6/18/2026, 11:18 AM
Again, he had failed.
Again, he was left alone with his thoughts and his shame.
Hunting, eating had become a chore. He lacked the desire to sleep, but it was unbearable to stay awake; at least in dreams, Osamu could enjoy fleeting moments of what might have been. Perhaps he was cursed. Had the Oni done so? He could not remember it saying anything of the nature, nothing else beyond its thunderous laughter as the comforting numbness of a death swift approaching sent him -
- here.
A wolf. He could hardly recall a time now when he hadn't been. This was meant to be, he had thought it to be a second chance at redemption, a way to atone for his failures wearing a new skin.
Never had he thought in his wildest dreams he would meet someone like her.
Izumi.
Osamu had taken up her cause without a second thought and swore himself as her guardian and mentor. It had been fate that brought them together, rising with the Fujiwara Clan as they worked tirelessly to create a home for the Empress and her subjects, her companions and friends; yet so much time spent together had wrought forbidden desires within his heart.
He tried to fight against it, of course. It was a daily grapple with his emotions simply being near her, to spar and train with her, the closeness of their breath and press of their bodies driving him nearly mad -
Oh, but how sweet was the forbidden fruit once tasted. Yet the words had barely escaped their lips when - through whatever cosmic force, whatever furious deity - Izumi had been spirited away from him, leaving nary a trace.
Osamu remained. Fujiwara collapsed, then dispersed. He had spent many moons after guarding their home in Queen's Rest, a lone sentinal against the inexorable tide of loneliness, staring out toward the silent sea as everything had been taken from him once again.
Eventually, he left. He had to leave. The memories were crushing, the scent of wisteria maddening, and every day he walked by their empty dens with ice in his heart and emptiness in his grey, listless gaze.
And now he was a sorry sight.
The ghost of Osamu lingered in the woods, a silver shadow wearing his face. Quietly he slipped between the tall trees, a light breeze lending a chill to the air that made him bristle as he padded forward; although he had no interest in food, his body required it, and the near-constant growl of his stomach had grown irritating.
"YUKIMI!"
His blood ran cold. The name was unknown to him, but the voice - he knew that voice -
Osamu ran toward the sound.
Another ghost lay pale in the cold light of the moon. He tried to open his mouth to speak to the spirit, but nothing came out as it caught in his throat.
![[Image: ZvwmV36.png]](https://i.imgur.com/ZvwmV36.png)
