Morning arrived in the Swordsmith Village without ceremony.
The alarm from the previous night had proven to be exactly what Karina predicted: reconnaissance. No direct engagement. No casualties. A deliberate probe, testing response time, positioning, coordination. The demon—or demons—had retreated before blades could properly meet flesh.
That alone troubled her.
Karina stood near the eastern ridge, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the stone path where faint distortions still shimmered in her perception. Arcane Breathing traced those fractures effortlessly, mapping the residue of presence left behind. Whoever had been watching understood restraint.
And patience.
Behind her, the village resumed its rhythm. Forges reignited. Smiths returned to work with tense efficiency. Guards rotated in tighter formations.
Eyes followed her wherever she moved.
She was accustomed to scrutiny. Still, there was something different here—not suspicion alone, but curiosity layered with unease. They felt it. The anomaly. The foreign variable that had drawn Upper Rank attention directly to their hidden stronghold.
"Karina."
Shinobu Kocho's voice carried easily through the morning air, light and melodic as ever. Karina turned to face her, already bracing for examination.
Shinobu approached with her usual serene smile, hands folded within her sleeves. Behind her, Kanao Tsuyuri followed in silence, eyes sharp, posture precise.
"You look remarkably composed for someone who was nearly dissected by an Upper Rank demon less than a week ago," Shinobu said cheerfully.
"Composure is a skill," Karina replied.
"And pain tolerance?" Shinobu added.
Karina met her gaze evenly. "Necessary."
Shinobu's smile sharpened. "Fascinating."
Kanao said nothing, but her attention lingered on Karina longer than strictly necessary. There was no hostility in her stare—only assessment. Recognition, perhaps.
Shinobu gestured toward the inner compound. "Walk with us. I want to discuss your… response patterns."
Karina nodded once and fell into step beside them.
As they moved, she became aware of another presence trailing slightly behind—Mitsuri.
The awareness was immediate, instinctive. Karina did not turn. She did not need to.
Shinobu noticed anyway.
"Oh my," she said lightly. "You two are inseparable now."
Mitsuri laughed, a little too brightly. "We just happened to be in the same place."
"Of course," Shinobu replied. "Pure coincidence."
Karina ignored the exchange, focusing instead on Shinobu's words.
"Response patterns," Karina repeated. "Clarify."
"Your breathing destabilized briefly during the alert," Shinobu said. "Not enough to be dangerous, but enough to be… notable."
Karina frowned. "I maintained control."
"You did," Shinobu agreed. "But not effortlessly."
They stopped beneath the shade of a large awning near one of the larger forges. Heat radiated outward in steady waves, the metallic scent thick in the air.
Shinobu turned fully toward Karina. "Your Arcane Breathing reacts strongly to emotional stimuli."
Karina stiffened. "That's an assumption."
"It's an observation," Shinobu corrected. "One I find rather intriguing."
Mitsuri stepped closer, her presence warm at Karina's side. "Is that dangerous?"
Shinobu tilted her head. "Not inherently. But it makes Karina… responsive."
Karina's jaw tightened. "I don't lose control."
"I didn't say you did," Shinobu replied sweetly. "Only that something—or someone—affects your equilibrium."
Her eyes flicked briefly toward Mitsuri.
The silence that followed was sharp.
Karina broke it. "If this is a liability, say it plainly."
Shinobu studied her for a long moment, then shook her head. "Not a liability. A vector."
Karina frowned. "Explain."
"Emotion amplifies your power," Shinobu said. "But it also distorts it. The more invested you become, the less predictable the outcome."
Karina absorbed that quietly.
Predictability was safety.
Mitsuri's voice was soft. "Does that mean she shouldn't fight?"
Shinobu smiled. "On the contrary. It means she must understand what she's feeling."
Karina exhaled slowly. "Feelings are distractions."
"Only if you ignore them," Shinobu replied.
Kanao shifted slightly, finally speaking. "You fight differently when she's near."
Karina turned to her, surprised.
Kanao met her gaze without flinching. "Your stance adjusts. You leave fewer openings. But you also overextend."
Karina said nothing.
Mitsuri looked between them, brows knitting slightly. "Is that bad?"
"It depends," Shinobu said. "On whether Karina can accept that not all strength comes from isolation."
Karina stepped back, creating distance she suddenly needed. "This discussion is irrelevant. The enemy is approaching. That's the priority."
Shinobu inclined her head. "As you wish."
But her eyes lingered thoughtfully.
Later, as the sun climbed higher, Karina found herself alone near the blade forge where her weapon was being reforged. The swordsmiths worked in silence, their masked faces betraying nothing. Sparks flew as metal was shaped with reverent precision.
Karina watched, arms folded, thoughts turbulent.
She felt it again—that subtle pull whenever Mitsuri was near. The way her Arcane Breathing adjusted unconsciously. The way her attention fractured.
She did not like it.
"Thinking too loudly again?"
Mitsuri's voice came from behind her.
Karina turned. "You have a habit of appearing unannounced."
Mitsuri smiled. "You always notice."
She leaned against a nearby post, posture relaxed, eyes attentive. "Shinobu's worried."
"That's not new."
"She's not wrong," Mitsuri said gently.
Karina's gaze flicked away. "You heard."
"Enough."
The forge's heat intensified as molten metal was poured, the glow reflecting off Mitsuri's eyes. She stepped closer, lowering her voice.
"Do I… interfere?" she asked.
Karina's response was immediate. "No."
Mitsuri blinked. "That was fast."
Karina hesitated, then corrected herself. "You influence. That is not the same."
Mitsuri considered that, then nodded slowly. "And that frightens you."
"Yes."
The honesty surprised them both.
Mitsuri's expression softened. "You don't have to be afraid."
Karina met her gaze, something raw flickering beneath her composure. "You don't understand what happens when I lose control."
Mitsuri stepped into her space without hesitation, close enough that Karina could feel the warmth of her body, the steady rhythm of her breathing.
"Then let me understand," Mitsuri said.
Karina's throat tightened. "That's not something I can allow."
Mitsuri's hand rose—not touching, just hovering near Karina's chest. "You don't have to allow it. Just don't push me away."
The world narrowed again.
Karina's instincts screamed retreat. Strategy demanded distance.
But something else—quieter, insistent—urged stillness.
Before she could respond, a ripple of distortion cut through the air like a blade.
Karina spun, Arcane Breathing flaring as space warped unnaturally a short distance away. Mitsuri moved instantly, blade drawn, stance protective.
A grotesque ceramic vase emerged from the rock face, cracking open to reveal a slithering form.
Gyokko's laughter echoed softly through the forge grounds.
"Oh my, oh my," he crooned. "What an exquisite reaction."
Swordsmiths scattered in alarm. Guards shouted warnings.
Karina stepped forward, eyes cold, posture lethal. "You shouldn't be here."
Gyokko's many eyes fixed on her—and then slid toward Mitsuri with undisguised delight.
"So close," he hissed. "So warm. How precious."
Mitsuri bristled. "Don't look at her."
Gyokko chuckled. "Oh, but I must. She's the key, isn't she?"
Karina felt the shift immediately—the way Arcane Breathing surged, unstable, responsive.
Gyokko tilted his head. "You fight best when you're afraid to lose something."
Karina lunged.
The world fractured.
Steel met warped reality as the first true clash erupted, the Swordsmith Village trembling beneath the weight of what had been set in motion.
And through it all, unseen but undeniable, eyes lingered—measuring not just strength, but attachment.
The fracture had begun.