The mist had thinned by morning, but Ren hadn't slept.
He sat on the cracked steps of the ruined shrine, staring down at the woods below. The forest was quiet now—too quiet, like it was holding its breath. Every now and then, he thought he saw shadows flickering at the edges of the trees. But they never came closer. Not with Kiyomi nearby.
She was seated behind him, legs crossed on a patch of mossy stone, tail tips gently swaying, eyes closed in what looked like meditation. For someone who claimed to be centuries old, she looked peaceful. Almost human.
Almost.
Ren finally broke the silence. "So what now? We just live up here, fighting off whatever decides to crawl out of the woods?"
"You assume I intend to stay here," Kiyomi said without opening her eyes. "I don't."
Ren turned to look at her. "Then where do you plan to go? The local convenience store?"
"I intend to return to the world," she said calmly. "To see what has changed in my absence. And to find the source of the corruption that has awakened with me."
Ren frowned. "You mean those yokai?"
She opened her eyes, and for a second, they flared with faint golden light. "No. Something worse. The yokai are just scavengers. Parasites. But something older is stirring beneath the soil. Something that was sleeping even before I was sealed."
Ren looked away. He hated how easily her words made the world feel colder. "You're not helping me feel better about any of this."
"I'm not here to make you feel better," she said with a smirk. "I'm here to make sure you don't get killed."
"How comforting."
They didn't speak for a while after that. Kiyomi eventually stood and stretched, her movements lazy and feline. "Come. We'll descend the mountain now."
Ren stood too. "Wait, so we can leave? Yesterday you said the shrine wouldn't let me go."
"It wouldn't. The bond hadn't settled yet." She turned, already walking toward the stairs. "Now it has. You're mine. And that means the path will open."
Ren wasn't sure how to feel about that, but he followed her anyway. The staircase that had once been lost in fog was now fully visible, old and worn but walkable. They descended in silence, the morning sun filtering through the trees in golden shafts. Everything looked more alive now. Or maybe just more awake.
It took nearly an hour to reach the edge of the woods. When they stepped onto the main road, Ren felt something shift in his chest—like he'd just passed through a curtain between two realities. The moment he did, the world resumed its ordinary sounds. Distant birdsong. Wind through leaves. A car far off.
Kiyomi stopped and glanced back at the trees. "This place hasn't forgotten me. Not entirely."
Ren followed her gaze. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
"Both."
They walked in silence until Ren spotted the old road sign he'd passed the day before. Autumn Hill – A Place for Quiet Hearts. The irony hit him harder this time. He pointed up the side road. "My grandfather's house is that way. I think."
Kiyomi nodded once, though she didn't seem thrilled by the idea of following him into town. Still, she walked beside him, her bare feet moving easily across the gravel. Ren hesitated before speaking again. "You said my family sealed you. That they used my bloodline."
She nodded.
"What does that make me? Some kind of... descendant exorcist?"
Kiyomi didn't answer right away. "Your ancestors weren't priests. They were guardians. Flamebearers. Humans with the gift of spiritual fire—rare, even then. But your line faded. Forgotten. You are likely the last spark of it."
Ren looked down at his hands. They looked the same as always. No flames. No signs of anything special. "So I've got power, but I don't know how to use it."
"You'll learn," Kiyomi said.
"Do I get a manual, or are we just winging it?"
She smiled slightly. "We're winging it."
The house came into view just before noon. It was large—old but well-kept—set back from the road with a small garden out front. A single plum tree stood near the porch, its branches sagging under the weight of ripe fruit.
Ren stopped in front of the gate. "This is it."
Kiyomi tilted her head. "Your grandfather is still inside. I can smell him."
"You can smell him?"
She gave him a look. "You have a lot to learn."
Ren sighed and stepped through the gate. The door was unlocked, and when he pushed it open, warm air greeted him. A familiar scent hit him—the mix of incense, old books, and plum tea. It almost made him forget what had happened the last twenty-four hours.
Almost.
"Grandpa?" he called out.
There was no answer. He moved deeper into the house, past sliding doors and tatami mats, until he found the sitting room.
His grandfather was there, seated on a cushion with his back to the window, sipping tea as if he'd been expecting them.
"Ren," the old man said, his voice calm and gravelly. "I see you found the shrine."
Ren blinked. "You knew?"
The old man nodded. "Of course I knew. That shrine has watched our family for generations."
Kiyomi stepped into the room, and the moment she did, the air changed. His grandfather stiffened slightly, but he did not move.
"So," he said. "You've returned."
Kiyomi looked at him with unreadable eyes. "You were a child when I was sealed."
The old man gave a faint nod. "And now I'm near the end."
"You carry no flame," she observed.
"It died with my father," he said. "Ren is the last."
Ren looked between them, stunned. "You knew this could happen? And you sent me here anyway?"
"I didn't send you," his grandfather said. "Fate brought you. I merely opened the door."
Ren stared at him, heart pounding. There were too many questions. Too many secrets wrapped in riddles. But before he could speak, a sharp knock echoed from the front door.
Three knocks. Slow. Deliberate.
Kiyomi turned her head sharply. Her tails stilled.
"Yokai?" Ren whispered.
"No," she said, voice suddenly low. "Something else."
His grandfather stood slowly. "Stay here. Both of you."
He stepped out of the room before either of them could stop him.
Moments later, the house went deathly silent.
Then came the sound of the front door creaking open.
Then... a voice neither Ren nor Kiyomi recognized.
Soft. Cold.
"It's been a long time since the flame stirred."
Ren felt a chill crawl up his spine. He looked at Kiyomi, and for the first time, he saw something in her eyes that unsettled him more than anything else.
Caution.
Whoever was at the door—it wasn't a friend.