Ray's lungs were twin pits of fire. Every indrawn breath was a jagged blade, yet he refused to slow. He forced his remaining Cores to spark, screaming with the effort of circulating Hashi through a frame that was rapidly crumbling under the strain.
---------------
Earlier, at the Inari Household.
Selena was still looking down at the sleeping Takahiro, her sad smile lingering in the candlelight. The peace was shattered as the front door slammed open. Ray stood in the threshold, drenched in sweat, his chest heaving with violent, ragged gasps.
He didn't offer a word of explanation. He charged through the house and scooped the groaning, feverish Kenji into his arms. Anna and Selena watched in stunned silence as the elderly man, usually so composed, burst back out into the night.
Ray's frail body shuddered as he pushed his Hashi beyond the redline. He wasn't moving like a "mist" anymore; he was a desperate, visible streak of silver darting through the treeline. His muscles ached, and his vision blurred at the edges, but the youth's voice echoed in his mind like a death sentence:
"Bring him here in five hundred breaths."
He reached the ancient mountain. The grand doors, once sealed tight, now stood wide open like the maw of a waiting beast. Ray plunged into the darkness. The hallways were unnervingly pristine—the gore of the massacre wiped away by some unseen hand.
By the time he reached the throne room, Ray's body was beginning to shut down. He stumbled through the final set of doors and collapsed onto the polished stone, his grip on Kenji never wavering. He lay there, greedily swallowing air, his entire frame soaked in sweat.
The silver-haired youth looked down from the throne. A flicker of genuine amusement curled the corner of their lips.
"Four hundred and seventy-six breaths," the boy mused. "I'm honestly impressed."
Ray's eyes flashed with a spark of annoyance, but he bit back his tongue. He knew the price of a single wrong word.
"You may place the boy there and leave," the youth commanded.
Ray stood weakly, his legs trembling. He gently laid Kenji's shivering form on the cold floor and turned to go. As he stepped out, the massive doors swung shut with a silent, heavy finality. For a brief second, Ray's fox-like slits widened, revealing his true grey eyes as he looked back at the closed sanctum. He was leaving his grandson's life in the hands of a monster.
As Ray walked back toward the village, the adrenaline faded, leaving only a hollow, crushing exhaustion. He was well past his prime; he felt the truth of it in every agonizing step. His movements were dull, his reflexes sluggish. He had just gambled everything on a hunch.
He remembered the negotiation clearly.
----------------
The child had sat upon that throne with an inhuman coldness, an aura of hatred so thick it felt like physical pressure. Ray had known that a single slip—a hint of disrespect—would have meant his death.
"What do you want, Fox?" the child had asked, ignoring Ray's pleasantries.
Ray hadn't hesitated. He had dropped to his knees, kowtowing before the small, regal figure.
"My grandchild has fallen ill to a curse I cannot name. It is killing him. I have come to humbly ask for your assistance."
The youth hadn't changed expression. "What makes you think I would help you?"
"It is merely an old fox's hunch," Ray had replied, his forehead pressed to the stone.
"And what do I get in return, Old Fox?"
"Anything you wish that is within my power."
The silence that followed was the longest of Ray's life. Then came the challenge: the 500 breaths.
-----------
The Present.
Ray was nearly home. His body was a wreck, but his mind remained sharp. His "hunch" hadn't been a guess—it had been an observation. He had spotted a small, intricate symbol on the youth's attire: a Dragon crossed with a Sword and a Wand.
If the child truly belonged with Them, he may be able to save Kenji. Ray was ashamed that he couldn't save the boy himself, but he was a realist. To save Kenji, he had to invite a different kind of shadow into their lives.