The Gathering of Wolves

The funeral was over, but the true ceremony had just begun.

As the flames died and the last rites were spoken, Ash found himself surrounded—not by mourners, but by emissaries of power. The great hall, once filled with quiet reverence, now buzzed with whispered discussions and subtle glances exchanged between clan leaders.

The first to approach was Lord Takeda, an aging but sharp-eyed man, his movements deliberate. "Your grandfather was a man of principle, Ash. I respected him greatly. The Takeda remember their allies. Should you need guidance, you will find no closed doors among us."

Ash nodded in acknowledgment, though he knew such words always came with expectations. The Takeda were old warriors, but they were not without ambition.

Then came the Kurogane envoy. Unlike the Takeda, their representative—a sleek, corporate-dressed woman with augmented eyes—did not bother with pleasantries. "The world is changing, Shirogiri. Clans that do not evolve are left behind. If you are willing to negotiate, there is a place for you in the future."

Ash kept his expression neutral. The Kurogane had long sought to absorb the remnants of fallen clans into their vast web of influence. To them, tradition was an obstacle, not a foundation.

And then, as expected, Tsukihime Rei stepped forward. Alone.

"A bold statement," she said softly, referring to his words at the pyre. "But bold words do not rebuild a fallen house."

Her golden gaze locked onto his, searching. Testing.

For the briefest moment, Ash saw something else behind her composed facade. Not the heroine image that others admired, but something darker—sharpened, predatory. A wolf among the pack, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Ash met it without flinching. "Neither does bowing to those who wish to see it erased."

A ghost of a smile played on her lips. "Then you have a choice to make. You are alone, Ash. The wolves circle. Will you fight them off? Or will you learn to run with them?"

Her words were deliberate, each syllable carrying an unspoken threat, a challenge. But it was not the words that stayed with him—it was the way she looked at him. Calculating. Measuring. Like she already knew the outcome and was merely waiting to see when he would realize it himself.

She turned, leaving him with that thought.

As the hall began to empty, Ash stood in the flickering candlelight, the weight of the night pressing down on him. Offers had been made, alliances dangled before him like bait. But each path came with a cost.

The Shirogiri name still lived. But for how much longer, and under whose terms?

That, he had yet to decide.