A month passed.
No new leads. No sightings of the shadowy figure. No ambushes. Just… silence.
For the first time in what felt like years, the trio found themselves resting.
They settled in a quiet forest village nestled near the base of the Windhowl Mountains — a peaceful place where even the birds sounded unsure if demons were still a thing.
Hayato trained daily, as usual. At sunrise, with his blade and his thoughts. At sunset, with fire that grew darker by the day.
Yue had taken up helping the locals with healing. He wasn't particularly skilled at it, but his effort — and the occasional awkward compliment — kept the villagers smiling.
Minamoto, meanwhile, had developed an aggressive relationship with the town's training dummies. Several were now permanently embedded in trees.
"At least we're not getting stabbed every other day," Yue said, flopping onto the grass next to Minamoto, who was wiping blood — not hers for once — off her blade.
"Yet," she replied, deadpan.
Yue turned toward Hayato, who was a few meters away, eyes closed, flames dancing around his body in a slow spiral.
"He's different," Yue said.
Minamoto didn't answer. She'd noticed it too.
Hayato was quieter. Not in the edgy anti-hero way — no dramatic cloak flapping or brooding on rooftops. It was subtler than that. He stared into the fire too long. Smiled a little less. Sometimes forgot he wasn't alone.
But he wasn't broken. Not yet.
He still sparred with Minamoto. Still joked (badly) with Yue. Still ate like he hadn't seen food in ten years.
And one night, when Yue fell asleep mid-watch and Hayato quietly took over without waking anyone… Minamoto saw that too.
Grief hadn't made him cruel.
Just… sharper.
One evening, while sitting around a small campfire behind their temporary home, Yue passed out snacks.
"So," she said, stuffing a rice ball into his mouth, "are we going to talk about it?"
"The sword?" Minamoto asked.
"No. The demon sniper ghost shadow dude who killed Maggorath like he was swatting a fly."
Silence.
Hayato stared into the flames.
Then he finally spoke:
"He's not the last."
They both looked at him.
"There are more like him," Hayato continued. "My father surrounded himself with monsters that shouldn't exist. That guy wasn't just strong. He was controlled. Focused. Like he's done this before. A lot."
"That's comforting," Yue muttered.
"I think he was a message," Hayato said, voice flat.
"What kind of message?" Minamoto asked.
"'I see you.'" Hayato answered. "That's all he needed to say."
But the next day, Hayato did something unexpected.
He laughed.
Yue had slipped and fallen into a pond while trying to show off a "combat roll." Minamoto didn't even bother helping her. She just tossed a stick at her and muttered, "Pathetic."
Hayato laughed. Just a little.
But enough that Yue grinned. And Minamoto smirked.
And for a moment… just a moment… it felt like things might be okay.
Until the next storm.