The scorched forest seemed to shrink away from us, the broken trees creaking in the dying wind. Ash floated down like dirty snow, clinging to the tattered edges of my cloak. I shifted awkwardly on my feet, feeling the fading weight of the heavy purple embers still crackling faintly along the hem. My fox ears twitched, swiveling unconsciously at every distant groan of the battered woods.

  Yuzu leaned forward earnestly, hands pnted on her hips beneath her soot-smudged dark cloak. Her bck hair was wild and messy from the fight, uneven strands sticking out like she'd fought the wind itself and lost. Despite that, her jet-bck eyes shone with something fierce between concern and stubborn hope, as if she refused to believe anything bad could happen now that she was here.

  “Yuzu notto andastan wat happen that time when the big bck dragon disappeared,” she said, her words tumbling over each other in a breathless rush. “So Yuzu bery try asking Yuzu’s frens.”

  She thumbed proudly over her shoulder at Shirakawa like she was showing off the prize in a cw machine.

  The white-haired fox girl, Shirakawa, smirked softly, brushing a few stubborn strands of silver hair from her sharp, foxlike face. Her white cloak shimmered faintly, still catching stray embers, but she wore it with the ease of someone who had stood at the edge of worse disasters and walked away smiling.

  “That’s me," Shirakawa said, giving a small, almost zy wink. Her voice was low and cool, carrying the kind of unshakeable calm that comes from standing at the edge of death one too many times. Her clear, gcial-blue eyes locked onto mine. "And I'm certain that the undead dragon is inside you.”

  The words hit like a blow to the gut, stealing the breath right out of my lungs. Inside me? My heart gave an ugly lurch, like it was trying to cw its way out of my chest. The purple emberfire along my tattered cloak sputtered, and my tail, once defiant, drooped toward the ground like a guttering candle.

  Shirakawa caught the look on my face instantly. She lifted a gloved hand in a soothing gesture, her movements slow and precise, like calming a spooked animal. Her voice softened around the edges, losing its sharpness, carrying a surprising gentleness that didn't match the heavy greatsword slung across her back. The battered leather of her gloves creaked faintly as she moved.

  “Don’t freak out,” she said, her tone steady enough to hang onto. “It’s dormant right now. Sleeping. As long as you don’t poke it, or get poked too hard,it’ll stay that way.”

  She shifted her weight easily, the greatsword on her back rattling against its worn harness like a reminder of battles yet to come. Her boots crunched over the scorched earth as she tilted her head toward the shadowy, smoke-wreathed path where Chiisana and the massive demon had disappeared into the misty ruin.

  “That’s why you’re attracting... creatures like her," Shirakawa said, voice tightening just slightly. "The dragon’s presence inside you is like a fre in the night. They can smell it. They want it."

  The breeze stirred the broken branches, carrying with it the faint, acrid tang of demon blood and burning bark. Somewhere far off, something colpsed with a wet crash.

  Yuzu nodded quickly, her small hands balled into determined little fists, trembling slightly with either excitement or fear. Her fox ears bobbed furiously, tiny puffs of ash spilling from their tips. She practically vibrated with energy, like a spring wound too tight.

  “Mashiro have to bery careful now! Lots of bad-bad peoples want dragon! Like greedy peoples at market!” she excimed, her voice pitched high and sharp, nearly drowning out the sinister crackling of the dying fmes around us.

  I tried to ugh weakly, but it caught in my throat.

  Shirakawa’s face grew more serious, her silver eyebrows knitting together just slightly, casting a faint shadow over her sharp gcial-blue eyes.

  "And," she added, voice low and grave, "it’s not just because the dragon is strong. That thing wasn’t just a normal wyrm. It was... an ancient undead dragon. An irregurity. The kind of beast so full of hate for the living that it tore itself back from death just to spite the world."

  She let the words hang in the smoky air between us, heavy and absolute, like a curse carved into the bones of the earth.

  "If it ever wakes up fully inside you," she finished, her tone dropping to a near whisper, "you might not be Mashiro anymore."

  The forest groaned around us, still raw and broken from the violence. Ash drifted down in slow, mournful spirals. Somewhere off in the distance, a wounded tree finally surrendered, colpsing with a soft, echoing crash that seemed to vibrate through my bones.

  I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but all that tumbled out was a tiny, horrified squeak: “...Oh no.”

  My legs wobbled dangerously, the world tilting around me. My arms felt like useless sbs of lead, heavy and clumsy. The taste of smoke and ashes clung stubbornly to my tongue, thick and bitter, and the faint emberfire crackling at the hem of my cloak guttered into near nothingness.

  Before the panic could fully sink its cws into me, Yuzu practically bounced forward, cloak fpping behind her like a storm-tossed fg. Her bck hair, still full of stubborn ash, bobbed wildly with every step. She rifled through her pouch with frantic, almost comedic energy, muttering to herself "Nnai! Found it!"

  Then, with the confidence of someone unveiling a priceless artifact, she thrust a tiny folded square of slightly crumpled paper directly in front of my face.

  She unfolded it with a dramatic, almost magical flourish.

  It was a doodle.

  A crudely drawn chibi version of me with swirly spiral eyes, a ghost dramatically popping out of my head, and a tiny, chibi Yuzu swinging an oversized cartoon stick to bonk ghost-me senseless.

  Beneath it, in messy, chaotic handwriting, were the words:

  “Don’t worry Mashiro! If Mashiro become zombie dragon, Yuzu just bonk with stick and fix it~!”

  Glittery, half-peeling star stickers framed the edges like a child's badge of honor.

  I stared at it. A beat passed. Another. Then, something fragile and cracked escaped me, a weak ugh. Despite the terror still coiled tight in my gut, the looming sense of doom, somehow... It helped. Even if just a little.

  Yuzu beamed, practically vibrating with pride, puffing out her soot-streaked chest like she'd just sin a demon with her bare hands. Her ears twitched in excitement, throwing more ash into the air around her like a little explosion.

  “Bery strong Yuzu!” she decred with absolute, innocent confidence, her tail swishing fiercely behind her.

  Shirakawa chuckled quietly under her breath, a deep, low sound like distant thunder. She crossed her arms casually over her chest, her battered greatsword slung over her back catching the faint, dying light of the ash-choked sky.

  "Don't worry, Mashiro," she said. Her voice was lighter now, almost teasing but beneath it ran something steely and fierce, something that felt like a promise carved in iron. "You're not alone."