The door opened into another world.
The first thing the hero smelled was the scent of sakura. Sweet, delicate, filling his lungs. Then he saw the garden.
A Japanese garden, incredibly beautiful. Cherry blossom trees were in bloom everywhere, petals falling slowly, swirling in the air. Stone paths wound between ponds. The water in the ponds was red—not dirty, but clean, clear, simply red, like blood diluted in water. Stone lanterns stood along the paths, emitting a soft golden light.
The sky above the garden was twilight—neither day nor night, an eternal sunset with pink-orange clouds.
"Beautiful," Medusa whispered, looking around.
"Too beautiful," the hero added warily. "After everything we've seen, this is suspicious."
Dolor nodded silently, his hand on the hilt of his sword. They walked along the stone path. Cherry blossom petals fell on their shoulders and hair. The ponds reflected the sky, creating the illusion of infinity.
And then the path changed.
The hero blinked—and they were already walking in a different direction. The pond that had been on the left was now on the right. The tree ahead had shifted back.
"What the..." Medusa stopped. "Are we going in circles?"
"No," Dolor pointed at the lantern. "The garden is changing. An illusion."
The hero looked around more carefully. Now that he knew what to look for, he noticed distortions—a trembling in the air, blurred edges on some trees. Magic. Very strong.
"Someone doesn't want us to leave," he said.
"Well observed, mortal."
The voice was feminine, melodic, but with a predatory edge.
A figure emerged from behind the cherry blossom tree.
Kitsune. The girl—or creature in the form of a girl—was incredibly beautiful. Long white hair with red tips fell to her hips. On her head were fox ears, white and fluffy, twitching with every sound. Behind her back were seven tails, each as thick as an arm, fluffy and majestic. Golden eyes with vertical pupils gazed at the group with curiosity and superiority. A red and white kimono clung to her figure, revealing her shoulders.
Beautiful. Deadly beautiful.
"Mortals?" she snorted, her tails billowing. "Here? In my garden?"
The hero took a step forward.
"We're just passing through. Going up."
The kitsune laughed. It was ringing, but there was a hint of menace in the laugh.
"Passing? Through the kitsune clan's domain?" She circled the group, studying them. "What impudence! No one passes through without a trace." "Either you fight..." one tail darted forward, almost touching the hero's neck, "...or you entertain."
Medusa stepped forward, her trident at the ready.
"She's serious," she whispered to the hero. "Kitsune don't like strangers. And she's powerful—seven tails. That's almost the maximum."
Kitsune narrowed her eyes at Medusa.
"A Gorgon? Interesting. I haven't seen your kind in a long time." Then her gaze shifted to the hero. "But you... you're special. Immortal, yes?"
She circled him slowly, her tails slid along the ground.
"I've heard of you. You're that anomaly. The one who can't die completely." She stopped before him, looking into his eyes. "Interesting."
Silence. Cherry blossom petals fell around her.
"Okay," the kitsune finally said. "I'll let you out of my garden. But on one condition." "What kind?" the hero asked.
She smiled. Slyly, predatorily.
"You'll stay with me. For a while. Entertain me." She moved closer, so the hero could feel her breath. "Kitsune love entertainment."
"What kind of entertainment?"
"Let's talk. Let's play. Let's sit together." She turned away, but her ears turned red. "I haven't seen anyone... interesting in a long time. D-don't think I'm lonely or anything! I'm just bored. Very bored. That's all."
Medusa grabbed the hero's hand.
"Don't agree. It's a trap."
Kitsune snorted.
"Of course it's a trap. But do you have a choice?" She waved her hand, and the garden around her began to spin. The trees multiplied, the paths intertwined into an impossible labyrinth. "Refuse—you'll wander in illusions forever." Agree—I'll release your friends. After you... stay with me.
The hero looked at Medusa, then at Dolor. Then at the kitsune.
"What time is it?"
"Night. Just one night." The smile widened. "I'll release everyone in the morning. I promise. Kitsune don't lie... when they give their word."
"Hero, no," Medusa squeezed his hand tighter.
He pulled free and stepped toward the kitsune.
"Agreed."
The kitsune clapped her hands, her tails flying in joy.
"Wonderful!" She turned to Medusa and Dolor. "I'll put you in the guest pavilion. It's safe there, there's food and water. You can pick up your friend in the morning."
"If something happens to him..." Medusa began.
"Nothing will happen," the kitsune rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to eat him. I need him... alive."
She snapped her fingers, and Medusa and Dolor disappeared. Teleportation.
The kitsune turned to the hero.
"My name is Yuki. And yours?"
"Hero."
"That's a strange name," she took his hand. Her fingers were warm and soft. "Okay, Hero. Let's go."
She led him deeper into the garden, where a small house stood among the trees. A traditional Japanese house—wooden walls, sliding doors, a tiled roof.
Yuki took off her shoes at the entrance and gestured for the hero to do the same. He obeyed.
It was cozy inside. Tatami mats on the floor, a low table in the center, and cushions all around. Scrolls hung on the walls—with hieroglyphs and drawings of foxes. Incense smoldered in the corner, filling the air with sweet smoke.
And shelves. Many shelves along the walls.
Jars stood on the shelves.
The hero approached—and froze.
The jars contained heads.
Dozens of heads. Perfectly preserved in a clear liquid. Men, women, demons, humans whose beings the hero couldn't identify. All with open eyes, frozen expressions. Horror, pain, surprise, peace.
"What... the..." the hero turned to Yuki.
She stood by the door, her ears pressed back against her head, her tails limp. Her face flushed—not from embarrassment, but from defensive aggression.
"W-what are you staring at?!" she snapped. "It's my hobby! Everyone has a hobby!"
The hero slowly looked at the jar in front of him. A demon's head with horns, blue skin, eyes wide open.
"These are... human heads."
"Not just human ones!" Yuki walked past him, running her finger along one of the jars tenderly. "Demons, warriors, mages..." She pointed to one jar. "See that one over there? That was a legendary dragon slayer. He fought for seven days without rest, killing three ancient dragons with his bare hands." She moved on to another. "And this one... is a demon king from one of the lower levels. I obtained it two hundred years ago. He was... magnificent."
The hero looked at the collection. Hundreds of heads. Maybe more.
"You... killed them all?"
Yuki turned, her golden eyes flashing. "You have no right to judge!" Her tails fluffed up. "They were worthy! Strong, beautiful, interesting!" She hugged one of the jars. "When I like someone... I want to keep them forever. So they don't disappear. Don't get forgotten. Don't die and leave me alone."
Her voice wavered on the last words.
"This... is the only way to hold on," she whispered, looking at the heads. "Everything else... goes away. Always."
The hero slowly approached her. Yuki tensed, her tails standing on end, but he simply stood next to her.
"How many?" he asked quietly. "How many have you... loved?"
Yuki was silent for a long time. Then she pointed to the far shelf. There were five jars there, separated from the others.
"Five. For a thousand years." Her voice was empty. "The first was a warrior. We fought together for a hundred years. Then he grew old and died. I didn't have time... to save them." — She touched the second jar. — The second was a witch. We were... close. For three hundred years. Then she was killed by hunters. I cut off her head. So that at least something would remain.
The hero looked at the jars. One contained the head of a man—handsome, with a scar across his face. The other held a woman with long black hair.
— After that, I understood, — Yuki continued. — We must take them while they're alive. Before it's too late. Preserve them forever.
She turned to the hero. Tears welled in her eyes, but she angrily wiped them away.
— That's why I killed the third one myself. The fourth too. And the fifth. — She smiled bitterly. — They were happy. Until the last moment. Then I... — a gesture of cutting her throat. — And they stayed. Forever. Never aged. Never gone. Always with me.
— This is madness, — said the hero.
— I know! — Yuki screamed. — Do you think I don't know?! — She spun around, her tails whipping the air. — But what else can I do?! Live for thousands of years and watch everyone die?! Over and over and over again?!" Her voice broke. — I'm tired of losing! So now I take. On my own. On my own terms.
Silence.
The hero came closer and hugged her. Yuki froze, her tails lowered.
— What are you… — she began.
— You're tired of being alone, — he said simply. — That's understandable.
Yuki stood motionless for a second, two. Then she slowly hugged him back. Her face buried in his chest. Her tails wrapped around them both.
— Idiot, — she whispered. — Stupid immortal idiot.
Yuki poured sake into small cups. They sat at a low table, facing each other.
— Tell me about yourself, — she said, taking a sip from her cup. — Where are you from? How did you become immortal?
The hero told him. About his past life—the one he'd almost forgotten. About being trapped in a dungeon. About endless deaths. About Medusa and Dolora.
Yuki listened without interrupting. Her tails swayed slowly.
"How many times have you died?" she asked.
"I didn't count. Hundreds. Maybe thousands."
"And you come back every time?"
"Yes."
Yuki finished her sake and poured herself another.
"So you're... like me? Eternal?"
"Not quite," the hero twirled the cup in his hands. "I'm dying. I'm just coming back. The pain remains. The memory remains. Every death leaves a scar. Not on the body... inside."
Yuki looked at him for a long moment.
"I understand," she said quietly. "Every loss leaves a scar. Not on the body. Inside."
They drank in silence. The sake was strong, warming them from within.
"You know what's worst?" — Yuki stared into her cup. — Watching everyone leave. Always. You're left alone. Watching. Unable to do anything.
— You can, — the hero countered. — You can move on. Find new people. Love again.
Yuki laughed. Bitterly.
— And lose again? No, thank you. — She finished her sake in one gulp. — That's why I collect. It's easier.
— This isn't life. This is a prison.
Yuki looked at him. Her eyes were wet with sake and tears.
— What is life then? To suffer over and over again?
— Yes, — the hero replied. — To suffer. To love. To lose. And to continue. Because otherwise, you're already dead. Even if your body is alive.
Yuki was silent. Then she reached across the table and took his face in her hands.
— You're strange, — she whispered. — Very strange. I should have killed you right away. Add you to the collection. But...
She kissed him. Softly, carefully. Her lips were warm, with the taste of sake.
When she pulled away, her face was red.
"D-don't think that means anything!" she said quickly, turning away. "Just... sake. Lots of sake. That's all."
The hero smiled.
"Of course. Just sake."
Yuki snorted, but her ears grew even redder.
She reached across the table toward him again. This time the kiss was hotter, more demanding. Her tongue slid into his mouth, her hands grabbed his shoulders, her claws lightly scratching his skin.
"Idiot," she whispered between kisses. "A complete idiot..."
The hero wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. Yuki climbed over the table, knocking over the cups of sake. She sat down on his lap, face to face. Seven fluffy tails wrapped around them both.
Her hands unfastened the ties on his robe, pulling the fabric from his shoulders. Yuki's kimono had already slipped, revealing pale, smooth skin. Her breasts pressed against his chest, her nipples hardened with arousal.
"Banki," the hero muttered, glancing at the shelves of heads. "They see everything."
Yuki laughed, biting his lower lip.
"Let them see. They're lucky—their last show before eternity."
She pushed him to the floor. The hero fell backward, Yuki falling on top of him. His white hair fell like a curtain, framing his face. His golden eyes were predatory, their pupils dilated.
Yuki pulled the rest of his clothing off him and tossed it aside. Her gaze slid over his body—scars, old and new, covered his skin like a map of suffering.
"Are you sure?" " she asked, her voice hesitant. "I'm a kitsune. When I lose control... my claws and fangs come out on their own. I can hurt. Badly."
"It's okay," the hero touched her cheek. "I'll come back if anything happens."
Yuki stared at him. Then she laughed—loudly, sincerely.
"You're definitely crazy. What normal person says that before sex?"
She leaned down and kissed him hungrily, almost furiously. Her hands slid down his body, cupping his cock. The hero shuddered at the touch.
"Already hard," Yuki murmured, stroking him. "Good boy."
She ran her tongue down his neck, down to his chest. She kissed every scar she came across. There were many—a sword mark across his ribs, a burn on his side, a tear in his shoulder.
"How many times have you died?" — she whispered, licking a particularly deep scar.
— He stopped counting.
— Poor thing, — Yuki bit his nipple. Not painfully, but sensitively. — So much pain.
She continued down, kissing his stomach, his thighs. She stopped between his legs. She looked up at him, her golden eyes glittering in the dim light.
— Will you allow me? — she asked, cupping his cock in her hand.
— Yes.
Yuki smiled and leaned down. Her tongue slid along the shaft, from base to tip. The hero groaned, his fingers gripping the tatami beneath him.
She took him into her mouth—slowly, gradually plunging him deeper. Warmth and wetness enveloped his cock, and her tongue wrapped around it. Yuki began to move her head, pushing all the way in, until the head pressed against her throat.
The hero looked at her—her white hair fluttering in time with her movements, her ears flattened against her head in concentration, her tails swaying. The sight was incredibly arousing.
Yuki sucked greedily, making slurping sounds. One hand stroked what wouldn't fit in her mouth, the other played with her balls. Her claws lightly scratched the delicate skin, causing him to shudder.
"Yuki, I..." The hero felt the tension building. "I'm going to cum..."
She didn't stop. On the contrary, she sped up, plunging him even deeper. She looked up at him, her gaze challenging: come on, cum in my mouth.
The hero couldn't resist. He grabbed her hair and came. Yuki swallowed it all without spilling a drop. She slowly pulled away, licking her lips.
"Delicious," she muttered, wiping her mouth. "But I'm not done yet." Yuki rose and sat on him. Her thighs parted over his groin. The hero could see the moisture glistening between her legs—she was very aroused.
"Now it's my turn," she whispered.
Yuki guided his cock to her entrance. She slowly lowered herself, taking him inside. Her vagina was tight, hot, incredibly wet. She moaned, sinking all the way.
"Fuck," Yuki breathed, stilling. "Big... stretching..."
She began to move. Slowly at first, rising almost to the tip, then lowering herself completely. Her hands rested on the hero's chest for support, her claws leaving red scratches on the skin.
The hero grabbed her hips, helping her move. He watched her breasts bounce with each thrust, her face flush with excitement, her tails lashing the air.
Yuki sped up. She impaled herself faster, harder, with wet slaps. The moans grew louder, less restrained.
"Yes... yes... so good..." She threw her head back, her hair falling down her back.
One of her tails slid between her legs, the tip piercing her buttocks. Yuki cried out and shuddered.
"Can you feel it?" she whispered, looking at the hero. "How I'm clenching around you?"
"Yes," the hero thrust forward, causing her to cry out. "So much."
Yuki leaned down and kissed him. Her movements became chaotic, desperate. She dug her claws into his shoulders, scratching his skin until it bled. She bit his lip so hard that a metallic taste appeared in her mouth.
"Does it hurt?" she whispered.
"Yes."
"Do you want me to stop?"
"No."
Yuki smiled and bit his neck. Fangs pierced her skin, blood trickled down her collarbone. But she kept moving, impaling herself on his cock again and again.
The hero flipped them over in one motion. Yuki gasped as she found herself beneath him. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her tails wrapped around her hips.
He began to fuck her hard. He thrust deep, fast, without pause. Yuki screamed beneath him, clawing her back with her claws, leaving bloody furrows.
"Harder!" she screamed. "Even harder!"
The hero grabbed her hips, spread her legs wider, and began to thrust so deeply that she squirmed on the floor from the force of his thrusts. The sound of flesh on flesh echoed off the walls.
"Fuck, yes!" Yuki clawed at the floor. "That's it... that's it..."
She wrapped her arms and legs around him, pulling him closer. "Don't go," she suddenly whispered, looking into his eyes. Tears streamed down her temples. "Promise... promise you'll never leave..."
"I promise," the hero kissed her. "I won't go anywhere."
And at that moment, Yuki came. She arched, screaming into his mouth. Her vagina spasmed, wave after wave. Her tails pulled his hips so tightly that he couldn't move.
The hero thrust one last time and spilled inside her. His cum filled her, warm and thick. He felt her pulsing inside, Yuki shuddering beneath him.
They froze, breathing heavily. Yuki gradually loosened her grip, her arms falling limply to the floor. Her ears trembled, her tails spread loosely around her.
The hero slowly pulled out. Yuki moaned in emptiness. "Wait," she whispered when he tried to pull away. "Stay... inside..."
"I need to catch my breath."
"No," Yuki pulled him back. "Again. Now."
The hero looked at her. His eyes glowed golden, a lustful smile playing on his lips.
"You're insatiable."
"A thousand years," she wrapped her hand around his cock, stroking it. "Do you think once is enough?"
His cock began to harden again in her hand. Yuki purred contentedly.
"Good boy," she guided him back to her entrance. "Come on. Again."
And they made love again. This time, Yuki turned onto all fours, and the hero fucked her from behind. His tails wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper. He spanked her ass, leaving red handprints. Yuki screamed, digging her claws into the tatami mat, tearing the fabric.
The third round was even rougher. Yuki sat on him facing away from him, controlling the pace. She thrust quickly and furiously, moaning obscenities. The hero squeezed her breasts, pinched her nipples, making her scream louder.
By the end of the third round, they were both covered in blood, sweat, and other fluids. Scratches covered the hero's body—chest, back, thighs. Bites on his neck and shoulders bled. Yuki was also marked—bruises on her thighs from fingers, bites on her chest and neck, red marks on her butt.
They looked like they'd just been through a real battle.
Yuki lay on the hero's chest, breathing heavily. Her ears were limp, her tails spread limply across the floor.
"Idiot," she muttered sleepily. "My idiot."
The hero stroked her hair, her ears. Yuki purred softly.
"I scratched you badly," she remarked, looking at the bloody furrows on his chest.
"It's okay. It will heal."
"No," Yuki ran her finger over one of the deep scratches. "These will be scars. I've marked you. Now everyone will know—you're mine."
The hero smiled.
"Okay. I'll bear your marks."
Yuki looked at him, tears glistening in her eyes.
"Mine," she whispered. "Forever mine."
They moved to the futon. Yuki spread it out in the corner of the room, away from the jars of heads. She lay next to the hero, their tails wrapped around them both like a warm blanket. Her head was on his chest, her ears twitching with each breath.
"You're immune to my charms," she said in the darkness. "No one has ever been immune. Why?"
"I don't know," the hero replied, stroking her hair. "Maybe immortality makes me resistant to magic."
"Or you're just an idiot," Yuki muttered. "An idiot who doesn't understand when someone's trying to seduce him."
"I get it. I just don't care."
Yuki propped herself up on her elbow and looked at him.
"Still don't care?"
"Charm or not, you're beautiful. Interesting. Dangerous." The hero touched her cheek. "I like dangerous women."
Yuki stared at him. Then she abruptly turned away, burying her face in the pillow.
"I-Idiot!" His voice was muffled. "Don't say that!"
The Hero laughed. Yuki swatted him with her tail.
They lay in silence. The incense smoldered, casting a faint light. Somewhere outside, the cherry blossoms rustled.
"If I ask you to stay," Yuki whispered, "will you stay?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because I have to go up. Get out of the dungeon."
"Why?"
The Hero thought for a moment.
"I don't know. But it's... important. I can feel it."
Yuki was silent for a long time. Then she moved closer, hugging him tighter.
"Then I'll go with you."
"What?"
"You heard." She didn't look at him. "I'll go with you. N-not because I love you or anything! It's just... boring here. Alone. And I want to see what's up there. That's all."
The Hero smiled in the darkness.
"Of course." That's the only reason.
— Yes! That's the only reason!
— And the heads?
Yuki tensed.
— I'll... take them with me. The magic bag. Spatial magic. They'll all fit.
— Even hundreds of heads?
— Y-yes! They're important! It's my collection!
The Hero didn't argue. He simply hugged her tighter.
Yuki sighed and relaxed. Her tails tucked them tighter around her.
— Sleep, she whispered. "In the morning, I'll let your friends go. And we'll go together."
— Good.
Silence. Yuki listened to his breathing, slow, even. Falling asleep.
And she herself was not asleep.
Deep in the night, Yuki slowly pulled away from his embrace. The Hero didn't wake up—the sake and fatigue were doing their job.
She stood up and silently walked to the wall. She took the katana from its stand. The blade glinted in the incense light.
She returned to the futon. She sat down next to the hero. She looked at his face—calm, relaxed. Vulnerable.
If only it were that simple.
The katana trembled in her hands.
One strike. Quick and clean—he won't even have time to feel it. I'll put his head in a jar... and he will belong to me. Forever. He won't escape me, he won't leave me alone.
The blade touched the skin on his neck. A thin red line appeared—the hero stirred in his sleep.
Yuki froze.
Why can't I?
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
I've always done this! Always! Why is it different with him?!
She looked at his face. Remembering the evening. The conversation. The hug. The kiss.
Because he's not afraid. Not of my heads. Not of my madness. He just... accepted.
The katana fell from her hands and hit the floor with a clang.
Yuki covered her face with her hands, sobbing silently.
"Idiot," she whispered through her tears. "Stupid, immortal idiot. What have you done to me?"
The hero stirred and opened his eyes. He saw her—crying, the katana on the floor, a thin cut on his neck.
Understood.
He slowly sat up and hugged her. Yuki clung to him, their tails wrapped around him like a vice.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "Sorry, sorry, sorry..."
"It's okay," he stroked her back. "It's okay."
"No! It's not okay! I wanted to kill you!"
"But I didn't."
"But I wanted to!"
"Yuki," he lifted her face, looking into her golden eyes. "You didn't kill me. That's the main thing."
She looked at him. Tears streamed down her face, her ears pressed back, her tails trembling.
"I still want to," she whispered. "Every time I look at you. I want to cut you off and keep you. It won't pass."
"I know."
"Sooner or later I'll do it. I won't be able to hold back."
"Then I'll be resurrected," the hero smiled. "And you won't be able to add me to your collection. Because I'll come back. Always."
Yuki stared at him. Then she laughed. Hysterically, through her tears.
"You really are an idiot," she pressed herself against him. "A crazy, insane idiot."
"Your idiot," he corrected.
Yuki fell silent. Then quietly:
"Yes. Mine."
They fell asleep like that. Embracing each other. The katana lay forgotten on the floor.
The hero woke to Yuki poking him in the cheek.
"Get up, sleepyhead!" She was already dressed, her hair braided, her katana slung over her back. "The sun is up. Time to go."
The hero stood up and stretched. The cut on his neck had already healed.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes," Yuki patted her belt, where a small pouch hung. It looked ordinary, but the hero sensed magic—a spatial storage. "Everything is here. Heads, clothes, weapons."
"All the heads fit?"
"Magic, remember?" She rolled her eyes. "You could fit a whole house in there."
They left the house. The garden greeted them with morning light, cherry blossom petals swirling in the air.
Yuki led him to the pavilion where Medusa and Dolor were waiting. They looked rested—clearly they'd had a restful night.
Medusa jumped up, seeing the hero.
"You're alive!"
"Yes," the hero smiled. "Everything's fine."
Medusa looked at Yuki suspiciously.
"So what now?"
"Now," Yuki crossed her arms over her chest, her tails fluffed proudly, "I'm coming with you."
"WHAT?!"
"You heard me, gorgon stripper," Yuki grinned. "I'm bored here. I want to see the upper levels. That's all."
Medusa turned to the hero.
"You let her?!"
"She decided on her own," he replied.
Medusa looked at Yuki. She looked back. Tension hung in the air.
"By the way," Yuki tilted her head, "your head would look great in my collection. Green skin, snakes... exotic." The snakes on Medusa's head hissed. She raised her trident.
"Try it."
Yuki placed her hand on the hilt of her katana.
"With pleasure."
"ENOUGH!" the hero stepped between them. "We're a team. No one's killing anyone."
They both looked at him. Then Medusa snorted and lowered her trident.
"Fine. But one mistake on her part, and I'll petrify her."
"And I'll put you in a jar," Yuki retorted.
They went their separate ways, pointedly ignoring each other.
Dolor approached the hero quietly:
"Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"No," the hero answered honestly. "But she won't leave us alone otherwise."
"She's dangerous."
"I know. But this way, she's under control. More or less."
Dolor nodded, accepting the logic.
Yuki snapped her fingers. The garden around them changed—the illusions dissipated, the paths straightened out. A door appeared at the far end—the exit.
"Here's your exit," she said. "As I promised."
They moved toward the door. Yuki walked last, looking back at her garden. At her little house. At the life she was leaving behind.
"Don't you regret it?" the hero asked.
Yuki snorted.
"About what? About a thousand years of solitude?" She quickened her pace, catching up with him. "No. I've wanted to leave for a long time. I just... never had a reason."
"And now there is?"
Yuki looked at him. She blushed and turned away.
"M-maybe. None of your business!"
The hero chuckled.
They passed through the door. The kitsune garden was left behind. Empty. Quiet.
But Yuki didn't look back.
Only her hand involuntarily reached for the hilt of her katana when she looked at the back of the hero's head.
Then she caught herself, blushing.
Idiot. My idiot.
Their tails wagged contentedly.
The corridor beyond the door was long and dark.
The group walked in silence. Medusa on the left, Yuki on the right—both well apart. Dolor behind, as always.
"So now there are four of us," the hero said. "Looks like it," Medusa replied reluctantly.
"Excellent!" Yuki clapped her hands. "More heads for the collection, if something goes wrong."
"Yuki!"
"W-what?! Just kidding! I'm kidding!"
But his hand still rested on the hilt of his katana.
The hero sighed. This would be... interesting.
They moved on. Four now. Four broken, strange, dangerous creatures, climbing through the hell of the dungeon.
Up.
Always up.
Towards an unknown end.