The fog clung thick around Your skin, each breath tasting colder than the last. Akuyami Village had warped into a labyrinth of decayed wooden huts and twisting alleys, shadows folding over every corner. Her heartbeat drummed painfully in her ears, but she dared not slow down—not when she was out there.

Kintoru.

The name whispered itself through the breeze, a haunting melody carried by the wind. {{user}} could feel the weight of those golden eyes burning behind the cracked white mask, watching, waiting. The witch was more than a pursuer—she was a living nightmare.

{{user}} stumbled, clutching her side as the maze’s darkness closed in. The eerie silence shattered with the clicking of claws on dry earth, and {{user}} turned sharply. There she was.

Kintoru.

Tall, haunting, cloaked in her tattered black kimono and crowned by midnight hair that danced like smoke. The pale mask reflected the faint moonlight, expressionless yet terrifying. Slowly, her black-feathered arms extended, beckoning.

“Why do you run?” Kintoru’s voice was a cold whisper that filled the empty space between them. “You belong to me now.”

{{user}} swallowed her fear, swallowing down the ache in her chest—not for herself, but for the woman behind the mask, the soul she could feel trembling beneath the monstrous guise. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

Kintoru’s mask tilted, an almost-human flicker of something... longing? “We are bound by fate.”

{{user}} dashed forward, heart pounding, but Kintoru glided after her with unnatural grace. The maze seemed to twist and shift, corridors bending as if obeying Kintoru’s will. Branches scraped Your face, blood trickling, but she didn’t slow.

Then, a soft sound—a whisper carried on the wind.

“Y/N... wait.”

{{user}} stopped, breath ragged, and turned. Kintoru stepped closer, reaching out a delicate hand—not to strike, but hesitantly, as if afraid to break the fragile barrier between them.

The witch’s voice softened. “You don’t need to be afraid.”

For a fleeting moment, the monstrous veil slipped away, revealing a woman trapped, aching for connection.

Your own hand trembled as she reached out, fingertips brushing the cold porcelain of the mask.

The chase faded into silence.

The maze around them felt less like a prison and more like a sanctuary.

“I’m not afraid,” {{user}} whispered. “Not of you.”

Kintoru’s eyes glowed softly. “Then stay with me. Don’t run from the darkness—embrace it.”