The fire in the living room crackled faintly, its glow stretching across the cabin and casting long, flickering shadows along the walls. The warmth reached the small bedroom just enough to chase away some of the cold, though Izan still shivered beneath the thick blankets and pillows of his wooden bed.
A sudden sneeze escaped him, breaking the quiet. He rubbed his nose and opened his eyes a little, blinking against the dim light—and saw his mother at the table, hunched over a piece of paper, writing quickly. Her hand moved with urgency, her face set with concentration and worry. She hurried into his room, offering a quick, reassuring smile that barely hid her fear.
"Izan… we don't have much time," she said, voice trembling. She packed a small bundle of his clothes, a thick blanket, a pillow, and a few toys into his backpack. Slipping the folded note she had been writing into the bag, she whispered, "I… I can't explain everything, but you have to be brave. Run if anyone comes… run north, as fast as you can. It's the quickest way to safety. Do you understand?"
Izan fumbled over the straps. "Mom… will you be okay?"
She knelt beside him, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "I have to stay… just a little longer. But you… take this." She pressed a small necklace with a kitsune symbol into his hand. "It will protect you."
He swallowed hard, clutching the backpack and necklace. "O-okay…"
Her eyes filled with fear and love. "Run, Izan. Don't stop. Go north. Keep moving until you're safe."
Izan scrambled through the window at the back of the cabin, snow crunching under his tiny feet. He ran north as fast as he could, driven by fear, adrenaline, and the echo of his mother's instructions.
Tears streamed down his cheeks, lips trembling as muffled sobs escaped. His legs shook, snow caked to his shoes, chest tightening with every step. The cold pierced deeper, and terror overwhelmed him.
A glance behind froze his breath. Through the cabin window, he saw the door burst open with a thunderous crash. Two Hollow Mask men kicked it down, moving quickly to grab his mother. Each held an arm, pinning her so she couldn't fight or escape.
"Run, Izan! Don't look back!" the woman with the spinning lightsword shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos. Izan's tiny legs trembled as he tried to obey, panic freezing him for a moment.
The woman lunged, her blade flashing with deadly precision. In an instant, Aremila staggered, pain flashing across her face as the strike found its mark. She crumpled, the life fading from her eyes.
As Izan's screams tore through the night, the Hollow Mask men wasted no time. They uncapped gasoline cans and doused the wooden walls and floor, flames licking the soaked wood as smoke curled thick into the air. The home that had sheltered him all his life roared to life in fire.
Finally, his small legs gave out. He sank into the snow, clutching the backpack and necklace as if they were the only anchors in a world gone mad. His chest heaved, throat burning with unshed cries, and the echo of his mother's scream twisted in his mind over and over.
Images collided in a dizzying blur—her face, the spilling gasoline, the spinning lightswords, the masks of the strangers, the fire roaring through his home. He tried to scream, but no sound came. His small body shook uncontrollably—grief, shock, and raw terror wracking him. For a moment, the world felt entirely out of control.
Everything went white at the edges of his vision. Heart thudding erratically, snow biting into his numb fingers, he clung to the backpack and necklace—anything that felt real amid the chaos consuming his life.
Then, the necklace glowed faintly. Warmth spread through his fingers, and deep inside, a presence stirred—the promise of protection, the first breath of power waiting to awaken.
A swirl of smoke rose from the snow as a half-white, half-red kitsune materialized, fur glinting in the moonlight. "I'm Sayaka," she said, voice calm but firm, eyes locking onto Izan's unconscious form. "A friend of your mother… I'm in debt to her. I'll protect you, no matter what. Trust me."
Sayaka's ears twitched as she scanned the clearing. Two Hollow Mask strangers floated nearby, ARs raised, and the woman with the spinning lightsword hovered above. Sayaka's eyes flicked to the tattoo near the woman's right eye—the number 14. Lieutenant… she thought, assessing the threat. One strike from those blades would be enough to kill—if it grazed.
Sensing the woman's aura, confirming her Lieutenant-level strength, Sayaka locked eyes with her. For a moment, they simply stared—measuring each other's skill, the air charged with tension.
Carefully, Sayaka adjusted her grip on Izan's coat, cradling him as she bounded down the mountainside. Branches whipped past, snow sprayed beneath her paws, jagged stones threatened to trip her—but every movement was calculated, keeping both her and the boy secure.
"Don't rush in, idiots," the Lieutenant called, composed.
"Don't worry! We got this!" one hooded gunman laughed.
"Yeah, just watch me!" the other added recklessly.
"Those dumbasses are gonna get themselves killed," Sayaka muttered under her breath. Meanwhile, the Lieutenant floated effortlessly in the air, unleashing a flurry of light swords that streaked through the forest at blinding speed, each blade tracking with lethal accuracy.
The two hooded gunmen glided downward, weapons trained on Sayaka, closing in right behind her. Sayaka's eyes gleamed. With a flick of her nose, she released a fragrant pink perfume—the poison—into the air. It traveled behind her like a living thread, invisible but deadly.
A crack echoed almost instantly as the second gunman jerked, coughing violently and looking down to protect his mask from cracking. The first gunman gritted his teeth, coughing through the fumes. As he stubbornly kept his head up, his mask beginning to crack, he muttered, "Almost… close…" activating a small boost on his backpack—a tube-like device that shot him upward, aiming for Sayaka's back.
The poison, relentless for a moment, finally bypassed him, leaving only a faint burning sensation. He seized the opportunity, grabbing his knife and lunging to strike—but Sayaka's swift kick sent him flying. His gun and knife slipped from his hands. He tumbled sideways and slammed into a tree trunk. His mask shattered, blood streaking his forehead. The gun slapped against his face, and the knife plunged into his stomach. He screamed, writhing in pain and clutching his chest—from the poison—before his brother could react.
As the poison finally wore off, the second gunman froze in horror, tears streaking his face. "Brother!" he screamed, rage and grief fueling a desperate dash toward his fallen sibling, firing a shot at Sayaka mid-run. But the lingering poison and instability of his weapon triggered an explosion, throwing him into the trees, shattering trunks and scattering debris across the mountainside—as the blast killed them both.
The Lieutenant paused above the chaos, eyes scanning the battlefield. Interesting… the poison—pink, fragrant—traveled through their weapons like gunpowder, overloading the ARs and causing misfires. Clever, she thought, tilting her head as she analyzed every detail of Sayaka's trick. A slow smirk crossed her face. Fine… I'll handle this myself.
Rage hardened her expression. With a sudden burst of speed, she darted downward, slicing through branches with deadly precision, fully committing to the attack.
Sayaka twisted and weaved through the trees, Izan secure in her jaws, her body a blur as she descended the mountainside. Above the chaos, the Lieutenant charged through the forest, blades flashing in the dim light. Sayaka twisted mid-leap, dodging the spinning light swords with precision. She weaved expertly through the trees, muscles burning as she twisted at impossible angles to protect him, every movement calculated.
As she moved, she conjured an illusionary tree in the Lieutenant's path, setting the stage for what came next. Suddenly, a tree appeared directly in the Lieutenant's way. Her eyes narrowed, but before she could fully process it, she passed through the trunk—feeling nothing at all. Confusion flickered across her face. What…? she thought, momentum carrying her forward.
In the same instant, her eyes caught the real tree immediately behind the illusion. There was no time to react. She ran straight into it—snow and splinters flying. Pain exploded across her skull and collarbone, a jolt tearing through her ribs, and blood streaked down her forehead and cheek. The impact sent her crashing to the ground—unconscious, her body limp, every bone screaming from the collision.
After thirty more minutes, Sayaka reached a secluded cave. She gently set Izan down, curling around him to shield him from the cold. Even asleep, his small body trembled, soft tears streaking his cheeks from the terror he had endured. Her tail wrapped around him, cocooning him in warmth.
"It's okay… you're safe now," she whispered, watching him closely. "I'll protect you… always."
Izan unconsciously clung to her warmth, but his mind refused to rest. Images stirred behind his closed eyes—fear giving way to something softer, something older.
The cold, the fire, the screams dissolved into light.
It was Izan's fourth birthday. The sun streamed through the small cabin window, painting the room golden. His mother, Aremila, knelt beside him, her laughter warm and bright.
"Good morning, my little man!" she said, her hands dancing over his sides. Izan giggled uncontrollably, trying to squirm away, but he didn't want to escape her playful attacks. Her voice bubbled with joy. "Today's going to be a long, fun birthday, just for you!"
Soon, he had been washed and dressed, the soft scent of soap still clinging to his hair, and breakfast was ready—each bite given with playful insistence that he eat just enough, but not too much.
"Do you want to go to the city?" Aremila asked, holding his small hand in hers, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. "Maybe pick out a new toy for your birthday?"
Izan's eyes lit up, nodding so quickly that she laughed, the sound ringing like tiny bells. "Then it's settled! Let's go, my little adventurer."
The city streets were alive with motion, crowded with merchants calling their wares, carriages rattling over cobblestones, and people weaving past them in hurried chaos. Curious eyes followed them, some friendly, most indifferent—or worse, tinged with thinly veiled disdain. Aremila ignored it all, moving with confident purpose. They would get in, get what they came for, and leave.
Inside the toy store, Izan's gaze fell immediately on a dragon figurine perched atop a shelf—scales painted crimson and gold, eyes glinting with imagined fire. His small hands clutched his mother's tightly.
"Mom… can we get it?" he whispered, eyes wide and pleading.
Aremila glanced at the price tag, her stomach tightening. She didn't have enough coins without sinking further into debt, yet she smiled, brushing off her worry as if it were nothing. "Anything for my little man," she said, lifting the dragon to the counter with confident ease.
The cashier barely acknowledged them, his expression flat and dismissive, but he accepted her coins without a word. Izan hugged the dragon to his chest, skipping toward the exit, eyes shining with delight—until the guards at the doorway stepped forward.
One of them sneered, his tone low and venomous. "That toy is worth more than your life."
Before Izan could even react, they lunged, hands gripping him roughly and snatching the dragon from his arms.
"No! Give it back!" Aremila cried, stepping forward, fury flashing in her eyes. Her small hands lashed out, but the guards were quick. They backslapped her across the chest, sending her stumbling to the floor. Izan fell with her, his tiny body hitting the hard ground, snow from the city streets sticking to the soles of his shoes.
"Leave… with that creature," one guard commanded, pointing at Izan like he was nothing more than an obstacle.
Tears streamed silently down his cheeks as Aremila's heart clenched. She scooped him up without hesitation, pressing him against her chest. He buried his face in her neck, trembling violently, silent sobs shaking his body.
"It's okay, my love… it's okay," she whispered, rocking him gently. "Nothing can hurt you now. I've got you."
Back at their small cabin, she let him sleep beside her, stroking his hair with gentle patience. His crying subsided, replaced by quiet tremors against her warmth. Aremila's own tears fell freely, her lips murmuring apologies.
"I'm sorry, my little man… I wish we had a better life. I'm so sorry."
Izan's small voice broke through the quiet. "Why… why were they so mean to us?"
Aremila sighed softly, brushing his hair from his forehead. "Because… that's how the world works. Some people only care about money. But you… you mustn't be like them, okay?"
He nodded, eyes wide. "Always… choose… friends and family over money?"
Her heart ached at his innocence. "Yes, Izan. Relationships matter more than anything—friends, family… even your future partners. They should always be your number one priority. Understand?"
He nodded again, hesitantly asking, "Did… did Father… choose money over us?"
Aremila froze, throat tight, forcing a gentle smile. "No… he's just… on a long business trip. He'll be back, I promise." She pressed his head beneath her chin, rubbing his hair softly. Her smile faltered, unseen by him, as doubt gnawed at her.
They fell asleep like that—warm together, unaware that this would be one of their last peaceful nights.
⸻
Later, as the clock ticked past midnight, the comfort of that memory twisted into darkness. Izan awoke with a jolt, gasping. The cabin was still—but the air smelled sharp, coppery. His eyes widened as he realized the bed beneath him was soaked in blood. Panic clawed at him as he shook his head, trying to wake from what he thought was a nightmare.
"Mom…?" His tiny voice trembled, crawling toward her.
The sight froze his heart. Aremila lay before him, her eyes gone, blood streaked across her face and the blankets. He screamed, clutching at her, trembling violently.
Then—he snapped awake.
Izan jolted, gasping for air, sobs ripping through his tiny body. His chest heaved uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face as he shivered in the cold. Morning sunlight glinted off the cave walls, but the warmth of the light did little to calm him. His throat was raw, his body shaking violently, and only small, ragged whimpers escaped.
Slowly, panic gave way to clarity: he was in a cave. The memory of the mountain—of Aremila's final moment, her heart pierced by the lieutenant—rushed back, and the tears poured faster, hot and unstoppable.
Instinctively, he felt the soft, warm curl of something beneath him. He blinked through his tears. A massive kitsune tail was coiled protectively around him. Fear spiked again, and he froze.
The kitsune stirred, stretching slowly, amber eyes opening. Her presence made him jump, stumbling backward.
"P-please… don't… don't hurt me!" he stammered, curling into a corner.
The kitsune moved closer, voice soft but firm. "Izan… calm down. I'm not going to hurt you. Look at me."
"I'm Sayaka," she said, tilting her head. "I'm your spirit guardian. The one your mother gave you with this necklace." She paused, letting him see the kitsune symbol gleaming faintly on the pendant around his neck. "Do you see it?"
Izan sniffled, clutching the necklace.
"I'm here to protect you, little one. Nothing will ever hurt you again. I will always stay by your side."
Sayaka nudged him gently, her tail wrapping around him fully, forming a warm, protective cocoon. Each movement was slow, deliberate, meant to calm and reassure. Izan leaned into her warmth, hiccups shaking his small body.
"You're safe now," she whispered. "I'm here. Always. No one will ever hurt you again."
The morning sun filtered through the cave, glinting off Sayaka's white-and-red fur, bathing him in warmth he hadn't felt in what felt like forever.
Finally, he whispered through his tears, "O-okay…"
Izan curled into her embrace, letting himself finally feel safe—the memory of terror fading into the quiet morning light.
Sayaka's tail tightened gently around him. "Good. Rest now, little one. I'll stay with you. Always."