Ash''s pulse still raced from the events of the night. He had barely stepped away from the alley when the shadowy figure in the mask had reappeared, following him silently through the narrow streets. The weight of their gaze never left him, even as he tried to lose himself in the maze of city corners.


    He couldn''t shake the feeling that something had shifted in the air—like the world had tilted ever so slightly, and now everything felt... off.


    His hand instinctively reached for the Onin mask tucked under his coat, the cold metal a constant reminder of the strange pull it had on those around him.


    "Where did you get it?" The voice came from behind him—low, commanding, carrying an edge of frustration.


    Ash froze, but didn''t turn around. The alleyways were empty, the streetlights casting long shadows that stretched across the pavement. He didn''t need to look to know who it was.


    "I don''t owe you answers," Ash said flatly, his voice cold, the weight of his words more in the silence between them than in their content.


    The figure stepped closer, a presence that seemed to swallow the space around them. "That mask… It''s not something you just find. Where did you get it?"


    Ash turned, eyes narrowing beneath the mask. He didn''t recognize the figure beneath the dark attire—just another shadow. But the intensity of their question unsettled him.


    "Why does it matter to you?" Ash kept his voice steady, but his gut churned with unease.


    The figure didn''t answer immediately, just stared. Then, as if something in Ash''s silence broke them, the figure''s gloved hand shot out faster than Ash could react. It was a blur, a flash of motion that slammed into his chest, pushing him hard against the brick wall of the alley.


    Pain exploded through his ribs, but before he could recover, the figure''s foot came up, aiming for his stomach.


    Ash barely twisted away in time, but the blow still grazed him, sending a shockwave of pain through his body.


    "Answer me!" The figure hissed.


    His vision swam, the adrenaline dulling the pain. He reached for the nearest weapon, his knife, but before he could bring it up, a heavy thud echoed down the alley—a sound like thunder.


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    And then, in an instant, the figure''s grip on Ash was gone, replaced by the faintest scent of antiseptic and the sharp click of a cane tapping against the cold pavement.


    Ash''s heart skipped a beat. His grandfather.


    The old man''s frail form appeared between them, his once-strong frame now bent with age and sickness. But his eyes, sharp and calculating as ever, locked onto the figure with a gaze that could''ve cut through steel.


    "You dare touch my grandson?" The old man''s voice, though weak, still held the commanding tone Ash had heard so many times in his childhood.


    The figure hesitated, momentarily stunned by the sudden appearance. But then, just as quickly, they spun around to face the elder man. Ash could see the conflict behind the stranger''s eyes—a calculation that made them pause.


    "You should have stayed hidden, old man," the stranger hissed, still standing in a defensive posture.


    But Ash''s grandfather didn''t flinch. "I may be old, but I''ve lived long enough to see through men like you."


    The stranger''s eyes flickered toward Ash, then back to the elder. A dangerous quiet fell between them.


    "You''re too late," the figure said, voice low, before turning to vanish into the shadows. Within seconds, the alley was empty again.


    Ash staggered to his feet, chest still aching from the sudden assault. His grandfather took a step toward him, his cane tapping rhythmically on the pavement.


    "Are you alright?" the elder asked, his eyes scanning Ash''s face for any signs of injury. His hands trembled as he steadied himself, but his gaze remained sharp, focused.


    Ash swallowed hard, still processing everything. His grandfather''s sudden appearance was more than surprising. In fact, it was terrifying. How had he found him? He hadn''t been in touch with the old man in weeks. And the way he spoke to the stranger… there was something more behind it. Something Ash didn''t yet understand.


    "How did you find me?" Ash asked, his voice betraying his confusion.


    The old man''s face softened, and he let out a raspy sigh. "I noticed the mask was gone. I knew it was only a matter of time before you… became entangled. I had Kenshiko locate you, Ash. I knew you were headed into dangerous territory."


    Ash stared at him, still trying to make sense of the situation. "The mask...?"


    The elder''s eyes hardened. "That mask is not just a relic. It''s a symbol. A key to something much larger than you, than me. You are not the only one who wants it—and not the only one who might come for you."


    Ash''s confusion deepened, and he rubbed his head as if trying to clear the fog from his mind. "What are you talking about, Grandpa?"


    The old man''s expression turned grim. "I''m too old for this... But you need to understand. You''ve inherited more than just that mask. There are those who know of its true significance. And they will stop at nothing to claim it—and you—for their own."


    Ash stared at him, trying to take it all in. He didn''t know the first thing about his family''s past, or why this mask—this relic—seemed to have such power over people.


    His grandfather''s gaze softened as he placed a trembling hand on Ash''s shoulder. "You are the last of the Shirogiri, Ash. I wanted to protect you from this, but the time has come. The mask calls to those who remember. You cannot hide forever."


    Ash felt a chill creep down his spine. He wasn''t sure what his grandfather meant, but he knew this: the fight was far from over, and the mystery behind the Onin mask was only just beginning to unfold.