竜頭虎尾; dragon's head, tiger's tail

ACT I: 中部日本; CENTRAL JAPAN (2)

Rin couldn't gauge how long he had held onto the boy as they flew northward. They crossed nothing except flat terrain, the mountain valley range faded in the mist behind their backs. By the time they descended, his front legs had strained to the point of numbness.

His grip faltered as they neared the ground. The landing was rougher than he intended — nearly turned an awkward tumble had his legs buckled beneath him. But Rin forced himself to remain upright, teeth clenched against the phantom burn licking up his limbs.

The tiger crawled out from under him, fur matted with dirt and leaves. It shook the debris off and straightened its spine, orienting itself. Its pale pupils flicked to Rin — a moist nose grazed his flank like a breeze, the lightest brush, fleeting and gone before Rin could quite register it. Then, with a grunt, it padded away to scout the area, moving with a nimble grace that belied its bulky frame.

Rin steadied himself on his feet, ignoring the lingering daze from their fall pounding the inside of his skull. His neck and shoulders ached from the bad impact angle, and his muscles throbbed — the tension gripping tighter with every breath like parasitic vines, the uneasiness roots threaded deeper into his bones. He scanned their surroundings, listening to the faint crinkle of dried leaves and snapping twigs marking the tiger's movements.

The landscape offered little. Tangled underbrush sprawled at their feet, and towering trees loomed above, yet not a single high point in sight for shelter.

It was a horrible spot, but Rin had been driven by the raw need to keep moving. He wanted to cover more ground while the weather was on their side, while the tiger was still mild and agreeable. They'd shaved off a day or two of plodding on foot, although whether that was worth taking a stupid risk of flying into unknown territory without any breaks remained unseen.

The tiger emerged at his side after a few minutes, its body brushing lightly against him as it nudged him forward, guiding him through the dense forest.

It led him to a natural hollow nestled within the roots of a giant cypress. Rin's gaze flicked to the dark, low opening, and he forced down the panic clawing up his throat — even as it ballooned bigger when the tiger disappeared. He whipped around at the distant flap of an owl's wings, scanning the shifty inkiness. The bats' screeches raised the hair along his nape. Somewhere, a raven cawed. Rin's lips peeled back, flashing his fangs in a wordless snarl at the emptiness, his tail lashing behind him.

"It's safe." The tiger's voice called from the depths of the hollow. Its face appeared at the bottom of the hole, white and ghostly against the shadows. Rin stayed in place, tensed, body coiled like a spring.

If he entered that hole, he'd be surrendering every advantage — no space to take flight, no room to fight. If it was as tight as it looked, he'd be forced into his human form — which he'd rather die than reveal, especially with the tiger breathing down his neck.

Trusting it now meant handing over his life on a whim. And even if a small part of him wanted to believe the tiger saw him as a pack mate, the suspicion gnawing in his gut said otherwise. This could be an escape plan — or worse, an ambush.

Rin let out a reflexive growl as the tiger shifted out of the hole. His instincts prickled, and he stared it down. The tiger paused, blinking. Its rounded face morphed, the broad, hulking form melted away, reshaping into the familiar contours of the boy's human figure. His pale skin rendered almost blue-ish under the thin shards of moonlight filtering through the leaves.

"You coming?" The boy said, his voice softer. Those familiar flat grey eyes peered out at him, as if gauging his reaction. "You seem jumpy."

Rin kept his distance — muscles still coiled tight. His ears flicked at the slight thrum in the wind as an owl's figure cruised by overhead. "I'm not spending the night in the mud," He said, turning his head skyward. "I'll take the trees."