Chapter Twenty-Three:

“Doubts Under the Moon”

The last remnants of daylight had long since bled away by the time Yumi, Rai, and their two Yama-Okami companions, Takeshi and Kaori, stumbled free of the caved-in shrine. The mountain exhaled a deep, resonant groan—a sound too structured to be mere settling rock, too unnatural to be dismissed as wind. It wasn't just shifting stone—it was something else. Something listening. By the time Yumi, Rai, and their two Yama-Okami companions, Takeshi and Kaori, stumbled free of the caved-in shrine. A cold wind howled through the mountains, sweeping down the jagged peaks, carrying with it the scent of stone dust and lingering magic. The stars above flickered against the vast emptiness of the night sky, but the descent ahead was treacherous, the path down the mountain nothing more than a twisting stretch of ice and darkness.

“Going down now would be suicide,” Takeshi grunted, his sharp amber eyes scanning the terrain. “We wait until morning.”

Yumi exhaled, her breath visible in the frigid air. She had prepared for this. The battle, the collapse of the shrine—she had accounted for danger. But exhaustion clung to her limbs like lead, and she could see the same strain in Rai’s expression. They needed rest. They needed shelter.

“Good thing John bought me a tent,” she murmured. She thought the command, and the game mechanics answered.

A tiny glimmer of light began to form in the air, almost imperceptible, and spread outward from her hand. The faint shimmer of golden energy coalesced before them, and as she moved her fingers, the sigils hovering in the air began to spin. Like an unfolding tapestry, woven symbols of the Yama-Okami's ancestors stretched and unfurled, carving themselves into reality. The threads of energy wove together, shifting from glowing outlines to tangible fabric. The tent formed itself layer by layer, sigils igniting one by one along the seams as it settled onto the earth with a final whisper of magic.

Warmth greeted them, carrying the scent of burning wood, though there was no visible fire. The interior resembled a traditional Japanese yurt, a space influenced by ancient Yamato aesthetics. The walls were lined with stretched woven fabric painted in intricate, swirling designs reminiscent of the Yama-Okami’s ancestral lore. Wooden beams supported the conical ceiling, and a single open space with a central fire pit, unlit yet radiating warmth, stood at the heart of the structure. Around it, thick futons covered in embroidered wolf insignias lay arranged, inviting rest. Woven mats stretched over the packed earth floor, and bundles of dried herbs hung near the entryway, filling the air with a faint, soothing aroma.

Takeshi let out an impressed grunt. “Convenient.”

Kaori grinned, running a clawed hand along the sturdy interior. “I could get used to this.”

Rai, however, said nothing. She entered last, seating herself at the table and pulling off her gloves with slow, deliberate motions. The silence that followed carried weight, the unspoken thoughts pressing against the space between them. Yumi sat across from her, her tails curling around her legs as she studied her friend’s expression.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Yumi said softly.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Rai let out a slow breath, staring down at her hands. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m trying not to think at all.”

Kaori sat beside Takeshi, stretching out her legs with an easy familiarity. “What’s there to think about? We fought, we survived, we move forward.”

“That’s the problem,” Rai muttered, shaking her head. “We keep moving forward, but I keep wondering… why? What happens when we get to the end of this? If we even make it that far?”

Takeshi folded his arms, watching her. “Doubt is not weakness. But letting it control you is.”

Rai’s fingers curled against the fabric of her pants. “I’m not afraid of dying.”

Yumi tilted her head. “Then what are you afraid of?”

Rai’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t look up. “I don’t know.”

Yumi let the silence linger for a moment before speaking. As she did, something stirred inside her. A warmth, faint but ancient, flickered along her fingertips. The golden Foxfire curled at the edge of her palm, and for just a second, the embers reshaped—molding into the faint silhouette of a wolf’s head. Its spectral eyes locked onto hers before vanishing in the dim glow. “I think you do.” She reached out, setting a hand over Rai’s. “I think you’re afraid that no matter how far you go, no matter how much you fight, it won’t be enough.”

Rai flinched but didn’t pull away. The tension in her shoulders remained, but something in her expression shifted. Vulnerability, quiet and hesitant.

“I used to be afraid of that too,” Yumi admitted. “That no matter how strong I became, it wouldn’t matter. That I’d lose the things I cared about anyway. That even if I won, it wouldn’t feel like a victory.” She squeezed Rai’s hand gently. “But if we stop moving forward because we’re afraid, then we’ve already lost. And I don’t think either of us are the type to just… let that happen.”

Rai exhaled, her grip tightening briefly around Yumi’s before she let go. “Yeah,” she murmured. “I guess we’re not.”

Takeshi watched the exchange in silence, his expression unreadable. Then, after a long pause, he spoke. “Three hundred years ago, the Thousand Isles and Players stood together. A decision made not out of choice, but necessity. The Yama-Okami stood with them.”

Kaori nodded, stretching her arms over her head. “And now, we do the same.”

Rai looked at them both. “Just like that?”

Takeshi’s lips quirked upward in the smallest of smirks. “Just like that.”

Yumi felt something settle inside her chest. A confirmation. A promise. The weight of history repeating itself.

She smiled. “Then let’s rest. Tomorrow, we face whatever comes next.”

Morning came swiftly. The descent down the mountain was easier than the climb, but by the time they reached the Yama-Okami’s village—Tsukihana, the Moonlit Flower—the wariness in the air was palpable.

The villagers greeted them with guarded expressions, their eyes shifting between the outsiders and the warriors who had returned with them. The shrine had collapsed. They had left to find answers, and now, they returned with more uncertainty.

Yumi stepped forward, undeterred by the hesitation surrounding them. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said, her voice carrying through the gathered crowd. “But we didn’t come back with only questions. We came back with a choice.”

The twins, standing behind her, nodded in unison. “We saw their souls,” one of them murmured. “They are untainted.”

A murmur began among the crowd. The tension did not fully break, but it wavered.

Takeshi stepped beside Yumi, his presence solid as the mountain itself. “The shrine’s fate is not proof of failure. It is proof that the barrier is failing. We can wait for destruction, or we can stand and fight.”

Meerwow! Kaori grinned. “I think we all know which one sounds better.”

Silence stretched for a long moment before the Taiōkami, the village elder, stepped forward. His wise eyes reflected the morning light as he studied Yumi, Rai, and their companions. Then, slowly, he nodded.

“Three hundred years ago, the Thousand Isles stood together with Players!,” he proclaimed. “Today, the Yama-Okami will do the same!”

Relief surged through Yumi’s chest. They had done it.

Not just survived.

Not just moved forward.

They had gained allies. And that, in the end, was what truly mattered.

Yumi's final thoughts before the dreams took hold were of John.