Astra sat cross-legged in the center of a chalk-drawn circle, her hands resting on her knees, palms up, as incense smoke curled around her in thin ribbons. The shrine's stone courtyard was bathed in pale morning light, but it did nothing to lift her mood.
The ritual had dragged on for over an hour. An old priest moved slowly around her, muttering chants under his breath as he sprinkled sacred water from a bronze ladle. Each cold droplet that struck her skin made her flinch slightly—not from fear, but growing frustration.
"I swear if he circles me one more time I'm going to throw this incense stick in his face," Astra muttered, barely keeping her voice below the chanting.
From a distance, Kaen stood near one of the shrine's large stone lanterns, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with a wince.
"Now I understand why Xue didn't want to come," he said under his breath, glancing down at the boy hiding behind his leg.
Seirou stood beside him, quiet and observant as always. "It's the divine energy," he finally said. "Even though there's no corrupted aura coming from Xue, the purification field here is strong. It's irritating him."
Kaen nodded grimly. "Yeah… I figured. That's why I told Ryoma to stay behind too. He's worse than Xue when he gets overwhelmed." He paused, his voice dropping slightly. "But Ryoma didn't stay just because of that. He said he felt strange since morning. Shion, too. He had a high fever."
Seirou raised a brow, skeptical. "The fox had a fever?"
Kaen gave him a sharp elbow to the side. "Shh. Don't say that out loud, he'll sense it from three blocks away."
Seirou didn't respond. Instead, he crouched without a word and gently picked Xue up, turning the boy in his arms and placing a hand to his forehead. His expression changed almost instantly.
Kaen tilted his head. "What is it? Does he have a fever too?"
Seirou slowly shook his head. "No… it's the opposite." His voice dropped a note. "He's ice cold."
A chill crawled down Kaen's spine. He took a half step forward, voice lowered to a whisper. "Is that from the divine energy? Or…something else?"
Seirou didn't answer immediately. His eyes were still on Xue.
"No. This cold… isn't because of that."
Kaen exhaled, eyes flicking toward the boy in Seirou's arms. "Seirou," he said quietly, "I think I need to head back."
Seirou turned, frowning slightly. "Why?"
Kaen's eyes narrowed toward the horizon. "Something feels off. I don't know what it is, but I can't ignore it. I'll take Xue with me—he shouldn't stay here any longer."
He paused, then glanced over at Astra, still sitting in the center of the sacred circle, her brows furrowed and lips pressed tight in visible irritation as the ritual dragged on.
"Will you…?"
Seirou followed his gaze. His expression softened slightly with understanding. He gave a short nod. "I'll take care of things here."
"Good," Kaen said, his voice low but sincere.
He stepped forward, carefully lifting Xue from Seirou's arms. The boy didn't stir, but the moment Kaen cradled him close, a sharp breath escaped his lips.
"Damn—he's freezing."
His arms tensed instinctively as his skin prickled from the cold, as if holding solid ice wrapped in silk. The chill was biting, seeping through fabric and muscle. Still, Kaen held on tightly, wrapping the boy gently in his clothes.
Without another word, he turned and left the shrine grounds, his footsteps quickening.
Seirou watched them go for a moment, then leaned back against one of the stone pillars, arms folded.
His eyes drifted back to Astra in the circle, now visibly scowling at the old man chanting and tossing yet another sprinkle of holy water over her.
He tilted his head slightly, muttering under his breath.
"How long am I supposed to wait like this?" A pause. Then quieter, almost a sigh, "This doesn't feel right… and neither does she."
His gaze lingered a moment longer.
"…Uh this looks like she's already teetering on the edge," he muttered under his breath.
"If this drags on any longer… she might snap on her own. Wouldn't even need him to stir anything. That temper might just do the work for him."
There was a pause as he watched her jaw tighten again, the tension radiating off her like heat from stone.
"And when that happens…" He sighed, almost to himself.
"We'll all have a real problem."
Kaen left the shrine with haste, Xue bundled tightly in his arms. The boy's body remained unnaturally cold, and though his eyes fluttered in restless half-sleep, he didn't stir. As soon as they reached the quarters, Kaen gently handed him over to Seiya, who was walking by the inner hall.
"Keep him wrapped and warm," Kaen instructed, voice low and urgent. "Don't leave his side. If anything changes… anything—call me."
Seiya nodded, a rare flicker of concern crossing his usually calm features. Kaen gave one last glance, then turned and sprinted down the corridor toward Ryoma's room.
He paused at the sliding door, his hand hovering over the frame.
There was a sound—a thud, sharp and sudden, something crashing to the ground.
Kaen shoved the door aside without hesitation. "Ryoma!"
Inside, the room was chaos. Chairs had been knocked out, a low table lay on its side, and the window screen was partially torn open, letting in the cold air. Ryoma stood unsteadily in the middle of the wreckage, clutching his head with trembling fingers, breath ragged and uneven. His skin was pale—too pale and a light sheen of sweat clung to his brow despite the frost in the air.
"Ryoma—what's happening to you?" Kaen rushed to his side, gripping his shoulders, but recoiled slightly. "You're freezing… your skin's like ice…"
Ryoma couldn't answer. His lips parted but no sound came,just a raw, choked breath. His fingers dug into Kaen's arms, shaking violently. And then—
Kaen's eyes widened as Ryoma's grip turned brutal. In one sharp, fluid motion, Ryoma shoved him back, slamming Kaen against the wall with unnatural strength. His forearm pressed hard against Kaen's throat, pinning him in place.
"R-Ryoma," Kaen rasped, trying not to panic, "…it's me."
Ryoma's eyes weren't normal. They were unfocused, glazed with something darker—like he was trapped in a haze, somewhere between consciousness and possession.
Kaen's hands reached up slowly, not to fight, but to anchor.
"Come on," he said softly, breath shallow. "You know my voice… It's Kaen. You're not alone. You're not whatever this is."
Ryoma's grip faltered for a second just a second and Kaen took it. He leaned forward, closing the distance, his voice dropping to a whisper. His forehead gently rested against Ryoma's, cold meeting warmth.
"I'm here. You don't need to fight it alone. Whatever this is… I'll pull you back."
Kaen's voice was low, steady, filled with the kind of tenderness he rarely let anyone hear. His forehead still rested against Ryoma's, the chill seeping into his bones. For a heartbeat, it felt like Ryoma was calming, something inside him recognized the voice, the warmth, the grip that wouldn't let go.
But then—
A sharp, involuntary jerk ran through Ryoma's body.
His hands clawed at his temples, and a low, guttural sound escaped his throat. His back arched as if something invisible had just twisted him from the inside out. The air shifted. Thick. Heavy. Then a high-pitched ringing flooded the room piercing and unnatural, like steel shrieking inside Kaen's skull.
Kaen winced, jaw clenched tight as a searing pain stabbed through his head. He staggered but didn't fall, refusing to let go.
Ryoma thrashed again, eyes wide and glassy. Blood trickled faintly from his nose, and his lips moved, but no words came, only gasps, like something was clawing its way through his lungs.
Kaen reached for him again, arms wrapping tightly around him from behind, locking him in place even as Ryoma struggled.
"Stop—Ryoma, it's me!" he hissed, voice nearly breaking. "Why can't you recognize me?!"