Chapter 46

“His eyes were glowing,” Scott said, and Argent nodded.

“There was something almost ritualistic about it—like it was looking right into his soul,” Argent added as Rachel cleaned the cut on his forehead.

“That’s the same thing it did to me,” Isaac said.

“That’s what they did to everyone,” Silver murmured, not looking up.

His sunglasses were gone—tucked away or forgotten—and the raw glow of his left eye flickered faintly in the dim light. The damage was still there for everyone to see, a constant reminder of what he’d endured. Of what he’d lost.

“Not everyone. They only came after the Werewolves,” Scott said.

Allison shook her head, tension tightening across her shoulders. “No, they went after Lydia too,” she said quietly, her gaze flicking toward Silver.

“Anyone with a connection to the supernatural,” Argent confirmed.

A shadow passed over Silver’s expression. He felt Michael stir beside him, silent but alert, always watching.

“Then who was the guy they went after in Japan?” Michael asked softly, speaking for the first time. His voice was calm, but Silver could feel the edge behind it—Michael had that same restless fear he did.

“A Kumicho—a Yakuza boss. It was my first gun deal. I was only eighteen, and it was supposed to be a simple exchange… Except Gerard left out the minor detail of the buyers being Yakuza. He wanted to see if I could adapt in the moment. Testing my ability to, uh… improvise,” Argent said.

Allison raised her eyebrows. “Or your ability to survive.”

“The moment the sun came down, it was like they just materialized out of the shadows. They had swords—not curved like katanas, but straight, black steel, like ninjatos,” Argent said.

“What did they want?” Silver asked, voice low, throat dry.

“To get to the Kumicho. They cut down every living thing in their way,” Argent replied as Rachel still worked on the cut on his forehead.

“Did they mark him like they did us?” Isaac asked, rubbing the back of his ear.

“Not exactly.”

“What was he?” Scott asked.

“I don’t know. But, there might be someone who does. There were a few others who survived that night. One of them was a man named Katashi. They called him ‘Silverfinger’ because of an unusual prosthetic… And it looked like he was getting ready to take them all on himself. I’ve known for a while Katashi was in the country. I spent yesterday tracking him down,” Argent said.

Silver gave a soft, almost disbelieving chuckle, raising his eyebrows. “Didn’t look like he wanted to be found,” he said, gesturing to Argent’s forehead that Rachel had just finished patching up.

“Not particularly, no,” Argent said.

Scott leaned forward slightly. “You think he knows what they are? Or what they want?”

“Maybe…”

“What if he doesn’t want to talk?” Allison asked as her father stood up.

“What if he doesn’t even remember you?” Isaac added.

“He’ll remember this,” Argent said, turning a wooden box around and opening it. He unfolded a cloth to reveal the broken mask of one of those creatures.

Rachel’s eyes narrowed at the mask, her posture suddenly rigid. She didn’t speak.

“I know I didn’t kill it—I’m not sure you can. But I slowed it down long enough for us to get out of there,” Argent said.

Scott grabbed one of the pieces. “What was behind the mask?”

Argent looked up. “Darkness. Absolute darkness.”

Silver stared at the mask for a long moment. His hand hovered over the fragments as if touching them might make something real—like it would confirm that what they saw wasn’t just in his head. He picked up one of the pieces carefully, like it might cut him. Something heavy pressed against his chest. His visible eye shimmered faintly with emotion—grief, fear, and something else that hadn’t yet surfaced.

🦊

Argent sat at the table, stirring his coffee in slow, lazy circles he didn’t need to make. The spoon tapped the ceramic once, twice, then stilled. His eyes drifted toward the hallway every few seconds—half-expecting, half-dreading the moment his son appeared.

When Silver finally walked in, it wasn’t with any hurry. His hair was still damp from a rushed shower, hoodie hanging half-off one shoulder, backpack dangling from one hand like he wasn’t committed to wearing it. There was a faint stiffness in his movements, a subtle edge in the set of his jaw. The glow in one of his mismatched eyes was barely there, but Argent saw it anyway. He always did.

“Morning,” Argent said. He kept it neutral, like he was setting down the first move in a chess game.

Silver ripped open a protein bar without looking at him. “Sure. Let’s call it that.”

Argent’s brow twitched, but his tone stayed even. “Scott stayed the night.”

The words landed like a dropped glass. Silver’s chewing slowed, then stopped. He turned just enough to meet his father’s gaze. “Seriously?”

“I’m your father,” Argent said, leaning back in his chair. “When someone else’s kid is in my house at six a.m., I notice.”

Silver gave a small, humorless laugh as he pulled the wrapper off his protein bar. “Right. Because you notice when it’s me. Allison and Michael can share a bed every night and you don’t say a word—but I have Scott over and suddenly it’s a federal investigation.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“It’s exactly the same thing,” Silver shot back, his tone razor-thin. “Or maybe it’s just easier for you to play favorites when it’s them.”

Argent’s mouth tightened. “I thought you two were still broken up.”

“We were,” Silver said. “We’re not anymore.”

That hung there. Argent set his mug down harder than he meant to.

“I see,” he said after a beat.

Silver tilted his head. “Is that a problem?”

Argent paused, then said, “It’s not a problem. It’s just… fast.”

That one word was all it took. Silver’s control frayed.

“No,” he said, voice rising just a fraction. “You don’t care about fast. You care about him. You’ve made up your mind about Scott, and no matter what he does, it’s never going to change. Doesn’t matter if he’s the one person who’s ever made me feel—” He caught himself, biting the rest of the sentence back, but the damage was already there. “Forget it.”

“That’s not fair—”

“It’s the truth,” Silver snapped. The emotion in his voice wasn’t just anger—it was tired, raw, like this argument had been waiting years to break loose. “You’ve been doing this my whole life. Holding me at arm’s length. Deciding what I should know, what I shouldn’t, who’s worth my time, who isn’t. You call it protecting me, but it’s not—it’s you deciding I can’t handle my own life.”

Argent didn’t move, but something flickered in his eyes—just for a second—like he was remembering a hospital room and a choice he made years ago and still wasn’t sure about.

Silver pushed on, quieter now but sharper. “You weren’t there when I needed you before. And now you’re here, but it feels the same. You only show up for the parts you can control.”

The silence was heavier this time. Argent let it stretch before saying, “I’ve got a lead. Someone who might know more. If you want to stay home and help—”

“No thanks.” Silver slung his backpack over his shoulder. “I’d rather go to school.”

Argent studied him. “Since when?”

“Since I’d rather be with people who don’t keep half the truth from me,” Silver said. His voice softened on the next part, almost against his will. “Sorry. I’m just… tired.”

“I know you’re angry.”

“I’m not angry.” Silver looked him dead in the eye. “I’m done pretending you trust me.”

A soft creak from the hallway broke the moment.
Scott appeared—hair sleep-mussed, shirt wrinkled, sneakers in hand. He hesitated like he was weighing whether to speak.

“Morning,” he said finally, a little too lightly.

“Morning,” Argent replied, his tone unreadable. “Sleep well?”

Scott nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. Uh… thanks.”

Silver opened the front door, his voice gentler now. “See you later.”

Argent’s reply was quiet. “Stay safe.”

Silver smirked faintly. “You too. Try not to get stabbed again.”

The door shut behind him.

🦊

Scott’s motorbike rumbled into the student lot, its engine groaning beneath the weight of two riders. Silver sat behind him, arms locked around Scott’s waist, holding on until the very last second before they rolled to a stop. He swung off first, slinging his backpack over one shoulder in one fluid motion, while Scott kicked the stand down and yanked off his helmet.

“Still thinking about your dad?” Scott asked as they started toward the building. His voice was gentle, but the question landed heavier than he meant.

Silver’s jaw tightened. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know, but—”

“But what?” Silver cut in, his pace quickening. “You want to tell me he’s right? That I overreacted? Go ahead, Scott. Get in line.”

Scott’s brows furrowed. “That’s not what I’m saying. I just… I think maybe you two are both too stubborn for your own good.”

Silver let out a humorless laugh. “Wow. Thanks for the insight, Dr. McCall.”

Scott slowed his steps, watching him. “You’re mad at me now?”

Silver didn’t answer right away. “No,” he said finally, but it came out clipped. “I’m mad at him. And maybe at myself for thinking it would ever be different.”

They barely took three more steps before Ethan and Aiden appeared, striding toward them with matching smirks.

“You guys going to be doing this all day?” Scott asked, already sounding exasperated.

“All day,” Ethan replied smoothly, like it had been rehearsed.

“All night,” Aiden added, deadpan.

Scott shot Silver a look of disbelief. Silver smirked anyway, clearly amused.

“Is this about being my pack?” he asked, folding his arms.

“This is about you being the target of demonic ninjas,” Aiden said, dead serious.

“You mean the same demonic ninjas that pulled swords out of their torsos like party tricks and completely wiped the floor with us?” Ethan asked.

“Yeah. Those demonic ninjas,” Aiden said flatly.

Silver’s jaw tensed as he pushed up his sunglasses. “Scott has a pack. A strong one. He doesn’t need you babysitting him.”

Ethan tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “And what good is a hunter with one eye?”

Scott’s shoulders stiffened instantly. The air between them shifted—sharp, tense. His eyes cut to Ethan, a warning flashing in them.

Silver’s mouth twitched, somewhere between annoyance and a smirk. “Then it’s a good thing I don’t miss.”

“They were staring right at him when the sun came up,” Ethan said, dropping some of the sarcasm as his voice grew lower and more serious.

Scott nodded, his gaze drifting to Silver for a moment. “And then they disappeared.” His voice took on a different weight now, darker, unsettled. “I don’t like this.”

Silver caught the shift and softened slightly, his posture more thoughtful. “My dad thinks they only come out at night,” he said, quieter now.

“Since this is our first official run-in with demonic sword-wielding spirits,” Ethan said, folding his arms, “we’re thinking we play it safe.”

“All day,” Aiden repeated.

“And all night,” Ethan added, grinning now.

Silver rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath that thankfully no one caught—except maybe Scott, whose smirk betrayed him.

Together, the four of them made their way toward the school entrance. The tension hung low but was starting to shift—morphing into something like routine, something manageable.

As they reached Scott’s locker, he turned to face the others, voice firm. “Okay, one thing first—I need to talk to Stiles and fill him in on everything that happened last night.”

He shot a look directly at the twins. “Without you.”

Aiden immediately frowned. “No.”

“Yes,” Scott said, unflinching. “And I don’t want either of you eavesdropping. No wolf hearing, no creeping around corners.”

Silver let out a quiet chuckle, amused at the sudden shift in tone.

“How would you even know?” Aiden asked, raising a skeptical brow.

Scott smirked and shut his locker with a soft clang. “I’m a true alpha. You have no idea what I can do.”

Ethan looked genuinely intrigued, while Aiden just rolled his eyes, clearly not enjoying being told what to do by someone younger.

Across the hallway, Stiles stood in front of his locker, glaring at the combination lock like it had personally wronged him. He hadn’t noticed them yet.

Scott’s face softened, and he stepped away from the others. “Stiles?”

Stiles didn’t look up. His hand hovered, frozen, over the lock.

Scott approached carefully. “Hey…”

He gently reached out and placed a hand on Stiles’ arm.

Stiles jumped slightly and turned sharply—his eyes wide, full of something between anxiety and exhaustion—but the moment he saw Scott, some of the tension in his shoulders eased.

“Good, you’re here. We need to talk. Now.” He says pulling the couple into the chemistry room. “So then she started to talk about phosphors and then the key having chemicals on it, right? And so that made me think of the chemistry closet, and the fact that someone had to let Barrow in.” Stiles said after a quick recap of last night. He walked over towards the board only to find the coded message gone, making him frown slightly.

“It’s gone. Okay, it doesn’t matter though. It doesn’t matter. I’ve still got the key-” He said as he ran over to the closer and pulled out his keys before shuffling through them, not being able to find the key. “What the hell? I had it- I had it here. I had it here this morning, I swear to God, I had it this morning.”

“The key you were talking about last night?”

“Yeah. I showed it to you, right? Didn’t I show it to you?” Stiles asked and Scott and Silver both shook their heads, “No, you just told me about it. I never actually saw it.” Scott said and Stiles sighed.

“I was here a couple hours ago. And the message left to Barrow spelling Kira’s name was right there on the board in my handwriting, and I had the key to the chemistry closet.” Stiles said and Scott nodded slowly.

“So, you unlocked the chemistry closet so Barrow could hide in from the cops, and then you wrote him a message to kill Kira?” Scott said slowly, making Stiles sigh.

“I know how it sounds. But look at this-” Stiles said as he pulled out a piece of paper, “This is the new report that came out about Barrow when they caught him, okay? About the shrapnel bomb that he used. See this? See what he did? He put nuts, bolts, and screws, and then he hid the bomb and the detonator in a box that he wrapped as a birthday present. What does that sound like to you?”

“Coach…”

“That was my idea. You remember? That was my idea. That’s no coincidence. It can’t be.” Stiles said and Scott sighed softly, “I don’t want to sound like I’m trying to tell you that you’re wrong. But I don’t think you’re trying to kill people, either.” He said and Stiles looked at the board with a troubled look.

“It was here. It was all here.” He said and Silver looked at him concerned, “Stiles, are you feeling okay? You’re looking really tired.” he said, making him look at him and nod slightly. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just haven’t been sleeping, really.” He said, making him sigh.

Once Stiles finally left, Ethan and Aiden closed in on Scott and Silver.

“Did you tell him?” Ethan asked without preamble.

Scott shook his head. “No. He’s got enough on his mind right now.”

“If they’re coming for you in a few hours, then so do you,” Aiden pressed, tone low but insistent.

Scott’s voice sharpened. “What if it’s not us? What if we’re not the ones they want?”

That stopped the twins mid-step.

“Then who else is there?” Ethan asked slowly.

Silver’s gaze drifted down the hall, scanning faces until his eyes landed on Kira and Ren near the far lockers. Kira was saying something, her hands moving as she spoke, but Ren wasn’t listening. His attention was locked on Silver—smirking, winking, like they shared some private joke.

Silver didn’t miss it. And he definitely didn’t miss the way Scott’s jaw tensed before he even looked.

When Scott finally followed Silver’s gaze, something flickered in his expression—not just recognition. Something heavier. Something that made him watch a few seconds too long.

“Hey, Scott…” Silver said, voice low and edged.

Scott didn’t answer right away. “Yeah. I see them.”

Silver’s smirk was thin and knowing, like he’d just caught Scott thinking something he shouldn’t. “I’ve got an idea to get the twins off our backs.”

Scott gave a curt nod, but his gaze lingered in the direction Ren and Kira had gone, that knot of unease still tight in his chest.

“They’re gonna be mad, aren’t they?” Kira asked later, her voice pitched low as she glanced sideways at Silver in the passenger seat of Ren’s car.

“Definitely,” Silver said without hesitation, leaning back like he owned the space, one ankle resting casually on his knee. “But they won’t do anything.”

The low, familiar growl of a motorbike rolled up alongside them, and Silver’s eyes flicked toward the window. Scott.

His helmet was off, hair wind-tossed, expression carefully neutral—but his gaze didn’t go to Silver first. It went to Ren.

Ren felt it. Silver saw the flick of Ren’s eyes to the side mirror, meeting Scott’s stare for a beat too long. No nod. No smirk. Just a quiet acknowledgment… before Ren deliberately looked forward again, as if Scott wasn’t worth more than that second.

Silver’s mouth curled into a slow smirk. He rolled the window down, holding up four spark plugs between his fingers like they were gold. “Now… what shall I do with these?”

Scott’s lips twitched—caught between a warning and something that almost resembled amusement. “Meet me at my house.”

🦊

“Lock the door,” Scott said the moment they stepped into the house, his tone clipped.

“Got it.” Silver twisted the deadbolt until it clicked.

Kira lingered near the entryway, nerves obvious in the way her fingers toyed with her sleeve. “We’re running out of time.”

“I know,” Silver said, already moving through the living room, checking each window with practiced precision. “My family, Isaac, and Michael are working on something that could help.”

“I don’t want to sound pessimistic or anything,” Kira said, “but you really think that’s going to keep them out?”

Scott and Silver shared a brief glance—one that said more than either wanted to explain.

“Actually,” Silver said, “we have a kind of… security system.”

Scott moved past him, his own hands brushing the window frames. “Things happened a couple weeks ago—a lot of things—and we had my boss help make a few changes to the house.”

“Your boss? Do you work for a security company or something?” Kira asked.

Silver let out a quick laugh. “No. He’s a veterinarian.”

Kira blinked. “You had a vet put in your alarm?”

“Yeah… sort of,” Scott said. “But I can’t arm it—only my mom can.”

“Where is she?” Kira asked.

“She’ll be here,” Scott said firmly, already heading up the stairs. He didn’t wait to see if they followed, but his gaze flicked briefly toward Ren, jaw tightening for a fraction of a second before he turned away.

Silver and Ren traded a look and went after him.

Upstairs, Scott’s room felt tighter than usual. Silver stepped back to make space—bumping into Ren.

“Oh—sorry,” Silver said quickly.

Ren gave him a smirk, leaning against the wall with that relaxed posture Scott never liked. Kira stayed near the window, still scanning outside.

“We’re going to be okay. I swear,” Silver said.

“We? Or me?” Kira asked quietly.

“‘We’ means all of us,” Silver replied without missing a beat.

Kira sighed. “You didn’t bring the twins here because you didn’t want them to get hurt, right?”

“I don’t want anyone getting hurt,” Scott said, voice clipped enough to cut through the room. His eyes briefly landed on Ren before sliding away again.

“Then why bring me?” Kira asked. “If those things are coming after you guys, and anyone who gets in the way gets killed, shouldn’t I be somewhere else?”

Ren’s voice was steady. “We’re not letting you get hurt.”

Kira gave him a small smile. “And I don’t want you getting hurt—especially because of me.”

Ren’s smirk softened, and for a moment, it was just the two of them trading quiet sibling banter. Scott, standing by the dresser, pretended to check the latch on the window, but his shoulders had gone tight.

“It could be any one of us,” Scott said.

“I don’t think so,” Kira murmured. She dug into her bag. “I have to show you something.” She sat on the bed, pulling out an old, worn book. “Have you ever heard of something called a Kitsune?” Kira asked.

Ren’s expression shifted, and without a word, he slipped out into the hallway.

Silver hesitated, then followed.

He found Ren pacing, running a hand through his hair.

“You really don’t want to hear what my sister is?” Ren asked. His voice was low, careful, like it had been sitting on his tongue for hours.

Silver gave a small shrug, one shoulder lifting lazily. “I’ll get the details later.”

Ren blinked at him. “You’re not gonna ask?”

Silver tilted his head, voice steady. “Are you also…?”

“A Kitsune?” Ren shook his head. “No. Just my sister.”

The word just sat in the air longer than either of them wanted.

Ren exhaled sharply, moving to sit on the edge of the windowsill. He rubbed the back of his neck, gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the room. When he finally spoke again, his tone was softer—raw.

“How are you handling this?” he asked.

Silver lifted an eyebrow. “Handling what?”

Ren’s lips pressed into a thin line. “We were normal kids. A normal family. It was a normal life. But now—now my sister’s a Kitsune, we’ve got demonic ninjas after us… and me? I’m just the guy standing next to her in every photo.”

Silver leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed. The sunglasses hid his eyes, but not the quiet focus in his posture.

“You really believe that?” he asked.

Ren gave a weak smile and glanced down at the floor. “I don’t know. Sometimes it just… gets loud in my head. That part of me wondering if I’ll always be the ‘other Yukimura.'”

He let out a humorless laugh. “You probably think that sounds stupid.”

“I get it,” Silver said.

Ren frowned. “Get what?”

Silver’s hands dropped to his sides. He hesitated, then slid his sunglasses off and tucked them into his jacket pocket. The ceiling light caught on the clouded surface of his left eye, its damaged sheen impossible to miss.

“The twin jealousy,” Silver said quietly. “The feeling that they’re something… and you’re not.”

Ren’s brows knit together. “What?”

Silver nodded once. “My mom never said it out loud, but Allison—she was her favorite. She could deny it all she wanted, but I knew.”

“I’m sure she didn’t-” Ren began.

“She did,” Silver cut in, his voice tightening. “She saw me as fragile. Soft. She didn’t want a son who was bruised and broken. She wanted a soldier. A king. And Allison… Allison was the golden one. Brave. Sharp. Her perfect little legacy.”

His voice hitched for a heartbeat before he forced it level again. “And now she’s gone. I don’t get the chance to prove her wrong.”

Ren’s tone softened. “Silver—”

Silver gave a dry, almost bitter chuckle. “I’m not downplaying your feelings, Ren. I’m saying… you’re not the only one who knows what it’s like to be the invisible twin.”

Ren met his eyes—both of them—without looking away. There was no pity there, just something steady. “I don’t think you’re invisible,” he said, and his voice didn’t waver. “Not even close.”

Silver blinked slowly, then turned toward the window, letting the light hit his face. The moment stayed quiet—tense, maybe, but not uncomfortable.

The sound of keys rattling in the doorway made both boys glance toward the stairs just as Scott and Kira bounded up toward them.

“My mom’s home.”

The four of them—Scott, Silver, Kira, and Ren—made their way down the stairs, talking in hushed tones as the last bit of daylight slipped away outside. Their steps slowed the moment they turned into the kitchen and saw someone already there.

Scott stopped dead in his tracks. “What are you doing here?” he asked sharply. “And why do you still have a key?”

Agent McCall turned from the counter, a half-finished cup of coffee in his hand and a look of smug satisfaction on his face. “Funny you should ask about keys,” he said. “Because while I do have a key to this house, what I don’t understand is how you three got into my office.”

He stepped aside and turned his open laptop toward them. On the screen was a grainy still from a security camera: Scott, Silver, and Ren caught mid-step in the evidence room, clearly not supposed to be there.

Agent McCall raised an eyebrow. “Let me help you out here. This is usually the part where someone says, ‘It’s not what you think!’ or ‘I can explain!’—which, for the record, never actually works.”

Scott didn’t miss a beat. “Let me help you out—you need to leave.”

Silver opened his mouth to say something, but Scott cut him off with a pointed look.

“I’ll leave when I get a satisfactory explanation,” McCall replied evenly.

Scott shrugged. “Go get a warrant.”

His father scoffed. “I don’t need a warrant. I’m your father.”

“Scott,” Silver said quietly, stepping closer. His tone was calm, almost gentle. “Breathe. He’s not worth it.”

Scott’s fists clenched, his eyes already beginning to glow faintly red.

Silver reached for him again, voice firmer now. “You don’t need to do this.”

Scott didn’t look at him at first, but Silver’s presence alone grounded him. When Scott finally met his eyes, his breathing started to steady—still sharp, but slowing.

And that’s when Rafael spoke again.

“What is going on here?” His voice was lower now, a mix of confusion and pressure.

Scott turned toward him slowly, the red still glowing behind his eyes.

Rafael gestured toward Silver, his expression somewhere between suspicion and uneasy curiosity. “Who is he to you, anyway? Your… friend?”

Scott’s gaze sharpened. “That a problem?”

Rafael hesitated, his voice unsure. “I’m just trying to understand. I don’t know who he is, but if he’s the reason you’re acting like this… if he’s turning you into this—I don’t know if he’s worth your time.”

The silence after that was razor-sharp.

Scott stepped forward slowly, voice cold and clipped. “No. You don’t get to talk about worth. You’re not the one who stayed. You’re not the one who knows anything about me.”

Rafael opened his mouth, but Scott kept going.

“You’re not my father. You’re a gene donor. I got my hair color from you—and that’s it. So don’t walk in here and try to play tough-dad. You gave up that right the second you walked away.”

Silver let out a quiet, amused hum—but there was a protective edge in it. Ren, standing beside him, didn’t say a word, just gave Scott a solid, supportive nudge.

Before Rafael could say anything else, Melissa appeared in the doorway, drawn by the tension. She took one look around the room and sighed.

“Okay. What’s going on now?” she asked, exasperated but calm—the only one in the room who seemed entirely unshaken.

Rafael took a breath and stepped back slightly, still rattled. His gaze flicked between Melissa, Scott, and Silver like he was trying to piece together a puzzle that had changed in his absence.

Agent McCall turned his attention back to the teens. “Maybe one of you would like to explain why you broke into a federal office?”

Before anyone could answer, Silver’s voice cut in—quiet, serious.

“Scott.” He was staring out the kitchen window, eyes fixed on the fading sky. “Sun’s going down.”

The group turned toward him, sensing the shift in the air. Scott’s stomach dropped.

“What the hell is this?” Agent McCall said, eyes narrowing as he turned to look into the living room.

There—just past the couch—stood a figure. Cloaked, faceless, and still as a statue. One of the Oni.

“Dad, no—!” Scott lunged forward as his father moved toward the figure.

But it was too late.

Another Oni appeared in a flash, materializing behind McCall and plunging a ninjatō through his shoulder in one precise motion.

Kira screamed.

“Scott!” Melissa cried, rushing forward. She dropped to her knees beside Agent McCall, trying to stop the bleeding as Silver knelt to help, pressing a hand over the wound.

The front door slammed open.

Derek burst through the front door, mid-shift, a low growl ripping from his throat as claws tore through the air. One of the Oni turned to intercept him, but Derek didn’t slow—he slammed into the demon, sending it crashing down the hallway in a blur of black and smoke.

“Mom—the ash!” Scott shouted, already lunging into the fight beside Derek, his eyes glowing red.

Melissa grabbed Agent McCall, dragging him out of the way as Ren pulled Kira behind him, shielding her toward the staircase.

Silver stood near the center of the room, unmoving. His eyes were locked on the Oni as chaos exploded around him. The world slowed, like he was watching from underwater. The crash of breaking glass barely registered as Aiden and Ethan came crashing in through the windows, joining the fight with snarls and claws.

One of the demons lunged—and Derek shoved it, sending it flying straight toward Silver.

Silver blinked out of the haze. His reflexes snapped into place. He ducked under the Oni’s blade, twisted, and delivered a sharp kick to its back, sending the creature stumbling through the front door.

“Now, Mom!” Scott yelled.

Melissa sprinted forward and smashed a glass jar against the threshold. Mountain ash spilled across the doorway in a silver arc, forming an instant glowing line of protection.

The Oni that had been thrown out advanced again, stopping just inches from the barrier. It raised a blade—then hesitated, as if testing it. But it didn’t cross.

Silver stood just a few feet away, catching his breath. He turned his head slightly, eyes still on the creature.

“Held,” he muttered. “Barely.”

Derek was already brushing glass from his sleeves. “All the baseboards ash wood?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Scott said. “Deaton’s idea.”

Silver glanced toward him. “Smart move.”

Derek turned, eyes narrowing. “Where the hell did you come from?”

“I’ve been following you,” Derek said plainly.

Silver raised a brow. “Since when?”

Derek shrugged. “Long enough.”

Before Silver could reply, Melissa’s voice called from the kitchen. “Scott—this isn’t over!”

Scott ran to her. Silver stayed back, falling in beside Derek, tense but watching everything.

In the kitchen, Aiden looked between Kira and Ren. “So what is she?”

Derek answered, sharp and without patience. “She’s a Kitsune, idiot. Use your eyes—you can see the aura. She hasn’t learned to conceal it yet. Probably doesn’t even know what kind she is.”

Kira looked down, her hands shaking slightly. “It’s me,” she said. “They’re after me.”

Silver turned sharply toward her. “What?”

She swallowed hard, lifting her head. “It’s me. I’m why they’re here.”

“No,” Silver said instantly, stepping closer. “I don’t believe that.”

“But isn’t that what a Kitsune is?” she asked, voice breaking. “A trickster? Something dangerous? How do you know I’m not the one they’re looking for?”

Silver looked at her, his voice low but unwavering. “Because I’ve seen dangerous. I’ve bled because of it. People like that don’t panic about who they are. They don’t ask if they’re monsters.”

Kira blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears. “But what if I am?”

“You’re not,” Silver said. “You’re scared. You’re confused. That’s not the same thing.”

For a moment, the room was still. Kira turned her face away, and Ren stepped closer to her, quiet but steady.

Silver let out a slow breath, eyes drifting toward the Oni, which still stood on the other side of the mountain ash, silent and waiting.

“Why do you think we’re here, Derek? For a study group? We’re here to protect Scott.” Aiden said. “We’re trying to fight for him.” Ethan backed up his brother causing Derek to shake his head. “I’m sure you are. I’m sure you’d kill for him. But are you willing to die for him?”

A deep rumble echoed through the house, drawing everyone back into the kitchen just in time to see dark figures slamming their ninjato against the shimmering mountain ash barrier at the front door.

“What are they doing?” Scott asked, breath catching as he stepped forward.

“Testing for weaknesses,” Ethan replied grimly, eyes locked on the demons.

The Oni struck again and again, their blades sparking against the unseen barrier. With each impact, the house trembled. Dishes clattered off the counters, and the light fixture above swung wildly. Shadows flickered across the walls like something alive.

Then the Oni changed tactics—driving their blades downward, stabbing into the barrier. The glow of the mountain ash began to dim at the edges, flickering like a dying flame.

One of the demons pressed its palm against the surface—and the barrier wavered under the pressure, rippling like water.

“Guys,” Ethan said sharply, eyes wide. “We’ve got a problem.”

Without hesitation, Silver yanked his phone from his pocket, the screen already lighting up with a call from Allison.

He answered before the first ring ended. “Allison—please tell me you’ve got something. They’re here. They’re trying to get in—and it looks like they’re going to break through.”

On the other end, Allison’s voice came fast, urgent. “Okay, listen—they’re Japanese demons. They’re called the Oni. They’re looking for someone possessed. Someone with a dark spirit attached to them.”

Silver’s expression tightened. “A Nogitsune…”

There was a pause. “How’d you know that? Silver?“

“Just… tell us what else,” Silver said, cutting off the question.

“They won’t hurt you,” Allison continued. “They can sense who’s supernatural, but once they confirm you’re not the one with the spirit, they’ll let you go. I swear. All they’re looking for is the Nogitsune.”

Kira’s voice broke through the panic. “It’s me, isn’t it? They’re looking for me.”

Silver turned to her, shaking his head as he stepped closer. His voice was calm, steady despite the chaos. “No. They’re here to check us. But they’re looking for a dark spirit—that’s not you.”

Scott’s jaw clenched. “We need to decide—fast.”

Before anyone could move, a sharp crack split the air. The mountain ash barrier shattered, and the Oni stepped silently through the doorway.

“Don’t,” Scott said quickly, holding an arm out to stop Derek and the twins. His voice was firm.

“Is he serious?” Ethan whispered, eyes flicking toward the advancing demons.

Scott and Kira stepped forward first, hearts pounding, but unmoving. They stood tall in front of the group as the Oni approached them like shadows come to life.

The first Oni reached for Kira, the second for Scott—gloved hands pressing to their temples, tilting their heads. The air thickened. Everyone held their breath.

Scott tensed beside Silver, ready to intervene.

But the Oni did nothing—only stared. Deep, soul-searching stares, as if reading something no one else could see.

Then—suddenly—they let go.

Kira and Scott dropped to their knees, the Oni releasing them wordlessly.

Scott lunged forward, but Silver was already moving—dropping to his knees beside Scott, his hand steady as he gently turned Scott’s head.

His breath caught.

A faint burn mark glowed just below the hairline—a backward five, seared into the skin.

🦊

The house was quiet, the kind of stillness that pressed in around the edges. Silver moved down the hallway without a sound, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. The faint light from the hallway caught on the clouded surface of his damaged eye.

Allison’s door was cracked open. Inside, her desk lamp cast a warm pool of light across the room, shadows pooling in the corners. She was perched cross-legged on her bed, fletching an arrow with practiced, careful hands.

Silver stepped inside without knocking.

“You’re supposed to knock,” she said, not looking up.

“You’re supposed to lock your door,” he countered, quietly shutting it behind him.

Allison set the arrow down and studied him. “What’s going on?”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes drifted over the desk—hunting gear scattered in organized chaos.

“You ever think about Mom?” he asked finally, his voice low.

“All the time.”

He nodded, but there was a heaviness in it. “Ren told me the other night… sometimes he feels like he’s just the ‘other Yukimura.’ You know—the extra in the background of every picture. The brother standing next to the real star.”

His voice thinned. “I told him I understood. Because I do. I’ve felt like the ‘other twin’ my whole life. Allison was the one Mom wanted. She looked at you and saw the hunter she wanted to raise. She looked at me and saw someone who was… fragile. Soft. Someone she needed to protect, not rely on.”

Allison’s chest tightened. “Silver—”

“I kept thinking if I proved myself, if I became the hunter she wanted, I could change that look in her eyes. But now she’s gone. I can’t prove her wrong. I can’t even ask her if I was ever enough. I just have to… live with it. And it’s loud in my head, Ally. Every day.”

Something in his voice cracked, and before she even thought about it, she crossed the room and pulled him into a hug.

For a heartbeat, he froze—like no one had done this for him in a long time, maybe since before Mom died. Then his arms came up around her in a rush, hard enough that it almost hurt. His breath shuddered against her shoulder. She felt the sharp inhale he was trying to swallow down, the tremor in his fingers as he gripped the back of her jacket like letting go wasn’t an option.

“You were never the ‘other twin,'” she said into his shoulder, her voice low but fierce. “You’re my little, stupid, annoying baby brother.”

“By like five minutes,” he muttered against her.

“Still counts,” she said, pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. “You matter to me, Arthur. More than you’ll ever understand. And I don’t care how loud it gets in your head—I’ll keep saying it until you believe me.”

He made a sound—half a laugh, half a choke—and swiped at his eyes.

Allison didn’t push him away. Instead, she sat back on the bed and picked up the unfinished arrow. After a second, she handed it to him, along with the fletching glue.

He hesitated, then took it. She passed him the next feather.

They didn’t talk much after that. The lamplight wrapped around them in a small, safe circle while they worked, hands moving in quiet rhythm. For the first time in a long while, the weight between them felt lighter—not gone, but something they could carry together.