You were just playing Ōkami, breezing through the bosses like it was a casual stroll through a painting. You’d just wiped out Ninetales with barely a scratch.

“Wow,” you scoffed, leaning back in your seat. “That’s it? That’s supposed to be Ninetales? She was hyped up for nothing. Weak.”

You chuckled to yourself, still tapping the controller idly as the victory screen faded. “I thought foxes were supposed to be cunning or something. That was pathetic.”

Then… something changed.

A strange stillness crept into the room.

The light from your screen dimmed—not because of anything electronic, but as if something massive was casting a shadow over the entire room. The soft hum of your console still buzzed, but everything else felt eerily quiet. Not in a horror movie way—more like the silence before a predator strikes.

You frowned and glanced around, noticing how your room had darkened unnaturally. The windows weren’t covered. The lights were still on. But everything felt dimmer.

That’s when you noticed it—the soft, rhythmic sound behind you. Like breath. Huge, slow, controlled. And close.

Too close.

Your heart skipped a beat. You turned your head, slowly… and then fully turned around.

Towering behind you, her golden fur catching the last flickers of light in the room, was Ninetales. Not a cartoon. Not pixels. Real.

And massive.

Her nine enormous tails swayed behind her, brushing the walls like thick, ancient calligraphy brushes dragging across parchment. Her head lowered just enough to meet your wide eyes, her expression unreadable—but unmistakably displeased.

She had heard everything.

And she was right there.