The training ground outside the airship was a modest but functional expanse, bordered by dense Antiguan vegetation. The trees were tall and swayed gently in the breeze, their glossy leaves a rich emerald green, dotted with bursts of vibrant flowers in fiery reds and golden yellows. Shrubs lined the clearing's edge, their waxy leaves peppered with tiny white blossoms that gave off a faint, sweet fragrance. The air was crisp this morning, the coolness an unusual reprieve from the tropical heat.

Kai exhaled deeply, his breath misting slightly in the morning air as he stood at the edge of the training ground. This was his sanctuary, the place he came to clear his mind and ready himself for whatever chaos awaited. He had risen early, as he always did, intent on running through formations—burning off steam through combat practice and precision—but today, something else caught his attention.

Across the clearing, Tomoya lingered in his wolf form. The sleek black of his fur gleamed in the early light, his golden eyes closed as he nosed lazily at the ground. There was a strange stillness about him, a quiet Kai had come to associate only with this form. Human Tomoya was abrasive, distant, almost impossible to read. Wolf Tomoya was... softer, gentler in a way that made Kai's chest tighten with discomfort he couldn't quite name.

As Kai began to walk toward him, his hand instinctively brushed against his cheek, where faint scratches still lingered—a reminder of their last fight. The memory churned bitterly in his mind, an argument that spiraled out of control until claws and fists had replaced words. Kai winced at the thought, ashamed of his own part in the conflict, but more unsettled by the guilt that seemed to cling to Tomoya since Falmouth.

The way Tomoya had reacted to the bloodied captives—the haunting, bone-deep howl he let loose—played on repeat in Kai's mind. It wasn't just horror or concern; it was something deeply personal, almost visceral. Kai had tried to connect the pieces, to make sense of Tomoya's strange behavior, but nothing added up.

Kai approached carefully, his boots crunching softly against the damp earth. Tomoya's ears twitched, but he didn't move, not until Kai was close enough to kneel beside him. Reaching out a steady hand, Kai let his fingers graze Tomoya's snout.

The wolf whined softly at the touch, his head bowing slightly as if in defeat.

Kai settled onto the ground, crossing his legs and letting the tension seep from his shoulders. "Tomoya," he said gently, his voice low but firm, "why haven't you returned to human form?"

The wolf didn't move at first, his golden eyes flicking open to meet Kai's searing amber gaze. The raw vulnerability in those eyes struck Kai harder than any blow ever could. He swallowed hard, his voice low and pleading.

"You can't stay like this forever," he said, inching closer. "The banquet is tomorrow. We need you there."

The wolf's ears twitched slightly, but there was no other response. Kai let out a frustrated sigh, his tone softening as he leaned closer, his gaze steady and unwavering.

"I need you there."

For a moment, there was nothing but the rustling of leaves and the faint call of birds in the distance. Then, the wolf's form began to shimmer, its edges blurring and distorting as the painful transformation began.

Kai watched in quiet reverence as the sleek black fur receded, revealing pale, scratched skin beneath. The sound of bones cracking and reshaping echoed in the clearing, each shift a jarring reminder of how unnatural the process was. Tomoya's body trembled as it reformed, his chest heaving with each agonizing breath. When the transformation was complete, he was left kneeling on the ground, his bare form muddied and scraped, his dark hair hanging in damp strands around his gaunt face.

Kai quickly averted his gaze, a flush creeping up his neck as he tried to grant Tomoya a sliver of modesty. He shifted awkwardly, his eyes fixed on the distant treetops.

A low, cruel chuckle broke the silence. "What, you can't look at me?" Tomoya's voice was sharp, laced with bitter amusement. "Am I not good enough to be part of your little bond?"

Kai's brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face. "What are you talking about?"

Tomoya drew his legs up to cover himself, his dark, steely eyes scanning the scenery as if searching for a way to escape. "Don't act stupid, Kai. I know you're bonded with Bayu and Isaac. I've seen it. Felt it."

Kai's chest tightened at the accusation, and he reached out, placing a careful, steady hand on Tomoya's arm. "Is that it, then? You're jealous?"

Kai hadn't mentioned anything to Isaac yet, but he had been researching with Bayu how to extend the bond between the three of them to Tomoya. Their research had concluded it was very possible, so long as the other party wanted to be bonded. Kai couldn't see at this moment in time how that would be possible.

Tomoya's laughter rang out again, harsh and cold, like a blade scraping against stone. He leaned closer, his movements deliberate, predatory, until their faces were mere inches apart. Kai could feel the frailty in his frame, the sharpness of his bones beneath his skin, the darkness carved under his eyes.

Tomoya's pale hand rose slowly, his fingers brushing against Kai's cheek in a mockingly tender gesture. But there was a sharpness to his nails, a subtle, unspoken threat lingering in the touch.

Kai shuddered, his mind flashing back to the day of their fight, to the venom in Tomoya's voice as he had spat the words, "I swear to you, Kai, I'll kill you."

Tomoya leaned closer still, his breath warm against Kai's ear, his voice a low, menacing whisper. "Don't you ever crawl into my mind."

He pulled back, but Kai's hand shot out, gripping his arm firmly. "Tomoya, wait."

Tomoya stilled, his golden eyes narrowing dangerously.

"It's for our safety. I've been researching with Bayu. We can extend the bond to you."

Tomoya's expression darkened instantly, his lips curling into a snarl. "Absolutely not."

"But—" Kai began, only to be cut off as Tomoya's grip tightened on his other arm. With a sudden, powerful shove, Tomoya forced Kai onto the ground, pinning him beneath his weight.

Kai's back hit the earth with a dull thud, and he found himself staring up at Tomoya's face, twisted with fury and something deeper—pain, fear, betrayal.

"I told you to stop," Tomoya growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Kai's breath hitched as he met Tomoya's gaze. His amber eyes softened, a flicker of understanding breaking through the tension. "Tomoya, I'm not your enemy," he said quietly. "I just want to help you. To protect you."

Tomoya's grip faltered for a fraction of a second, but his expression remained hardened, his body rigid as if poised to strike.

"You can't protect me from this," Tomoya hissed, his voice shaking. "You don't even know what this is."

Kai swallowed hard, his hands rising slowly in a gesture of surrender. "Then tell me. Help me understand. Whatever it is, we'll face it together. But I can't do that if you keep shutting me out."

For a long, tense moment, Tomoya didn't move, his dark eyes searching Kai's face as if weighing his words. Finally, he let out a shaky breath, his body relaxing just enough to let the tension ease.

"I don't need your pity," Tomoya muttered.

"It's not pity," Kai replied, his voice steady. "It's trust."

Tomoya scoffed. "You just don't listen, do you?"

Kai barely had a moment to react before Tomoya's body began to shift again. The air around him seemed to ripple as the transformation took hold. His form twisted and contorted, the sound of bones snapping and realigning echoing through the clearing. Pale skin darkened as a sleek black pelt rippled across his body, consuming him in an instant.

Tomoya dropped to all fours, his limbs elongating into powerful legs, claws digging into the earth as his hands and feet transformed. His face elongated into a sharp muzzle, golden eyes blazing with raw intensity as they locked on Kai for the briefest moment. A guttural growl rumbled low in his chest before he turned away.

Without hesitation, Tomoya bounded into the trees, his lithe, lupine form disappearing swiftly into the dense foliage.

Kai remained rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed on the place where Tomoya had vanished. Kai knew he couldn't force Tomoya to be bonded to them, not if he didn't want them to be, still he felt the same gaping ache in the bond anyway. There was a place for Tomoya, whether he liked it or not.