The group of three finished dinner.
Although Haruka had insisted they not overdo it with the food—it was necessary to ration supplies in case the isolation extended beyond the three days—a banquet almost as abundant as the previous night's had appeared before them.
None of them complained.
After everything that had happened, eating something warm and tasty was a small comfort. The three of them ate until they were completely satisfied.
Once dinner was over, only one task remained: organizing the watch shifts.
For now, the strategy was clear. They would defend the inn only if any anomaly came too close. If they detected presences outside, they would limit themselves to observing without actively attacking. They couldn't afford to waste unnecessary energy or fall into potential traps.
After discussing it for a while, they reached an agreement.
At first, Haruka wanted to divide the night into three equal shifts, one for each of them. However, she eventually gave in to Mochi and Miyu's insistence.
Only the two of them would stand guard.
Haruka would sleep through the entire night and would only be awakened in case of emergency.
It was the most logical choice. Haruka possessed the greatest combat capability; keeping her well-rested was, strategically, the best decision.
Haruka sighed, resigned.
"Remember: do not leave the inn under any circumstances. Check the windows constantly. If you see something outside, limit yourselves to observing. And if you notice anything strange, no matter how small, wake me immediately. Stay alert and don't get distracted. Understood?"
"Yes, yes, Mom, we know," Mochi replied with a tired smile as she gently pushed Haruka toward the futon. "Now go to sleep."
Haruka tried to protest, but Mochi was relentless.
"You two rest easy," Miyu added. "I'll take the first shift."
"I'm counting on you, Miyu. And come wake me when it's time to switch," Mochi said. "Don't try to stay up longer than necessary."
Miyu nodded and left the room.
Silence immediately fell.
Only the crackling of the firewood burning in the stove could be heard. Outside, the wind howled violently, battering the walls of the inn. Without electricity, the room remained almost dark; the only light came from the fire, tinting everything with a soft orange hue.
Even so, the cold continued to seep in slowly.
Haruka slid into her futon. Just as she was about to pull the blanket over herself, Mochi suddenly sat up from hers.
"Haruka… move over. Make some space for me. I'm cold… sharing the futon will be warmer."
Haruka froze, surprised.
Normally, she was the one who ended up invading Mochi's futon.
Haruka nodded silently and shifted to one side.
Mochi didn't get into the futon immediately; instead, she remained standing beside it and swallowed hard.
She took a deep breath, gathering her courage.
With a quick movement, she untied the knot of her robe.
The fabric opened, revealing the delicate set of underwear she wore underneath.
It wasn't the first time Haruka had seen her with little clothing; they had shared baths countless times. However, this time the atmosphere was different.
Haruka's eyes widened in surprise.
A faint blush appeared on her cheeks.
Mochi froze.
The idea had come as an impulse: she wanted to make Haruka nervous… maybe tease her a little. But the bravery that had carried her this far vanished instantly.
Embarrassment caught up with her.
She stood motionless, unsure of what to do.
For an endless second, they stared at each other.
The blush climbed up Mochi's neck.
And then, unable to bear it any longer, she jumped into the futon, closing the distance and wrapping Haruka in a tight embrace.
"I saw this on a survival program!" Mochi blurted out, her voice muffled and nervous. "It keeps the heat better this way. That's why I did it!"
Haruka, still stunned by what had just happened, took a few seconds to react. Mochi's warm body pressed against hers was both comforting and overwhelming at the same time. She tried to tilt her head to see her face, to guess what she was thinking, but Mochi had it firmly buried against her chest, hiding any expression.
With a slow movement, Haruka pulled the thick blanket over both of them, wrapping them completely.
She unintentionally inhaled Mochi's soft, slightly sweet scent, and the blush already coloring her cheeks deepened.
"Mochi…" Haruka whispered softly. "Why were you angry with me yesterday? In the end, I never understood what I did. Tell me. I don't want to do anything that bothers you."
Mochi remained silent for a long moment. Her grip around Haruka tightened, as if she were struggling with something she didn't know how to express. Finally, she answered in a reluctant murmur, almost lost against the fabric of the robe.
"…Because of the massage."
"You didn't like it?" Haruka asked, confused.
The embrace tightened even more.
"No…" The denial was so quiet it was barely audible.
"What did you say? Repeat it, Mochi."
There was a brief hesitation. Then, in a thin voice:
"I was jealous… that you did it with Miyu too."
Haruka felt the air catch in her lungs.
"Je-jealous?"
Before Haruka could process it, Mochi moved abruptly.
"We should sleep," she cut in, forcing a practical tone. "It'll be my turn to stand guard soon. You should sleep too."
She buried herself even more against her chest, refusing to look at her, hiding the face that burned like a tomato.
Haruka remained silent for a few seconds, waiting. She tried to insist, but Mochi didn't respond. She even began to pretend she was asleep.
In the end, Haruka gave up.
She closed her eyes… but she didn't miss the chance to return the embrace. She carefully wrapped her arms around Mochi, drawing her just a little closer.
Mochi's body reacted with a slight shiver.
She wasn't asleep.
Haruka said nothing. She simply held the embrace gently.
—
In a different room of the inn, the atmosphere was completely different.
Genzou and Ume stood before the bed where their daughter's body lay.
Rin.
Her face bore a serene expression, free of any trace of anguish. She almost looked as though she might wake up at any moment and open her eyes.
But she wouldn't.
Ume was kneeling beside the bed. Her sobs were hoarse and broken; she had been crying for hours without pause. With both hands, she held Rin's hand—that hand that no longer returned warmth or pressure. Ume's grip was desperate, as if she could give her life through contact.
The room was silent, except for her crying.
Genzou remained seated on a wooden chair in the corner of the room, motionless.
He looked like a statue carved from stone.
There were no tears in his eyes, only an empty stare fixed on the space between him and the bed. His mind refused to accept what he was seeing. At any moment, he thought, the terror would fade. He would wake up startled at dawn, and Rin would come running down the stairs, complaining that she was hungry.
It was just a nightmare.
It had to be.
Then, a voice emerged from the depths of the room.
It did not come from the door. Nor from the window. Nor from any specific point.
It seemed to emanate from the darkness itself.
It was a strange, deep voice, with a wet gurgling undertone, as if whoever spoke were submerged underwater.
Ume stopped sobbing.
Genzou blinked.
Both of them lifted their gaze toward the opposite corner. There, something stood.
They couldn't distinguish any features.
Only an elongated, unnatural silhouette whose form seemed to merge with the shadows.
"I am Mizuchi," the voice announced with disturbing calm. "The guardian of these waters. The deity who watches over this place."
A chill ran down Ume's spine.
Mizuchi-sama.
The local deity. The protector of the lake. The one to whom offerings were left during festivals and prayers were raised in times of drought.
Genzou's mind, still clinging to logic, struggled to reconcile the mythical figure from the tales with the oppressive presence that now filled the room.
The voice changed then.
It became strangely sweet.
A low, clinging melody that seemed to slide through his ears and resonate directly inside his skull.
"I know what you have lost… and I know what you desire."
Ume tightened her grip on her daughter's cold hand.
"I can return the girl to you."
The offer fell like a bolt of lightning in the middle of the silence.
For an instant, the air seemed to vanish from the room.
It was impossible.
It was absurd.
And yet…
A fierce need to believe blossomed in both their chests. An irrational, desperate impulse. If there was even the slightest possibility, even if it was an illusion, they wanted to cling to it.
He was there to return what had been taken from them.
"Right now, my power is diminished by the fury of the storm," Mizuchi continued, his voice almost hypnotic. "I need strength. A small tribute in order to grant the miracle."
The silhouette seemed to lengthen slightly, as if leaning toward them.
The voice grew lower and deeper.
"I need three lives. Three sacrifices. Deliver three souls to me… and I will return your daughter to you."
The words did not sound like a threat but like a promise.
And that was what made it truly terrifying.
Three lives.
To kill someone.
Ume and Genzou looked at each other instinctively. The promise was too sweet, but the condition too atrocious. A spark of reason screamed in the depths of their minds: this was not a blessing.
It was a pact with the devil.
Mizuchi seemed to sense their hesitation.
He snapped his fingers.
Then, the impossible happened.
Rin's body, pale and lifeless, moved.
Her eyes opened suddenly.
Ume let out a choked gasp.
Rin slowly sat up in the bed, swaying as if it were difficult to support her own weight. Her hands, icy and stiff, reached toward her mother.
"Mom… I was very cold…" she whispered in a weak, brittle voice.
The scream caught in Ume's throat as she lunged forward, arms outstretched, desperate to hold her.
But before she could touch her, it ended.
Like a puppet whose strings had been abruptly cut, Rin's body fell back. The light in her eyes went out. Her skin lost every trace of life.
She became dead weight upon the mattress once more.
The silence that followed was unbearable.
"Bring me three lives…" Mizuchi said, now without a trace of sweetness. "And I will return her to you—truly."
Ume collapsed beside the bed, sobbing with renewed despair. She had tasted the miracle… and it had been torn away in the same instant.
Genzou did not speak.
But his eyes were no longer empty.
He rose slowly and walked to the cabinet in the corner. He opened it with a sharp motion and took out an old double-barreled shotgun, the same one he used for hunting in winter.
He placed it on the table.
His hands trembled as he opened the box of shells.
One.
Two.
The metallic sound of the ammunition sliding into place echoed through the room.
No one answered Mizuchi.
But the choice was already clear.
Just as he finished loading the weapon, a soft knock sounded at the door.
The knob turned.
The door opened, letting in a gust of cold air from the hallway.
It was Kaori.
The young woman's face was marked by concern. She held two steaming bowls in her hands.
"Mr. Genzou… Mrs. Ume…" she said gently. "I was worried. I brought you some hot miso soup. You need to eat something."
She stepped into the room.