Ren didn't remember walking back to camp.
Ayaka had her arm around him the entire time, guiding him carefully over stones and broken scaffolding as though he might collapse again. Hiro hovered nearby, muttering that they should "maybe, possibly, definitely" abandon this entire cursed valley.
Kurogane strode ahead in grim silence, as if calculating a disaster before it fully unfolded.
But Ren could only hear one thing:
His heartbeat.No—two heartbeats.
—Thrum. Thrum.
One was his.The other belonged to the thing inside him.
And the longer he listened, the harder it was to tell them apart.
Ayaka sat him on a crate near the supply tent. She knelt in front of him, her hands firm on his knees.
"Ren. Look at me."
He tried to focus, but the world swam—edges blurring, shadows stretching unnaturally at the corner of his sight.
"The seal reacted strongly to Yurei's presence," Kurogane said behind Ayaka. "And to the creature."
"It reacted violently," Ayaka snapped. "Fix it."
"I am trying," Kurogane bit back.
Hiro waved frantically. "Um, not to interrupt the academic rivalry, but does anyone else notice the fog literally circling Ren like it's choosing a prime meal cut?"
Ren didn't want to look.
He did anyway.
The fog was moving—spiraling around him in a slow, deliberate helix.
Ayaka immediately stood and stepped into the swirl, disrupting it. "Back off."
The fog shivered. Then retreated, as if Ayaka's presence burned it away.
Kurogane murmured, "Extraordinary."
Hiro blinked. "Which part? The demon fog? Or Ayaka scaring it like she scares me?"
Ren tried to speak, but a pressure constricted his chest again—like fingers gripping his ribs from the inside.
Ayaka returned to him instantly. "Ren? Talk to us."
"I feel…" He swallowed hard. "Tight. Like something's expanding in my chest."
"Oh no," Hiro muttered. "No expansions. Expansions are bad. People don't expand. Balloons expand."
"It's not physical," Ren rasped. "It's… spiritual."
Kurogane stepped closer. "Describe it."
Ren closed his eyes. "There are two heartbeats. And they're getting closer. Syncing."
Ayaka's face went pale. "What happens when they sync?"
Kurogane didn't want to answer—that much was obvious. But he forced himself to.
"Stage Two of Seishin Resonance," he said quietly. "Merging."
Ayaka grabbed Kurogane's arm. "No. No. That's too fast—he only awakened the seal yesterday."
"The seal has been dormant for centuries," Kurogane said. "It was starved. Now, with a compatible host, it will consume all it can."
Ren pressed both hands against his chest, gasping. "I don't want this."
Ayaka cupped his face again. "You're not doing this alone. I'm here."
And just like before—like always—her touch slowed the second heartbeat.
Just slightly.
Just enough.
Ren released a shaky breath. "It responds to you."
"Of course it does," she whispered. "Because you respond to me."
Kurogane cleared his throat. "Ayaka's presence stabilizes him. Temporarily. But the seal will adapt. Its influence will grow."
Hiro crossed his arms. "So what do we do? Salt? Garlic? Exorcism? Emotional support circle?"
Ayaka shot him a murderous glare. "Hiro—"
"No really!" Hiro said. "What do we have? What's actually on the table?"
Kurogane looked toward the valley rim. "We need to reinforce his spiritual boundary. Teach him to separate his emotions from the seal's influence."
Hiro frowned. "Ah yes. Therapy but for cursed god fragments."
"Ayaka helps," Kurogane said. "Her stabilizing effect must be amplified."
Ren felt heat rise in his cheeks. "Amplified? How?"
Ayaka blinked. "Yeah. How?"
"Physical proximity," Kurogane said simply. "Your presence dampens the seal's resonance waves. The closer you are to Ren, the weaker the seal's immediate influence."
Hiro stepped between them dramatically. "Hold on. So your plan is: Ayaka hugs Ren until the god inside him chills out?"
Kurogane ignored him. "Unfortunately, the opposite is also true."
Ayaka stiffened. "Meaning?"
"When Ayaka is far away," Kurogane said, "the seal's influence intensifies. And if she is harmed—"
Ren's pulse spiked. "Stop."
Ayaka touched his shoulder. "It's okay."
But it wasn't.
Ren opened his mouth to say so—
—and the world tilted sideways again.
The fog darkened.The sky dimmed.The air hummed with moonlight.
Ayaka spun instantly, blade drawn. "Not again."
But it wasn't Kuro-Obake emerging from the shadows this time.
It was moonlight.
Cold. Soft. Beautiful.
Terrifying.
Yurei stepped out from behind the nearest tent pole as if she had always been standing there—silver robes flowing in a wind that didn't exist, pale eyes soft with longing.
Ayaka lunged forward. "You don't get to just appear—"
Yurei lifted a hand.
Ayaka froze mid-stride.
Not paralyzed—just… halted. As if the world itself paused around her.
Ren lunged toward Yurei in panic, but the seal surged inside him.
He stumbled.
And Yurei caught him.
Her hands were cool. Gentle.
Wrong.
"Careful," she whispered. "You're not steady enough to walk toward me yet."
Ayaka snapped out of the frozen moment, fury snapping in her eyes. "Don't touch him!"
Yurei looked at her calmly. "If I wanted to harm you, Ayaka Mori, you would have vanished into moonlight the moment you stepped between us."
Ayaka's grip tightened on her blade.
Ren tried to pull back, but Yurei's fingers curled delicately against his wrist.
And the second heartbeat inside him began syncing faster.
Ayaka's voice cracked. "Ren—don't let her touch you."
He tried.
He genuinely tried.
But Yurei's touch quieted the seal's chaotic thrum. Not like Ayaka's warmth—which soothed Ren.
Yurei soothed the seal.
Her voice slipped into his mind like silk poured over stone.
—See? I ease the ache. I always have.
Ren's breath trembled. "Stop. Don't get into my head."
"I'm not," Yurei whispered. "The seal is. I'm only speaking through what you already feel."
Ayaka stepped between them again—but this time, Ren saw it happen:
The moonlight around Yurei recoiled from Ayaka's presence.
Yurei frowned.
"You are disruptive," she murmured.
Ayaka bared her teeth. "Good."
Ren forced himself to step back, breaking Yurei's hold.Instantly the seal spasmed in pain—and Ayaka grabbed his hand.
The pain stopped.
Ayaka met Yurei's gaze with burning defiance. "You don't get to take him."
Yurei's expression softened into tragic sorrow. "Ayaka Mori. You are fighting the inevitable."
"Watch me."
Ren struggled for breath. "Yurei… please go."
Yurei's lips parted. It wasn't anger that flickered across her face.
It was heartbreak.
But beneath that heartbreak burned something darker.
Something eternal.
Something that was not human.
"I will leave," she whispered. "But hear me now, Ren Arashida."
The valley froze.
Even the fog paused mid-swirl.
"When the second heartbeat fully synchronizes, you will not be able to resist me."
Ayaka stepped forward. "He doesn't want to be yours."
Yurei didn't look away from Ren.
"He is not yours to keep."
Ayaka's fury cracked the air.
Yurei slowly brushed her fingers through Ren's hair—barely a touch, more like a memory of one.
"Don't fear me," she whispered. "Fear the day I stop being gentle."
Then she dissolved into moonlight, fading into nothing.
Ren collapsed into Ayaka's arms.
The second heartbeat throbbed violently.
Coming closer.Growing louder.Synchronizing.
Ayaka held him tightly. "Ren, I've got you. Stay with me."
But the seal whispered through his veins:
—Soon. Soon, the merging begins.
And this time, Ren was terrified it might be right.