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Chapter 36 - Chapter 36:

(Kitsuna POV)

"Hmm. Is that so?" Mom said, her voice tinged with amusement. She didn't need to raise her tone, not when her eyes carried that knowing glint that made the back of my neck prickle. She was looking at me like she had already predicted every reaction I would have before I even breathed them into existence.

'This woman is too scary,' I thought to myself, forcing my gaze away. She hadn't been there for my last years on Earth, hadn't seen the nights when I clawed at walls or the mornings I pretended not to bleed, and yet she still knew. She knew enough about me to pull off little performances like this with her eyes closed, like a master playing with the strings of a puppet.

I let out a slow breath and dragged my attention back to Zagan, who was standing stiff in front of me now. The moment he noticed I was looking at him, he lowered his head, bowing deeply until his messy strands of hair fell into his face. His shoulders shook faintly, like even that posture was harder to hold than it should have been.

"Shiro… Kitsuna," he started, his voice trembling and roughened by something heavier than nerves. "I want to apologize for attacking you and for my reaction when I found out about your real identity on Earth. I should have listened to you first before calling you a murderer… even though I was a teacher who should always listen to her student before making decisions." His lips twisted as though each word was a blade cutting him. "I wasn't just a bad teacher to you, but I was a bad friend. I would do anything to make it up to you, if you allowed me to do so."

By the end, his voice had dropped, thick with desperation. I could almost hear the pulse racing in his chest. He wasn't just speaking to me; he was pleading with something inside himself.

I stepped closer, raising one hand, and placed it gently on the crown of his bowed head. His body went rigid under my touch.

"You know," I said softly, though my tone carried an edge, "I had a lot of time to think about this. Even if you still hated me, I would never—" I let the pause hang sharp, then finished in a harsher tone, "and I mean never—"

I felt the jolt run through him, the sudden tension crawling up his spine. For a second, I let it sit there, let him drown in the weight of what he thought was coming. Then I sighed, the sharpness bleeding out of me, and continued in a softer, almost worn voice.

"Hate you. I would never hate you. You were the closest thing I had to a real family. I mean, after you found out about me, you still didn't tell the authorities. You didn't drag me into the light. You just… left me alone. That's not hatred." My lips curved faintly as I rubbed his head, fingers slipping through his hair. "And what about you attacking me? Meh, it's fine. I just hope you learned something from it."

For a moment, I saw the tiniest shiver ripple through him. He didn't look up, though. His bangs still hid his face. The silence stretched, so I crouched down until I was eye level with him. When I finally caught sight of his expression, I tilted my head.

"Are you crying?" I asked, though a small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. "You don't have to be that emotional."

"I'm not crying about that," he said quickly, voice muffled as he straightened. His hands lifted shakily into the air. "My hands hurt. Really bad."

I blinked. Looking closer, I saw his palms. The sword wounds across them had widened, red and enraged, as though someone had pressed salt into raw skin. Tiny half-moon punctures from his fingernails dotted the flesh. His fingers were trembling.

"Don't get me wrong," he added, forcing a crooked smile despite the tears still clinging to his lashes. "I'm happy—pleased—that you forgave me. But your start back there… it made me dig my nails right through my hands. Can we… be friends again?"

I stared at him, then let out a laugh. "That was the plan, idiot. And you should get those fixed." My smile lingered as I turned my head toward the others. Mom was watching with a sadistic curve to her lips, eyes glittering like she had been waiting for that moment.

I smiled right back at her, then pushed Zagan lightly toward her. "Go with my mom. She'll help you. Amari, you go get Rachel."

"But—" Amari started, her brows furrowing.

Dean cut her off, his voice sharp and commanding. "No. Let her do it. You're the only one left who knows Rachel."

Amari's jaw worked, her lips pressed tight, but after a moment she dropped her shoulders. "Fine," she muttered in defeat.

Once they left, only Dean, Granny, and I remained in the room. I stretched my arms lazily over my head, chuckling under my breath.

"I can't believe he did that to himself."

"That's your fault, Kitsuna," Dean rebuked, giving me a look that was part annoyance, part exasperated amusement.

"True," I admitted with a shrug, "but it was still funny, Dean."

He sighed, but the corners of his lips revealed a slight twitch of agreement. "It was. Just out of curiosity…" His eyes softened, carrying something uncharacteristically vulnerable. "Would you ever not call me by my name?"

I tilted my head at him, feigning innocence. "Do you want me to call you Father?"

The word slipped out more naturally than I intended, laced with a depth of emotion I hadn't prepared for. It weighed heavy in the air, sharp enough to make both Dean and Granny visibly shiver.

Dean paled. "Never mind," he said quickly, retreating from the weight of it.

I chuckled, shaking my head. "See? I don't even try." Then I glanced toward the window, catching sight of the pale glow outside. "Why is the guru tree I slept under so cold and white now?"

"Guru trees sometimes change if they take in mana from someone nearby," Granny explained calmly, though her tone carried that undercurrent of respect she always had when speaking of old things. "But it takes a lot of mana to change the entire tree."

"Is it going to change back?" I asked, already half-knowing what I wanted the answer to be.

Dean folded his arms. "It will, if you don't feed it any more of your mana."

"Ooh, is there a way to keep it like that?" My grin widened, a little spark of excitement flickering in my chest.

"I've read," Granny said thoughtfully, "that if a tree maintains one appearance for more than a year, it will stay that way forever."

"Awesome." I punched the air lightly with a fist.

Dean squinted. "Why do you even want to know?"

"Because that's going to be my sleeping area from now on," I said, grinning.

Granny arched a brow. "Isn't it uncomfortable outside on the ground?"

"Nope. I feel at home there. Especially with the cold." The memory of last night's sleep slipped through me, soft and grounding in a way I hadn't felt in years.

"If you say so." Granny gave a small shrug and padded away.

An hour later, I was at the front of the mansion, arms crossed and my scarf tugged higher against the breeze. My oversized coat flared slightly with the draft, my cargo pants swishing with every small shift of my weight.

"They're taking so long," I muttered, bouncing my heel against the stone floor in irritation.

The door finally creaked open. Zagan stepped out, looking like he'd just escaped an execution chamber. His skin was pale, lips pressed tight, and even his gait was unsteady.

"What did my mother do to you?" I asked, barely holding back a laugh.

"Why did you tell them?" Zagan snapped back, his glare weak but still aimed squarely at me.

I smirked. "I wanted to make my sister like me, so I told her everything."

He let out a shaky breath. "That… makes sense. In a way."

I leaned lazily against one of the stone pillars, scarf brushing my chin as I tilted my head. "Word of advice: whatever my mother said, listen to her. Don't go against her word. I would rather not see that demon again." A shiver slipped down my spine at the memory, and I rubbed my arm.

"I'll remember that," Zagan said, coming to stand next to me.

"Hey, guys! We're ready to go!" Amari's voice called from the doorway. We turned to see her stepping out, dressed in a deep red dress that hugged her form in a way that screamed confidence. Beside her, Rachel appeared in a white-and-pink one-piece dress, her soft pink hair pulled into a high ponytail. Her white wings framed her like a painting.

"Wow, Rachel, you look cute," I said without hesitation, a smile breaking across my face.

"C-cute?" Her eyes widened, and she quickly looked down, cheeks flaring crimson as she turned her face away.

'Well, that's a thing,' I thought, a chuckle rumbling low in my chest.

"So," I said aloud, "how are we getting to our destination, Amari?"

"We'll be taking a car until the subway, then using trains for the rest of the day," she explained with brisk clarity.

"Huh? Cars and trains? Wow, public transport's really advanced that far?"

"Yeah," Zagan cut in, his expression tight. "Shino and Yami focused on transport first, before they started pouring resources into modern weapons." His jaw clenched slightly, the conflict in his eyes plain.

'I see. He doesn't like the idea of modern weapons either, I thought, glancing at him.

"Yeah! The capital's changed so much in the past seven years. They even have scrolls now!" Amari's voice lifted with excitement.

"Scrolls?" I echoed.

"It's a phone," Zagan explained, pulling a thin glass device from his pocket.

"Ooh, I need one of those." I crossed my arms, grinning.

"That's why we're going out today," Amari said. "We need to get you new clothes and some tech. If we're lucky, we can even get you one with our house emblem."

A low hum filled the air. The ground vibrated faintly beneath my boots.

VRRRR.

The sound grew louder, coming from the side of the mansion, rushing toward us.

"Aah, the car's here," Zagan said, already moving down the stairs.

I turned my head and blinked as a sleek, silver shape appeared, gliding smoothly toward us without wheels. It hovered about thirty centimeters off the ground, moving with an almost arrogant grace.

"Cars can float now?" I muttered as it came to a stop in front of us. Its design reminded me of a luxury limo, except without the roof and without any bulky engines. The seats were arranged like in a Japanese limo: the driver in front with a passenger seat and two plush couches facing each other in the back with enough space to stretch your legs out.

"Yes," Zagan said with a forced smile. "They call it the float moto." He stepped aside, opening the door for Amari and Rachel.

"Shino and Yami are bad at naming things," I commented as I strolled over.

"Not their fault. Their older brother—the King—decides the names," Zagan replied, climbing in.

"There's something wrong with the King, then."

"I wouldn't say that in public if I were you," Amari warned. "The commoners love him. He was the one who made sure all these advancements reached everyone, not just the nobles. In his head, there's no difference between nobles and commoners."

I scratched the back of my head. "Alright, I take it back. Just his naming sense is awful. He actually sounds like a noble king."

Amari leaned forward. "Un. Daren, can you take us to the subway?"

"Ooh, Daren, is that you?" I teased Daren without even looking at the driver.

"Yes, young miss," he said flatly, voice devoid of emotion.

"Aah, are you still upset at me for kicking you? Come on, that was yesterday. Old news."

"You left a giant bruise on his stomach," Amari cut in, giving me a sharp glare. "What do you think?"

"Tsk, you're no fun," I muttered, glaring right back.

"Daren, just ignore her and take us to the subway," Amari said, still ignoring my look.

"I will, thank you, Amari," he replied, his tone noticeably softer with her.

"In her defense, he did attack first, and for no reason," Rachel chimed in quietly.

Zagan turned, intrigued. "Rachel, can you enlighten me about this incident?"

"Umu." Rachel nodded seriously, wings twitching as she began to explain everything that happened yesterday.

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