Part 3

A week had passed since Myco and his fellows had stepped in to help breathe new life into Ookami's struggling restaurant. Business had picked up steadily, and the once-empty dining hall now echoed with laughter, the clinking of cups, and the satisfied sighs of well-fed customers. Each night, the aroma of sizzling meats and fragrant broths filled the air, drawing in more and more patrons eager for a taste of Touno-style cuisine.

As far as Myco knew, everything was going well. The restaurant was thriving, and Ookami finally had the support she needed. But curiosity nagged at him. He wanted to see it for himself, to witness the fruits of their efforts with his own eyes.

With that thought, he made his way toward the restaurant, expecting the usual lively atmosphere—the hum of conversation, the rhythmic chopping from the kitchen, the sight of his friends darting between tables. Instead, he was met with an eerie silence.

The front doors stood open, but the dining hall was empty. No customers. No bustling waitstaff. No sound of simmering pots or sizzling grills. Myco furrowed his brows, stepping inside cautiously. Something wasn't right.

Inside the restaurant, Ookami stood amid a collection of wooden crates, carefully stacking them near the entrance. The once-lively dining hall, usually filled with the scent of grilled meats and the chatter of satisfied customers, now felt eerily quiet. Myco's brows knit together as he took in the sight—this wasn't the bustling restaurant he had expected to see.

As he stepped forward, Ookami looked up, her golden eyes softening with warmth. A gentle smile graced her lips as she brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Oh my, I'm always glad to see you," she said, her voice carrying its usual kindness. But there was something else beneath it—something heavier.

Myco's frown deepened. His gaze flickered from her face to the neatly packed crates at her feet. An uneasy feeling settled in his chest. "You're not open today?" he asked, glancing around at the empty tables. "Where is everyone?"

Ookami nodded, though her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "I sent them home for the day," she said lightly, but there was a weight to her words.

Myco crossed his arms, his concern growing. "Ookami… is everything alright?"

She hesitated for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh. "I'm just packing some things up," she admitted, running her fingers over the edge of a crate. "That's all."

Seeing no reason to stand around, Myco stepped forward. "Let me help you with that." He crouched down and gripped one of the crates, fully expecting to lift it with ease. But the moment he tried, his arms tensed—it wouldn't budge.

"…What the—?" He tried again, using more force, but the box remained rooted to the ground as if it had been nailed down.

Above him, Ookami chuckled, a soft, melodious laugh that made his ears tingle slightly. Without effort, she bent down and effortlessly lifted all the crates at once, balancing them in her arms as if they were filled with feathers rather than her belongings.

Myco let out a defeated sigh and dusted off his hands. "You could've warned me those were ridiculously heavy."

"I thought it would be funnier this way," she teased.

Myco shook his head, chuckling despite himself. "So, where are you taking all this?"

Her smile faded slightly, and she shifted the crates in her arms. "Would you walk with me? People tend to get nervous when I'm alone."

He wasn't surprised. Even after a week of getting used to her presence, the citizens of Drakenburg still whispered about the mysterious Oni woman running a Touno restaurant. Rumors had a way of clinging to the air like the scent of spices in a kitchen—persistent and impossible to shake overnight.

"Of course," Myco said, nodding. His voice was calm, but his curiosity burned brighter.

They walked through the winding streets of Drakenburg, their footsteps in sync as they made their way toward the docks. The bustling city around them hummed with life—vendors calling out their wares, children chasing each other down the cobbled streets, and the distant sound of laughter mixing with the clinking of metal from nearby shops. Yet, as they passed, many of the city dwellers couldn't help but stare.

Some took a cautious step back as they noticed the Oni woman carrying her crates, while others exchanged hurried whispers behind their hands. The murmurs of curiosity and fear followed them like a shadow. The whispers were inevitable—there was no escaping the reputation she carried with her, the stories that had already taken root in Drakenburg.

But Ookami was undeterred. Her pace remained steady, her shoulders unbent under the weight of the crates she carried with practiced ease. Her expression remained unreadable, her golden eyes focused on the path ahead. It was clear that the gossip of the townsfolk didn't touch her—she had her own purpose, and nothing would sway her from it.

When they finally reached the harbor, the scent of saltwater and the creak of wooden ships filled the air. The hustle of the docks was quieter here, the movement of ships and sailors far less frantic than the streets of Drakenburg. She set the crates down carefully beside a weathered ship preparing to leave soon, where a tall burly Oni man stood waiting, arms crossed and a grunt of acknowledgment escaping him.

Without a word, the man began unloading the crates and bringing the items into his ship, nodding in approval at the heavy load she had brought him. Despite the words of the town's people, the respect between them was clear—there was no judgment here, only the mutual understanding of work well done.

Myco crossed his arms. "Alright, Ookami. What's going on?"

She exhaled softly, her breath carrying the weight of her words. For the briefest moment, her shoulders drooped, as if the invisible burden she'd been carrying had finally caught up with her. The strong woman, who had faced the world with nothing but resilience, now seemed small in the dim light of the harbor.

She turned to face him, her golden eyes dimming slightly as she spoke, each word weighed down by the gravity of her decision. "Despite business picking up this past week, my debt is simply too great," she began, her voice low and quiet. "The interest on my debt... it's growing faster than I can pay it. Even with the restaurant thriving, the mountain of debt I've built continues to grow taller and taller, suffocating everything else. I've been trying to keep my head above water, but no matter how many customers I serve, no matter how hard I work, it's never enough."

Her voice faltered, and she paused for a moment, looking down at the crates at her feet. The weight of the words seemed to hang in the air, thick with finality.

"I had no choice," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper, "I had to sell the restaurant back to the city to clear my debt." She clenched her fists at her sides, the frustration clear in the way her fingers curled. "I fought so hard for this place, for this dream... but in the end, it wasn't enough. It never was. I can't keep fighting a battle I can't win."

Her gaze lifted to meet his, and for the first time, there was a vulnerability in her eyes that hadn't been there before. "I have no choice but to return home to Touno Island," she said softly.

Myco felt his stomach drop. "…You're leaving?"

She nodded, offering a small, sad smile. "It's not what I wanted, but I can't keep pretending things will get better. I gave it everything I had… but it's time to let go."

A heavy silence hung between them. The thought of Drakenburg without her presence suddenly felt wrong. He had only just gotten to know her, to admire her strength, her kindness… her laughter. And now, she was about to disappear from his life just as quickly as she had entered it.

Despite the weight of her words, Ookami managed to offer him a smile—gentle and warm, as though she were trying to soften the edges of her own sorrow. The sadness in her golden eyes lingered, but she held herself with the quiet grace that had always captivated him. It was as if, even in her deepest moments of defeat, she remained the stoic, composed woman he had come to admire.

"I won't have to leave until tomorrow," she said, her voice soft but steady. "Would you continue to walk with me?"

Her request was simple, yet it carried an unspoken plea, a wish for something—anything—to distract from the heaviness of the moment. Myco felt his heart tighten at the thought of her leaving, of everything she had sacrificed finally slipping through her fingers. The knowledge that she was walking away from it all, from the very dream she had worked so hard to build, felt like a weight on his chest that he couldn't shake.

He swallowed, fighting back the tightness in his throat. His mind raced with words he desperately wanted to say—anything to convince her to stay, to find a way to keep her in Drakenburg. But as much as his heart screamed with those desires, he knew it wouldn't be fair. She had made her decision, and he had to respect it, no matter how much it tore at him.

Instead, he simply nodded, offering her a small, understanding smile. "Of course."

And with that, they continued walking side by side, the silence between them comfortable but laced with an unspoken sadness. Myco couldn't shake the feeling that their time together in Drakenburg was slipping away, but for now, he would honor her request. He would walk with her, just as she had asked, until the very end of this chapter.

They walked together through the streets of Drakenburg, the city bathed in the soft golden hues of the setting sun. They spoke of small things, unimportant things—the way the market smelled of fresh bread, the street performers playing their lutes, the way the evening breeze carried the scent of the river. Myco wanted to keep the conversation light, to give her some sense of normalcy before she left. But the thought of her departure weighed on him.

After a long silence between them, as they walked through the streets of Drakenburg, Myco couldn't contain the question that had been weighing on his mind. He turned to Ookami, his voice tentative but sincere.

"Will you open a restaurant when you return to Touno Island? Maybe I could visit you someday." The thought of her going back to Touno felt like a quiet ache in his chest, and he wanted to hold onto the hope that somehow, their paths would cross again.

For a moment, Ookami didn't respond. She walked beside him, her eyes fixed on the path ahead, and Myco could see a flicker of something—something far deeper than just weariness—in her gaze. Finally, she shook her head, her voice soft but firm. "No."

Myco's steps faltered, his surprise evident as he turned to her. "But… you love cooking."

A faint, hollow chuckle left her lips, but it carried none of the warmth he had come to associate with her laughter. It was a dry sound, devoid of joy. "Yes, I do… but my family will most likely have an arranged marriage for me when I return."

Her words landed heavily in the space between them. Myco stopped walking, his heart skipping a beat as the shock of her revelation hit him like a sudden, unrelenting wave. He blinked, struggling to make sense of it all. "Wait… an arranged marriage?"

She nodded, her expression unreadable as her gaze drifted to the ground. "That's how things are done in Touno. My family has a duty to uphold traditions, and marriage is a part of that."

The weight of her words pressed down on him, suffocating the thoughts that had been swirling in his mind. Myco's chest tightened with a mixture of disbelief and helplessness. He couldn't reconcile the image of the strong, independent woman standing before him with the idea that her future would be shaped by someone else's choices. The notion that she, someone with such strength and will, would be bound by an arrangement made against her will seemed like an injustice—a stark contrast to the freedom she had fought for in Drakenburg.

"Is that what you want?" he asked, his voice quieter now, the question coming from a place of genuine concern. "To go through with it?"

She moved closer, and she glanced at him briefly, her golden eyes soft yet distant. "It's not about what I want," she said, her voice tinged with resignation. "It's what is expected of me."

Myco couldn't help but feel the sting of her words, a deep sense of sorrow settling over him. He knew she was bound by the traditions of her people, but the idea of her life being dictated by someone else's plans, rather than her own desires, felt like a cruel twist of fate. He wanted to reach out, but he was left standing in the quiet of the moment, unable to change the course of her destiny.

"You deserve more than that," he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

She looked at him, and for the first time, her gaze softened. There was a hint of something deeper in her eyes—perhaps hope, or maybe a longing, but she said nothing in reply. Instead, they continued walking, the silence between them thick with unspoken emotions, both knowing that the path ahead was uncertain and fraught with the weight of tradition.

A strange, uncomfortable feeling settled in Myco's gut, heavy and unwelcome. He had always assumed that Ookami's journey to Drakenburg was driven by her passion for cooking, that she had come to share the culinary traditions of Touno Island with the world. He had never once stopped to think there was something else motivating her—something far more personal and much deeper than just food.

"Then why did you come here?" His voice was softer now, filled with a mixture of curiosity and concern, as though a piece of the puzzle he hadn't realized was missing had finally slipped into place.

Ookami's gaze drifted upward, her eyes catching the first glimmers of the evening's stars. For a moment, she was silent, lost in the vastness of the sky. Her expression was unreadable, but the weight of her words seemed to hang in the air, palpable and heavy.

"Because I didn't want to be forced into a marriage with someone I don't love," she replied at last, her voice tinged with quiet sorrow. "I came to find a husband of my own choosing."

The words struck Myco like a sharp blow to the chest, his breath catching in his throat as the realization washed over him. "She came here to find love?" The thought echoed in his mind, and for a long moment, he stood frozen, unable to speak. How had he not seen it? How had he failed to notice the quiet longing in her eyes, the subtle hints in her actions that hinted at something far more complex than just a woman starting a restaurant?

She offered him a small smile, but it was bittersweet, a sad curve of her lips that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I had hoped… that maybe, if I worked hard enough, if I built something for myself, I could prove to my family that I could decide my own future." She paused, and the weight of her words seemed to hang heavy in the air. "But in the end… I failed. I can't find a husband among people who fear my strength."

Her words pierced him in ways he wasn't prepared for. Myco stood there, speechless for a moment, his mind whirling with the enormity of what she had just shared. She had come here for freedom, for choice, for a chance at happiness. And yet, in a world that seemed too small for her, too narrow for someone as bold and powerful as Ookami, she had been unable to find what she was searching for.

The reality of it all—her strength, her vulnerability, her desire for a life of her own choosing—crashed over him in waves. He had watched her fight, worked beside her, seen her kindness and strength, but now he understood her in a way he hadn't before. She was not just an Oni. She was a woman with dreams, with hopes, with a heart that longed for something more than the life she had been given.

"I never wanted to be someone's obligation," she said, her voice barely audible now. "I wanted to choose, to be chosen… without fear."

Myco's heart ached for her. He could see the weight of the years she had spent hiding behind her strength, the walls she had built around her heart to protect herself from the world's fear and judgment. He wanted to break those walls down, to show her that here, with him, she didn't have to be anything but who she truly was.

He wanted to say something, to reassure her, to promise her that she had found something here in Drakenburg, something worth holding on to. But the words felt so inadequate, so small in comparison to what she had shared with him.

For the first time since he met her, she looked vulnerable. The strong, confident woman who carried crates as if they were weightless and wielded a twelve-foot kitchen knife like it was a toy—now stood before him, admitting defeat. Myco clenched his fists, hating how powerless he felt in that moment.

She then looked away, her gaze drifting toward the horizon. "Back on Touno Island, I had a friend. Kagura." Her voice softened as she spoke the name. "She's a Miko—a shrine maiden who dances in service to Amaterasu, the incarnation of the sun."

Myco listened carefully, noting the way her eyes shone with fondness at the memory. "Kagura was the one who encouraged me to leave Touno Island," Ookami continued. "She knew I longed for something more than duty. She told me to follow my heart, to search for love beyond the shores of Touno. She wanted to do the same… but her duty binds her to the island."

Her golden eyes dimmed with sorrow. "She told me to live the life she never could."

Myco exhaled slowly, the air escaping from his lungs in a long, shuddering sigh. His thoughts were a whirlwind, racing in every direction, each one more unsettling than the last. For so long, he had hoped—no, believed—that with time, he could be the one to earn her love, to show her that there was more to life than the duties and burdens that had been thrust upon her. He had imagined a future, one where she chose him, where they stood side by side, building something beautiful together. But now, standing in the quiet of the evening with the weight of her words still heavy between them, that future seemed to be slipping through his fingers like sand.

As the evening deepened, the air grew cool and crisp, and Myco felt a familiar pang of hunger gnawing at his stomach. It wasn't just the physical hunger, but a quiet, aching emptiness that seemed to match the weight of the moment. He hesitated, his gaze drifting across the horizon, where the distant city lights of Drakenburg twinkled like a thousand small stars. After a moment, he turned to Ookami.

"Since this is your last night in Drakenburg," he said, his voice softer than usual, "how about I treat you to a meal? Anywhere you'd like."

Ookami, who had been gazing at the glow of the city, turned back to him with a soft, almost wistful chuckle. "That's kind of you, Myco," she said, her tone gentle yet tinged with something he couldn't quite place. "But I already prepared something."

Her words caused a flicker of surprise to pass through him. He raised an eyebrow, watching as she reached into her satchel and pulled out a carefully wrapped bento box. The lacquered wood gleamed under the moonlight, reflecting the soft silver light of the stars above. Myco could tell at once that this wasn't just any ordinary meal. The craftsmanship of the box, the delicate way she held it, told him that whatever was inside was something special.

They took a seat on a bench in between some buildings. She placed the box between them and untied the silk cloth with deliberate care, revealing a beautifully arranged assortment of Touno-style dishes. Delicate pieces of grilled fish, each charred just enough to add flavor but not overwhelm the tender flesh. Seasoned rice, shaped into perfect little triangles, gleamed with a light sheen. Simmered vegetables, their vibrant colors muted by a thin glaze of light sauce. Fluffy tamagoyaki, its golden layers folded with precision, perched like a crown on the edge of the box.

Myco's chest tightened as he took it all in. It wasn't just a meal. It wasn't just food. This was her way of saying goodbye, of giving him something to remember her by. His throat tightened as he swallowed hard, and for a moment, he wondered if he could hold back the tears that threatened to rise. But he couldn't cry—he had to stay composed, for her sake.

Ookami picked up a pair of chopsticks, her movements graceful and fluid, and with the same delicate precision, she carefully plucked a piece of fish from the box. She held it up to his lips with a warm, almost teasing smile, her golden eyes glinting with something unreadable. "Say ahh, Myco," she said, the words laced with a kind of bittersweet affection.

His breath hitched at the intimacy of the gesture. It was simple, yet so deeply personal. The kind of gesture he'd never expected from her, not like this. He froze for a moment, unsure how to react, but before he could overthink it, he parted his lips. She placed the delicate bite onto his tongue, the flavors of smoky fish, a sweet soy glaze, and a subtle hint of citrus melting in his mouth. It was perfect. The warmth of the food, the tenderness of her touch—everything about it was so familiar, so comforting.

But despite the pleasure of the food, something bitter lingered in the back of his throat, something he couldn't quite shake. It wasn't in the food itself, but deep within his chest, a heavy ache that he couldn't ignore. Because he knew, with a sinking heart, that this would likely be the last time he would taste her cooking. The last time he would feel the warmth of her smile, the gentleness of her touch.

He blinked back the sudden mist in his eyes, forcing himself to swallow the lump in his throat. "This... this is amazing," he managed, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you, Ookami."

She gave him a soft smile in return, but there was a sadness there, one that reflected his own. A goodbye hung in the air between them, and even though the night was beautiful and the food was perfect, the weight of what was to come made it all feel like something fleeting—something that was slipping away far too quickly.

The thought settled heavily in his stomach, far heavier than the meal itself. Each bite she fed him felt like a final memory, a moment being etched into his soul before she left forever. He didn't want this to be the last time. But he swallowed his emotions along with the food, forcing himself to smile whenever she did. He didn't want to ruin the moment. Didn't want to make her last night in Drakenburg any harder than it already was.

When the bento was empty, Ookami carefully closed the lid and tilted her head, her golden eyes shimmering under the starlight. "Will you come see me off tomorrow?" she asked, her voice as soft as the night breeze.

Myco exhaled, his heart aching at the thought. But then, he smiled. A real, genuine smile. "Of course," he said. "I promise." And he plans to keep this promise at all costs, even if it would break him.

The morning sun of the next day had barely crested over the horizon when Myco awoke, a heavy weight pressing down on his chest. He stared at the ceiling, the reality sinking in—by this afternoon, Ookami would be gone. Gone before she ever truly had a chance to be in his life.

He moved through his morning routine absentmindedly, his heart not in it. Work needed to be done, but for once, he couldn't focus. The village bustled around his home, but everything felt distant, as if the world had lost some of its color.

And then—hope arrived. As he passed by his mailbox, something caught his eye. A small slip of paper, folded with care. He pulled it out, his pulse quickening as he unfolded it. It was simple—only a few words—but they carried more weight than any letter ever could.

"Can you come to my restaurant? There is something I want to tell you." There was no signature. He didn't need one, he knew exactly who sent it. The haze over his heart lifted in an instant. He didn't waste another second.

Once he arrived in Drakenburg, Myco practically sprinted through the streets, dodging carts, weaving through the crowds. His heart pounded—not from the exertion, but from the anticipation. By the time he reached the Touno restaurant, he barely had a moment to catch his breath before the doors swung open.

And there she was. Ookami stood inside waiting for him, her golden eyes filled with emotion. The moment she saw him, she gasped softly, her hands clutching at the fabric of her kimono. "Myco, you came!"

He nodded, his own emotions a tangled mess. "I promised, didn't I?" His voice was steady, but his eyes searched hers. "Are you really leaving?"

For a moment, she didn't answer. She hesitated, looking away, as if trying to shield him from her truth. "I… I don't want to," she admitted at last, her voice barely above a whisper. "But there is no place for me in Drakenberg."

That was all he needed to hear. Without thinking, without hesitation, he reached out and took her hand. She gasped, her fingers tightening around his instinctively.

"Come with me," Myco said, his voice filled with certainty. "To Keimonomimi Village."

Ookami's eyes widened, her breath hitching. He continued, "You don't have to leave. You don't have to go back to a life you don't want. You can live there. I'll find you a home, I'll find you work—you can be part of something. You can stay."

For a long moment, she said nothing. Tears welled in her golden eyes, trembling at the edges before she shut them tight, willing them away. She gripped his hand tighter, as if afraid to let go.

And then, in a voice so soft yet filled with undeniable certainty, she whispered, "Yes."

The weight of that single word—"Yes"—hung in the air between them, filling the space with something undeniable.

For the first time since meeting her, Myco saw hope in Ookami's eyes—not just a fleeting glimmer, but a deep, burning desire to hold onto this new path. A path with him. Before he could say anything else, before the moment could slip away, Ookami moved first. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face against his chest. Myco felt the warmth of her body against his, the slight tremble in her shoulders, the way her fingers clenched at the fabric of his coat.

He hesitated for only a second before holding her just as tightly. Her strength had always been so overwhelming, so effortless—yet, in this moment, she felt fragile in his arms. Like something that had carried the weight of the world for too long, finally finding a place to rest. Myco closed his eyes. There was no need for words. His heart had already decided. He wouldn't let her go. Not now. Not ever.