The train moved through the countryside like a rusty blade sliding down a well-oiled track, rattling with a rhythm that would either lull you to sleep or drive you out of your goddamn mind.

  Rinne sat by the window, her phone clutched tightly in her hand, the report from the Captain burning a digital hole through her palm. It was the kind of news nobody wanted, especially not when trapped inside a tin can hurtling toward an unknown horror.

  "So how bad is it?" Shigure asked. He was lounging with the easy posture of someone who didn't give a damn—or at least wanted the world to think so. His eyes, though, they never lied. They were alert, watchful, the kind that saw every twitch, every hesitation.

  "It's worse than usual," Rinne replied quietly. "The Tengu's making a nightmare out of this place. Stealing girls from their beds, carving symbols into trees like it's marking territory." She paused, swallowed hard. "They haven't found the village leader's daughter. No traces at all."

  Levi leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingers curled like he wanted to choke something. He shot Shigure a look, sharp enough to flay skin. Levi carried a bowling bag with him—a strange accessory nobody had dared question. It sat between his legs now, the kind of thing a normal person wouldn't have thought twice about—but Rinne couldn't shake the feeling there was something more than bowling shoes inside.

  "Good thing we have you," Shigure murmured, voice all lazy amusement. "Our knight in shining armor."

  Rinne shot him a look. "You're hilarious, Shigure."

  "No joke." Shigure flashed that smirk again, his eyes half-lidded, watching her carefully. "Seriously. They're lucky you came."

  The heat creeping up her neck was as unwelcome as it was inevitable. Before she could respond, Levi's voice cut through the brief warmth. "This isn't some joke, man. You ever going to take something seriously?"

  Shigure turned, eyes narrow and sharp beneath his relaxed facade. "Oh, I take it seriously enough. But lighten up, Levi. This mission will go smoother if you pull that stick out of your ass."

  The quiet anger on Levi's face could've split stone, and Rinne let out a slow breath, wishing—not for the first time—that the two would just shut the hell up. The train lurched, jolting them slightly. Shigure reached out to steady her, his fingers briefly warm against her shoulder. She jerked away, unsettled by the unexpected intimacy. Levi's glare darkened.

  By the time the train rattled into the final station, the cabin's tension had gone from uncomfortable to suffocating. Rinne stood abruptly, desperate for air, excusing herself to find a vending machine. As soon as she stepped off, she breathed deeply, cold air stabbing her lungs.

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  Inside, Levi's voice was low and sharp. "What the hell are you doing?"

  Shigure leaned back, stretched, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "What? Being a human being bothers you now?"

  "I don't need you making her uncomfortable."

  Shigure raised an eyebrow, his smile dimming slightly. "Maybe you're the one making her uncomfortable."

  The moment Rinne returned with coffee, she knew she'd missed something. She didn't ask. She didn't want to know. She sipped the bitter liquid, praying it would burn away the awkward silence that had swallowed them whole.

  When they stepped off the train into the village, reality smacked them in the face like a slap of cold water. It was a ghost town disguised as civilization. Houses stood gutted and half-collapsed, windows staring blankly into nothing, shadows thick enough to taste. Every step over broken concrete echoed like gunshots.

  A man stumbled forward, hollow-eyed and desperate. "You're with the Nightguard, aren't you?" His voice trembled, hands clutching each other like frightened children. "God, I hope you're better than the last bunch."

  Before Rinne could answer, a young voice shot through the air. "They're worthless. Same as the others."

  A boy, twelve maybe, glared from the crowd, rage burning in his eyes. "Kenji," a man hissed, tugging at him helplessly. "Enough."

  "No, it's true," Kenji spat bitterly. "They'll just leave us again. They're useless."

  Levi clenched his fists so tight Rinne worried he'd break skin. She touched his arm gently. "He's afraid," she whispered. Levi didn't reply, but she felt the tension ease just slightly beneath her touch.

  Another figure emerged, slow, dragging steps—a Nightguard, uniform torn, blood dried black. "You're next, huh?" he asked flatly, gaze devoid of hope. "Good luck. You're gonna need it."

  "What happened?" Rinne asked carefully.

  His bitter laugh was devoid of any humor. "What do you think? We got slaughtered. None of us knew what we were walking into. Like lambs to the goddamn slaughter."

  The silence that fell was broken only by the village leader's approach, his steps heavy, face drawn in grief. "Finally," he snapped bitterly. "My daughter disappears, and you stroll in days later. What took you so long?"

  Levi surged forward, bristling, voice sharp. "We came when we were called. We're here now."

  Before the man could respond, Rinne stepped between them, her voice calm. "We're going to do everything possible to find your daughter. We promise."

  The village leader stared hard, finally relenting. "Make yourselves useful then," he muttered, nodding toward a crumbling structure. "You're welcome to what's left."

  Shigure leaned close as they moved toward their shelter, voice low, humor dry as dust. "Quite the warm welcome."

  "Shut up, Shigure," Levi growled.

  Rinne sighed deeply, rubbing her temples. This mission was bad enough without the two of them clawing at each other's throats. The village felt like it was suffocating under the weight of its fear, and now that weight sat squarely on their shoulders.

  “Let’s get to work” She says.