The morning fog rolled thick over the valley, coiling around broken pines and the charred remains of a Mongol outpost.
Crows circled above, their cries echoing like ghosts over the quiet hills.
Yuna crouched behind a boulder, her eyes scanning the ridgeline ahead.
"Two guards by the gate. One patrolling near the tower. More inside, I'd bet."
Jin nodded, squinting through the haze. "You've done this before."
She glanced at him. "More times than I'd like to remember."
Her tone was clipped, but he could sense the edge beneath it — the tension of working beside a man she had once buried.
Jin adjusted the cloth around his arm and unslung his bow. "What's the plan?"
Yuna frowned. "The plan is simple: don't get caught."
He smiled faintly. "That's always my plan."
She rolled her eyes. "The Jin Sakai I knew would've called this dishonorable."
He paused at that. Right. The old Jin wouldn't have done this.
But Nick — Nick had spent years sneaking through virtual warzones, clearing camps in silence, and exploiting enemy AI patterns for fun.
To him, stealth wasn't dishonor. It was art.
"Maybe death changed my perspective," he said quietly.
Yuna studied him for a long moment, searching his face for the man she remembered.
"…Alright, Ghost. Let's see what you've learned in the afterlife."
---
They slipped through the mist like shadows.
Every step was measured, every breath controlled.
Nick could almost feel the game instincts syncing with Jin's muscle memory — his movements were smooth, almost rehearsed.
A Mongol scout stepped out from behind a wagon, grumbling in his native tongue.
Yuna froze, signaling for Jin to wait.
But he didn't.
He moved low, silent.
A single fluid motion — hand over the guard's mouth, blade through the throat, body eased to the ground without a sound.
When he looked up, Yuna was staring.
"You…" she whispered. "You didn't even hesitate."
He wiped the blade clean. "Would you have preferred I asked permission first?"
"That's not the point," she hissed. "You used to refuse this. You said a samurai fights in the open, face to face."
Jin looked out toward the campfires flickering below.
"Maybe that Jin died when Tsushima burned."
For a long time, Yuna said nothing. Then she gave a small nod, the kind that meant both acceptance and unease.
"Fine. Let's finish this, Ghost."
---
They moved deeper into the camp.
Two more guards fell before an alarm could rise — one to Yuna's daggers, one to Jin's perfectly timed strike.
Every takedown fed a strange warmth within him — not adrenaline, not pride… something deeper.
A pulsing current that steadied his breathing and dulled the sting in his shoulder.
When the last guard fell, he exhaled, chest glowing faintly with that strange energy.
A soft shimmer danced along his skin — the air rippling like heat haze.
"What was that?" Yuna asked, eyes wide.
Jin touched his chest, feeling the warmth fade. "Chi, maybe… I just focused, and the pain disappeared."
Yuna frowned. "Chi doesn't heal wounds."
"Maybe mine does."
She looked at him like he'd just said he could fly — half in disbelief, half in awe.
---
By the time they left the camp, the fog had started to lift. The sun peeked weakly through the clouds, turning the valley gold.
Yuna tightened her cloak. "You fight differently now. You are different."
Jin smiled faintly beneath the morning light. "Different doesn't mean worse."
"No," she said. "It means dangerous."
---
As they reached the ridge overlooking Castle Kaneda, the distant drums of the Mongols began to roll.
The stronghold loomed on the horizon, wreathed in smoke and banners — a fortress of stone and fire.
Jin's grip on his sword tightened. "That's where they're holding him."
"Your uncle?"
He nodded. "Lord Shimura. And I intend to bring him back."
Yuna's eyes softened for a heartbeat, then she turned towar
d the path ahead.
"Then welcome back to Tsushima, Ghost. Let's see if the world still remembers you."The night air was thick with smoke and the metallic tang of blood. The guard he'd just slain still lay at Jin's feet — lifeless, silent, almost like a shadow that forgot its place in the world.
Yuna stared at him, disbelief painted across her face. Her grip on her dagger tightened.
"Who… taught you to move like that?" she muttered. "You said you'd never crawl in the dark."
Jin wiped his blade on the grass, watching the crimson streak fade beneath the moonlight.
"Guess I changed my mind," he replied quietly.
But inside — Nick was buzzing. His pulse pounded in rhythm with something deeper — something not human.
A faint golden hue flickered at the edge of his vision, like embers dancing in his veins.
> Resolve acquired.
The voice wasn't heard — it was felt. His Chi surged, knitting the pain from his earlier wounds, and his breathing steadied.
So this was the "Resolve Bar" — the thing that saved him countless times as a gamer.
Except now… it burned inside him.
Real. Warm. Alive.
Yuna stepped closer, studying him from head to toe, as if trying to see past the man standing before her.
"Last time we fought side by side, you called me a coward for stabbing a Mongol in the back," she said, voice hardening. "You said there's no honour in shadows."
Jin's eyes met hers — calm, unreadable.
"Maybe honour doesn't win wars," he said simply.
The words froze her.
For a moment, the only sound was the wind stirring through the tall grass.
"…You're not the same," she whispered. "You look like Jin Sakai, but… something's different."
He gave a faint smirk. "You're not wrong."
A sudden gust swept through the trees. The flames of a distant torch flickered, dimmed, then died completely — as if the world itself was holding its breath.
Jin turned his gaze eastward, where the faint glow of dawn bled into the horizon. Beyond those hills lay Castle Kaneda — his uncle's prison, his purpose.
"We'll move at first light," he said, sheathing his blade.
Yuna blinked, still dazed by his composure. "You plan to walk into Kaneda like this? You'll die before you reach the walls."
He shrugged, that same confident half-smile tugging at his lips. "Then I'd better learn how not to die."
Her lips parted — then curved into a reluctant smirk. "You're insane."
"Maybe."
"...I'll take that as a yes."
She turned, motioning for him to follow. "Come on, Ghost. If you're serious about saving your uncle, you'll need more than a sword and pride. You'll need me."
Jin followed her into the fading mist, every step echoing softly across the wet earth.
Behind them, the slain guard's body shimmered faintly — a swirl of black particles rising like ash, vanishing into the night.
From somewhere unseen, a faint, divine whisper stirred.
The wind shifted — watching. Waiting.
And then—
BOOM.
A Mongol horn blared from the ridge — deep, thunderous, ancient.
Yuna froze. Her expression darkened instantly.
"They've found the bodies," she hissed.
Jin's hand dropped to his sword hilt, Chi already pulsing beneath his skin.
"Then let's see if the Ghost can still haunt them," he said.
The wind answered with a holl
ow wail, as if amused by the irony.
The Ghost had returned.
---