**Chapter 50 Daughter of the Forge**
**June 19, 2029 – Mount Atago, inside the living volcano**
The armor weighs nothing and everything at once.
It's been four days since it chose me, and I still catch myself staring at my reflection in the obsidian walls like I'm waiting for the girl in the mirror to blink first.
Crimson plates edged in living gold, sun-crest on the breastplate that pulses with my heartbeat, space buns somehow still intact because the helmet literally reshaped itself around them.
The loose crimson streak in my hair now glows like a comet tail every time I breathe fire.
Kōjin (my dad, still weird to say) leans against a pillar of cooled lava, arms crossed, apron that says "World's Okayest God" singed at the hem.
**Kōjin:**
"Again. This time, don't set my mountain on fire. I like my mountain."
I roll my eyes so hard the armor echoes it.
**Seras:**
"You gave me armor forged from a dying star. What did you expect? Controlled demolition?"
He grins, beard flaring bright enough to cast shadows.
**Kōjin:**
"I expected my daughter. Now show me what that looks like when she stops holding back."
I exhale.
The Armor of Inferno answers before I do.
Heat floods every plate, gold filigree igniting into actual solar flares that lick the air without burning it.
I flick one wrist and a whip of pure sunrise lashes out, carving a perfect kanji for "father" into solid basalt (then politely seals the cut so the mountain doesn't bleed lava).
Kōjin whistles.
**Kōjin:**
"Better. Again. Make it sing."
We train until the concept of time melts.
He throws suns at me; I catch them and throw them back shaped like paper cranes.
He opens portals to the heart of active volcanoes; I step through and come out wearing the magma like a cape.
He tells me stories between rounds (how he once cooked for an emperor who tried to pay him in severed heads, how my mom was a shrine maiden who laughed at gods and made the best miso soup in three prefectures).
Every time I land a hit that actually makes him grunt, he looks so proud I almost cry (almost, because tears evaporate at 2,000 °C).
At dusk he finally calls it.
I'm sweating embers, armor humming like it's purring, arms shaking from holding back more power than I've ever touched.
Kōjin shrinks to human size (still eight feet tall, but trying) and slings an arm around my shoulders.
**Kōjin (quiet):**
"You're not just wearing the armor, kid.
You're remembering you were always fire.
The plates just gave the rest of the world a heads-up."
I lean into him (careful, because I'm still literally glowing).
**Seras:**
"I have a dad who throws stars at me for fun and calls it bonding.
My life is so weird."
**Kōjin (laughing so hard the volcano rumbles):**
"Welcome to the family, Himuari-Nakamura.
Weird is the baseline."
He snaps his fingers and a table appears (low kotatsu, steaming bowls of kitsune udon the size of bathtubs, sake that tastes like sunrise).
We eat under a sky that's half open volcano, half Kyoto twilight.
I steal his chopsticks just to watch him pout.
**Seras:**
"So… do I call you Dad? Kōjin-sama? Old man who smells like charcoal?"
**Kōjin (soft, ancient eyes warm):**
"You call me whatever feels like home.
I've waited seventeen years and three ice ages.
I'm not picky."
I set the chopsticks down.
**Seras (voice cracking):**
"Hey, Dad?
Thanks for the armor.
And for… not being myth anymore."
He pulls me into a hug that smells like cedar smoke and coming home.
**Kōjin:**
"Anytime, little sun.
Now eat your noodles before they get cold.
Even gods hate soggy udon."
The Armor of Inferno settles around me like it's smiling.
I have a father made of fire and bad puns.
I have armor that sings when I'm happy.
And tomorrow, I get to introduce him to the rest of my chaotic, perfect, mortal-and-not family.
Life is weird.
I've never been happier.
**The First Rule of Coyote Club**
** June 28, 2029 – Caddo Nation Complex, Oklahoma**
Remy's grandmother decided the only proper way to celebrate graduation was a three-day stomp dance and a cookout that could feed half the state.
So here we are, under a red-dirt sky that smells like mesquite smoke and creek water, surrounded by every Caddo auntie, cousin, and second-cousin-twice-removed who ever claimed Remy as theirs.
Seras is wearing the Armor of Inferno like it's casual Friday (it's not glowing right now, just matte crimson plates over a black tank top and cutoffs, space buns still perfect).
Lucian is in human form for once, looking politely terrified every time an elder pats his cheek and says "Big boy, good shoulders for babies."
Kayo has nine tails out and is teaching a circle of little kids how to make fox-fire sparklers.
Rowan is hiding behind a platter of frybread, pretending he's not crying into the honey.
Remy stands at the edge of the fire circle in full regalia: black ribbon shirt open at the throat, otter-tail bustle swaying when he moves, braids threaded with new hawk bells that ring like laughter.
He looks seventeen going on timeless.
The drums start.
He catches my eye across the flames and crooks one finger.
I'm wearing the dress his mom made me (storm-blue with tiny blackbirds beaded along the hem) and the silver cuffs he gave me the night we graduated.
I walk to him barefoot in the dust because shoes feel wrong on sacred ground.
**Remy (voice low, just for me):**
"Coyote Club rule number one:
When the drums call, you answer with the person who holds your heart."
He offers his hand.
I take it.
We step into the circle together.
The song is old (older than nations, older than empires).
It's about tricksters who fell in love with storms and decided the world could burn or flood, but never without them.
We dance.
Remy's hand on my waist, my fingers laced through his, the firelight painting both of us gold and shadow.
Every turn, the hawk bells sing.
Every stomp, the earth remembers we're still here.
Seras and Lucian join behind us (her armor catching the fire until she looks like a walking sunrise, him moving like thunder trying to be gentle).
Kayo spins past with a laughing toddler on each hip, tails flashing gold.
At the final drumbeat, Remy pulls me close and kisses me in front of his entire nation (slow, deliberate, claiming).
The elders whoop.
Someone's uncle yells, "That's how you lock down a queen!"
Remy grins against my mouth.
**Remy:**
"Second rule of Coyote Club:
Never let the storm walk alone."
Later, when the moon is high and the little kids are asleep on blankets, his grandmother finds me by the creek.
She's tiny, fierce, eyes like winter stars.
**Grandma Tsatoke (pressing something into my palm):**
"He's been carrying this since he was fourteen.
Said he'd know when the right storm came along."
It's a ring (simple silver coyote track, set with a single black opal that flashes lightning inside).
**Grandma Tsatoke:**
"Tell him yes when you're ready.
No rush.
Coyotes wait lifetimes for the right thunder."
She walks away before I can answer.
Remy finds me a minute later, barefoot, braids loose, firelight in his eyes.
**Remy (soft):**
"You stole that from my sock drawer?"
**Celeste (closing my fist around the ring):**
"Your grandma's faster than both of us."
He laughs (quiet, perfect) and pulls me down into the grass.
Above us, the Milky Way looks close enough to touch.
**Remy:**
"Summer's just getting started, storm queen."
I kiss him under a sky full of ancestors and coyote songs.
Yeah.
It really is.