An alley, slick with rain and silence, narrowed the world to shadow and grit.
Ash stepped into it first—coat flaring behind him, bare fists flexing. He didn't speak. Didn't need to. The moment he felt the Hunter's presence tailing them all day, the outcome had already begun writing itself.
The Hunter stepped closer without a sound, cloaked in dusk, twin curved blades glinting like promises not meant to be kept. Masked. Composed. Dangerous.
"You've got two seconds to explain why you're following us," Ash said, voice steady but low. "And maybe I won't break your legs."
"Still as reckless as ever," the Hunter murmured beneath the hood—voice cool, tinged with something like... familiarity?
Ash didn't flinch. "Do I know you?"
The Hunter lunged. A blade whistled past his cheek. He ducked, spun low, and launched a sweeping kick, but the Hunter vaulted over it like mist. They clashed—a storm of fists and steel, the alley ringing with every impact.
Ash caught a wrist, twisted, pushed the Hunter against the wall.
"You've been tailing us since yesterday. What do you want with Poffin?"
The Hunter grunted, slipped free with surprising grace, and kicked off the wall to flip over Ash's head. "That creature you're protecting... it's not just some pet."
"Tell me something I don't know," Ash growled, turning and catching a blade between two fingers—his beast magic surging to reinforce his grip just long enough to shove it away and slam a punch into the Hunter's ribs.
They staggered, coughing, then smirked beneath the mask.
"Still pulling your punches," they said.
Ash hesitated. There was something oddly familiar in that voice. Too familiar. He pushed the thought down and charged again.
They moved like two halves of a broken mirror—flawless in rhythm, but different in intent. Ash fought with grounded force and raw instinct. The Hunter danced like a ghost, every strike calculated, every parry laced with something unspoken.
"I've studied Flufferbeasts my whole life," the Hunter finally said during a clash, voice low. "They were peaceful. Smart. Extinct. But then one explodes in a warehouse and eats three pies before sunset? That doesn't add up."
Ash huffed. "He's weird. We know. We keep him anyway."
The Hunter lunged, but this time Ash caught them mid-air, slammed them down, pinning them.
"That still doesn't explain you," he said.
Silence.
The Hunter looked up—mask cracked at the edge now, a single eye visible beneath. Tired. Familiar.
"I think he's the key," the Hunter said, quiet. "Not just to their disappearance… but maybe to something worse."
Ash's grip faltered.
A beat.
And then the Hunter's legs coiled, and they kicked him back, flipping up to crouch on a crate.
Ash stood, panting, knuckles bruised.
"Tell me who you are," he demanded.
A pause. The Hunter didn't answer.
So Ash whispered an incantation. Chains of golden light erupted from the cobblestones, anchoring the Hunter in place for sixty seconds.
He approached slowly, pulled the mask free—
And froze.
"…Velvet?"
She met his eyes, unmoving. Her voice, when it came, was softer.
"I didn't want to fight you."
His fists clenched. "Then why didn't you say something sooner?"
"Because," she said, "you wouldn't have listened."
Their eyes locked. The rain fell harder.
Ash's voice was low, almost lost beneath the hiss of the rain.
"…Why?"
Velvet didn't look away. Not from his eyes, not from the lingering weight in them. "You wouldn't have believed me if I told you."
Ash's jaw tightened. "Try me."
She exhaled slowly, the chains of magic still glowing faintly around her ankles like golden regret. "You want the truth? I've been searching for Flufferbeast traces for years. Ever since I found the first relic buried beneath what used to be the Southern Wilds."
Ash narrowed his eyes. "Those things are supposed to be extinct."
"I thought so too. Until he showed up." Velvet tilted her chin in the direction of the tavern. "Until I saw that ridiculous puffball waddling around with the exact arcane signature I spent years trying to confirm."
"So you just what? Stalked us? Attacked me?" Ash stepped closer, voice rising. "You could've just asked."
"And you could've just listened!" Velvet snapped, then caught herself. Her tone softened. "I wasn't trying to hurt him. Or you. I just… I needed to know. I needed to see it."
Ash's silence stretched long and heavy. His fists had stopped shaking, but his eyes still burned with questions.
She met them, steady. "Ash… he's not just rare. He's an anomaly. There's something buried deep in his existence that connects to whatever erased his entire species. And if we don't figure it out—"
"Then what?" Ash interrupted. "You think he's some kind of time bomb?"
Velvet shook her head. "I don't know. But I've read the signs. The sightings. The vanishing towns. He's not the only mystery out there. But he might be the key to unraveling all of them."
Ash looked down at her. The chains were beginning to fade.
"I thought you were just the quiet vet who patched him up."
She gave a sad smile. "And I thought you were just another hothead with a temper and a beast affinity."
He raised an eyebrow. "That sounds a little like flirting."
"Maybe a little." She shrugged, wincing at the bruises blooming beneath her coat. "But you did punch me in the ribs, so let's not get ahead of ourselves."
The last of the chains shimmered out of existence. Velvet stood slowly, eyes never leaving his.
"I want to help," she said simply. "I want to help him. But I can't do that unless you stop treating me like the enemy."
Ash crossed his arms, giving her a long, unreadable look. Rain dripped from his hair, from his lashes, but he didn't blink.
"…Then you better be ready to explain that to the rest of the party," he finally muttered.
Velvet nodded.
"I'm ready."
The rain hadn't let up. Thin silver sheets whispered across the cobbled streets, painting reflections of streetlamps that flickered like stars fallen into puddles. Ash and Velvet walked side by side, silent for a while, boots splashing in sync.
Neither spoke—until Ash finally broke it, voice low but steady.
"I always knew Poffin was something else."
Velvet turned to him, brows raised.
"I mean," he clarified, "when I recruited him… I didn't think he was this. Flufferbeast. Relic species. Walking talking puffball mystery. No. I just felt something powerful in him. Like… something caged. Dangerous, even."
Velvet folded her arms, cloak soaked through. "So you thought he was a freak experiment?"
Ash shrugged, hands in pockets. "Alchemy mutation, failed summon, some mad sorcerer's failed pet—take your pick. But not this. Not ancient. Not extinct. Just… weird."
He gave a small, dry chuckle. "Flufferbeasts were mythology. Scraps in beast lore. Maybe one blurry illustration in some old bestiary with half the page missing."
Velvet glanced sidelong at him, brow furrowed. "And not once… not once did you think to look deeper?"
Ash stopped walking. Looked up at the gray sky, then at her.
"Velvet," he said, "the first time I met him, he ganked a full steak off a noble's plate, set the tablecloth on fire, and then tripped into a punch bowl. Your Flufferbeasts? Described as wise, peaceful, subtle? Yeah—he was a far cry."
Velvet blinked… then tried not to laugh. "That does sound like him."
Ash smirked faintly. "Don't get me wrong. I liked him immediately. But I thought he was a chaotic furball with a reactor core for a heart. Didn't peg him as ancient lineage of vanished mythical beast kings."
Velvet stared into the distance. "He may not know who he is… but he still is. And that's what matters."
Ash looked at her. "Yeah."
A pause.
"Still think he's a steak-thieving menace though."
That finally pulled a laugh from her, soft and surprised.
---
The tavern door creaked open, letting in the scent of rain and the quiet shuffle of boots over the threshold. Ash stepped inside first, shaking off his coat. Velvet followed close behind, silent and composed, though her damp cloak left a trail of raindrops across the floorboards.
The party glanced up from their respective corners. Conversations slowed—not stopped, just paused enough to take in the scene.
"Isn't that?"
Seren blinked once, lowered her book, then gently set her cup down, far too carefully for a mere cup of tea.
Lyra arched a brow, then returned to stirring her soup with a little too much interest, as if the swirl of broth somehow mirrored the swirl of gossip blooming behind her eyes.
Vix didn't say anything—just offered a subtle smirk from behind her dagger, running a whetstone down its edge like she was waiting for a punchline to arrive.
Kale merely nodded in greeting. But it was the kind of nod that said, I saw everything, and I'll say nothing… for now.
Ash, for his part, walked toward the fire like nothing was out of the ordinary. Which, of course, made everything feel extra ordinary.
Then there was Poffin.
Perched on the armrest of an oversized chair, half-eaten dumpling in paw, expression unreadable—until Ash passed by. Then, without looking up, he spoke:
"Storm's picking up, huh? Funny weather for long walks and… meaningful silences."
Ash stopped mid-step. "What?"
"Hmm? Nothing." Poffin took a dainty bite. "Just saying it's… dramatic out there."
Ash narrowed his eyes. "...Right."
He could feel the glances behind his back. Velvet had already sat down quietly beside the fire, wringing her cloak dry, eyes distant.
Ash clenched his jaw.
Why—he wondered silently—does the urge to throw Poffin out a second-story window only grow stronger with rain?
He sat down across from him instead.
Velvet glanced toward the others. "We need to talk. All of us."
Seren straightened in her seat. Lyra pretended not to already be eavesdropping. Vix sighed, sheathed her knife, and Kale gave a thoughtful hum.
No one said a word, but the air shifted—calm before another storm.
Ash exhaled. Quietly.
This was going to be a long night.
They circled around the fire like suspects in a mystery no one had solved yet, except everyone thought they knew the ending.
Seren was the first to speak, voice neutral, eyes far too focused. "So… do we congratulate you both now or later?"
Ash blinked. "What?"
Lyra leaned in, barely hiding her grin. "You did come in together. In the rain. Quiet. With that look."
"What look?" Velvet asked, brow furrowing.
"You know. That look," Vix chimed in. "The one people wear when they've either killed someone... or kissed."
Kale coughed into his fist, clearly trying to remain the impartial observer, but his ears had turned traitorous—reddening just enough to sell him out.
Ash raised both hands. "Okay—no. No, no, no. That's not—this isn't whatever you think this is."
"So you didn't bring her back after a tense rooftop duel, brooding in the moonlight, followed by a heartfelt walk in the rain?" Poffin asked innocently, nibbling a dumpling while reclining like a prince among pillows. "Because if not, I want my mental fanfiction back."
Ash looked like he aged a year on the spot. "Poffin—"
But Velvet cut in, brushing wet hair behind her ear. "Enough. This isn't about that."
Seren folded her arms. "Then what is it about?"
Velvet inhaled slowly, glancing around at their expectant faces. "It's about Poffin."
The room fell silent.
Poffin stopped chewing.
"Wait. Me?" he said through a mouthful. "I thought this was about—you know, your unresolved tension."
Ash buried his face in his hands. "Poffin, please."
Velvet nodded, serious now. "He's not just some strange little creature you found in a street fight."
"Hey," Poffin said, mildly offended. "It was more of a dramatic barrel escape."
She continued. "He's a Flufferbeast."
Kale tilted his head. "I thought those were extinct."
"They are," Velvet replied. "Or were. Which makes him—"
"—a miracle," Seren murmured.
"—a liability," Vix muttered.
"—an ancient myth" Lyra added.
"—an overgrown cottonball whose mouth I want to tape shut." Ash grumbled.
And just like that, the room shifted.
From awkwardly imagined romance... to revelations of magical extinction-level proportions. From one hundred to zero in record time.
Poffin tilted his head, eyes wide and blinking like someone had just accused him of royalty and tax fraud in the same sentence. He let out a string of chirps, grumbles, and one oddly melodic sproink.
Ash, who had long since developed the unfortunate skill of translating Poffin's nonsense, sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"He said—and I quote—'A Fluffer-whatta who now?'"
The party stared.
Velvet's eye twitched. "You mean he doesn't know?"
Seren raised a brow. "You're telling me that"—she pointed at Poffin, who was now casually licking frosting off his paw—"is a legendary beast species?"
Ash translated Velvet's next statement with a heavy sigh. "She says yes. And not just any. Supposedly extinct, vanishing without a trace kind of legendary."
Lyra frowned. "And how does he respond to that?"
Ash glanced at Poffin.
Poffin paused mid-lick, blinked once, then chirped a sound that unmistakably resembled a shrug.
"He says... he still wants steak."
Kale folded his arms. "I knew that thing was dangerous. Anyone who wants that much steak is hiding something."
Ash leaned back in his chair, muttering under his breath. "Yeah. Just not what we thought."
Ash leaned forward, fingers tapping a slow rhythm on the wooden table. The tavern was warm with lamplight, the clink of mugs and distant lute music muffled by the strange stillness between him and the creature lounging across from him.
"Poffin," Ash said, tone low. "What are you, really?"
Poffin didn't answer at first. Finally, he shrugged, tail flicking lazily.
"I've been asking myself that for a while," he said, almost absently. "Not like I woke up with a handy name tag or anything."
Ash frowned. "But Velvet said you're a Flufferbeast. A supposedly extinct one. You've never seen another of your kind. You don't act like one either. So I'm asking—what's your story?"
Poffin looked up, met his eyes. Calm. Unbothered. A trace of a smirk.
"I didn't exactly grow up in this world, Ash."
Ash blinked. "Come again?"
"I mean... I sort of showed up one day. Wasn't born here, far as I can tell. Just kind of... landed. In this body."
Ash's brows furrowed. "You mean like a summon?"
Poffin sipped his drink. "Something like that. Except no summoner. No ritual. Just me. Woke up with fur and an empty stomach."
Ash's voice dropped. "You're saying... you're not originally from this world?"
Poffin didn't flinch. "Never said I was."
Ash sat back slowly, heart pacing. "That's... a lot."
Poffin shrugged again, more casually than he had any right to. "Not really. Just took me a while to realize this wasn't some elaborate fever dream."
Ash stared at him for a beat, then looked away, running a hand through his damp hair. Across the table, Kale glanced over, brows raised. Lyra whispered something to Vix, who smirked and nodded.
"They're whispering again," Poffin murmured. "They think we're talking about feelings."
"We are," Ash muttered. "Just not the kind they're assuming."
Poffin smiled, enigmatic as ever. "Their disappointment will be immeasurable."
The group had gone quiet. Rain tapped gently against the tavern windows like a metronome for their thoughts, and all eyes were on Ash—who sat with elbows on knees, hands laced, gaze flicking between his team and the fluffer-shaped anomaly casually grooming himself beside a stack of pickled turnips.
"He doesn't remember anything," Ash finally said. "Nothing before waking up here. No memories of other Flufferbeasts. No great purpose. No tragic flashbacks. Just… 'poof.' Here now. Hungry."
Poffin gave a half-hearted wave like a celebrity avoiding paparazzi. "Still hungry, for the record."
Velvet, arms crossed, leaned against a wooden pillar. Her brows knit tighter with every word. "That's all?"
Ash nodded.
"Convenient."
"I thought so too," Ash admitted. "That's why I used the relic."
At that, he reached into his coat and pulled out the old Truth Relic—a jagged crystalline shard wrapped in iron twine. Its surface shimmered faintly, like moonlight trapped in glass.
"He didn't lie," Ash said. "Not a single flicker. He really doesn't know."
Velvet's expression didn't soften. If anything, it looked like someone had swapped out her usual professional calm for something colder—something almost... disappointed.
"So all that potential, all that chaos… and no tether," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "No history. No lineage. Just some reincarnated anomaly falling into this world by chance?"
Poffin tilted his head, ears drooping. "Well, now I feel underwhelming."
"You weren't supposed to be a dead end," she muttered.
Silence lingered, until Ash leaned forward. "Velvet. Even if he doesn't remember anything... even if he wasn't born here... doesn't it make his existence more important?"
Velvet looked at him, brows raised.
Ash nodded toward Poffin. "A being from an extinct species, randomly appearing in a world where their kind is myth. With energy no one can trace, instincts no one can explain, and now a confirmed connection to nothing? You're a scholar. You know what that sounds like."
Velvet's eyes flicked to Poffin—who was now balancing a spoon on his nose.
"A sign," she whispered.
Ash nodded. "Or the beginning of one."