Sweet moments never last long.
Just as Tōga tried to take things a little further, the soft flesh at his waist was suddenly pinched hard by two slender fingers.
Shirayuki's coy voice rose beside his ear, soft and teasing, her tone drawn out like honey.
"You bad dog… always finding new ways to bully me~"
Before the shy murmur could fade, her reproachful gaze followed.
Caught off guard, Tōga hadn't even reacted when Shirayuki slipped from his embrace. Her moist lips, reddened from his earlier affection, were quickly shielded behind the back of her hand.
"You're impossible! With that much strength, how am I supposed to face anyone tomorrow."
The golden light in her eyes rippled like flowing water — part anger, part affection — leaving Tōga entranced. All he knew was that his beautiful mate was stunning beyond words.
When Shirayuki finally returned to rest beside the campfire, closing her eyes, the soft orange glow flickered across her flushed ears.
Under the silver moonlight, it painted a scene that would forever be etched into Tōga's heart.
Reluctantly, his gaze left her figure and turned toward the three dogs who had interrupted his pleasant moment, now radiating powerful demonic auras, their forms newly ascended to mid-level yōkai.
Tōga smiled — gently, but with a hint of dangerous warmth.
That night, someone was destined to lose sleep.
—
Deep within the Raimei-Den of Wind and Thunder Gorge, a different silence lingered.
Struggling to his feet with labored movements, An'umaru gazed at the now fully grown Nuyā, a deep ache tightening in his chest.
How long had it been since he last truly looked at his daughter?
Was it from the moment she ascended to a mid-level yōkai — earning the right to compete for the Storm Wings? Or had it been ever since she offered her blood to forge the Thunder Spear, turning herself into a tool for his ambitions?
In his mind, the image of the little girl who once called him "father" in her tender voice began to overlap with the proud warrior standing before him now.
Her bloodless face bore faint, silvery markings like veins of glass. The flow of her aura intertwined with the Thunder Spear in her grasp — her life and weapon as one.
An'umaru knew all too well: his last remaining daughter had become just like him.
Without that spear in her hand, the girl who should have possessed endless beauty and a bright future… would burn away like kindling in a fire — gone in a single spark.
A tear, murky and silent, traced down the corner of An'umaru's eye.
Nuyā watched her father weep. Memories of his stern teachings and sacrifices flooded her mind, and her own eyes dimmed as she lowered her gaze.
Holding the Thunder Spear in both hands, she spoke with a calm, detached tone — one that carried both sorrow and acceptance.
"Father, please don't cry for me. The Thunder Spear belongs to the clan. It was I, Nuyā, who overstepped my bounds."
"Please, Father — merge the powers of wind and thunder. Become a daiyōkai known throughout all the Western Lands… no, throughout the entire world."
Hearing her words, as though they were her final farewell, An'umaru's body trembled. Instinctively, his eyes dropped to the withered hand reaching toward the spear.
That hand was gaunt and bony, the knuckles protruding like jagged stones. His skin clung tightly to the bones, lifeless and pale, almost paper-thin — fragile, just like the life still flickering within him.
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His throat was blocked, his voice lost.
In the reflection of his single remaining eye, he saw the black fall of Nuyā's hair cascade like ink.
"What a fool I've been…"
At last, his trembling hand bypassed the Thunder Spear and gently landed on her hair. His voice, though hoarse, carried rare tenderness.
"You foolish daughter."
Clang!
The spear, once regarded by all as a priceless treasure, fell heavily to the ground.
Nuyā's eyes widened in disbelief. She looked up to see her father's face — serene at last, his lips curved in a soft, fatherly smile.
Her hands clenched upon her knees, her body leaning forward just as she had done as a child, yearning for his comforting touch.
An'umaru's voice came gently:
"In chasing the power of a daiyōkai, I lost sight of too much… even my first promise."
His aged tone trembled with a mix of regret and nostalgia.
"I only sought strength so my children could live free — so that our clan could hold its head high beyond our borders… and so that even the Leopard Cat Tribe would no longer oppress us, the Crow Tengu."
For a moment, the old crow seemed young again — full of ambition and spirit — but it was only the final flare before darkness.
Letting his hand fall to his side, his body sagged beneath the weight of age and exhaustion.
"But in the end, I filled our clan with corruption and deceit."
"Father, it isn't your fault," Nuyā argued softly, lifting her tear-streaked face. "No one can control the hearts of others — not even the gods who have long vanished from this world."
An'umaru gave a hollow laugh.
"Indeed. A person loses even their own hearts — how could they ever hope to command another's?"
Then, his expression hardened.
"Nuyā, our Crow Tengu and the Leopard Cat Tribe are now sworn enemies. From this day forward, abandon all illusions… and prepare for battle."
"Father…" Nuyā's eyes welled with tears. She reached out, clutching at his robe.
"Let me take you away from here. We can go to the Dog Clan — we still have hope!"
"My daughter," he said softly, "I am already a withered tree beyond saving. Let me go with a shred of pride and dignity… as a father."
His hand caressed her tear-streaked face, full of pity and love.
"The days ahead will be difficult, Nuyā. You must endure."
That night, as the girl's quiet sobs filled the hall, An'umaru spoke at length — about the clan, the Cats, and the Dogs.
He had lived more than a century, carrying too many words, too many regrets. Tonight, he released them all.
But the Leopard Cats' Third Elder would grant him no time.
Without restraint, the Leopard Cat Tribe's army advanced, dark clouds of yōkai energy rolling like a mountain pressing upon every Crow Tengu's heart.
The two Crow Tengu commanders, who had plotted betrayal only hours ago, now fled like beaten dogs — dragging their families in terror — only to be caught and slaughtered by flanking Leopard Cat squads.
Those still loyal to the main family — the old, the weak, and the wounded — stood firm before the Raimei-Den.
Lightning flashed across the heavens, illuminating the resolve in their eyes — warriors ready to die.
Then, from within the hall, a long and thunderous cry shook the skies:
"From this day forth — the leader of the Crow Tengu Clan, the chosen bearer of the divine Wind and Thunder Relics, shall be my daughter, Nuya!"
One presence faded. Another surged.
The heavens roared with wind and lightning.