The darkness gave her no chance to catch her breath.
Footsteps surged in from every direction, growing denser by the second; the scrape of metal dragging across stone and the shrill hiss of blades sliding over the floor blurred into one continuous roar.
Hinako Shimizu's breath came fast and searing hot, her heart hammering in her chest like a war drum, the pounding rattling her eardrums until they rang. The wound in her stomach was still bleeding, warm liquid trickling down her abdomen — yet she seemed to feel none of it.
Staring at the roiling darkness, staring at the shapes closing in from every side, Hinako didn't even notice the corner of her mouth twisting into something close to a manic grin.
"Come and get me!"
She didn't retreat, and she didn't hold her ground either. The fighting and pain had stirred something fierce in her, a will to battle — she let out a roar and charged straight into the thick of the darkness.
The burning lantern pole swung up in both hands, trailing a twisting streak of orange firelight around her like a blazing meteor, lighting up a face full of wild abandon.
A faceless monster lunged at her, rotting limbs spread wide, a hissing wheeze rattling from its throat. Hinako didn't slow — she swung the pole with both hands, putting her whole body's weight behind the blow.
"Crack—!!"
The pole smashed into the creature's skull, shattering it instantly; the whole body flew sideways and crashed into the deeper dark.
A second. A third. A fourth—!
Hack, sweep, spin-slash—!
No pattern, no restraint, no end — nothing but blow after unbroken blow. The flames licked over every inch of shadow, and the wind she carved through the air was thick with the reek of scorched flesh and spattering blood. Ghastly shrieks shattered one after another in the firelight, and the thick darkness was pounded to pieces; monster after twisted monster fell beneath her strikes, skulls cracked open, bones broken, sinews torn.
Hinako struck harder with every swing, the pole growing more natural in her hands with each blow. She didn't need to think anymore — she'd handed the fight over entirely to instinct, and the whirling fire roared as it crushed everything in its path.
Slowly, the ink-thick darkness around her began to burn away like fog scorched by flame, dissolving visibly, inch by inch, peeling back to reveal the true shapes hidden beneath.
First came the flagstones beneath her feet — clean, unmarked by any trace of the blood and rot from moments before, as though the brutal fight had been nothing but illusion.
Next, a vermilion wooden pillar swam into the firelight, its surface polished smooth and carved with intricate, ancient Shinto patterns. An octagonal lantern hung from its top, the paper glowing with a warm white light, its tassels woven from vermilion silk thread, hanging still.
As the fighting reached its end, whole swaths of darkness burned away into nothing.
The darkness on either side retreated in turn, and an entire row of matching vermilion zelkova pillars emerged, stretching from beneath her feet into the distance, forming a long, straight sandō. Each pillar stood evenly spaced from the next, holding up towering eaves; the interlocking bracket-work overhead was intricate and precise, radiating an air of solemn, austere dignity.
Hinako leaned on the charred, blackened pole, her legs trembling faintly. Sweat had soaked through her torn school uniform, mixing with blood and sticking to her skin, and several wounds sent sharp jolts of pain through her — but she barely registered any of it. She lifted her eyes and looked ahead, finally taking in the full shape of the space around her.
This was the sandō inside a shrine's main hall, the flagstones beneath her feet polished smooth and running straight ahead. At the far end of the path stood a massive shrine gate, its wood grain dark and deep, set with a pair of bronze beast-face ring handles — its closed doors sealing inside from outside.
Was that it? The way out of this place!
Feeling no fatigue at all, Hinako fixed her eyes on the distant gate and staggered toward it, dragging behind her the now-extinguished lantern pole.
But just as she was about to reach the doorway, the gate opened.
The heavy sacred doors let out a dull creak as they swung slowly open from the outside.
"Another one already?"
Hinako froze mid-step, watching the widening gap of the gate with wary eyes.
But no more darkness poured in from beyond it. Instead, a thread of almost otherworldly white light spilled through, falling right at the center of the threshold and outlining a tall, upright figure.
The figure stepped inside at an unhurried pace, wrapped in a stillness that matched the shrine's own quiet air. He wore white kariginu, and over his face sat a Fox Mask; through the hollowed eye-sockets, a pair of eyes locked onto Hinako without wavering — even through the mask, she could feel the thick, inescapable worry and lingering fear radiating from him.
"Hinako...! I'm sorry. I'm late."
The fox-masked man strode quickly toward her, his voice thick with belated apology and the tension of someone who'd just survived something terrible.
"Stop! Don't come any closer!"
Far from relaxing at his worried words, Hinako felt every muscle in her body snap taut the instant she heard him call her name.
"Who are you? That fox mask... are you some cultist who worships the fox spirit?"
She stepped back half a pace, raising the charred pole crosswise before her in a defensive stance.
The movement pulled at her wounds, sending a sharp jolt of pain through her whole body — but it only sharpened her focus. Her eyes, fixed on the fox-masked man, were full of wariness and suspicion, and her voice still carried the leftover ferocity of the fight.
Suspicious. Far too suspicious!
A man who suddenly appeared expressing concern right after the fighting ended, his origins unknown, his face unfamiliar — there was no way he could be some savior conjured out of thin air.
Hinako hadn't forgotten what Ultraseven had told her — about the fox spirit that demanded living sacrifices. Whoever had turned this village into what it now was had to be deeply tied to the fox spirit.
And a man wearing a fox mask, appearing inside a shrine dedicated to worshipping that very fox spirit — how could he possibly be anything good?
The fighting spirit that had crushed through the darkness moments ago hadn't faded yet. Hinako's knuckles locked white around the pole, the charred wood grain biting into her palms — if the fox-masked man took even one more step forward, she wouldn't hesitate to swing.
"What's wrong, Hinako? Why are you treating me like this?"
The fox-masked man clearly sensed her resistance and hostility. He stopped where he stood and asked, his voice full of concern.
"Don't try to get friendly with me! Just who are you?!"
Hinako glared at him, swinging the pole once in warning, her voice vicious.
"It's me, Hinako. Have you really forgotten me?"
Sorrow flickered across the visible half of his face. His voice was gentle as a stream of spring snowmelt, like the slow, lingering chime of a shrine bell, carrying some inexplicable soothing power that brushed softly over Hinako's taut, trembling nerves.
Without meaning to, her grip on the pole loosened slightly. The ferocity and vigilance forged in battle moments ago began, uncontrollably, to fade away.
Belated pain and exhaustion washed over her; her thoughts turned sluggish and blurred, like cotton soaked through with water. The figure of the fox-masked man before her began, inexplicably, to feel familiar and safe in a way it had no right to.
It made no sense. The man in front of her was a complete unknown, and everything connected to the fox spirit should have been her mortal enemy — yet the moment she heard his voice, the taut string in her mind slackened against her will.
"You're exhausted, Hinako."
His voice came again, still soft and slow, but carrying a warmth that seeped into every crack, wrapping around her from every direction.
"Put the pole down. I won't hurt you. It's safe here — with me around, no more monsters can touch you."
Her thoughts grew duller by the second.
The crushing dark, the bloody fight, the monsters' shrieking — all of it grew hazy and distant, as if wrapped in thick fog. Only the gentle voice remained clear, like the one piece of driftwood in a drowning sea.
Her arms began to weaken, the pole she held crosswise sagging lower bit by bit; even her breathing slowed, and her whole body sank into a near-paralytic looseness.
But just as her fingers were about to let go of the pole, a searing, majestic power surged up from the deepest part of her heart.
That power struck like the first light of dawn, piercing instantly through the fog the voice had woven, jolting her clouded mind back into sharp clarity.
The pain of her wounds, the ache of exhaustion, the tension in her nerves — every true sensation snapped back into place. The looseness vanished, replaced by an even sharper wariness and cold resolve.
Hinako shuddered violently, her pupils contracting.
She had almost lowered her weapon in front of a total stranger — a suspected cultist!
There was something wrong with this man's voice!
The moment full awareness returned, cold dread shot up her spine. Her eyes hardened; she gave him no chance to try to bewitch her again. Her feet drove hard against the smooth flagstones, and using the momentum, she lunged forward like a leopard that had been coiling to strike, hurtling straight at the fox-masked man!
The charred pole clenched in both fists swung back behind her, and with every ounce of explosive force in her body, she drove it straight at the fox-masked man's chest!
A shrill shriek tore through the air as the blow came down, the fierce gust carrying the scorched smell of burnt wood, bearing down on him without the slightest restraint.
The fox-masked man clearly hadn't expected the sudden assault. He jerked back a step, twisting his body just barely enough to dodge the crushing blow. The pole grazed the sleeve of his white kariginu before slamming into the heavy sacred doors behind him with a thunderous boom, gouging a deep dent into the solid wood.
"Hinako! What's gotten into you?!"
The fox-masked man steadied himself; the gentleness in his voice hadn't vanished, but it was now thick with bewilderment and anxiety. He made no move to attack, only spread his hands in a placating gesture, his tone urgent.
"Has some filth attached itself to you, corrupting your mind? Has it addled your thoughts so badly you've even forgotten me?"
"I don't know you at all!"
Hinako raised the pole crosswise before her once more, her feet shifting into a stance ready to strike again at any moment. The movement pulled at her wounds, and the sharp pain only honed her glare further; still burning with unspent ferocity, she demanded, voice sharp.
"Just who are you?! Did you bring me here? I'm warning you — Mr. Ultraseven will come find me soon, so you'd better not try anything! No evil spirit, whatever it is, is a match for Ultraseven — don't waste your hope on it!"
The fox-masked man looked at her wary, guarded face, fell silent for a moment, and let out a helpless sigh.
"I'm Tsuneki Hisayuki. Your husband, Hinako."
He slowly raised a hand, fingertips brushing the Fox Mask on his face — but he didn't remove it, only spoke to her in that same gentle voice.
The words struck her mind like a thunderclap.
"Hisayuki... Hisayuki?"
She froze in place, her grip on the pole trembling; the charred wood nearly slipped from her hands.
"How could it be you?"
Of course Hinako knew Tsuneki Hisayuki. He'd been her childhood playmate. Though he'd left the village with his mother later on, once he'd settled somewhere new, the two of them had kept up a steady exchange of letters ever since. And not only that—
Not long ago, Hisayuki had proposed marriage to her parents.
And her parents had accepted his proposal. She was now, officially, his fiancée.
The mounting stress that had forced her to take more and more headache medicine — that, too, stemmed from her engagement to Tsuneki Hisayuki.
It wasn't that she had no feelings for him at all. Their shared childhood, the years of letters between them — their bond went beyond mere friendship, and perhaps it would have been natural for them to become lovers, given time.
But... she didn't want to marry him like this. She refused to let her parents dictate her fate under the guise of "doing what's best for her," and she couldn't accept that her father was marrying her off simply to collect a bride-price and pay off his debts!
Her mother, who endured her father's brutality without complaint, always said a woman's happiness lay in marriage.
Could her mother's marriage to her father really be called happiness? In this battered, wound-scarred household, what kind of "woman's happiness" was her mother, as a wife, actually enjoying?
She couldn't understand it. And besides, wasn't the engagement to Tsuneki Hisayuki really about that sky-high bride-price? All this talk of "marrying her off" — wasn't it just selling her for money? Just like what had happened to her sister.
She couldn't accept it. Absolutely couldn't. Even if they were right, she would never accept it — and even if her own choice turned out wrong, she was going to be the one to make it.
The first time she'd seen Tsuneki Hisayuki, her childhood friend, after the engagement was settled, a tangle of conflicting emotions had risen in her — she'd called his name, then trailed off before she could finish.
"Hisayuki..."
Wait!
Even as she spoke his name with all that conflicted feeling, a chill ran through her, and wariness seized her mind completely.
Why — why was Hisayuki here, in a place like this?
"Are you... really Hisayuki?"
If he really was Hisayuki... then why was he wearing a fox mask? Why was he here? Why was he speaking to her in a voice that could bewitch the mind like that?
Her heart sank lower by the moment; the look she gave the fox-masked man was thick with wariness and a trace of hostility.
Everything Amamiya Rin had told her about the fox spirit's rites, about the human sacrifices, flashed through her mind. In a place like this, wearing a fox mask — just who, or what, was Tsuneki Hisayuki, really?
____
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🔥 New history: DanMachi: Inheriting the Legacy of Alternate Versions — posted on The_Mikudayo