"Shinya?" Tsuruga sat in the dining room on the first floor, greeting him softly. "Hungry? There's still a portion of the grilled chicken wings from tonight, saved just for you."
Shinya slowly descended the stairs, not even glancing at Tsuruga. "No, I'm not hungry."
This coldness didn't deter Tsuruga. He smiled warmly at Shinya, and as the boy passed by him, he stretched out his foot, blocking Shinya's path.
"What are you doing?" Shinya glared at him, unable to hide his anger in his voice. "Move."
Tsuruga's smile widened. "Eat your dinner like a good boy, or you won't be going anywhere."
With that, he somehow produced that powerful flashlight modified from a crystal lamp and turned it on, directing the beam at Shinya's face.
The intense light was uncomfortable for werewolves. The stronger their night vision, the greater the discomfort.
Shinya quickly covered his eyes and cursed, "Are you crazy? There are already four lamps in the dining room, isn't that enough?"
Taking advantage of Shinya closing his eyes, Tsuruga grabbed a chicken wing and stuffed it into Shinya's mouth.
"Little wolf, I have to coax and trick you just to get you to eat. When will you finally give your father and me some peace of mind?"
Tsuruga finally turned off the powerful flashlight, crossing his arms as he looked at the boy with a helpless expression.
The tangy taste of lemon and the salty flavor of sea salt mingled, stimulating Shinya's taste buds, and the rich aroma of the meat awakened his appetite. He suddenly remembered that he had only eaten one meal the entire day.
The familiar taste brought a fleeting image of someone to his mind.
Memories of the past flashed by like scenery passing outside a window— Irene's gentle smile and her recent cold farewell seemed like two different people.
"Lemon baked chicken wings." He took a couple more bites before stopping.
Here is the translation of the provided paragraph:
----------------------------------------
"Yes, exactly." Tsuruga nodded with a smile. "I got the recipe from Irene the last time she came over. How does it taste? Pretty good, right?"
"Compared to Irene's cooking, you're still far behind." Even when speaking to an elder, Shinya's words were merciless.
"You little brat!" Tsuruga finally frowned. "Even if it's not as good, you should still be grateful and praise it. Besides, I'm quite confident in my cooking skills. Don't lie right to my face..."
Tsuruga's words trailed off because he noticed Shinya holding the chicken wing, his head bowed deeply, motionless.
Tsuruga knew exactly what was going on. He deliberately turned to the side, avoiding looking at Shinya.
"Do you know why I have so many lights in the dining room?" Tsuruga changed the subject.
"Why." The boy's voice was heavy with a nasal tone, as if he wasn't truly interested in the answer but just wanted to keep the conversation going.
Out of the corner of his eye, Tsuruga noticed that Shinya had taken a seat on the stool beside him, still holding the chicken wing. Instead of answering directly, Tsuruga posed another question.
"Do you know how different the world looks through your eyes compared to mine?"
This question stumped Shinya; he had never considered it before.
Tsuruga chuckled and nodded toward the kitchen connected to the dining room.
"Look over there. What do you see? Describe it to me, one thing at a time."
Shinya looked at the door leading to the kitchen, unsure of Tsuruga's intent but complied anyway.
"The stove, the oven, the cupboard."
"What's on top of the cupboard?"
"…Plates, and a fruit basket."
"How many fruits are in the basket? And what kinds?"
"Three apples, two lemons, and an orange."
"Is that so?"
Shinya was even more puzzled. "What about it?"
Here is the translation of the provided paragraph:
----------------------------------------
"Let's go back to my earlier question. Do you know what I see?" Tsuruga propped his chin up and squinted as he looked in the direction of the kitchen. "I see a big, dark blur."
"How can that be?" Shinya didn't believe it.
"And as for the previous question, why do I have four lamps in the dining room? The answer is simple." Tsuruga turned his head, smiling at Shinya. "It's because I can't see."
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
"How can that be?" Shinya was in disbelief.
"The exiled me has already lost the blessing of the Shadow Wolf. I'm gradually losing all the traits of a werewolf, and night vision is just one of the insignificant ones." Tsuruga spoke casually, as if the topic didn't concern him personally. "I've already lost my strength and agility, and the most important thing—my healing ability—is long gone. As for transforming, that's out of the question. Soon, I'll age rapidly, just like a human, and eventually die in pain from illness."
"How can that be?" Shinya felt like a fool, repeatedly uttering the same phrase. Having lived alongside Tsuruga since childhood, he hadn't noticed these subtle changes.
He felt ashamed of himself and sorrowful for Tsuruga.
As Shinya gazed intently at the middle-aged man before him, he finally noticed that Tsuruga, who was the same age as his father, already bore the appearance of someone older. His eye sockets were sunken, his skin had become loose, and his hair was thinning, with silver strands creeping into his temples.
Tsuruga no longer possessed the typical appearance of a werewolf; he looked like nothing more than a gradually aging middle-aged human, well past his prime.
It was as if Tsuruga had read his thoughts. He reached out and patted the boy's head.
"Do you pity me? Feel that life has been unfair to me?" Tsuruga asked softly.
Shinya merely shook his head. He didn’t know how to put his feelings into words at that moment. He didn’t dare to say he felt pity, fearing that pity might only hurt Tsuruga. Nor did he dare to speak of unfairness, knowing that Tsuruga’s exile was a consequence of breaking the laws of Togekaze.
"That's good," Tsuruga smiled again. "Good child, remember our differences, and please understand your father's position. He took you away from Togekaze to protect you. If it weren't for the dire circumstances, he wouldn't have made such a choice. When the crisis passes, you will naturally return to your homeland. That is where you truly belong."
Shinya now realized that his heated argument with his father had been overheard by Tsuruga, who had been sitting downstairs and had caught every word.
"I know. I know all of that," he turned his head, "…I just…"
"You just like her very much?" Tsuruga finished his sentence.
Shinya hadn’t expected Tsuruga to be so direct, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. There was no doubt that he liked her. But the nature of that feeling—what kind of affection it truly was—was something he had never really taken the time to ponder. It wasn’t until Irene told him she was going to marry another man that he realized she was more to him than just a playmate, a close friend, a sister, or even family. Irene held an irreplaceable place in his heart, and he had hoped that he could be the irreplaceable person in her life as well.
Unfortunately, it was clear that he wasn’t.
It was all just a fantasy.
Nothing more.
Irene's cold words lingered in his mind like an unshakable shadow, consuming all the light in his heart.
"I just... never expected her to decide to marry in Northsail. I never expected that she cared so much about our differences. If she cared that much, she shouldn't have... she shouldn't have been so kind to me, so close to me in the first place..." Shinya's voice trembled with a raw emotion he could hardly contain.
"Well, that sort of thing does matter, to some extent," Tsuruga responded, ignoring Shinya's evident distress. His tone remained casual, as if he were merely having an ordinary conversation with the boy. This was Tsuruga's way of offering comfort.
"But, you and Kalia..." Shinya suddenly turned, his gaze intense as he pressed Tsuruga, "She knew you were a werewolf, yet she still chose to be with you."
The smile faded from Tsuruga's face, and for the first time, Shinya saw a severe and unyielding expression on him.
“Having lost the Shadow Wolf's blessing, I'm no longer truly a werewolf. As I told you earlier, the differences between us are vast. Only because I've already given up those powers, now standing on equal ground with her, could I have the courage to be with Kalia, to decide to spend the rest of my life with her. And she feels the same. If you want Irene to accept you, you would have to give up everything that makes you what you are—your long lifespan, your ability to shapeshift as a werewolf and as a morph, your extraordinary healing abilities, your innate strength and agility, your dynamic vision, night vision, your perfect sense of smell and hearing. You would get sick, grow old, and become fragile with age. For a woman who will only live for a few decades, are you willing to abandon all of that, to become a weak human just like her?”
Tsuruga's words, like a barrage of bullets, left Shinya speechless. To be honest, he had never considered what these innate abilities, which he had long taken for granted, truly meant to him. At this moment, all he wanted was to act recklessly out of sheer stubbornness.
"As long as it's for her, I'm willing," Shinya blurted out.
In Tsuruga's eyes, these words were not a touching declaration of love, but rather the impulsive outburst of a child.
With a long sigh, he said, "You're still too young. You can't truly understand the significance of losing all this. Listen carefully, Akane Shinya."
Tsuruga leaned forward, closing the distance between them, casting a shadow over the boy.
"Your father gave everything he had to ensure your survival, to get you out of Togekaze alive. If you abandon your pride as a werewolf for the sake of a human woman, it would be a betrayal of the sacrifices your father made for you."
Tsuruga's voice suddenly turned deep and icy as he slowly whispered in Shinya's ear, "If things really turn out that way, remember, I will never forgive you."
Shinya was stunned, and in an instant, cold sweat soaked his back. It wasn't Tsuruga's warning that alarmed him, but rather some information he had never heard before.
"What do you mean? What do you mean by 'gave everything'? 'Survived'? I was too young then to remember clearly. What exactly happened back then?"
But Tsuruga seemed unwilling to answer Shinya's questions.
"You'll find out," Tsuruga said meaningfully, "So, be sensible."
Just as Shinya was about to ask more questions, a figure suddenly burst into the dining room.
“Dad! Mom is…”
It was Kyle, Tsuruga’s son, born to him and the human woman Kalia after Tsuruga was exiled to the human world on the continent of Asate. Although Kyle was already twenty-five years old, he looked even younger, like an eighteen-year-old boy. The werewolf blood from his father had long lost its potency, but faint traces of it still lingered in him.
As soon as he spoke, a heart-wrenching cough echoed from the bedroom on the first floor.
“Mom is...she, she…” Kyle was clearly in a state of panic.
At that moment, Aoshi quickly descended the stairs.
“She’ll be fine,” he said briefly as he passed by Kyle, offering a word of comfort, before heading toward the bedroom where Kalia was.
This reassurance clearly had no effect. The worry on Kyle’s face did not diminish in the slightest, and the coughing from the bedroom continued unabated.
Tsuruga had already rushed into the room, with Kyle following closely behind.
Shinya was left alone in the dining room. He set down the half-eaten chicken wing and stared in the direction of the bedroom.
The violent coughing still hadn’t stopped, echoing again and again, tugging at his heart.
For Shinya, who had never experienced illness, this was the second time he deeply felt the fragility of human life.
The first time was when he heard the news of Irene’s father’s death.
Old Rogers died very suddenly. As a mercenary, he lost his life unexpectedly while on a mission. Before that, Shinya had never considered that someone he knew could suddenly disappear forever.
At old Rogers’ funeral, Shinya made a vow to Irene that he would protect her in place of her father.
It was a vow he intended to keep for his entire life.
However, Irene no longer needed that vow, nor did she need him anymore.