The sun bled behind the Kyoto skyline, smearing the sky in crimson and gold. Shadows crawled from every corner of the ancient city, stretching into alleys and through the narrow wooden slats of the shrine where Takashi trained. He sat cross-legged beneath the stone fox statue, his two flaming tails flickering slowly behind him. His breath came steady, but the pressure inside him simmered near the edge.
For the first time since his second tail emerged, he felt balanced—but only just.
Hikari stood nearby, her hands folded in her sleeves, watching him with the careful distance of someone who had seen him lose control before.
"Your fire is listening," she said softly. "But it's not yielding."
"I don't need it to submit," he replied. "I need it to cooperate."
"Flames don't cooperate," she warned. "They consume. You need to understand that before your third tail comes."
He opened his eyes. "How do you know a third one's coming?"
"I've seen the signs. Your aura's growing exponentially. The shrine can barely contain it."
Takashi looked down at his palms. The black flame flickered there, dancing in a rhythm that wasn't quite his own.
"I don't even know where this power comes from. The fire, the tails, the Gear—it's all disconnected pieces of something I don't understand."
"You will," Hikari said. "Soon."
---
That night, he dreamed again.
He stood on a battlefield not of this world. The sky was torn open, split by voids and lightning. Demons and angels clashed in midair while devils roared from craters of molten rock. In the center of it all stood a man with two flaming fox tails—older, battle-worn, his face a mirror of Takashi's.
This was no stranger. This was a version of himself.
In the vision, the man raised his hand. The Infernal Requiem blazed to life behind him, a burning chorus of black flame shaped like ethereal wings. He opened his mouth to speak—
—but the dream shattered before the words left his lips.
Takashi awoke drenched in sweat.
---
The next morning, something shifted.
Takashi felt it before he saw it—an immense spiritual pressure descending on Kyoto. It was heavy, ancient, but not malevolent. He stood on the roof of the shrine and looked westward, toward Mount Atago.
A figure floated down from the sky, black coat fluttering behind him, golden eyes sharp with recognition.
The man landed lightly in the courtyard of the shrine, arms folded, wings hidden—but Takashi could feel them.
Not a devil.
Not an angel.
A Fallen.
Takashi landed softly across from him, fire instinctively licking at his hands. Hikari appeared behind him, tense.
"Who are you?" Takashi asked.
The man smiled, disarming but unreadable. "Azazel. Governor General of the Grigori. I believe we need to talk."
Takashi didn't lower his hands. "About what?"
Azazel looked him up and down. "About your Sacred Gear. Infernal Requiem. And about the fact that your body's turning into something not entirely... stable."
Takashi flinched. "You know about the Gear?"
"I know about all the Longinus," Azazel said, now pacing slowly. "Your Sacred Gear is a unique case. It was recorded once in a destroyed Grigori lab—a 'song of fire and sorrow' that consumed its host in every timeline. It shouldn't exist. And yet... here you are."
Takashi's eyes narrowed. "What do you want from me?"
Azazel stopped. "To offer you a choice."
"A choice?"
"You're being hunted," Azazel said simply. "Not just by exorcists. Not just by yokai. But by those who want your power—Heaven, Hell, and those in-between. Your power is waking the balance."
Hikari stepped forward. "Why should we trust you?"
"Because unlike them," Azazel said, "I don't want to control him. I want to understand him. There's a difference."
Takashi's mind raced. Azazel was a canon figure of the supernatural world—neutral, intelligent, and above all, dangerous. But there was no deceit in his words.
"Let me show you something," Azazel said, producing a small device. He activated it, and a projection appeared: the image of a young man engulfed in black flames—Takashi, or someone like him—screaming as the fire consumed the world around him.
"This is what your Gear becomes without guidance," Azazel said. "You think the fire's waking up? It's remembering. It's seen the end of worlds before."
Takashi's voice was barely audible. "What do I do?"
Azazel deactivated the device. "You learn. You train. And when the time comes, you choose who you want to be."
---
Azazel remained in Kyoto for several days, observing Takashi's training. He was surprisingly relaxed for someone who held the fate of empires in his hands. He even complimented Takashi's foxfire control, though he noted the danger of developing new tails too quickly.
"You're evolving faster than any kitsune hybrid I've seen," Azazel said one afternoon. "Your human and yokai sides are fusing. That's rare. And unstable."
"Can it be stopped?" Takashi asked.
"Would you want it to?" Azazel countered.
That question lingered in Takashi's mind.
---
Meanwhile, Hikari unearthed more from the shrine's sealed records. Beneath layers of scrolls and forgotten ink, they found a fragmented name:
**Kagutsuchi-no-Homura** — The Crimson Fox of the End.
It was a title associated with an ancient figure—half-spirit, half-divine beast—who wielded a fire that could end gods.
"The name was erased from most records," Hikari said. "Whoever he was, they feared him."
Takashi stared at the name. "I think I was him. Or part of him. In another life."
Azazel, overhearing, nodded. "That would explain the instability. You're not just a Sacred Gear user. You're a reincarnation of a being the world sealed away."
"A god?" Takashi asked.
"No," Azazel said. "Worse. A weapon that became self-aware."
---
That night, Takashi wandered into the city. The world felt too tight, too loud. He walked until the streetlights gave way to trees, and the urban noise faded behind shrine bells and insects.
He stopped at a pond, his reflection flickering with two fox tails and burning eyes.
"You are not him," he said to the reflection. "You're me now. You'll follow my rules."
The fire inside answered with silence.
Then a ripple.
Something burst from the shadows—a yokai, mangled and wild, with spiritual corruption bleeding from its eyes. It lunged.
Takashi didn't hesitate.
He summoned the fire and struck with precision.
"Infernal Requiem—Verse Two."
A spiral of flame enveloped the beast, burning away the corruption without harming the forest. The yokai collapsed, purified. Takashi fell to one knee, panting.
Behind him, Azazel emerged from the trees.
"Well done," he said. "You didn't destroy everything."
"I'm not a destroyer," Takashi said, rising slowly.
"We'll see."
---
The next morning, Hikari gave Takashi a black talisman stitched with gold.
"This belonged to the last flame-user," she said. "He burned himself alive trying to contain the fire. The talisman survived. Maybe it'll keep you from doing the same."
Takashi tied it around his wrist.
"Thanks."
Then something shifted in the air.
A third tail shimmered into existence behind him.
Not flame this time.
Not fully.
It flickered between black fire and golden light, unstable but radiant.
Takashi stared at it in awe.
Azazel looked amused. "Well. This just got more interesting."