Lucid knelt by the small circle of stones, carefully feeding the last of his dry twigs and precious, resinous bark to the struggling flames. The fire caught, grew, and finally settled into a steady, bright burn. He let out a faint, contemptuous exhale at the defeated storm and allowed himself a small, triumphant smile. Outside the cave mouth, the world was a blinding expanse of white, but the furious, screaming wind had died. The blizzard was over.
"Finally," he said, the word heavy with relief. "The blizzard has passed."
He turned his head to look at Ayame. She sat behind him on the thick fur, her posture straight, her dark eyes fixed on his back. "We can continue our journey now."
Ayame did not respond. Her gaze remained on him, unwavering. The hours spent in the cave, the shared warmth and the silent understanding that had grown between them, had left a mark on her. She found herself wanting to cling to him, to pin him down and keep him close, a confusing impulse she did not fully understand but felt with animal certainty. She let him speak, let him move, but she said nothing of the strange weight in her chest.
As Lucid settled to eat the last of his hard biscuits and dried meat, he became acutely aware of her stare. She sat across from him now, watching him with an intensity that was unnerving. It was the watchfulness of a predator observing prey, but layered with something else, a focused, protective attention that felt almost possessive. He felt a chill that had nothing to do with the lingering cold.
Thinking she might be hungry again, he offered her his forearm, pushing back his sleeve.
She shook her head once, a sharp, small motion. "You fed me enough." It was a lie. A deep, gnawing hunger coiled within her, a desire to devour him, to drain him until he was dry and still, to make him a permanent part of her warmth. She pushed the thought down, a strange new instinct overriding the old one. She would not harm this one.
He seemed to sense her internal struggle. He snapped his fingers softly in front of her face, breaking her trance. Her black eyes lifted to his, as indifferent and deep as ever.
To fill the silence, Lucid began to talk. He spoke of his destination, the Kingdom of Vex. He mentioned, with a self-deprecating joke, that an affair had grown complicated, that he was on what he jokingly called a "super secret mission" to steal a noble's work due to his own negligence.
"Can you believe someone like him, wanting me to solve his problems," he said with a wry shake of his head. "And breaking my leg on top of it all."
He laughed at the absurdity of his own statements, the sound echoing softly in the stone space.
Ayame listened. She did not laugh. She did not ask questions. She simply listened, absorbing the sound of his voice, the cadence of his speech. No one had ever given her this much attention, had ever spoken to her as if she were simply there. When he mentioned they would soon part ways to follow their own paths, a foreign, sharp sensation pierced the center of her chest. It felt like a small, cold stone sinking. Why did the thought of this fragile, chattering human leaving cause such a reaction? She had killed humans. She had devoured them indiscriminately. Why was this one different?
Lucid, finishing his meager meal, brushed crumbs from his hands. He looked at her, his expression turning curious. "Why were you out here?" he asked. "You were almost dead. Someone as strong as you must have been able to kill a mountain wolf. What happened?"
Ayame was quiet for a long time. She did not concoct a lie. She did not try to divert the truth. She searched her memory, but where the events before the cave should have been, there was only a blank, white stillness, as featureless as the snow outside. She had accepted death, it seemed, but no memory had come with it.
"I was unarmed," she said finally, her voice flat. "I was unwilled." It was the only explanation she could find.
He nodded, accepting her answer without pressing further. "And where are you headed?"
Another pause. Her original destination was not Vex. She had been searching for something, on a duty in search of something or someone, but the details were lost in the same white haze. All that was clear was the human in front of her and the hollow feeling at the thought of him walking away.
"I go to Vex as well," she stated. It was a clear, deliberate lie. But it felt necessary.
A flicker of surprise crossed Lucid's face, quickly masked. "Is that so?"
"Yes." She held his gaze, daring him to challenge her.
Without any awareness of social nuance, of the weight such words usually carried, she then spoke the simple truth that had formed in her mind. "I like you."
Lucid froze, a piece of jerky halfway to his mouth. A visible flush crept up his neck, the mist over his face seeming to shimmer with the heat of it. He choked, coughing into his fist.
Ayame watched his reaction, her head tilting slightly. She continued, listing her reasons with clinical detachment. "I like the taste of your blood. I like that you talk a lot for a human. I like your warmth. You are not scared of an Oni. You did not hesitate to save me." She had not realized the effect such a blunt catalog of affection would have.
Lucid stammered, utterly flustered. He waved a hand as if to clear the air of her words. He took a deep, steadying breath, his blush slowly receding. Finally, he just nodded, a decision made.
"Alright then," he said, his voice still a bit rough. "Let us go together."
He stood up and held out his hand to help her up.
Ayame looked at his offered hand, then up at his obscured face. A feeling, unfamiliar and warm, spread through her chest, dissolving the cold stone. She placed her cool hand in his and let him pull her to her feet.
"Together," she muttered, testing the word. It felt solid. It felt right.
As they gathered their few belongings, shaking out the fur and packing his satchel, Ayame stayed close to his side. When he shouldered his pack, she instinctively reached out and adjusted the strap where it sat on his shoulder, her fingers lingering for a moment on the fabric near his neck. Lucid stiffened but did not pull away.
"Are you ready?" he asked, turning toward the cave entrance and the bright, cold world beyond. He quickly looked away, the heat from his earlier blush threatening to return.
"Yes," Ayame said.
But after putting on her travel outfit, something felt wrong. The clothes, which had fit snugly against her newly filled form, now pulled tight in ways that revealed the gentle curves of her body. A sliver of skin showed at a suggestive angle near her hip. It was inefficient. It was distracting, though she did not think of it in those terms. It simply felt incorrect, like a puzzle piece forced into the wrong spot.
"Efficiency," she muttered to herself, as if recalling a vital piece of information.
She closed her eyes, focusing inward. A series of soft, distinct pops and cracks echoed in the quiet cave, the sound of joints and bones shifting with a fluid, practiced ease. Lucid watched, bewildered, as her height subtly reduced. The fullness of her figure receded, muscles and softness redistributing, condensing. The cloak and leggings that had hugged her body now hung with faint bags and gentle gaps, giving her room. She had returned to the thinner, more compact frame of the girl on the verge of death he had carried into the cave.
Lucid stared, absolutely bewildered. "But how," he muttered under his breath.
However, one thing remained unchanged. Her face still held the same soft plumpness in her cheeks, the same gentle, healthy look. She did not know why she kept it that way. Perhaps it was for a reason she could not name, her gaze lingering on him as she completed the transformation.
"I travel this way," she stated, noticing his stare. "It is efficient."
He did not know what she had done or what she was truly capable of. In this world, everyone seemed capable of things he barely understood. He simply had to accept it. She was not human, after all. And who was he to care how she chose to carry herself? He had his own mysteries to maintain.
Alice, residing within him, chose that moment to speak up. Her mental voice was light, teasing. "Oh, Lucid. I take it you are no longer interested in her now that she has but little flesh on her bones."
"I was never interested in that way," he shot back to Alice, more flustered than angry.
She had begun to love poking fun at him. Alice had transformed from a formal, guiding voice into something more understanding, and now, seemingly, a friend. A friend who shared far too many pointed remarks.
Shaking off the interaction, he gestured with his arm toward the cave entrance. "Let us go. There is a long road ahead of us."
Ayame took his offered hand as if she had been waiting for it. Something deep within the depths of her heart seemed to break then, a tension she had not known she carried dissolving. It felt as if she had found something she had been searching for, something vital she could not name. Was it a connection to that fleeting, half-remembered day from a childhood she could not clearly recall? She could not tell. But one thing was sure as Lucid began to lead the way forward, breaking a path through the deep snow.
"This human," she thought, her dark eyes fixed on his back as they stepped into the glaring white world. "I need to protect him."
Under the pale sun hanging low in the sky, surrounded by snow and a slight, biting breeze, the Oni named Ayame made a silent vow. It was a vow to protect him, born from a feeling she could not name, a feeling that was entirely alien yet deeply, unquestionably true. She would follow, and she would shield. It was, she decided, the most efficient path forward.