In the gentle darkness of the night, Haruka stood there, on the edge of a cliff, a village unfolding below. The first light of morning brushed the landscape, tinting the horizon with golden and silvery hues. The cool wind swept through her hair, and she closed her eyes for a moment, savoring this peaceful tranquility.
It was then that she saw Mao before her.
He stood there, a few steps away, in that soft morning light. His gaze, as firm as it was reassuring, lingered on her. His eyes shone with a calm intensity, almost serene, yet imbued with that quiet strength she knew so well. He was there, before her, like an anchor, like a familiar and precious presence.
"Haruka," he said simply, his voice filled with deep love.
She stepped toward him, her footsteps echoing softly on the hillside ground. The tension between them was palpable, but it was a gentle tension, a subtle and unbreakable bond they shared. An exchanged glance, a silence heavy with unspoken words.
"This village, it will be your shelter," he said in a calm voice. "It is sufficiently isolated, it is safe. You will be secure there."
Haruka gently shook her head, a light smile floating on her lips. "But I want to be with you, Mao. I want to continue this life by your side, to accompany you and face this world."
He looked at her for a long time, a fleeting glimmer of emotion crossing his eyes. His lips moved then, but no sound came out. She leaned in slightly, trying to understand, but the words remained blurred, impossible to grasp.
A strange sensation then enveloped her, a void, a breath of air. The wind seemed to rise, carrying away that presence.Then, in a slight shiver, the silence grew heavier, more oppressive. A veil of darkness seemed to envelop her.
Haruka closed her eyes for a moment.
The dream slowly dissipated, like a fog lifting in the morning. She woke up with a start, her heart pounding. The dim light filtering through the curtains stung her eyes. The echo of her dream still floated around her, a strange sensation that seemed to envelop her in an insidious softness. She took a deep breath, trying to dispel this lingering heaviness in her mind.
A few seconds passed before she fully became aware of her surroundings. The sounds of the morning seeped into the room: the birds' song, the whispers of the breeze. She was back in her room, where everything seemed in its place, but a strange feeling of disconnection persisted, as if a part of herself had remained frozen in that dream.
The day had barely broken, but Haruka, already awake, remained still for a few moments. She didn't need much sleep. A few hours were enough to regain the necessary clarity, ready to face a new day, where she would have to navigate between shadows and hopes.
She rose slowly, slipping out of bed without a sound. In the semi-darkness, she gently stretched her arms, then her shoulders, performing a few slow and precise movements, almost meditative. A well-established routine, almost automatic, which she carried out every morning, even before the rest of the world awoke.
The previous day had been emotionally trying for everyone. Between the harrowing revelations from her son and Mata, recounting their perilous escapade outside the village, where death had brushed past them, Haruka had stood tall, suppressing the tears of sorrow that threatened to overwhelm her. Fear, helplessness... all of it had left an invisible mark within her, rekindling memories of a distant time when she had already known this kind of struggle, this kind of dread.
Yet, even with time, some shocks remain unavoidable. Despite experience and trials, one can never truly prepare for the worst news.
After all, this world reserves its harshest trials for those it deems capable of surviving them.
Haruka had learned to master many storms, to keep her composure, but deep in her eyes, at times, an ancient fatigue resurfaced — invisible to those who did not look beyond appearances.
And, as if that weight were never heavy enough, the strangers had also imparted unsettling information that had revived old concerns, casting a new shadow over the village's already uncertain future.
After their departure, the rest of the day had passed in relative tranquility. Yahiko, still exhausted, had remained in the room, plunged into a deep sleep, while Mata and Fumi watched silently by his side, each absorbed in their own thoughts.memalign.github.io+3Goodreads+3okami.fandom.com+3
Entering the kitchen still bathed in dim light, Haruka retrieved some ice cubes from a hatch in the floor beneath the house, then heated them in a small glass container placed over a candle. After a few seconds, she added a few pieces of birch bark to the surface of the water. While the water heated for the herbal tea, she took from a second hatch a piece of black grain bread, hardened by the cold, as well as a jar of congealed fat. She placed the bread above the rising steam to soften it, then spread the softened fat warmed by the heat. The smell of breakfast gradually spread, adding to the calm ambiance of the kitchen, perfuming the fresh morning air. She prepared her first meal with a soothing slowness, her thoughts drifting between the serenity of the present moment and the tensions that weighed on the village since the arrival of the strangers.
Stepping out onto the porch, she observed the first light of dawn slowly caressing the village. It was then that her gaze fell upon a small group in the distance. The three strangers were there, accompanied by a few village elders. A strange sensation passed through her, like a premonition: today, things were going to change. The air seemed heavier, the tension palpable, as if something in the silence announced that this day would not be like the others.
The three Guardians stood facing the two elders in the village's central square, the atmosphere heavy. Maïwenn broke the silence:
"It is imperative that every inhabitant stays home today," she said in a firm voice. "Warn them, go door to door, and make them understand that it is dangerous to go out."
The elder, a man whose face was marked by time, almost growled beneath his grey mustache:— "But you're insane ! You want the whole village to stay locked inside while you lure those demons here ? Why not go face them directly in their lair, deep in the woods ? That's where the threat comes from, isn't it ?"
The old lady, who accompanied the man, nodded slowly, visibly torn. It was clear that she understood the elder's logic, but before she could open her mouth to voice her agreement, a low growl rumbled from Bann.
He stepped forward slightly, his imposing silhouette eclipsing the first rays of sunlight, and his gaze sharpened, as cutting as a blade:— "You have no idea what you're talking about," he replied in a firm tone, leaving no room for discussion. "What we're doing, and the decisions we're making, are to protect you — even if you don't understand it yet. You have no idea how dangerous or malicious these creatures are. We know these kinds of demons well, and what they're capable of."
"Fighting them in the middle of the forest, surrounded by trees, roots, bushes — all obstacles that work in their favor — would be like battling on their ephemeral ground, where they first emerged. And without proper preparation, it would be madness."
"But luring them here, into this village where the sightlines are clear, where there are no corners for ambushes, and which is now our battlefield… that's where our chances of victory are highest."
"We have the necessary experience to face this threat. And this is, by far, the best option."
He paused, his piercing gaze falling upon the elder:— "Sir, with all due respect, this isn't about ego, but about experience… and survival. We're going to lure them here, onto terrain we've chosen, and we'll set a trap to maximize our chances."
"So stop thinking that your old age gives you all the answers. You do have great life experience — but some realities are beyond your grasp. Your reaction and reasoning prove it clearly."
"So, with all due respect… stay in your place, sir."
The old man froze, eyes wide, stunned to be lectured by an adolescent — and above all, by the firmness of his tone. A heavy silence settled. His lips tightened under the rebuke, unable to find a reply. Then, slowly, he turned his gaze to Maïwenn and Milo. They too wore the same closed expression, the same unyielding determination.
The elder rubbed his face with one hand, visibly irritated, and after a long sigh, finally said:— "Fine. Do what you must. But… take care of this village and its people, please. That's all I ask of you."
Maïwenn nodded slightly. Without another word, she turned her gaze to the two village elders, who immediately set off toward the homes, ready to do what had been asked of them. Their silhouettes soon disappeared into the breaking dawn, heading off to warn every villager.
The three strangers remained silent for a moment, staring at the path the two elders had just taken, fully aware of the weight of the task ahead.
The sounds of the village suddenly seemed more distant, as if the air had grown heavier under the pressure weighing upon them. A silent tension had settled, both palpable and imperceptible.
— "Let's not waste any more time, both of you come closer," said Maïwenn in a calm voice, though it carried the firmness befitting her role as team leader. "We're going to begin the preparations."
The two apprentices stepped forward immediately, obedient and focused. Maïwenn closed her eyes for a moment, centering herself, before bringing her palms together in front of her. A faint glow began to emerge around her body, at first subtle, then increasingly visible. The energy manifested in swirling patterns of an almost unreal brilliance, coursing through the air around her like a pulsing aura. With each breath, the glow grew more intense, concentrating, vibrating around her form like a moving, almost living presence. Then, slowly, the glow contracted, retracting into a more fluid shape, molding itself along the contours of her body like a calm wave, gliding and spreading across her skin.
The energy stabilized around Maïwenn and, with a final motion, she channeled it into her clasped hands, like an invisible current sliding between her palms. She then turned toward her apprentices, each of her movements imbued with focus. She placed one palm on Milo's chest, the other on Bann's. The energy, now softer, spread through her hands, flowing like a soothing warmth, slowly enveloping their bodies in a calm but powerful glow. Within seconds, they were completely immersed in this soothing aura, before it gradually seeped into them, fading away, leaving behind only a deep, encompassing silence.
The two apprentices, now fully prepared, stood straight and silent, their gazes focused, their bodies grounded.
Maïwenn opened her eyes again, her breath shorter than before, but her gaze still burned with the same determination. She then repeated the gesture, bringing her hands together once more — this time, for herself. The light, unchanged in intensity, spread around her body before concentrating in her palms. She forced herself to maintain focus, though the inner pressure grew stronger with each passing second. A few moments later, the light faded, revealing a clear fatigue on her face.
Maïwenn sagged slightly backward, her face marked by exhaustion, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. Bann and Milo stepped forward immediately, one placing a hand on her shoulder, the other on her back — a simple gesture, but filled with concern.
— "Rest for a few minutes," said Bann in a calm tone. "We'll finish the preparations a bit further on, while you recover."
— "Our presence is completely masked thanks to what you just did," added Milo, glancing toward the village entrance. "They should be showing up soon… We need to move, and fast."
Maïwenn nodded, a faint smile on her lips despite the fatigue. She allowed herself a brief moment of respite before moving again, fully aware that the battle to come would demand even more. A few minutes passed in silence, the cool morning wind brushing across the square, before the group finally vanished from sight, carrying with them an aura of determination, ready to face what was coming.
In the distance, on the porch of the house, Haruka finished watching the scene. She had taken a moment to observe the Guardians and their preparations. Her attention was suddenly caught by a soft sound coming from Yahiko's room. After such a long nap the day before, it wasn't surprising that he was waking up so early. Haruka made her way to her son's room. She quietly opened the door and asked him if he was feeling better.
Yahiko replied with a simple "Yeah", while yawning and rubbing his head. He added that he would join her for breakfast. Haruka nodded slightly.— "Take your time, I'll be waiting."
Then, after gently closing the door, she walked away down the narrow hallway.
A good while passed before Yahiko joined his mother at the kitchen table, taking the time to shake off his lethargy and get dressed. He sat down and began eating a slice of black grain bread, freshly spread with fat.
He had barely swallowed his first bite when his mother suddenly stood up to open the front door. A man was standing there, but Yahiko couldn't hear their conversation, still foggy from waking up. The words were murmured, veiled, and he couldn't quite make out what was being said. With an almost imperceptible gesture, his mother signaled the man to leave, and the door closed softly.
She returned to the table, and Yahiko immediately noticed that something in her expression had changed."It's best to stay inside today," she said calmly, though a note of tension was barely hidden beneath her words. "The strangers will be taking action soon, and it's better not to go out."
Yahiko looked at her for a long moment before finally nodding.
They continued eating in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Since the incident the previous week, it was the first time they had shared such an intimate moment. Haruka and Yahiko weren't the type to express their feelings easily. Unlike Fumi, who overflowed with energy and affection, they were more reserved. And yet, despite this restraint, their eyes met several times, charged with feelings that no words could translate.
Yahiko eventually set down his cup and exhaled softly:— "I'm sorry, Mom."— "I'm proud of you, my son."
The words overlapped, spoken at the same time. They froze for a moment, surprised. Then, awkward but smiling, they looked at each other with tenderness — a mother proud of her son, and a son lifted by the silent love of his mother.
Without another word, they resumed their breakfast, each retreating once more into their thoughts.
A few moments later, Fumi entered the kitchen, her hair tousled and eyelids still heavy with sleep. She kissed her mother on the cheek, then Yahiko, before asking him in a drowsy voice how he was feeling that morning. Without waiting for an answer, she dropped onto a chair with a yawn wide enough to unhinge her jaw. Haruka, without a word, handed her a hot herbal tea and placed a slice of bread in front of her.
Just as Fumi had taken her seat, a dull noise rang out, shattering the calm of the morning.
"BOOM !"
A powerful impact, like a blow struck against metal or a bullet smashing into a metallic surface, echoed throughout the village. Yahiko sat up abruptly, his eyes widened. He began to tremble, his heart pounding.
That sound… Yahiko knew it. He had heard it before. Less loud, less brutal, but unforgettable. It wasn't metal. It was the sound of the Yokaï's skin he had fought — an abnormally dense, nearly impenetrable skin — when he had struck it with all his might, trying in vain to break free. He had never spoken of it to anyone, but that sound still haunted him. And now, it was back, amplified, distorted… like a nightmare resurfacing without warning.
He stood up suddenly, his body tense, ready to spring."Stay here, Yahiko," his mother said in an authoritative voice. "Don't go out. Don't expose yourself !"
Yahiko, heart racing, moved toward the window."I just want to see, Mom," he murmured. "I won't go out, but… I have to know what's happening."He leaned against the glass, scanning the outside, but saw nothing more. The village still seemed calm, yet the air was now heavy with tension.
Suddenly, more sounds erupted — even louder, closer. Dull, repeated impacts shook the house, as if the entire village was turning into a battlefield. Each blast struck the walls, passed through them, vibrating in Yahiko's chest. The assaults continued, violent, relentless. It was a war out there. A battle that did not fade quickly, but raged on, rumbling, as if something monstrous refused to fall.
Seconds stretched on, the waiting became unbearable. The din went on and on, until the air itself was saturated with tension.
Then, two guttural cries burst out, shrill, almost inhuman. Screams of pain, high-pitched and harrowing, as if let out by a beast whose soul was being consumed. Yahiko jumped.
Those screams… he knew them. He had heard them before. They were the cries of a dying Yokaï.
He froze, petrified.That scream — Yahiko had once torn it from one of them. He knew what it meant. That final, monstrous gasp — he had etched it into his memory. Hearing it again — here, now, inside his home — chilled him more than the previous blows.
Then, silence fell. Brutal. Heavy like a leaden shroud.
Yahiko slowly stepped back from the window, his breath shallow, his palms damp. His mother, still standing, outwardly calm but with tense features, motioned for him to return to the table. This time, he obeyed without a word.
Silence had returned… but it did not bring peace.
A long time had passed since the last screams. Inside the house, as in the rest of the village, calm had returned — a strange, suspended calm, almost unreal. Yahiko hadn't said a word. Neither had Haruka or Fumi. Each had retreated into their own thoughts, still dazed by what they had heard.
And then, the hours went by. Slowly.
The sun, now low in the sky, stretched its last golden rays across the rooftops, bathing the village paths in a gentle light. This wasn't an ordinary end of day. The air itself seemed charged with an invisible weight, as if refusing to forget the echoes of the morning's battle.
The villagers, who had remained shut indoors all day, were finally beginning to emerge timidly, reassured by the apparent calm. Voices could be heard again, doors opening, footsteps on dirt paths… but the village had not regained its carefreeness. Only a fragile breath.
Yahiko, for his part, had spent the rest of the day shut in his room.The morning's sounds, those screams piercing through the walls, had stirred in him a deep-rooted fear — not panic, no, but a fear anchored in him, tightly bound to the still vivid memory of his own battle against a Yokaï.A fear that whispered the danger was never far… and that staying still was no longer an option.
His body, inactive for more than a week, felt heavy. Every muscle seemed stiff, every movement an effort. He felt weakness had seeped into him — and he hated it.
So he got up.Not to force it. Not to impress.But to begin again.Slow stretches, simple gestures, exercises he knew by heart. Waking up his legs, arms, breath. Reconnecting.He needed to find his footing again. His bearings.He needed it.His rest had lasted long enough.
The golden afternoon light slipped through the gaps in the shutters, drawing pale lines across the floor of the room. The air, now milder, carried with it a sense of deceptive calm.
It was at that moment that a gentle knock echoed.Haruka had just tapped lightly at the door, a small woven basket in her hands.Inside: a serving of warm porridge, a piece of steamed-softened black bread, and a few dried berries.— "Could you take this to Gribou ?" she said, handing the basket to Yahiko. "Mata is already outside, he's waiting for you. I'm sure it'll make him happy to see both of you."
Yahiko nodded without protest. A bit of fresh air could only do him good. He knew his mother cared deeply about not letting anyone be forgotten. Gribou, despite his occasionally grumbling nature, had always been there for them, in his own way. Seeing him again would make Yahiko genuinely happy. After all Gribou had taught him — his knowledge of hunting, nature, wildlife, and plants — Yahiko looked forward to paying him a visit.
He put on his coat, grabbed the basket, and stepped outside. Mata was waiting for him, leaning against the railing, a faint smile at the corner of his lips.— "How are you feeling, Yak' ?" he asked.— "Better," Yahiko replied, brief but sincere.
Mata glanced at the basket and let a broader smile form.— "Your mom always thinks of everything, huh ?" he said, nodding toward the meal. "Come on. The old man's probably already at his window, grumbling that kids these days don't know how to be on time."
They chuckled softly — a light laugh that contrasted with the tension of the morning.
The two boys descended the few steps leading to the main path, then turned toward the small cabin where Gribou lived. The old man, once a hunter in the village, had lived alone for several years. He wasn't particularly warm, but he knew the name of every child, the wounds of every family, and carried within him a memory few still took the time to listen to.
Arriving in front of the worn wooden door, Yahiko paused for a moment. Before knocking, his gaze drifted to the neighboring pen — where, a week earlier, one of the old man's goats had mysteriously vanished. Only one remained now, motionless, eyes staring into nothing. It seemed disoriented, lost without its companion. Yahiko clenched his jaw gently, feeling both sadness and a pang in his chest. Then, gathering himself, he knocked softly on the door.
— "It's open !" growled a voice from inside, raspy but sharp.
They stepped in. Gribou was seated near the stove, wrapped in a thick blanket, his back hunched but his eyes still sharp.— "So here you are, the miracle boy," he said to Yahiko with a half-smile. "And you brought along your limping sidekick. Looks like my lessons paid off, kid... You survived a foul thing I'd rather have avoided, even back in my youth."
Mata gave an amused smile.— "I see your sense of humor's still in one piece, old grump."
Gribou grumbled into his beard, but a discreet smile hung at the corner of his lips. Yahiko set the basket down on the low table and sat without a word. A brief silence settled, heavy with things still left unsaid. Then the old man slowly lifted his eyes toward them.— "You heard it, didn't you ? This morning."
The two boys nodded.
— "Been a long time since I heard screams like that… One of those sounds that chills your blood, that sticks in your head like a splinter. Not the kind you forget easily."He paused, his eyes fixed on the fire.
— "You're young. But things are going to change. You can… you can feel it in the air. In the silence after the blows. These stories… they never end."
Yahiko didn't respond. He felt the old man was right, but he didn't yet know why those words echoed so deeply within him.
A heavy silence settled. Then, as if to break the tension, Mata gently asked:— "And you, Gribou… you've never thought about leaving this place ?"
Gribou laughed — a broken, but honest laugh.— "And go where, huh ? I buried my wife and my son here, I saw half this village come into the world, and I'm too old to chase the wind. No. I'll stay here, with my memories. And with you, as long as there are still kids who know how to knock on my door."
A respectful silence followed. Yahiko looked at the man — his face marked by the years, yet lit by a rare spark of humanity. He didn't yet know just how deeply those words would one day resonate within him.
Then, gently, they took their leave. Gribou gave them a brief wave, and closed the door behind them.
On the way back, neither of the two boys spoke. There was nothing more to say.
Not far from there, less than a kilometer from the village, night was slowly falling over the forest, cloaking the trees in a mantle of shifting shadows. The air was cool, heavy with humidity, and still carried the acrid scent left by the demons.
Maïwenn, Bann, and Milo were moving slowly — wounded, their faces drawn, their clothes torn in several places, their steps heavy with exhaustion.
Despite their morning victory, the day had been grueling. Every thicket, every corner had been combed and inspected carefully, in the hope of discovering where the Yokaï had emerged. They had treated their wounds in haste, without taking time to rest.
— "Nothing," Bann exhaled, wiping his forehead. "We've swept every inch of this forest. Not a trace. We can head back."
— "Then why do I feel like we missed something ?" Maïwenn murmured.
A little farther ahead, Milo had drifted slightly off the path. The sun had almost completely disappeared beyond the horizon, plunging the forest into a bluish twilight. He was about to turn back when a strange vibration rippled beneath his feet. His body froze.
— "...Wait !" he called out.
His eyes had just caught a glimmer. A shifting light — blurred, flickering — pulsing between the trees.
He took a few steps forward, the damp grass sliding beneath his boots.Then he saw it.
The portal.
It stood there, in the midst of the silent trees. Oval, trembling, like a tear in the air, it pulsed slowly with a supernatural glow. It was barely larger than a child — reaching only to an adult's chest — a modest size, perfectly matching that of the two small Yokaï defeated earlier. And yet… it remained open.
Milo stepped back, his throat tight.— "That's impossible…"
Moments later, Maïwenn and Bann reached him, breathless. When their eyes landed on the still-active opening, a heavy silence fell over them.
— "It should be closed… It has no reason to exist anymore," Milo murmured, his voice hollow. "We eliminated the last two Yokaï… Nothing should be left."
Maïwenn, her brows furrowed, slowly approached the portal. Her gaze scanned it with a chilling intensity, as if probing each of its pulses.
— "No…" she finally said in a whisper. "There's only one possible explanation."
She stepped back a few paces, her face pale.— "The Yokaï responsible for this opening… hasn't been defeated yet."
At those words, the portal flickered. Its light shifted abruptly.
The pale violet turned to midnight blue.
Electric arcs burst across the surface of the portal, slashing through the air with menacing crackles. The grass around it began to sizzle — some patches withering from the heat, others blackening and burning on the spot. A shockwave, light yet vibrating, rippled across the ground.
And slowly… the edges of the portal began to tear, as if being eaten away from within. Space itself seemed to crack around it, as though reality struggled to contain its energy. It was widening. Insidiously. Inexorably.
Milo swallowed hard. Even Bann took a step back, his hand tightening around the hilt of his weapon.
Then, without warning…
A cold breath escaped the portal — sinuous, almost organic.As if something… was breathing on the other side.Slowly. Steadily. In silence.