Chapter Eighteen:

  “Between Stone and Flame”

  The fires from the night before had burned low, their embers pulsing quietly in the snow-dusted clearing. Cold air wrapped around the Yama-Okami village, crisp and clear, still echoing with the Elder’s voice from the night before. Smoke rose from the last coals like a whispered prayer.

  Yumi stood near the central fire, her cloak drawn tight around her shoulders. Her breath came slow and visible, her fingers tugging at the leather straps on her sleeves. Whether it was the morning chill or what lay ahead, even she couldn’t say. Her tails twitched restlessly behind her.

  The village was already stirring. Warriors threaded silently through the snow-covered paths, prepping gear, checking weapons, offering quiet nods of respect. All of them knew the barrier was weakening. All of them knew what was at stake.

  Footsteps approached. Rai.

  She stepped beside Yumi without a word, her presence grounding. “You didn’t sleep.”

  “I tried.” Yumi didn’t look at her. “Too much in my head.”

  Rai grunted softly and knelt by her satchel, checking the contents. “No idea what the climb’s like, but it looks brutal. We should be ready for anything.”

  Yumi pulled her cloak tighter, her eyes on the path winding up into the peaks. “I’m not afraid,” she said. “Not of the climb. Not of what’s waiting. I thought a lot about what you said—about standing back up. And I will. No matter what’s ahead.”

  Rai stood and studied her for a moment. Then, gently, she placed a hand on Yumi’s shoulder. “You’re not going to have to alone. Not now. Not ever.”

  Yumi turned, meeting her gaze. She nodded.

  And the mountain waited.

  Frost crunched underfoot as Yumi and Rai moved toward the gathering point. Higher up the slope, Takeshi and Kaori waited, their breath visible as they checked climbing gear and provisions.

  The peaks loomed over them like silent gods, draped in cloud and stone. Above, the barrier shimmered weakly against the morning sky, its glow fractured and dimming with every passing heartbeat.

  Kaori gave a sharp nod. “We’re set. Light packs, fast climb.”

  Yumi adjusted the straps on her cloak, then glanced between the others. "Why the temple? What are we hoping to find?"

  Kaori’s grin faded, replaced by something more serious. “Truth, maybe. Answers about the barrier. The temple’s old, older than this village. Some say it holds the last remnants of the Goddess’s will.”

  Takeshi slung the length of rope over his shoulder and looked toward the mountain’s looming path. “Many paths vanish in snow,” he said. “But the temple path is known, we will climb for answers.”

  Before another word could be exchanged, the drums began—deep and slow, echoing through the mountain village. A hush fell as Elder Kogetsu approached.

  Her cloak swept snow behind her as she walked, and the bone totems at her waist rattled with each step. In her hands she carried a long, narrow bundle wrapped in black silk.

  She stopped in front of Yumi.

  “Step forward, child.”

  Yumi did.

  Kogetsu unwrapped the bundle slowly. Inside rested a pair of obsidian claws, sleek and curved like a hawk's talons. The metal caught the light and shimmered faintly.

  “These are the Yama-no-Tsume,” the Elder said. “It means 'Claws of the Mountain.' Forged for one who walks between stone and flame. They carry the legacy of the Yama-Okami.”

  Yumi reached out, hesitant, then took the claws in both hands.

  “I don’t know if I deserve them,” she said quietly.

  Kogetsu tilted her head. “Deserving is not the question. The real question is why you continue forward.”

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  Yumi closed her eyes. She saw the bracelet John gave her, glinting beside firelight. Rai’s laughter. RW’s strange, flickering comfort. Akira’s steady silence.

  “Because I have people worth fighting for.”

  Kogetsu's smile deepened, touched by something older than pride. “Then hold to that. It will carry you when nothing else can.”

  Yumi slipped the claws onto her hands. A faint pulse echoed through her fingertips—as if the mountain had recognized her.

  “Go,” the Elder said. “The temple awaits.”

  They climbed in silence at first, the mountain offering no welcome—just freezing wind, stone, and thinning air. The path narrowed to a ledge clinging to the mountainside. Behind them, the last crack of the barrier shimmered faintly in the distance, like a fading scar across the sky.

  Rai glanced skyward. “You ever get the feeling something up there’s watching us?”

  Takeshi grunted. “Mountains always watch. Doesn’t mean they give a damn.”

  Kaori tugged her scarf tighter, squinting into the rising snow. “Just don’t let the wind get behind you. One wrong step and…”

  Yumi narrowed her eyes at the winding path ahead. “Then we make every step count.”

  Frost coated the narrow path, carved along the sheer face of the mountain. Below them, the Yama-Okami village was a scatter of distant tents and smoke. Above, the barrier flared with increasing intensity, each pulse flashing brighter, faster. It was no longer a gentle shimmer. No longer a warning, but a promise.

  Kaori led, her blade strapped tight across her back. Takeshi carried his spear while Rai and Yumi followed close behind, each step cautious over ice-slick stone.

  Snow began to fall again. Not thick, but steady, fine needles carried by the wind.

  “Hold,” Takeshi said suddenly, his ears twitching. The wind had died. No birdsong. No breath of storm. Only stillness.

  Then she appeared.

  At first, she seemed part of the snow—no footsteps, no sound. Just a figure standing in the path ahead, motionless.

  Her kimono rippled gently as though underwater. Her skin was pale as moonlight, her eyes colder than the ice beneath their boots. Black hair floated in slow motion around her shoulders. The ground around her had frozen solid.

  “Yuki-Onna,” Kaori breathed. “Mountain spirit. She kills with cold.”

  The spirit smiled. Her voice was wind against glass.

  “So warm. So alive. I can feel your breath... your heat.”

  Ice bloomed from her fingertips, and spears of crystal shot toward them.

  The group scattered in an instant, instincts overriding thought.

  Yumi rolled left as a spear shattered where she'd stood. Rai’s fan sliced through two more, wind magic bursting them apart midair. Kaori ducked low and sprang forward, blade drawn. Takeshi roared and took position at the front.

  The mountain spirit drifted across the ice, untouched by the terrain. Frost spread behind her like a living thing. With a sweep of her hand, a wave of jagged ice surged forward, towering and fast. It crashed toward them like an avalanche compressed into a breath.

  Yumi’s claws burned with foxfire as she slashed through the frozen wave. Steam hissed where her strikes landed, but the cold bit deeper with each second.

  “She’s drawing heat from us!” Kaori shouted. “Don’t let her touch you!”

  Her blade carved a shallow line across the Yuki-Onna’s arm. There was no blood. Only mist rose from the wound.

  The spirit hissed. “Your warmth... mine.”

  Takeshi didn’t wait for another spell. He lunged, his spear thrust forward in a blur. The tip caught the Yuki-Onna’s mid-section, tearing through a wash of mist and freezing air. Steam hissed up as the impact disrupted the chill around her.

  Rai stumbled as her leg buckled beneath her, frost biting through her boot. Yumi surged forward off her back, foxfire engulfing her mountain claws.

  “For my friends,” she whispered, and struck.

  The foxfire met the spirit’s chest and flared—bright, defiant. The Yuki-Onna screamed, her form beginning to unravel.

  "Such fire, such heat, such warmth!"

  With a grunt, Takeshi brought his spear down hard, straight through the mist. The scream cut off.

  Snowflakes filled the silence.

  The Yuki-Onna was gone.

  The cold remained.

  And the mountain watched.

  The wind returned slowly, howling above the ridge like a ghost denied its grave. The four of them pressed on through the thinning snow until Kaori spotted an overhang up ahead, just wide enough to offer shelter.

  They ducked beneath it, grateful for the break from the open air. The mountain still loomed all around, silent and unmoved, but here the cold couldn’t bite as deep. Rai dropped to one knee, brushing snow from her leggings, her breath ragged.

  “That wasn’t just some wandering spirit,” she muttered. “That was a test.”

  Kaori unslung her blade and leaned back against the rock wall. “We passed. Barely.”

  Takeshi didn’t speak. He handed out strips of dried meat and a flask of something warm with a familiar burn. Yumi took hers with a quiet thanks and sat close to the others, the weariness setting in.

  Her tails wrapped tight around her legs.

  Above them, the glow of the barrier flashed through the overcast sky. Each pulse painted the clouds in gold and red, a rhythmic thunder from the heavens.

  “We’ll rest for an hour,” Takeshi finally said. “Long enough to breathe. No longer.”

  Rai nodded and settled in. She stared out over the drop beyond their ledge, the distant peaks barely visible through the haze. “You know,” she said after a long pause, “when I was a kid, things were simpler. Hard, yeah, but simpler.”

  Yumi looked over at her.

  “There was this old sensei who took in strays—orphans, kids from the street. Taught us how to fight. How to survive. First time I got knocked down in training, he said, It wasn't about how hard you get hit. It’s whether you stand back up, even when it hurts. Even when it seems impossible.”

  Rai gave a faint smile. “Didn’t get it then. Just wanted to win. But now? Now I understand. I had to find my reason to fight. That is what makes getting back up simple.”

  Kaori chuckled. “That’s it. I fight for my reasons too, the ones I love. The ones who can’t fight for themselves. With them in my heart, fear doesn’t stand a chance.”

  Takeshi took a slow swig and shrugged. “I fight so I can drink with friends again.”

  Yumi smiled, the warmth of their words slowly pushing back the cold inside her. She held the Yama-no-Tsume close, the stone warming in her hands like it had heard every word.

  “We’ll reach the temple,” she said, her voice quiet but certain. “We have to.”