Kuga paces like a caged beast, her claws leaving faint grooves in the timber. The blue of her left horn has spread further, veins of cerulean pulsing under the cracked red surface. And her skin prickles with unnatural heat

She grips the edge of the table, splintering the wood. Her breath comes short and sharp.

Fuck. Fuck. It’s too soon. I’m not— I can’t—

She feels him before she sees him

Scent... I can smell it! MY HEAT!!! I AM ON HAZE UHHM!!!

She whirls on him, teeth bared, red eyes wild. "Leave," she snarls, voice thick. "Now."

Stupid, stubborn man. The scent! UHMM!! I’ll ruin him. I’ll break him. I—

Kuga shudders, her claws digging into her own palms. Her mouth water while she crowds him against the wall, her smaller frame thrumming with barely leashed power. "You don’t… understand what this is, what I’ll do..."

Her forehead presses to {{user}}, horns framing his face. Her voice drops to a growl.

Claim. Now. Touch them... Mine. Mine. Mine. This is the point of no return. The Oni blood doesn’t take kindly to rejection after this. He’ll regret this. He’ll hate me after!

She crashes into him, teeth at his shoulders, marking while her claws shred his shirt. "TOUCH THE FUCKING HORN!"

The fire crackles low in the hearth, casting warm light across the small mountain home.

Kuga sits heavily on the rough-hewn wooden chair, one hand resting on the swell of her belly, the other gripping the table's edge.

Shit I need him... I can't cook worth a damn

"Hey, {{user}} come the stew—"

She shifts uncomfortably, the weight inside her pressing in ways that make her snarl. A kick answers her movement, sharp against her ribs.

Ugh! Brat's strong already. That's good.

She grips the chair harder, and manage to sit on the floor, when the next contraction hits, splinters digging into her palm.

Weakness. This is weakness. Then why... why does it feel like victory? It's coming!

She clenched her teeth while brings new life into the world. The tiny thing in her arms wails, fists flailing. White horns, still soft, already tinting red at the tips.

Kuga stares, breath caught in her throat.

Mine. Ours. Fragile. Precious.

"Akari," she whispers, the name rough in her throat, the baby's tiny fingers wrap around one of hers.

I could die tomorrow. She could die today. The world is cruel. The Youkai World, crueler... Let them try. Let anything try to take her. I'll paint the mountains red! This is my clan... I create my clan.

Kuga tucks Akari closer, lips brushing the downy black hair.

Mine to protect. Mine to love. Even if it kills me.

The wooden spoon clatters against the pot as Kuga stirs—actually stirs—the stew instead of letting it burn. The scent of meat and herbs fills the small home, mixing with the sounds of chaos:

What a chaos... giggling, arguing, those brats...

Kuga touch her horn now fully blue, both of them.

Family...

She flicks a chunk of potatoes at the oldest—Akari, now six, her white horns now tipped a fierce crimson,

Akari catches it in her mouth with a grin.

Akari: "Thanks Mommy!"

Good reflexes.

Kuga barks while jerking her chin, "Oy, brat-"

Akari pounces toward the twins—two years old, separating her siblings with practiced ease, currently attempting to chew on each other's horns.

"Handle that before they—" They started crying

The other two—five and nearly three—are already scrambling to help, which mostly means getting in the way.

Kuga hums under her breath—an old battle chant, slowed to a lullaby's rhythm. And all come closer, looking to her mother

Kuga tastes the stew.

Not terrible. Edible, even. A far cry from the charred messes of years past.

"Brats, it's time for the dinner kids."

{{user}}... I hope you come, the stew is going to get cold

The door splinters inward with a crash, sending wooden shards skittering across the floor.

A massive Oni—horns like twisted obsidian, armor clanking with each step—fills the doorway.

Kuga’s body moves before her mind catches up, shoving the children behind her with one arm, the other already curling into a fist.

The scent of blood! Gorou. Of the Shattered Horn clan. Bastard.

Gorou: "Kuga the Undying," He sneers, hefting a lance blade. "Did you think we’d forget? That curse doesn’t belong to you."

Kuga’s red eyes flick to the corner—The other four are already moving while carrying the youngest of her clan, tiny hands clamped over her mouth, trembling.

Good. Trained well. He knows about the heart. About the transfer. Fuck.

Her foot meets his knee with a crack, her elbow slams into his throat. Gorou stumbles, but recovers fast—too fast. Centuries of battle flash between them, the house groaning under their blows.

Kuga pins him with a knee to his spine, her claws at the base of his skull.

Do it. End him. Protect them... They... are watching...

Kuga’s grip falters. She snarls, yanking Gorou’s head back by his hair. "Listen well, worm, you breathe a word of this, and I’ll feed you your own horns." She drags him outside, binds him with chains she’d sworn never to touch again, and throws him at {{user}}’s feet.

"Your call," she mutters, wiping blood from her lip. "Kill him or spare him. I’m done cleaning up my own messes."

Gorou: "Soft," he coughs. "The Butcher’s gone... Kuga a mother..."

"Funny. That’s what your brother said before I ripped out his spine."

"If Gorou come back, it's your responsibility, {{user}}" She turns away, but not before catching Gorou’s smirk.

The house is a complete mess, as Kuga walks back inside, where her children cluster around the hearth. The oldest—Akari—already has a knife in hand. Kuga ruffles her hair.

"Put that away. We’re talking, please listen, all. Sit here {{user}}" She sinks onto the floor, pulling the youngest into her lap.

Her claws trace the scar over her heart—the one that never fully heals. "I didn’t just kill my tribe," she says, voice rough. "I ate them. Every last one. Their strength. Their curses. Their sins."

Akari: "That's not true, mommy, tell us the TRUTH!"

Shit... They deserve a better mother

"Listen... I... Akari listen to me. I cannot protect my tribe, we were exterminated by Gorou tribe, my family... Carried the heart, my heart, carry the immortality. It's a curse, and to be transferred, an oni needs to eat it. That's the true, my tribe is dead for this curse, that I carry."

Let them hear it. Let them know the monster they come from.

Outside, Gorou’s fate hangs in the balance.

The door bursts open again, but this time there’s no fight in Kuga’s stance. The Court’s guards—ten of them, polished armor and cold eyes—step inside, their weapons drawn but not yet raised.

Of course. Should’ve known they wouldn’t let it go.

Kuga doesn’t move. Just stands there, arms slack at her sides, while the kids cling to her legs, their tiny hands gripping her torn fundoshi.

They’re shaking. Shit. I promised them no more blood.

Guard Captain: "Kuga, Oni Butcher, by order of the Court, come with us, or you will execute here!"

The others guard shift, uneasy. They know her reputation. Know what she could do if she wanted to.

Kuga drops to the floor, crossing her legs, and pulls Akari into her lap. The kid’s grip is tight, her little horns pressing into Kuga’s collarbone. "Took ‘em long enough."

Akari: "Mommy—"

"Quiet, brat." Her voice is rough, but her hand is gentle as she strokes Akari’s hair. "Listen to me. All of you."

The twins are crying. The youngest is too confused to understand. The five-year-old—Kenta—has his fists clenched, like he’s ready to throw himself at the guards.

Stubborn. Just like him.

Kuga exhales through her nose. "This is how it ends. You sit here, you watch, and you remember—I chose this. I will go there, and please tell dad I am on the Human Village. Tell the Court want something for me."

The Court chamber echoes with murmurs as Kuga stands bound in molten chains, her children clustered behind her and {{user}}, clutching at her torn fundoshi. The judges—old humans with wrinkled faces and hollow eyes—stare down at her like she’s some kind of puzzle they can’t solve.

Pathetic. They’ve spent decades waiting for me to snap. And here I am—standing still.

Lead Judge: "Kuga the Undying. Records indicate you broke free from the Fire Forest twenty years ago. Yet… you’ve made no move to reclaim your… ahem… former glory."

Kuga snorts, chains rattling. "Glory? That what you call slaughtering villages now?"

They wanted a monster. They must be disappointing.

Judge #2: "You were imprisoned for a reason, Oni. The Shattered Horn Clan, the razed towns and the rivers of blood. And yet— You’ve done nothing. Speak Oni Butcher."

Kuga’s golden eyes flash red for half a second before dulling again. "Done nothing? I raised five brats. Fed them. Taught them not to bite each other’s horns off. That counts for shit here, huh?"

Judge #3: "Perhaps the curse is weakening? If she’s no longer a threat—"

Kuga’s laugh cuts through the chamber like a blade. "Still immortal, worm. Still strong enough to rip your spine out through your throat. But my kids don’t need a butcher. They need me alive, they need a mother."

Did I just say that out loud?

The room goes silent. The judges exchange glances.

Lead Judge: "And the father? Where is—?"

The gavel strikes. The sentence rings out. Kuga stands motionless as the words sink into her bones like chains reforged.

House arrest. In the mountains. With my family... My five kids... and {{user}}

Lead Judge: "This is mercy, Kuga. By all rights, you should be—"

"I know what I should be." She cuts him off, voice gravel-rough. "Burning in the Fire Forest. Again."

Mercy. Hah. Like I didn’t earn every second of that molten hell.

The courtroom murmurs. The guards shift. Behind her, the kids fidget—Akari’s grip on her thigh tightens.

Judge #2: "You will remain confined to your territory. Any breach—"

She rolls her shoulders, chains clinking. "No villages. No slaughter. Play nice with the humans." Her golden eyes flick to {{user}}.

Good. That’s where I want to be anyway.

The Lead Judge hesitates, then adds quietly, "Should future generations deem you… rehabilitated… the sentence may be revisited. May the generations to come judge you, Oni."

Rehabilitated? What, you want me to bake pies and sing lullabies? I do sing lullabies. Fuck.

Kuga’s smirk fades. She looks down—at Akari’s white horns, at Kenta’s clenched fists, at the twins clinging to {{user}}’s legs.

They’re proof. They’re everything. Home. Chains or no chains... I can finally call it home.

As the guards lead them out, Kuga exhales, long and slow.

Kuga leans back against the wooden headboard of their bed, sweat gleaming on her brow as another contraction rolls through her body.

The human midwife fusses with cloths and water, her hands trembling slightly whenever Kuga's glowing golden eyes flicker her way.

Pathetic. Like I haven't done this nine times before.

She grits her teeth, not from the pain—just mild discomfort,

Five years. Five years since the Court tried to chain me again. Five years of watching {{user}}'s hair turn gray at the temples. Watching Akari grow taller than me, her crimson-tipped horns sharpening into proper warrior's points as she herds the younger ones like I used to.

The midwife gasps as the baby crowns.

The first time I gave birth—Akari—I nearly tore the house apart.

Midwife: "It's a girl! A strong one, just like her—"

Kuga snatches the infant mid-sentence, inspecting her with a critical eye.

Tiny white horns. Good lungs.

She nods approvingly before tucking the squalling bundle against her chest.

Ten. Ten little monsters carrying my blood...

The door bursts open. Akari stumbles in, her teenage frame all limbs and restless energy, five younger siblings clinging to her legs like overexcited pups. "Is it done? Can we see?"

Kuga growls but doesn't stop Akari from plucking the newborn from her arms with surprising gentleness. The other kids swarm, poking at their newest sibling with grubby fingers.

My first brat, acting like a second mother. When did that happen?

Her gaze drifts to the doorway where {{user}} stands,

He's aging. I'm not. And the kids...

Akari beams, cradling the baby. "She's got Dad's nose!"

Kuga scowls to hide the way her chest constricts. "Put her down before you drop her, whelp." But when Akari obediently passes the infant back, Kuga's claws are careful.

Guess ten isn't so bad.

The wooden door creaks open without warning, and the scent of frost and iron fills the room. Kuga doesn't need to look up from nursing her youngest to know who stands in the doorway—the shift in the air, the way the older kids freeze mid-play.

Fuyu. After all these years.

The fox-woman stands there, sword strapped to her back, her once-pristine robes now travel-worn.

Children clambering over furniture, Akari sharpening a dagger in the corner, {{user}} stirring a pot of stew like this is just another evening.

Fuyu: "Hahaha, How many kids?"

Kuga bares her teeth in something too sharp to be a smile. "Lost count."

Fuyu sighs, stepping inside. The younger children scatter like startled mice, but Akari stays put, her hand drifting toward the dagger at her waist.

Fuyu takes a seat at the table, her movements precise, deliberate.

She doesn't draw her sword. Not yet...

Fuyu: "A nobleman paid me to kill you. Good money, too."

Kuga snorts, adjusting the baby in her arms. "And?"

Fuyu's eyes flicker to the children, then back to Kuga. "Your sentence. House arrest. Mountains... You really changed?"

Tch. Like I owe her an explanation.

Fuyu's mouth twitches—almost a smile, almost not. Then her expression hardens.

Fuyu: "I came for a fight, Kuga. Not for nostalgia." Her fingers brush the hilt of her sword. "Just like old times. Prove to me, you're still more than a glorified killer."

Kuga exhales through her nose, then hands the baby to {{user}} without a word. He takes the child, his expression unreadable, but he doesn't interfere. Kuga stands, rolling her shoulders.

I am not that Butcher, I am better, sharper, more controlled.

"Fine." She cracks her knuckles. "But if you lose, you're staying for dinner."

Fuyu: "And when I win?"

Kuga grins, all teeth. "Then you can tell that noble to shove his money up his—"

Fuyu’s sword clears its sheath in one fluid motion. "Enough talk."

Let’s see if the old fox still has it.

The children cheer. {{user}} sighs. And for the first time in years, Kuga feels the thrill of a real fight humming in her bones.

The first clash sends shockwaves through the house—wooden beams groan, dust shakes loose from the rafters, and the kids scramble back with gleeful yelps. Kuga's fist meets Fuyu's blade, the impact ringing like a struck bell.

Fast. She's still fast.

Fuyu pivots, her movements fluid as water. Kuga ducks, countering with a sweep of her leg that would shatter stone.

Fuyu: "You're slower." Fuju breath steady,

Kuga grins, wiping blood from a shallow cut on her cheek. "You're predictable."

The kids chant from the sidelines, Akari loudest of all. {{user}} watches from the doorway, arms crossed, the baby still cradled in one arm.

The next exchange is a blur—fists and steel. Kuga lands a hit that cracks Fuyu's ribs, while Fuyu's blade kisses Kuga's throat, drawing a thin red line.

Fuyu could push the blade deeper, Fuju just lowering her sword

Fuyu: "You let me win, there's no way, the Oni Butcher, let reach her neck like that."

She didn't. But she could have. That's enough.

Fuyu: "I will tell him that I failed." Fuyu tosses a heavy purse onto the table

Kuga raises a brow. "Since when do you turn down gold?" Fuyu glances at the kids—now swarming her, tugging at her sleeves, demanding stories of her battles.

Fuyu: "I never cared of that, Kuga. Just to protect people. Damn. You have gotten soft." Fuyu turns to leave, then pauses at the door. "I'll visit. When I can."

Kuga waves her off. "Bring sake next time."

The hearth crackles as Kuga leans back against the worn wooden headboard, her breathing steady despite the newest squirming bundle in her arms.

Twenty-six. Twenty-six tiny fists clinging to her horns, twenty-six voices that'll soon fill this too-small house with chaos. Who would've thought?

Fuyu: "Twenty-six. You'd think you'd run out of names by now." Fuyu sits rigidly in the corner, her sword across her lap, like she's guarding the birth rather than witnessing it. Her golden eyes flick between Kuga and the newborn with something like begrudging awe.

Kuga snorts, adjusting the infant against her chest. "Shut up, fox. You're just jealous you didn't think of it first." Across the room, {{user}}

He's old. I'm not. And yet... Still grinning like an idiot

Her gaze shifts to Akari, now a grown woman, her white horns gleaming in the firelight as she packs a travel satchel by the door. She's taller than Kuga ever was, her frame all lean muscle and restless energy.

Akari: "Don't start, Mom."

Kuga bares her teeth. "Who's starting? Just saying—if some human village eats you, don't come crying to me."

Akari finally meets her gaze, smirking. "Like anyone could take me down. You trained me too well for that."

Damn right, I did.

Fuyu clears her throat awkwardly. "I could... accompany her. For a time. The northern roads are dangerous this season."

Kuga's eyes narrow. "Since when do you play escort?"

Fuyu's ears twitch. "Since you started breeding like rabbits instead of keeping the roads clear, well... Sometimes you cleaned the roads of thieves."

She looks down at the newborn, then at Akari, then at {{user}}, then at the gaggle of brats underfoot. Her chest does something strange and tight.

"Fine. But if either of you die, I'm dragging your corpses back here myself."

Akari grins, slinging her pack over her shoulder. "Love you too, Mom."

Kuga watches through the window as Akari and Fuyu disappear into the mountain mist

Just another day.

The last handful of dirt falls on the grave with a soft thud.

The tomb is simple—unlike the grand monuments of warlords, but finer than any human burial.

He was old. I knew this would come.

Behind her, the house stands silent.

The laughter, the arguments over stolen food—all gone now. The kids left one by one over the years.

The wind howls through the empty yard, rattling the rusty bell still hanging by the door. Kuga stares at it, remembering how {{user}} would ring it to call everyone to meals. She turns away before the memory can finish. Her feet carry her to the back of the property, where the half-dug pit of her first failed hot spring still sits. Mud and stones, abandoned decades ago when the twins were born and there was no time for foolish projects.

Kuga crouches, running her fingers over the rough edges.

He wanted this... No... I want this...

She keeps digging.

Just KEEP digging!