The life she wanted

They find the hō-ō at the heart of the Makai. The land opens into a caldera of glassed obsidian, its surface fractured like a shattered mirror, each shard reflecting a different version of the Makai’s burning heavens. Ash drifts downward in spirals, never touching the ground before dissolving into flecks of light. Heat pools under Hayato’s boots, rising through the soles. Yukari stops at the edge. Hayato almost doesn’t notice at first, his attention is split between the ache in his chest and the way the air here feels heavy. His injury burns dully under the make-shift bandages Yukari helped him put on just hours ago, every breath tugging at the wound the demons left him. He hides it well, his posture straight and his expression calm, but Yukari’s ears flick backward. “You should rest,” she says quietly. He exhales slowly. “After.” She doesn’t argue. She rarely does, not directly anyway. Instead she steps forward, tails swaying behind her in a slow, controlled motion. Eight of them now.

At the center of the caldera a fire stirs. Not wild flame, but something more regal. Gold and crimson embers curl upward, weaving together until wings unfold from the blaze. The hō-ō rises from the fire, his feathers burning without consuming themselves, his eyes glowing, ancient and sorrowful. Yukari inhales sharply.

“Hiyoshi,” she says. The hō-ō’s gaze fixes on her immediately. For a moment something softens in his expression. Whether it's memory or regret, she can't tell. “You came farther than I hoped,” he says, his voice echoing. His eyes flick to Hayato, then back to Yukari. “And not alone.” Hayato steps forward despite the protest of his chest. “You knew she would come.” Hiyoshi inclines his head slightly. “Of course. I raised her.” Yukari’s jaw tightens. “You butchered me.” A ripple passes through the fire, not anger or denial, but something close to grief. “I saved both realms.” “By tearing out my soul?” Her voice is steady, but Hayato hears the fracture beneath it. “By scattering my tails to creatures who couldn’t understand the power you gave them?” “You survived,” Hiyoshi replies gently. “You always do.” Something about the way he says it makes Hayato’s grip tighten on his sword. The hō-ō steps forward, his talons leaving no mark on the obsidian. “You’ve recovered much,” Hiyoshi continues, eyes tracing the line of Yukari’s tails. “Charm. Beauty. Strength. Will. Fire.” His gaze lingers, sharp. “Thought. Control. Form.” Yukari says nothing. “And yet,” he adds, turning to Hayato, “she is still not whole.” Hayato meets his gaze without flinching. “You’re holding the last one.” “Yes.”

The hō-ō’s wings fold inward slightly, flames turning into a deeper gold. “Immortality.” Yukari steps closer. “Give it back,” she says. “This ends now.” Hiyoshi studies her for a long moment. Then he looks past her, to Hayato. “You walk a dangerous path, onmyōji.” Hayato doesn’t look away. “I’ve walked worse.” A faint, sad smile curves the hō-ō’s beak. “Then listen carefully.” His eyes sharpen. “You feel it, don’t you? The way the world bends toward her. How conflict gathers. How power returns not as balance, but as appetite.” Yukari turns sharply. “Don’t.” Hiyoshi raises one wing, silencing her without force. “I taught her restraint. I taught her mercy. I taught her how to wear kindness like skin.” His gaze never leaves Hayato. “And still, when all nine tails burned within her, she made the Makai kneel.” Hayato’s pulse stutters. He glances at Yukari. Her expression is unreadable. Hiyoshi continues softly. “Malevolence that believes itself righteous is the most efficient kind.” “That’s enough,” Yukari snaps, foxfire flaring instinctively along her fingertips before she reins it in. “You’re afraid of what you created. That doesn’t make me a monster.” “No,” Hiyoshi agrees. “It makes you inescapable.” Silence stretches. Hayato’s chest throbs sharply, reminding him of his limits, his mortality. He shifts his stance subtly, protectively placing himself a step closer to Yukari. Hiyoshi notices. “You would die for her,” he says, not accusing. Observing. Hayato doesn’t answer. Yukari does. “He won’t have to.” The hō-ō’s eyes soften again, just briefly. “You sound so sure.” “I am,” she says. “I know what I am.” “And so did I,” Hiyoshi replies.

Fire surges. The obsidian caldera groans as heat spikes violently, cracks glowing like melted gold. The sky above fractures, clouds peeling back to reveal a burning firmament that presses down. Hiyoshi spreads his wings fully now, flames roaring outward. “If you take this tail, Yukari Mizuki, there will be no undoing what follows.” She bares her teeth in defiance. “There never was.” Hayato’s breath catches as the pressure of the hō-ō’s power slams into his wards, testing them mercilessly. His injury screams in protest, blood seeping through the bandage beneath his armor. Yukari senses it immediately. “Stay back,” she says, not looking at him. “I won’t.” She turns, her gold eyes blazing. “Hayato.” He meets her gaze. “I told you. I’m not leaving.” For a heartbeat, something fragile and almost human flickers across her face. Then she nods. The hō-ō watches the exchange with quiet sorrow. “You see?” he murmurs. “Even now.” Flames gather under Hiyoshi’s command. The caldera ignites as he spreads his wings, obsidian cracking under the pressure of his power. Flames coil upward in spirals, gold and scarlet, turning the air into a furnace. Hayato’s wards curl as the temperature spikes violently. He grits his teeth, forcing fresh talismans into place even as his chest wound tears open again under the strain. Yukari doesn’t retreat, she steps forward. Her tails flare behind her, foxfire moving instinctively into the air around her feet. Her eyes lock on Hiyoshi’s burning form. “You taught me this,” she says. “Every breath. Every stance.” Hiyoshi’s voice echoes from everywhere at once. “Then you know why I cannot yield.” He strikes first. A wing snaps forward, feathers exploding into a storm of flames. Hayato shouts a warning as he throws himself to the side, slamming a barrier down just as the fire crashes down. The impact shatters the stone and sends a shockwave across the caldera. Hayato skids across obsidian, barely keeping his footing as heat scorches through his wards and sears his skin. Yukari moves through the fire undeterred. Foxfire coils around her. She darts forward, shape blurring as she shifts mid stride, her form stretching just enough to slip through gaps in the flame. Her claws rake across Hiyoshi’s chest, sparks flying as they tear through burning feathers. He recoils slightly. “Still holding back,” he observes. She snarls and answers with illusion, dozens of Yukaris splitting outward, each one real enough to draw attention, to confuse. Hiyoshi lashes out, fire ripping through the false forms, but Yukari is already above him, dropping with precision. Her advanced abilities tail flares. The air compresses around her fist as she strikes. The blow lands hard, slamming Hiyoshi into the obsidian with enough force to create a crater in the ground. Flames erupt outward in a violenty. 

Hayato throws his arms up, reinforcing his wards just in time to keep from being flattened. Hiyoshi rises from the crater slowly, embers falling from his wings like dying stars. “You see?” he says calmly. “You remember.” Yukari breathes hard, power flowing through her veins, it's intoxicating and familiar. She doesn’t deny it. He moves again, fast. A talon rakes across Yukari’s side, tearing through flesh and sending her skidding across the ground. She rolls, barely avoiding a second strike, pain flashing through her ribs. Her blood darkens the obsidian beneath her. Hayato reacts without thinking. He charges, his sword blazing with layered sigils, chanting through clenched teeth as he leaps and drives the blade toward Hiyoshi’s side. The hō-ō twists, feathers shearing against the blade in an eruption of sparks. Hayato lands hard, the impact jarring his injury violently. Hiyoshi turns his gaze fully on him. “Brave,” he says. “And already dying.” He opens his wings. A wave of pure force slams into Hayato, shattering three wards outright and hurling him across the caldera. He crashes into a broken spire, coughing blood as pain explodes through his chest. His vision blurs, but he forces himself upright anyway, his sword shaking in his grip. Yukari sees him. Something inside her snaps. Her charm tail pulses instinctively. She rises slowly, blood dripping down her side. “Don’t touch him,” she says. Hiyoshi watches her with something like sorrow. “This is what I feared.” She comes at him like a storm. Foxfire floods the caldera, illusion warping reality as she weaves through flames. She strikes again and again Hiyoshi counters with firestorms, wings and talons and blinding heat, the clash shaking the realm itself. They tear into each other. Feathers burning and stone melting. The sky fractures over them, glowing cracks spiderwebbing through the firmament. Hayato struggles to his feet, forcing his body to move despite the blinding pain. He anchors a final seal into the ground, pouring everything he has left into it. “Yukari!” he shouts. “Now!” She feels it, his magic locking the space, pinning Hiyoshi for a moment too long. That moment is enough. She lunges, claws plunging deep into the hō-ō’s chest. Flames sear her arms, skin blistering, but she doesn’t stop. She reaches inside and closes her fingers around something pulsing. Immortality. Hiyoshi gasps, not in pain, but in release. Light erupts between them.

Yukari screams as the power surges, but it does not return to her. Hiyoshi’s flames turn inward, consuming themselves in a blinding implosion. He pushes her back with the last of his strength, hurling her clear as his body ignites from within. “Forgive me,” he says softly. Then the hō-ō burns out.

The explosion tears through the caldera, throwing Hayato to the ground and knocking the breath from Yukari’s lungs. When the light fades, there is only silence and ash drifting where a guardian once stood. Yukari lies gasping on the obsidian, staring at the empty space. Hayato crawls toward her, bloodied, shaking, alive. The caldera is silent when it ends. Fire simmers low across the fractured obsidian, the embers drifting weakly now. At the center of it all, the hō-ō lies still, his wings folded inward, his flames dimmed to a faint, flickering glow. Yukari stands over him, chest heaving. Eight tails lash behind her, unsettled, restless with an ache where immortality should be. Hiyoshi opens his eyes one last time. Yukari drops to her knees beside him despite herself. “You didn’t have to die,” she says, her voice tight. “You could’ve just given it back.” “No,” he whispers. “You wouldn’t have stopped.” Her fingers curl into the obsidian. “I would have…” “convinced yourself you had,” he finishes gently. Hayato staggers closer, every step agony, blood dark against his clothes. He stops a few feet away, watching, listening. Hiyoshi’s gaze shifts to him again. “Guard her,” he says softly. “As long as you can.” Hayato swallows. “That was always the plan.” The hō-ō exhales softly. “Then when the time comes… do what I could not.” Yukari shakes her head. “Stop talking.” Hiyoshi smiles at her, warm and familiar. “My little fox,” he murmurs. “You were never meant to be small.”

His body ignites suddenly, flames surging. Yukari reaches for him on instinct, fingers passing through heat and light. And then there is nothing. No body. No fire. Only a single ember hovering in the air, pulsing faintly. Yukari stares at it, unmoving. Hayato watches her carefully. There is grief there, but under it, something else. And somewhere deep in the realm, something ancient stirs, unburned and unbroken, not finished yet. Yukari closes her fist slowly. “Come on,” she says at last, voice steady once more. “It’s not over.” Hayato nods, though a chill creeps down his spine that has nothing to do with the air. Not over at all.