Astrid slumped back against the cracked stone, dust clogging her throat, shoulder throbbing.

  Blood ran in slow, sticky lines down her arm.

  Kurai crouched beside her — awkward, hands hovering like he didn’t trust himself to touch her without breaking something.

  “Let me see it,” he said, voice tight.

  Astrid shook her head, stubborn as ever. “It’s not that bad.”

  Before he could argue, she grabbed the shard of obsidian from her shoulder and yanked it free.

  A ragged cry ripped from her throat before she could stop it.

  The shard clattered on the stone between them.

  “Gods, Astrid — stop acting tough!” Kurai snapped, raw with panic.

  Astrid glared at him through the pain. “Then stop acting like you didn’t just save us.”

  The words landed between them like an aftershock.

  Kurai stilled — stunned.

  Slowly, he reached forward again. This time he didn’t ask.

  He pressed a torn cloth against the wound, his touch trembling but careful.

  Astrid watched him — saw the tightness in his jaw, the way he still wouldn’t meet her eyes.

  The silence stretched.

  Then — low, rough — he muttered:

  “I shouldn’t have let it get that far.”

  His voice cracked on the last word.

  He pressed the cloth firmer than necessary, like trying to undo what had already been done.

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  Astrid’s heart twisted.

  He still thought he was the problem.

  She reached out with her good arm and touched his hand.

  Then, without missing a beat, she smirked.

  “So... think I’ll have a sick scar?”

  Kurai blinked — startled.

  Astrid grinned crookedly.

  “Guys dig scars, right? Makes me look dangerous. Like, whoa, who’s that mysterious badass with the volcano wound?”

  A beat passed.

  Kurai’s mouth twitched.

  Astrid pressed on. “We made a mad team though, right? Sure, you got the cool finisher, but I definitely saved your ass.”

  Kurai gave a short, reluctant laugh — low and warm.

  "You did most of the running around throwing rocks," he said, voice rasping from the smoke.

  Astrid leaned back, wincing slightly but still smiling.

  “Yeah, well. I’m scrappy.”

  Their knees bumped lightly together — casual. Familiar.

  Kurai finally looked at her. Really looked.

  And then — carefully, slowly — he reached up and brushed a streak of soot from her cheek with his knuckles.

  That single touch said more than any words.

  She didn’t flinch.

  He let out a breath — soft, shaky — like something inside him had finally unclenched.

  ---

  “What now?” Astrid asked after a long pause, quieter now.

  Kurai looked to the broken ridges ahead.

  “We move. Before they send something worse.”

  Astrid nodded, gritting her teeth as she pushed upright.

  “I’m not done yet.”

  Neither was he.

  He shot her a look — the one that said you’re absolutely insane — then let out a breath of a laugh.

  ---

  As they packed, Astrid glanced around the ruined hollow with a sigh.

  “Okay, let’s see what’s not melted.”

  She picked up a half-scorched water flask, frowning.

  “You really had to go full fireball? You almost ruined my Initial D tee. It’s vintage.”

  Kurai rolled his eyes, slow and deliberate. “I’ll control my inner apocalypse next time.”

  “Thank you,” Astrid said sweetly. “Much appreciated.”

  ---

  She bent stiffly to grab a coil of rope and winced sharply, her shoulder pulling tight.

  She straightened quickly, trying to play it off.

  But Kurai saw.

  He always saw.

  Without a word, he picked up the heavier pack and slung it over his shoulder.

  Astrid didn’t argue.

  For once — she let him.

  ---

  They were nearly ready when Kurai stiffened.

  “Astrid.”

  She followed his gaze.

  At the edge of the ridge, the ground was disturbed — deep tracks carved into the ash.

  And beside them — burned into a black stone slab — a crude symbol.

  Astrid’s mouth went dry.

  “That wasn’t all of it, was it?”

  Kurai’s jaw clenched.

  “No. That was a scout.”

  The Spellhound had been sent.

  A test.

  A warning.

  And now, the real hunt would begin.

  ---

  Astrid forced a breath into her lungs.

  “Let’s go before something uglier shows up.”

  Kurai turned to her — and something flickered in his golden eyes.

  Pride.

  Fear.

  Something more.

  “We’ll handle it,” he said. “We’re a good team.”

  He’s so cheesy.

  Astrid nodded, smiling tiredly, but part of her still wondered — how long could a bridge walk beside a flame before burning?

  ---

  They began walking.

  Kurai glanced at her, brow furrowing.

  “…What is Initial D?”

  Astrid burst out laughing.

  “Oh man, I’m about to change your life.”

  She pulled her cracked phone from her bag, Charlie’s smiling face lighting up the lockscreen and flipped to her playlist.

  "Battery’s fine," she muttered, “but no charger out here. Tragedy.”

  Kurai gave her a look — half-pained, half-patient.

  Astrid hit play.

  The opening beat of “Rage Your Dream” buzzed from the tinny speaker — loud, fast, entirely wrong for the dead valley around them.

  And yet — perfect.

  She tucked the phone carefully away like it was sacred.

  "Alright, let’s move, Fujiwara Tofu," she grinned.

  Kurai groaned — but followed.

  Side by side, bruised and battered and laughing under the falling ash, they walked forward.

  Toward whatever came next.