"We should get you something to eat first. Then we'll move on from there," Kuro said, nodding toward the door.
Ao simply nodded in response, but instead of heading for the door, he walked straight to the bed and flopped onto it. The thumping noises still echoed through the house, relentless and unyielding. Not once had they slowed or quieted in any way.
Kuro paused, recalling Ao's earlier words. In the midst of their conversation, he had almost forgotten about their current predicament.
"Right…" he muttered, ears flicking in discomfort. "I mean, let's wait first… then get you some food."
To drown out the noises, Kuro exhaled softly and coated the room in a steady flow of wind, forming a soundproof barrier. The house's ambience was instantly silenced.
A full day passed.
By the time Ao and Kuro finally ate alongside Koi and Shiro, the situation had taken an interesting turn.
Despite what the horrifying noises had suggested, Shiro was, in fact, alive. But 'alive' seemed to be the bare minimum of his current state. Though physically present, his spirit looked like it had transcended to another plane of existence. His eyes were dull, vacant, staring at nothing in particular.
Koi, on the other hand, looked radiant—almost glowing. She seemed rejuvenated and deeply satisfied, casually eating her food with an easygoing smile. The slight disheveling of her clothes was the only real sign of what had transpired.
Kuro, now witnessing Shiro's post-war condition firsthand, made a mental note: Do not anger Koi. If he had any doubts before, they were completely eradicated now.
Neither Ao nor Kuro questioned what had happened.
After getting some much-needed rest and stuffing himself with even more food—because, frankly, he was starving—Ao spent the remaining free time getting to know Kuro better.
He learned that Kuro was only four years older than him, which, in spirit beast terms, wasn't much. Kuro was a Tachi—a wolf-type evolved spirit beast, born entirely from the residual spiritual energy lingering in the territory his father ruled. The reason Kuro even existed was because his father's energy had been so potent that it inadvertently caused an asexual conception—an extremely rare phenomenon.
Yet, when Kuro's father found out. He didn't question it for a second. He had been ecstatic at the revelation.
Interestingly enough, Kuro had also known Shiro since birth. Which, according to him, was the reason he feared him.
Ao had originally assumed that spirit beasts were simply intimidated by Shiro's presence. But no—Shiro, four years ago, had been an entirely different person.
Whatever that meant, Ao didn't press.
As evening settled into night, exhaustion finally caught up to both Ao and Kuro.
They passed out on the floor of Shiro and Koi's room, with Kuro acting as Ao's bed, wrapping around him to keep him warm while Ao tried to stay awake reading.
Koi found the sight absolutely adorable, while Shiro…
Well, Shiro was still mentally recovering.
"Oh, my goodness~, they're getting along so well! And to think, it only took them almost killing each other." Koi giggled, crouching down to pet Kuro's head. His ears twitched at the soft sensation, but he didn't stir.
She then leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on Ao's forehead.
Shiro simply nodded, his expression completely vacant. His head felt hollow, utterly drained from what he had endured and somehow survived. Meanwhile, Koi, acting as if absolutely nothing had happened, kissed him lightly on the cheek and guided him toward the bed.
For her, it was time for the couples to rest.
For Shiro, it was time to mentally reboot.
The next morning, an incredible scent attacked Ao's nose, making it twitch as he stirred awake.
His big blue eyes cracked open as he stretched, his tiny back popping as he rubbed the sleep from his face. The moment his mind registered the mouthwatering aroma drifting through the house, his stomach growled—loudly.
What… is that?
It smelled unlike anything he had ever experienced before.
He blinked in confusion when he realized he wasn't curled up on the floor where he'd fallen asleep. Instead, he was on the bed, lying beside his still-sleeping father. Did someone move me? Probably mom, I guess I kinda was sleeping on the floor… Kuro or not.
Shaking off the thought, Ao carefully climbed out of bed and padded toward the kitchen.
"Good morning, manling!" Kuro greeted with a sharp-toothed grin. His fur was slightly messy, bits of dirt still clinging to it—clear evidence that he'd been outside not too long ago.
Koi stood beside him, stirring a large pot on the stone stove, and the unreal scent of whatever was inside hit Ao's nose with full force. His stomach roared in response. He had never felt such a strong hunger before.
"Good morning, baby!" Koi called sweetly, flashing her usual warm smile.
Ao barely managed to shake himself out of his food-induced trance. "Good… morning, Mom. Kuro." His words came out sluggish. His head felt foggy, his thoughts sluggish. "What… is that?"
Koi giggled at the way his pupils had slitted, his big blue eyes locked onto the pot with an almost feral stare.
"Oh! Kuro went hunting early this morning and brought back some wild rabbits from his father's land, so I'm using them for our stew!" she explained cheerfully.
At that, Ao froze.
Rabbits? Are those jumping fluffy animal things I tried to hunt last time in the forest? He thought.
"You've never had meat before," Koi continued. "We've always given you vegetables from the garden since your father doesn't hunt from our own forest."
Ao's mind blanked as he stared at the pot. His body felt hot—his stomach twisting painfully as hunger clawed at his insides.
Why… Why does it smell so good? Why does my stomachache for it so much?
Kuro chuckled, watching Ao physically drool. "Ao, it's meat. You do know your part carnivore, right?" He gestured toward him with a paw. "Coyotes are naturally carnivorous, and you haven't had meat a single day in your life. Your body is starving for it."
Ao swallowed thickly, waddling towards the edge of the counter and grabbing it, peaking his eyes over towards the pot. He wanted to deny it, but his instincts were screaming otherwise.
"But you'll have to wait," Kuro added with a smirk. "How about we go over the basics of spiritual energy while your mother finishes cooking? Might help take your mind off things." Kuro asked Ao, but he got absolutely no response in return.
Kuro nudged Ao's side with his nose, trying to break the boy's intense focus on the pot.
Nothing.
Ao was completely transfixed, his big blue eyes locked onto the simmering stew as if it held the secrets of the universe. His blown pupils had slitted, his breathing had slowed, and an almost feral hunger radiated from him in waves.
Kuro sighed through his nose. Great… Technically, Ao was an omnivore, but that didn't change the fact that his instincts had been dormant up until now. And now that they were waking up, they were hitting him hard. The boy had only ever eaten the vegetables and fruits his mother grew in the garden. Kuro had heard about this strange habit before but never gave it much thought—until now. At first, Ao hadn't liked the taste of vegetables, but as his hunger worsened due to his intense growth and body refinement, he'd adapted. Eventually, he grew to love them due to the constant consumption. He had always enjoyed fruit, but vegetables were what was needed to become liked over time. I'll be it, through a bit of trial and mental wars with his mind and his gut.
Still, no matter how much he adjusted, he was never meant to live off plants alone.
For whatever reason, his father had never killed an animal for food. That part had always baffled Kuro. Why? What could possibly drive a predator like Shiro to deny himself and his own child something so natural?
It was a question for another time.
Right now, he had a drooling, meat-starved cub to deal with.
Kuro narrowed his red eyes, then sighed again, realizing that Ao wasn't going to move on his own. Fine. He'd just have to make him.
Before Ao could react, sharp fangs gently grasped the back of his shirt. With effortless ease, Kuro lifted him off the ground the same way spirit beasts and other animals carried their cubs—by the extra skin on the back of their neck.
"H-Hey—!?" Ao squawked, his legs flailing slightly.
"We'll be back, Mrs. Hinoté," Kuro said, voice slightly muffled through the fabric. "I'm taking your son out for a bit."
Ao blinked in confusion. "Huh?! Wait—where are we even—"
"Away from the stew before you lose what's left of your rationality," Kuro interrupted, his tails flicking.
But just as he turned toward the door, a sudden shift in the atmosphere made his fur bristle.
The temperature in the room rose ever so slightly.
"Hold it right there, young man." Koi's voice was as warm and sweet as always—but something about it sent a very real shiver down Kuro's spine. Slowly, he turned his head, his ears perking up in full alert.
Koi was still smiling at him, stirring the pot. But her dark blue eyes had sharpened, and there was a distinct heat behind them that told him she was not pleased, of course, who wouldn't be? Ao had just recovered from a near death experience only a day or two ago and AO had just recovered. She was worried and never wanted her or Ao to have to go through something like that again, ever, again..
"Where, exactly, do you plan on taking my child?" she asked, voice calm, but firm.
Kuro kept his hold on Ao but took an instinctive step back. "Er—just outside?"
"Mhm. And by outside, do you mean the forest?" Koi asked while tilting her head slightly.
Kuro's silence was all the answer she needed.
Her expression didn't change, but the air around them did. It was subtle—a shift in the warmth of the room, a lingering pressure that seemed to radiate from her body.
"I will not allow my son to go back into the forest," she said sweetly, though there was no room for argument in her tone. "Even with you watching him, it's too dangerous."
Kuro swallowed, his tails lowering slightly. He had no intention of letting Ao get hurt, but explaining that to a mother—a mother that had to deal with her child almost dying to his hands no less—was another matter entirely.
"…R-Right," Kuro muttered. "Not the forest. Got it."
He could feel Ao slightly trembling in his grip—not from fear, but from repressed laughter.
Little brat. Kuro thought with a snarl.
Koi's sharp gaze softened as she turned back to her stew. "Be a good boy and listen to Kuro, alright?" she said, giving Ao a warm and heartfelt smile as if she didn't just scare the living hell out of Kuro.
Ao grinned sheepishly. "Yes, Mom."
Satisfied, Koi turned her attention back to her cooking, and Kuro, still holding Ao, hastily made his way out the door before she could change her mind.