Ren stood still after the demon disappeared.
The air slowly became light again.
The fog thinned.
The cold feeling faded.
The forest returned to normal—
as if nothing had happened.
Ren looked down at his hands.
They were shaking.
"…Wow," he whispered,
"…I'm alive."
He let out a nervous laugh.
"…That was very close."
He picked up his sword from the ground. There was a small crack on the wooden guard. He stared at it for a second.
"…Sorry," he said quietly to the sword.
"…I dropped you."
The forest made no sound.
Ren took one step back.
Then another.
He kept his eyes on the trees, his body ready to run.
Nothing moved.
"…Okay," he said softly,
"…I think that was my warning."
He turned around and walked quickly toward the village.
Behind him, high among the trees, something unseen watched him go.
Shirugami stood in the fog.
His form flickered like a weak flame.
"…You faced fear," the spirit whispered.
"…And you did not turn your heart away."
He looked at the place where the demon had fallen.
More would come.
Soon.
Shirugami turned deeper into the forest.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
"…I cannot protect them much longer," he said.
"…The mask must choose."
Far beneath the roots of an ancient tree, the Nanaira Mask trembled.
One mark glowed faintly.
Then another.
Only for a moment.
In the village, Ren reached the edge of the forest and stopped.
He looked back once.
"…Next time," he murmured, trying to sound brave,
"…I'll be stronger."
He tightened his grip on the sword and walked home.
Above him, the moon hid behind clouds.
And the forest watched.
🎭