Strictest loyalty

Atsunori rushes to the trash container for the second lid, but a stream of fire sears through the air and forces him back, nearly getting his arm. Although he knows it's a type of illusion—a trick unique to a Hannya's second form—its pain would be every bit as searing as the real thing.

Hannya are adept at turning negative emotion into a weapon—fitting for Yokai born from women consumed by hate and jealousy.

In a blink, the gap between them disappears. Atsunori sidesteps and shoves the entire container at her. Her feet land on the steel lid as more flames swirl to life in her hand—but he flings a nearby trashbag, cutting off her casting.

The hexer opts to lunge at him again—just as he predicted—so he manages to land a punch, though her reflexes let her pull back before taking the full force.

Retreating much farther than necessary, she creates room, then conjures a much larger swirl of fire. Atsunori rushes forward, but he's much too slow to catch up in time. After dodging the first blast, he barely reacts to the next, and the one after it grazes his foot—but there's no time to feel the pain before he has to dive aside again.

With fire raining down, closing the gap is impossible, enduring seems like the only option.

No way she can keep this up for much longer, I just need to hold on until—

Suddenly, his legs weigh down like rocks. Strength drains from his body, almost undoing his transformation. He notices a thin stream of water flowing from the Hannya's feet to his own, a curse masked by the rainwater.

Shit, that's right.

On top of fire born from raging hatred, they can summon water that embodies the deepest sorrow.

Another bright line of fire shoots toward him, but his body is slow, sluggish—so he's engulfed by the flames.

Every hair on his skin stands on end. Agony explodes from head to toe. Tears sprout from his eyes, and everything goes blank.

He burns for what feels like an eternity.

Only when his knees hit the ground does he remember what he's doing. His body has returned to human form. Nausea churns in his stomach—he fights the urge to vomit.

Lifting his gaze, he sees the Hannya slowly approaching. She raises her hand, and this time, a ball of water begins to form.

She wants to torture me further. I can't tell if this is her human will, or the Yokai's.

But her uneven breathing doesn't escape his notice. That was a massive use of magic—she isn't at full strength anymore.

Atsunori gathers what little strength he can into his hand as the Hannya slowly closes the distance. The asphalt beneath his palm softens like a liquid, reshaping into a small rock.

The moment she moves to lower her arm, Atsunori launches the rock. It shatters against her face, stunning her and dissolving the spell.

He charges, pouring every last ounce of his power into a single, final punch.

It sinks into her chest with a crunch, and she's sent flying into the wall, cracking the bricks on impact.

He collapses once more, barely clinging to consciousness, his body still aflame from phantom wounds.

"Acceptable. You have not neglected your training," a voice says.

With a snap of fingers, all the torment consuming Atsunori's body vanishes, though the lingering fatigue remains.

The Hannya lifts herself up—legs first, then upper half following. Snaps and pops echo with every movement. The demonic form fades, revealing the human beneath.

Her hair remains short and dark, streaked now with pale white. Her face is long and sharp, like the claws of her Yokai, marked with a few lines of age. The eyes are a deep, lifeless black; lips a straight, emotionless line.

A thin trail of blood runs from her forehead to her collarbone, tinting the eyes of the ghost tattoo that peeks from beneath her half-untied robe.

Some call her the strictest and most terrifying of the Munakata. Others see in her the very embodiment of loyalty and diligence.

For Atsunori, both descriptions are true. Such is the nature of Mistress Tomoe, Head Priest of the Munakata.

Through his exhaustion, he murmurs, "To what do I owe the honor of this visit, Mistress Tomoe?"

"My entourage happened to pass through the city. We came to deliver a matter of some importance, and to take on supplies before departing again."

She paces around him, piercing eyes appraising every detail.

"I was informed of the troubling attack, and that you had been placed in charge. I deemed it prudent to assess your current capabilities personally."

Completing a full circle, her gaze locks on his.

"I have also been made aware of a certain foreigner who has obtained a blessing. How are you managing this unusual situation?"

"She is training in the estate, under surveillance. I have determined she is not dangerous, only in need of guidance."

The Mistress wipes the blood from her forehead.

"You are among the more competent of the Munakata. For now, I shall trust your judgement. I will leave these matters in your hands until my official return."

After a sharp turn, exposing her back, she adds, "Do not sully the Munakata name."

A snap of her fingers extinguishes the surrounding lights. After a heartbeat of darkness, they return—but Mistress Tomoe is gone.

Atsunori stays down for over half an hour before moving. Then, picking up a spare shirt from his now soaked bag, he heads to the estate.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

"Miss Avery has disappeared," the servant says.

That's the greeting Atsunori gets when he enters the estate.

"What? How?"

"She climbed out the restroom window."

He can't even get angry at that. It's just too surreal.

"What am I going to do with this brat?"

Organizing a search would be too much trouble—and probably not worth it. The best he can do is wait for her to—

The servant timidly points behind him. Atsunori turns and sees Avery sneaking along the edge of the outer wall. She freezes when she notices him looking, then gives a small, silly wave.

He gestures for her to come over.

"H-hi, Atsun," she stammers.

"Where were you?"

"Well… taking a small break in the city."

"How did you even get out of the estate? Or back in?"

"The guards know me. I talk with them sometimes during my breaks. Did you know the two of them are actually twins? I never would've guessed, they're so different and—"

"Don't change the topic. What's your excuse?" His tone is cold, empty. This is just his routine for dealing with disobedient children.

Shulking, her shoulders drop. "I'm sorry."

"You think just apologizing after your misdeed makes it right?"

"No, I know it doesn't, and I expected you to scold me but… I just want to be able to stay here a little longer."

"That doesn't match your actions."

"Yeah, I know… it's just—" Gesturing wildly, her thoughts seem to spill from her palms as much as her lips. "Being so trapped and locked up and pressured… it kinda just makes me want to run away and never come back."

Her hands fall still. "But I don't want to do that. I want to stay. That's why I left for a bit, so I could come back."

Everything is still, like a frozen lake.

He considers his usual approach, then discards it. With her, it's useless. She doesn't bend. She just… exists. This isn't disciplining a child of the family—she can leave forever if she wants.

Tomoe's words come to mind: "I shall trust your judgement." The right move is to adapt to these unfamiliar circumstances. He has to think of something else.

He looks at her again. Avery's gaze drops. Still afraid. By now, she's feared him far longer than she ever saw him as harmless.

If only he'd listened to her from the start…

"I'm not going to punish you." Avery looks back at him, puzzled. "In fact, this is all my fault. I pressured you too much and forgot about you while I worked. You don't belong to the family, you deserve to be able to leave the estate at will."

Confusion drains from her face, replaced by warmth and a spark in her eyes.

"Thank you, Atsun."

"There's nothing to thank me for. I still owe you for how I treated you the day I learned about your powers, so if there's anything I can do to make it up to you…" He can already guess what's coming, but even so, he says, "You can request whatever you want, within reason."

Mischief blossoms in her smile. "Then let me help with your work. I wanna do what you do: catch the bad guys, especially once I learn to use my powers."

Atsunori exhales so deeply it sounds like a bear yawning.

"Fine, but on one condition: I'll often have private meetings with certain contacts. You'll use that time to practice magic and meditate." She nods. "And don't expect your training to progress quickly this way."

"That's fine! I don't care if it's ten times slower. I'll have a hundred times more fun, yay!" With a hop, Avery swings a V sign.

I can never truly read this girl.

A soft curve forms on his lips—one he makes no effort to hide.