The moonlight shimmered through the canopy, casting silver threads over the forest glade. This was once a sacred place—Hi Okami Loyalist ground, where warriors honed their instincts in silence, training beneath the stars with breath and blade.
Earlier that afternoon, as Shin walked through the stone corridors of Valdorne, something sharp whistled through the air beside his face. He snatched it instinctively—a kunai embedded into the wall inches from his cheek. Attached was a small parchment folded into a tight scroll. He unfolded it slowly, recognizing the looping, daring handwriting immediately.
"Still sharp, Master? Meet me where memories sleep."
There was a tiny fox doodle drawn at the corner. Maika's calling card.
He exhaled through his nose, tucking the kunai in his sash. No name, no time, but he understood. She was calling him to the old grove.
He didn't smile, but his eyes softened with a rare fondness. Maika never needed to ask for attention. She simply demanded it.
Later that night, under a sky brushed with starlight, Shin stepped through the brush, guided by an old memory and a fresh note from Maika. The challenge had been silent but clear. The note delivered by kunai had spoken volumes, and now, under moonlight, he followed through on it. The trees whispered in recognition as if even nature remembered what once took place here.
She stood at the center of the clearing, wrapped in her sleeveless black gi, hair tied in a loose ponytail. Her twin daggers glinted faintly against her hips.
"Took you long enough, Master."
Shin's eyes softened. "I had to make sure I wasn't walking into an ambush."
"You are," she said, smirking. "But it's not the kind you dodge."
Maika assumed a fighting stance, executing a short, sharp combo, her hand straight as a knife, doing an arc that slices through the air, pivoting footwork, ending in a low crouch. She straightened with a smirk, lifted one finger, and curled it toward herself. "Come on."
Shin chuckled under his breath, shaking his head as he stepped into his own stance, calm but ready.
They circled each other without drawing blades. A different kind of tension hung in the air. The air was warm, rich with old oaths and unsaid words.
"Do you remember your childhood past, Master?" she asked.
Shin nodded slowly. "I do. Barely. I remember my parents, the people… a girl. Wild. Fast. Laughing when she knocked me over."
Maika tilted her head. "I didn't think you'd remember."
"I didn't… not until I saw you standing there."
She took a step closer. "After the massacre, I kept coming here to train. Day and night. It was the only place that still felt real… safe. The Loyalist Grove was where I could breathe."
Shin's brows furrowed, listening.
"Back then," she continued, eyes narrowing slightly, "the boys in the village used to bully me. Said I wasn't Hi Okami enough. Said I didn't belong. I was small, loud, and a little wild. They were twice my size."
She smirked. "But you, Shin, you were smaller. And yet, you stood between me and them. Legs shaking, eyes wide, but you didn't back down. Even when they knocked you down, you kept getting up."
He blinked, the memory coming into sharper focus.
"You were bleeding by the time the adults came. But you won that fight, Shin. Not because you beat them, but because you refused to let them break you."
Maika's voice softened. "I never forgot that. That was the moment I knew your principles weren't just talk. And now, looking at you… I see the same fire. The same stubborn boy who grew into someone terrifyingly strong."
She turned, stepping backward into the glade with measured breath, then dropped into her stance. "Let's see if your memory holds up in a fight."
Without warning, Maika launched forward.
Their spar erupted with a flurry of close-quarters strikes. Her twin daggers glinted, only to pull back mid-swing, feinting, redirecting, reading Shin's footwork. He responded calmly, matching her movements with efficient, clean blocks, but she was fast. Faster than he remembered.
Every clash of blade and palm was laced with unspoken truths. The forest echoed with grunts and the dull thump of flesh meeting guard.
"You're faster," Shin said, dodging a sweep that nearly took his legs.
Maika didn't answer. Her eyes were sharp, jaw tight.
She twisted and struck again. "Faster isn't enough. Not anymore."
Their tempo accelerated. Sweat rolled down her neck. Her breathing grew ragged, not from exhaustion, but from the rising tide inside her.
"I trained every day after my clan fell," she spat, launching another flurry. "After my brother betrayed us. After I couldn't save anyone."
Shin caught her wrists, stilling her.
"Maika."
She jerked free, stumbling back a step. Her daggers fell to the forest floor with a soft thud.
"I let everyone down," she said again, but this time the words quivered. "So I trained until my bones cracked. Until I couldn't feel my arms. I kept going until I cried, not because of pain… but because I hated how weak I still felt."
Tears glistened along her lashes.
"I screamed into the wind. I bled into the earth. And still, it was never enough. I thought… if I just kept fighting, maybe the pain would mean something. Maybe I'd be worth something. Maybe you'd see me and… and know I wasn't just a weapon you inherited."
Her knees buckled slightly, but she caught herself.
Shin stepped forward, quietly.
"I didn't even know what happiness was supposed to feel like anymore," Maika whispered. "Not until I met you again. And it terrified me."
Shin didn't speak. He closed the gap slowly, respectfully.
"You've always been enough," he said, voice low and clear. "You don't have to fight for your place anymore. You already have it."
Shin stepped forward, reached for her shoulder. She didn't flinch this time.
"I say it once more. You've always been enough," he said softly. "You have a place here. You have a home, and home is where your heart is."
Maika looked up, her eyes glassy. She clenched her fists, trembling.
Then she surged forward, grabbing him by the collar and kissing him.
It wasn't delicate.
It was messy, desperate, and wet with tears. Her lips crashed into his, trembling with emotion, her breath ragged as sobs broke through between each stolen breath. Her tears smeared across his cheek, down her chin, and into the space between them. Her whole body shook as her kiss deepened, urgent and fierce, as though she were trying to burn her pain away in his warmth.
Shin didn't pull away. He let her pour herself into the moment, accepted the storm of her kiss with steady arms and steady breath. His hand stayed at her lower back, grounding her, while the other gently stroked the side of her face, brushing away damp strands of hair.
She kissed him harder, crying into his mouth, her emotions overflowing as her lips moved against his with fire and anguish. And slowly, as his warmth anchored her, she began to calm.
A hiccuped sob left her lips, and she pressed her forehead to his chest. Then, with a trembling fist, she gently struck his chest once—an exhale of shame, love, and release.
"You idiot," she whispered, her voice wet and hoarse. "Why do you make it so hard to hate you?"
He smiled faintly. "Because you love me."
She smirked, eyes still damp. "Yeah. I do."
Then, as if the emotional tidal wave wasn't enough, Maika surged back into his lips with renewed hunger. She kissed him again—hotter, sloppier, mouth open and trembling, breathing him in like air. Her tears still wet his cheeks as her hands roamed to his shoulders, refusing to let go. This time, it wasn't just grief or pain—it was want. Fierce, unfiltered longing.
She whimpered into the kiss, her nose brushing his, moaning softly into his mouth as she melted into him, slowly calming under his steady touch. She kissed him longer than before, not letting go, as though claiming him fully in that breathless moment. Her hands curled into the fabric of his robe, clinging to him, grounding herself in his warmth.
When she finally pulled away, breathless and pink-lipped, she let out a satisfied sigh, her forehead still against his.
"That's for being mine," she whispered with a teary grin. "And you better not tell the others. This one's mine. Our little secret."
Shin gave a soft chuckle, brushing her hair back.
"It stays between us," he said. "A kunoichi in love with a noble since the beginning. I won't ruin the magic."
Maika sniffled, then gave a playful nudge to his chest. "You better not. Let the others think I'm still the stone-cold kunoichi. I have a reputation to maintain."
Shin smirked. "You mean a terrifying assassin and a flustered romantic can't coexist?"
"Oh, they can," she grinned. "I just don't want them to know how much I melt around you."
Shin raised a brow. "Too late for that."
She gave an exaggerated sigh. "Great. Now I have to one-up the others just to keep my edge."
He tilted his head. "Pretty sure you just did."
Maika beamed, cheeks flushed, pride shining behind her still-glassy eyes. "Damn right I did."
From his belt, he pulled a crimson ribbon. It shimmered faintly, infused with solar essence, alive with quiet warmth.
"For your hair," he said. "So I'll always see you… even in shadow."
Maika took it reverently, her hands brushing his. "Then I'll wear it with pride."
She tied it in one motion, stepping into him again—not to fight, but to rest her forehead to his. Breathing together.
The grove was still. The shadows no longer felt heavy.
They stood together, two scars forged into one flame.
Then, with a playful flick of her eyes, Maika leaned up and stole one last peck on his lips.
"Goodnight, Master," she whispered.
Before Shin could reply, she was gone—vanishing into the woods like a true kunoichi. Her voice echoed through the trees, soft and smug.
"Don't be late getting back. I'm sure the others will wonder what took you so long."
Shin exhaled, shaking his head as he glanced up at the moonlit canopy, chuckling.
"Troublesome wolf," he muttered, a smile tugging at his lips as he turned to head back on his own.