life. People I trusted turned their backs on me the moment they saw opportunity. I didn't know who might betray me next."

He opened his eyes and unfolded his arms, glancing down at his hands.

"I gave Thoma every chance to walk away. When things got worse-when I told him his life could be on the line, or that I might have to dock his pay just to keep us afloat-he still chose to stay."

A faint, genuine smile crossed his lips for the first time in days.

"That kind of loyalty... it burns. Fiercely. The gods must've seen it, too-that's why he was granted a Vision. It wasn't just for his warmth or easy smile, or his willingness to put out little fires before they became disasters. It's because he never lets the big ones burn the people around him. Politically, emotionally, mentally-he always kept the flames under control."

His voice softened. "These past few days have been hard. Ayaka has Yoimiya to confide in... but I don't have anyone like that. Thoma was my confidant. My anchor. And the longer he's gone, the harder I fall."

He clasped his hands together, letting them rest in his lap.

"His absence has shown me what I didn't want to admit: I know exactly what I want to say to him now."

Yae Miko smirked knowingly. “Mm. Hate to break it to you, but you might not be the only one. There’s talk, you know. Despite a few less-than-flattering rumors, Thoma is a popular man.”

She leaned in, her grin playful and sharp. “Best scoop him up before someone else does.”

Ayato chuckled and finally met her gaze. “Don’t worry. I intend to. And if he says yes, our first dinner as a couple will not be cooked by him.”

Yae Miko giggled. “And you won’t miss his cooking?”

“As much as I adore it,” Ayato replied fondly, “I’d rather see him enjoy someone else cooking for him when this is all over. A change of pace. A long conversation while we wait for our food—no duties, no expectations.” His smile softened. “And he’ll no longer have to endure my less-than-impressive dishes.”

Ayato let out a quiet laugh, his gaze drifting toward the small window of the boat as it waited for the current to carry them onward.

Shoyū-sha stood before the skull of the one who had fallen beside him in the war-the great dragon Orobashi. His hands rested on his hips as he looked up at the bleached remains.

"How many years has it been?" he murmured. "Honestly... I lost count."

His head lowered, a rare solemn expression crossing his face. Then, he let out a low chuckle.

"I know. I'm not a fan of this look either. My original form was far more impressive. Handsome, even..." he joked softly, as if speaking to an old friend.

That's when he heard voices behind him.

"I'm telling you, one tooth is all we need to take," said a man.

Shoyū-sha turned, narrowing his eyes as five Treasure Hoarders climbed the hill, sacks slung over their shoulders.

"Scholars in Sumeru would lose their minds if we brought them a piece of this big guy," one of them said, staring hungrily at the dragon's remains.

Shoyū-sha's pupils narrowed into thin slits, his expression darkening with fury.

The hoarders froze when they saw him-his arms crossed, eyes sharp, tail lashing behind him. Scales shimmered across his features, claws extending slowly from his fingers like blades.

"The hell is that thing...?"

"Whatever it is," one muttered, raising his hammer, "it's gonna back off before it gets hurt."

Shoyū-sha stepped forward. Then another step. And another. Slow, deliberate.

"You know," he said coldly, "I was wondering how to properly pay my respects to an old friend."

His voice grew colder.

"What better way than to bury the ones who came to desecrate his corpse?"

In an instant, his polearm flashed through the air. He struck hard, knocking them down one by one with terrifying efficiency. He raised his weapon, poised to finish the last one-

"Cascade!"

A blast of water struck him across the back, throwing off his balance.

Shoyū-sha whirled to see the noble brat-the same one who had dared stand between him and the Shogun. He growled.

What does the noble brat want this time?

Then he heard it. A whisper in the air-"Show them."

A bolt of lightning struck from above, crackling down with pinpoint precision. Hydro met Electro, and the sudden elemental reaction seized his joints, paralyzing him mid-motion.

He turned his head, just enough to see her: Lady Guuji herself.

Yae Miko approached calmly, her gaze sweeping over the fallen Treasure Hoarders. "I'll ask you to leave," she said politely, though her voice carried weight. "We have... much to catch up on."

The Hoarders didn't hesitate. They ran.

Shoyū-sha smiled through the paralysis, his expression one of bemused recognition. "Lady Yae... long time no see. I must say, I preferred your smaller form. Much cuter."

Yae smiled faintly. "Oh, I liked it too. But you can get so much more done in this one. Opposable thumbs and all that."

Shoyū-sha let out a strained chuckle. "Ah yes... the thumbs. So tempting."

Ayato stepped forward, blade drawn, and rested the tip at Shoyū-sha's throat.

"Enough."

Shoyū-sha turned his eyes to the noble and laughed again, low and knowing. "You don't want to kill me. You can lower the blade now."

Yae didn't flinch. "He may not kill you," she said coolly, "but there are... other ways to keep you quiet. Break your legs. Cut out your tongue."

Shoyū-sha gave a dark, rasping laugh. "As if he has the guts to do that to his precious housekeeper."

His smile widened as he turned to Ayato. "So tell me, what's the real reason you're here? The dust too much for your delicate lungs? The food not quite the same without his touch? Or is it just unbearable knowing someone else wears his face and doesn't follow your leash?"

Ayato pressed the tip of his blade in just a little deeper. "Release him. Now."

Shoyū-sha gave an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, believe me-if I had it my way, I'd be out of this body already. Your retainer is stubborn, I'll give him that. But don't worry," he said, eyes glinting with cruel amusement, "it's a slow process. I prefer it that way-chipping away at his mind little by little. I'm quite fond of slow burns."

Ayato's grip on the hilt tightened. It was difficult enough tolerating Shoyū-sha's presence-but seeing Thoma's face twisted into that smug grin made his blood boil.

"You have no idea who the person you've taken over truly is-"

"Oh, but I do," Shoyū-sha interrupted with a sneer. "I've been hearing it constantly. Confused guards calling out to him, desperate to reach whatever sliver of him is left. Bystanders staring, wondering why such a warm face now smiles like a predator. It's almost poetic."

He stood slowly, his movements more fluid now that the paralysis had worn off.

Yae Miko stepped forward, arms crossed. "Then can you spare us a few minutes of your time? A simple chat?"

Shoyū-sha bowed his head with exaggerated courtesy. "For the Lady Guuji? But of course."

"And for me?" Ayato asked, voice sharp as steel.

Shoyū-sha let out a low, mirthless chuckle. "You? Well... you have something I want. So yes, I suppose I can spare a few minutes for you too."

Shoyū-sha glanced around warily. "Not out here. Last thing I need is to be seen having a friendly chat with the Shogun's lapdogs."

He slung his polearm over his shoulders. "Follow me."

Before Ayato could take a step, Yae Miko reached out and lightly touched his sleeve. "Be cautious. Yokai are known for their tricks."

Ayato gave her a steady, resolute look before continuing forward.

They followed Shoyū-sha into a nearby cave, the sound of the ocean muffling behind them as stone walls swallowed the light.

"Find a rock and get comfortable," Shoyū-sha said, settling down opposite them. "If you're expecting tea and snacks, you'll be disappointed."

Ayato and Yae each found a large stone to sit upon, keeping their gazes fixed on him.

"Alright, I'm listening," Shoyū-sha said lazily, reclining slightly.

Ayato opened his mouth to speak, but Shoyū-sha raised a finger.

“And before you start with ‘we want our beloved retainer back,’ let me remind you—I have his body. I don’t need it. If I wished, I could pierce his heart and leave you with nothing but a corpse.”

Ayato's eyes narrowed at the threat, lips tightening.

He steadied his voice. "Why are you doing this? You claim to have a plan, but from the outside, it looks chaotic."

Shoyū-sha let out a dry chuckle and began to pace around them slowly.

"That's what happens when you account for backup plans. Chaos is just contingency with flair."

He stopped and faced them.

"The Shogun locked my kind away. Left us to rot in the dark, buried beneath the ocean, covered in coral and silt like forgotten bones. Tell me, Yae..."

He turned sharply to her, voice low.

"If you remember me, if you knew about the Tatsu-why didn't you tell anyone? Why didn't you speak of us?"

Yae closed her eyes briefly. "Because I'm not fond of spoilers."

Shoyū-sha chuckled-a dark, guttural sound that didn't belong on Thoma's face. "A very Kitsune response. But I know the real reason."

He leaned closer, a hint of venom in his voice. "She wanted you to keep it hidden. Didn't she?"

Yae opened her eyes and met his gaze. "I won't lie. The Shogun, in her obsession with eternity, cast aside everything that reminded her of change. The Tatsu were one of many sacrifices. You weren't erased out of malice-you were erased for convenience."

Shoyū-sha growled and slammed his tail against a stalactite. It cracked and fell, crashing to the cave floor with a sharp echo.

"You know..." he hissed, circling them again. "The point of a prison sentence is that it ends. Years... decades... even a life sentence still carries the promise of closure. Whether freedom or death."

He stopped, his expression twisted with rage, pupil slitted thin as a blade.

"So when was our time, Yae Miko? When did we complete our sentence?"

He slammed his fist into the wall. The cave trembled, a jagged crack splitting through the stone.

Yae's voice was quiet. "I don't think it ever crossed her mind."

Shoyū-sha let out a bitter laugh, then dragged a clawed hand down his face.

"It's not your fault. You were young..." His tone softened-not with forgiveness, but with memory. "So were some of the other Tatsu."

There was a long pause before Ayato spoke. "How did you get here? I thought you were a large draconic creature at the bottom of the ocean?" He crossed his arms, not having any patience for the creature in Thoma's skin.

The creature chuckled. "Tatsu have a very interesting little ability known as soul surfing. Our souls can leave our bodies while it rests. It was how we could answer the calls and prayers on the sea."

The creature circled the two of them until he was behind them, placing a hand on their shoulders.

He could tell their stances from their reactions. Yae Miko shifted as if to try and roll her shoulder away from his hand with a look that said, 'touch me again and see what happens.'

However, Ayato did not flinch. Did not move. However, he did absentmindedly roll his shoulder into his touch.

"But there's a barrier. It's not like a wall. Think of it as a fishing net. You can go a certain length until it eventually pulls you back close to your body...." he leans close to Yae Miko as he whispers, knowing full well she's irritated with him.

Then he moves to Ayato's ear and whispers. "However some nets can break if worn out over time..."

And that's when he felt a shift in Ayato. Not pulling away, but leaning towards his touch, his lips. Something that Ayato was absentminded to. He noted this with a smirk.

"And after five hundred years, I broke that barrier and made my way here to your servant's body...." and then he chuckled again.

"Although judging from your reactions to his touch...you longed for more than a work relationship, didn't you? I'm the host to the form you seem to adore."

The smirk never left Shoyū-sha's face as he slowly circled back in front of Ayato. His steps were slow, deliberate, the tap of his clawed toes echoing faintly in the cave.

"You know," he said casually, "in all my years as a protector of the seas, I learned a lot about reading people-subtle shifts in breath, the flick of a wrist, the way someone holds themselves when they're lying."

He stepped closer, so close that the edge of Ayato's sleeve brushed his arm. The silence hung heavy. Yae Miko narrowed her eyes but did not interfere. Not yet.

He reached out to put his hands on Ayato's shoulders, giving them a tight squeeze.

"And your stillness, Lord Kamisato... it isn't the calm of a warrior," Shoyū-sha murmured. "It's restraint. Buried impulse."

He stepped closer. Too close.

Ayato felt the heat of another body behind him, felt breath brush the shell of his ear. He did not turn. He refused to give Shoyū-sha that satisfaction.

"Fascinating, really," the yokai continued, voice low and amused. "The way your shoulders only ever relax when he is in the room. The way you say his name as if it's already yours."

Ayato's fingers curled slightly against his knee. He said nothing.

So Shoyū-sha pressed closer still. His chest brushed Ayato's back, deliberate, intimate in a way that made Ayato's breath hitch before he could stop it. Clawed hands slid from his shoulders, down beneath his arms, palms gliding over his chest as though they belonged there. As though they had done this before.

Ayato stiffened. His instincts screamed at him to move — to strike, to pull away — yet his body betrayed him with a single, awful truth.

He remembered this touch.

Not this touch — not the claws, not the wrongness — but the warmth. The steadiness. The way Thoma's presence had always grounded him without ever asking permission.

"And I know what you're looking at," Shoyū-sha whispered. "It's his body. His hands."

One claw traced the line of Ayato's collar, slow, taunting, lingering just long enough to burn.

"That hesitation in your eyes when I stand this close?" His breath ghosted over Ayato's cheek. "It isn't fear."

Ayato swallowed. His heart betrayed him with its pace.

"You're remembering him," Shoyū-sha said softly. "And gods help you — you miss it."

For one fragile moment, Ayato allowed himself to feel it. The absence. The quiet ache of a presence that had once been constant at his side.

Then his jaw tightened.

"Step away from me," Ayato said at last, his voice cold, controlled — and just a fraction too sharp.

The restraint was back.
But now Shoyū-sha knew exactly where it came from.

His claws trailed lightly along Ayato's sleeve now, teasing. Testing. "You know he'd follow you to the ends of the earth, don't you? That kind of loyalty is rare. And loyalty—" he leaned in, breath hot against Ayato's ear, "—is just love with discipline."

Ayato's jaw tensed.

Shoyū-sha's smile widened, sensing the crack he'd made—

And then his hands stilled.

A sharp, uneven breath left his chest. His claws twitched where they rested against Ayato's coat, scraping faintly against the fabric before freezing entirely.

"...Tch."

Yae felt it before she saw it.

The air shifted — wrong, like static snapping backward. Her ears flicked, eyes narrowing as the yokai's presence stuttered.

Shoyū-sha's head dipped, jaw tightening. "No," he muttered, irritation bleeding into his voice. "Now is not the time."

Ayato looked down at Thoma's vision that inside of his sleeve. It was flickering red, with that flame insignia on it.

The lavender glow in his eyes flickered.

Once.

Twice.

Then—

"Lord Kamisato?"

Yae's breath caught.

That voice—

Human. Thin. Unsteady.

Ayato turned sharply.

Thoma's green eyes stared up at them, unfocused and afraid, his expression slack with confusion. His hand lifted halfway, hovering in uncertain space between himself and Ayato, fingers trembling.

"Why...?" Thoma swallowed hard. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Yae's composure cracked.

"...Oh," she whispered, something sharp and dangerous flashing behind her smile. "So you can come out to play."

Ayato's chest tightened painfully.

He stepped forward on instinct. "Thoma—"

A violent gasp tore from Thoma's throat.

He doubled over, clutching his head as if something inside him had sunk its claws deep and pulled. His knees nearly buckled.

"No," Shoyū-sha snarled, his voice ripping back through Thoma's mouth like a thunderclap. "You don't get to surface now."

The green vanished.

Purple flooded back in, furious and blazing.

Yae moved instantly, lightning crackling at her fingertips, stance sharp and ready — but she stopped short when Shoyū-sha shoved Ayato away, putting space between them with a snarl.

Shoyū-sha straightened, breathing hard, rage barely contained.

"Persistent little flame," he growled. "Even buried this deep, you still claw your way upward."

He rolled his shoulders, regaining control, and looked at Yae with narrowed eyes.

"You saw nothing," he spat.

Yae's smile returned — slow, sharp, and utterly unamused.

"Oh, I saw plenty," she said softly. "Including the part where you lost your grip."

Shoyū-sha scoffed, wiping his mouth. "Enjoy that glimpse while it lasts. You won't get another so easily."

Yae turned her gaze to Ayato, expression unreadable — thoughtful, calculating... and quietly relieved.

"...Well," she murmured, folding her arms. "That answers a rather important question, doesn't it?"

"Oh, it certainly does—to me, at least." Shoyū-sha's lips curled into a knowing smirk. "His Vision answered, didn't it?"

He let out a low chuckle. "So I was right. The loyal, faithful dog responds best when there's a hand pressing down on his neck."

Shoyū-sha leaned closer, his voice dropping, deliberate.
"Tell me, Lord Kamisato—where does that loyalty come from? Care... or fear?"

He tilted his head, watching Ayato's reaction with predatory interest.
"If he were to say yes to you—if he let himself lean into those feelings you pretend not to have—how would you know it was real?"

A pause. Sharp. Cruel.

"Would it be love..."
"...or would it be because you're his master, and he's terrified of what happens if he says no?"

The smile he gave then was slow and vicious.
"After all, devotion born from choice and devotion born from obligation look very similar... right up until the moment one of them breaks."

With a blur of motion, the noble's hand snapped up and seized Shoyū-sha by the collar, slamming him against the stone wall of the cave hard enough to send loose dust crumbling from the ceiling.

Ayato's expression remained calm-but it was the kind of calm that came after a dam had cracked. His grip was firm, cold as steel, and his eyes blazed like the winter ocean before a storm.

"You speak of loyalty," Ayato said, voice low and sharp as shattered glass. "But what do you know of it? You who slithered your way into another man's body-desecrated his memories, his life, and now dare to mock the bond he forged with others?"

Shoyū-sha chuckled darkly, even as Ayato pinned him. "Oh, there it is."

Ayato didn't flinch. "You want me angry. You want to prove I'm weak. That I'm human. Fine. You've seen it now. So listen closely."

He leaned in, lips barely a breath from Shoyū-sha's ear.

"I would carve you out of him, scale by scale, with a rusted blade and no hesitation, if I thought it would save his soul."

Shoyū-sha blinked.

"And if I have to offer up every piece of myself-reputation, reason, restraint-to bring him back? I will. Because unlike you, I know what loyalty means. It is not about fear, or ownership, or manipulation." His grip tightened. "It is about protecting someone without ever asking for anything in return."

A silence pulsed through the cave.

Then Ayato released him, stepping back with icy composure, straightening his collar with practiced grace.

Yae Miko gave a slow clap. "Touché, Lord Ayato."

Shoyū-sha exhaled, adjusting his stance, amusement flickering in his glowing eyes.

Ayato slowly let go of him, but his cold stare still locked eyes with Shoyū-sha's predatory glare.

Shoyū-sha straightened his tank-top where Ayato had just slammed him, brushing off imaginary dust with exaggerated flair.

"You really do care," he purred, eyes gleaming like candlelight on dark waves. "All that noble restraint, undone by the mere mention of his name. Delicious."

Ayato said nothing.

Instead, he reached to his hip.

The metallic whisper of a blade being drawn echoed through the cave as Ayato unsheathed his sword. Pale light danced along the gleaming edge, its elegance matched only by the lethal calm on Ayato's face.

Yae Miko raised a brow but didn't interfere. This, she wanted to see.

Ayato took a single step forward.

"That's enough," he said coolly. "You've worn his face, twisted his voice, walked the shores like a ghost in borrowed skin. It ends now."

Shoyū-sha blinked-slow, amused.

"Oh? So you're going to kill him to save him?" Shoyū-sha asked, his voice soft with mock concern. "That's quite the poetic solution."

Ayato didn't answer. He simply shifted his stance, blade angled just so—ready to strike.

For the first time, Shoyū-sha's smile faltered. Just a hair.

"I see," he murmured, his tail flicking behind him. "You're serious."

In a flash, Ayato lunged.

Shoyū-sha was still smiling—until his eyes shifted, bleeding into a familiar green. A green Ayato knew all too well. Confusion flickered across his face as he looked up, just as Ayato's blade swept toward his neck.

"My lord!"

The voice wasn't ancient. It wasn't cruel.

It was human.

It was Thoma.

Ayato froze mid-swing, his breath catching painfully in his throat. Thoma's familiar green eyes stared up at him, wide with fear, his arms raised as though bracing for a blow that had already come.

"Thoma..." Ayato's hands shook. His sword slipped from his grasp and hit the ground with a dull clang. "Thoma, I—I'm sor—"

Thoma screamed.

He clutched his head, agony tearing through him as his eyes squeezed shut. When they opened again, the green was gone—replaced by that monstrous, luminous purple.

Shoyū-sha was back.

He chuckled lowly. "Now I understand." He straightened, circling Ayato slowly. "You can make your bold threats. You can tell yourself you're ending his suffering. But the truth is—you don't have the strength to do it."

He leaned closer, his voice a whisper sharp as glass. "Kill me, and he'll be cold long before you ever feel his warmth again."

He strolled past Yae Miko, who watched him with open disdain.

"That was cruel, Shoyū-sha," she said sharply.

"And five hundred years chained beneath the sea wasn't?" he snarled, not even slowing.

"I may not be able to kill you," Ayato growled, surging forward again, "but I can at least immobilize—"

Shoyū-sha moved faster.

His clawed foot slammed into Ayato's ribs, tearing fabric and breath alike. Ayato was sent crashing into the stone wall with a sickening thud.

Yae Miko raised her hand, lightning crackling—but Shoyū-sha caught her wrist mid-cast.

"Listen," he said, quieter now. "I don't want to hurt you. As a fellow yōkai, I know you're bound by her influence. Come with me. Help me end this—so no one like us ever suffers again."

Yae's glare softened—not with mercy, but memory.

"Yae Miko... please. Watch over Ei for me."

Makoto's voice echoed in her mind, a fragment of the past she could never forget.

"I made a promise to a friend long ago," Yae said quietly. "And I intend to keep it."

In a flash of violet, she twisted free—and when she turned to strike back, Shoyū-sha was gone.

She ran to the cave's edge just in time to see him plunge back into the sea.

He had escaped.

Ayato staggered after him, wading into the water until it reached his knees. "Get back here, you coward!"

The waves answered him with silence.

Ayato collapsed, water splashing as his hands sank into the sand beneath the surf. His shoulders shook as fury gave way to something raw and breaking.

Because Shoyū-sha was right.

He couldn't do it.

He couldn't strike Thoma down.

Even knowing—especially knowing—that this wasn't what Thoma would have wanted. That his body was being twisted into something monstrous.

Losing him—losing this—hurt far more than any blade ever could.

Thoma was back in the void—pitch-black and suffocating. He gasped for air, chest heaving, a hand pressed over his heart as if he could force it into a steady rhythm.

“That was Ayato,” he panted. “I was in control—”

“Only because I allowed it the second time,” came a voice, cool and sharp as broken glass. “I needed to make a point.”

A surge of violet light split the darkness, casting long, warped shadows. Shoyū-sha emerged from it like a specter, his eyes glowing with malicious amusement.

“You saw him,” Shoyū-sha murmured. “Saw what he was about to do. That blade didn’t stop for your body. He would have struck you down without hesitation if it meant getting rid of me.”

“He was trying to stop you,” Thoma snapped.

Shoyū-sha’s hand shot out, seizing Thoma’s chin and forcing his head up. “Still clinging to that faith like a child clutching a worn toy. You honestly think you matter that much to him?”

“Let go of me!”

Shoyū-sha shoved him to the floor.

“If you ever touch Ayato again, I’ll—” Thoma growled, teeth clenched.

“You’ll what?” Shoyū-sha cut in, smiling. “This little test taught me something. Your Vision may be what wakes you, but you truly awaken when he’s in danger. Don’t you?”

The smile widened.

“You didn’t like the way I touched him. The way I teased him. That was enough to set your blood on fire. So tell me—was that loyalty, stepping in so I wouldn’t push too far? Or was it jealousy, because I dared to do what you never could?”

Shoyū-sha threw his head back and laughed. “You love him!”

“I do not!” Thoma shouted.

“You do. You can’t see it?” Shoyū-sha sneered. “I’ve walked through every corner of your memories, and let me tell you—the slow burn of this love story is exquisite.”

“Shut it! I do not—”

“Let me ask you something, little one.” Shoyū-sha’s tone darkened, the mockery draining away. “If he truly loved you… why did he stand back and let the Shogun take your Vision?”

Thoma staggered to his feet, legs shaking. “He—he didn’t want to anger the Shogun. He has a family to protect—”

“And you aren’t part of that family?” Shoyū-sha pressed. “After all these years? Even the noble girl couldn’t be bothered to lift a finger. It took a stranger to save you.”