The ascent up to Kurohana was a gradual one, its woodland edges veiled in haze a cloak of secrets. The sun was low in the heavens, wan light filtering through dense cover high. Hakari ascended steadily, his injured arm hidden under his mantle, his mind on where he was headed.

  Kurohana.

  The accursed mask at his waist hummed happily, as if it were privy to what he was about. It was a village of mystery and of old power, where perhaps mystery—and power—he sought existed.

  And yet when Hakari stopped at the outskirts of the village, something stayed his hand.

  A spectral wall undulated with pale light in the air, much higher than the sky and encircling the village like a white palisade. The fence was barely perceptible at first, but the closer he drew to it, it shook, golden runes flickering before vanishing into thin air.

  Hakari glared, the poisoned arm of him trembling under his cloak. He extended a nervous hand, fingers snapping on the surface of the barrier. A jolt of electricity swept through him, and he drew back with a snarl.

  "Of course they would," he snarled, curled fists. "They'd resort to magic."

  The barrier whispered, its runes burning with an angry, incandescent light as if mocking him.

  Hakari’s anger flared. He struck the barrier with his corrupted arm, the runes on his skin igniting with dark energy. But the barrier didn’t yield. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the air, but the golden light remained unbroken.

  “Damn it!” Hakari snarled, slamming his fist against the ground.

  He leaned on the opposite side of the barrier, his mind whirling. Kurohana was always a keep now, walls shutting the world out. But this. this was not protection. This barrier vibrated with power, with power from a bygone age that sang through its contents, its magic threaded with craftsmanship greater than his.

  Hakari stood glaring at the shimmering wall, his jaw muscles tensed. He detested the feeling of powerlessness it gave him, the realization that he was still trapped inside borders he had yet to breach.

  Finally, following a series of failed efforts to break through the wall, he strode off into the forest, his steps strained with fury.

  ---

  It was long past evening when Hakari arrived at the edge of Kurotsuki. The outline of the village cottages could be discerned, the grass roofs raised to gold by the fading light of evening.

  Hakari walked back on the edge of the village to his cover, his head racing with anger and burning with anger. The poisoned mask in his belt was a faint, inward light, a reminder of something that he still could not possess.

  As he was walking towards the clearing where his cabin was situated, a snapping halt made him freeze on his heels. His gimpy arm firmed up as his gaze also moved with the turn.

  Sitting on a branch of a crooked tree, lazily kicking his legs, Rinne snacked on a red apple that shone in the sunlight. The reverberation of the bite sounded across the quiet clearing, and Rinne's cheerful hum.

  Hakari opened his eyes. "You again."

  Rinne lifted his head, his face serene and quietly smiling. "Hakari," he said, his tone teasing. "How was the trip?"

  Hakari clenched his fists, his jaw set. "I haven't got time for your tricks, Rinne. What do you want?"

  Rinne chewed another bite out of the apple, his expression thoughtful before he replied. "Killing time." He gestured out at the forest with the apple. "The scenery is pleasant here. Quiet."

  Hakari's poisoned arm throbbed dully as he advanced. "You're very calm for a corpse."

  Rinne shrugged against the tree trunk. "Am I living? Am I dead? Is it even relevant?

  Hakari's patience was wearing thin. "Push aside the circular logic. How did you get here? The Red Blossom Technique does abandon people behind. You shouldn't have a body, full stop."

  Rinne smiled faintly, letting the apple core drop to the grass beneath him. "And yet I am. Eating apples. Breathing air. Enjoying your scowl."

  Hakari glared at him, his hand automatically dropping to rest on the mask secured on his belt. "You're impossible."

  "Mabye," he said, springing from the branch with reckless, unconsidered bounds. He smoothed his palms in calming movements, taking painstaking, deliberate steps. "But is it not rich? So sure of what is real and what is not, and you who hold a sacred relic and hunger for forbidden power."

  Hakari winced, his poisoned arm glowing with gentle blue light. "What are you even saying?"

  Rinne stood up, his expression grim. "Maybe you shouldn't be asking how I arrived here. Maybe you should be asking why."

  Hakari looked at him, the gasp heavy between them as a tight knot formed in his chest. "What do you want, Rinne?"

  Rinne stepped closer, that quick smile again spreading across his face. "Why would you assume it's about what I desire?"

  Hakari’s glare sharpened, his corrupted arm flaring faintly beneath his cloak. “Then what is it about?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Rinne’s calm demeanor didn’t waver. He took a slow step forward, his ethereal presence subtly shifting, the faint glow around him more noticeable now in the dimming light. His gaze met Hakari’s, steady and unflinching.

  “You dont know? It’s about you obviously,” Rinne said, his tone light but carrying an undercurrent of amusement. “It’s about what you’re chasing... And what you’re running from. And it’s about him.”

  Hakari’s jaw tightened. “Him?”

  Rinne gave a faint chuckle, the sound almost amused. “Your father. Takashi.”

  Hakari’s corrupted arm twitched violently, the runes along his skin flaring brighter. “Don’t,” he said, his voice low and warning. “Don’t talk about him.”

  Rinne ignored the warning, a calm face on his features as he continued. "The flames he employs—are unnatural. You could feel it, couldn't you? That burning. The numbing on the end of your arms, how it affected you. How it consumed your shadows like they meant nothing."

  Hakari froze, not breathing. He hadn't told his father about the fight, how the sunfire sword shocked him as if never before he'd ever been struck by any sword. The flame itself had roused, pierced him through beyond any char, leaving him weak and senseless hours since the battle was over.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hakari muttered, his grip tightening on the mask at his side.

  Rinne tilted his head to the side, his pale smile not wavering. "Don't I?" he replied. "Takashi wasn't just fighting you, Hakari. He was burning himself out, too. That flame—that sun—isn't something to be employed for anything longer than a fleeting moment. It drains the body, the mind, the spirit. And yet, he employed it anyway."

  Hakari’s mind raced, his thoughts colliding in a chaotic storm. He remembered the way Takashi had moved during their fight, the relentless precision of his strikes, the unyielding heat of his blade. He’d thought it was pure strength, a reflection of his father’s unwavering discipline.

  But now, Rinne’s words clawed at the edges of his memory, casting a new light on what he had seen.

  "He didn't quit," Rinne spoke softly, as if trying not to hurt him. "Not because he was fighting to win. But because he cared."

  Hakari gasped for breath, his tainted power igniting wildly. "Shut up," he snarled, his voice shaking with anger and confusion.

  Rinne's eyes softened, his smile wavering as he approached. "He's sleeping now, isn't he? Exhausted. Probably taking his nap that maybe be his last... Hmmm... Maybe sleeping doesnt fit enough.... He is in his uhh... deep sleep. Or called unconcious. Perchance coma... Burning himself out from the inside just to keep you in the back. You think he doesn't care, but whatever he does, whatever he's done—"

  "Stop!" Hakari roared, the corrupted runes on his arm writhing with dark power as he swung.

  The air crackled as a wave of shadowy power surged toward Rinne, distorting the space around it. But Rinne didn’t move. He stood still, calm and unyielding, as the energy passed through him harmlessly, dissipating into the air.

  Hakari froze, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he stared at Rinne in disbelief.

  “You’re not real,” Hakari muttered, his voice shaking. “You’re not even here.”

  Rinne’s faint smile returned, but there was something sad in his eyes. “Maybe I’m not,” he said quietly. “But does it matter?”

  Hakari’s corrupted arm twitched violently, the runes flaring brighter as his grip on the mask tightened. “You don’t know anything about me,” he said through gritted teeth.

  Rinne's gaze never wavered from Hakari for a good long time before he turned, he is quite amused. "Hakari... I know more than you can even begin to imagine," he said to him, his voice low as he circled Hakari.

  He hesitated a moment on the border of the clearing, glancing over his shoulder. "It's not whether I am or I'm not, Hakari. It's whether you're ready to listen to the truth."

  And he bolted like a cloud of smoke into the trees, leaving Hakari standing in the clearing by himself.

  Panting, shivering, Hakari panted where Rinne stood. Uncertainty and doubt curled in his head, and the distant memory of Rinne's words.

  His poisoned arm trembled, the mask beside him clanged dully against him in sympathy for his pain.

  For the first time in years, Hakari was lost, his will broken by the stillness, statue-like silence of a figure he was not supposed to find.

  Meanwhile, The house of Tsukimura was quiet, a stillness that pressed heavily on Hikari’s chest. She sat alone at the low wooden table in the center of the room, the faint creak of the walls and the distant hum of wind through the trees the only sounds to accompany her.

  Her judge beads were lying on the ground, their shine declining, as if the owner of the beads is exhausted. They lay next to each other petal pink, thin edges curving upwards, gently reflecting the sunlight coming in the window.

  Hikari took the petal in shaking hands, as though delicate, living. The signature of Rinne. The one who had lost everything to protect them, to save them, even if it meant losing his own life.

  She had discovered it on the ground following the Red Blossom Technique explosion, buried among the ash and charred earth. It was the only one of his she had kept, a bitter reminder of what he had lost.

  Her throat tightened as she clasped it firmly to her, the bright red against the icy whiteness of her hands.

  Why

  The question troubled her, heavy and persistent. Why had Rinne died for them? For a village whose customs were as rigid as stone, for men who had yielded to his rule as water yields to the path upon which it flows, for a family rent apart by grief and misapprehension.

  Her fingers outlined the form of the petal, its fragility a bitter acid irony to the bitterness of her heart.

  She glanced over at the back room door, where her father lay unconscious, his body still reeling from battling Hakari. The burden of his lack—or presence—hung around her like a shadow.

  Her mother was among the healer squad, working twenty-four/seven to take care of him. Haruka was out to obtain supplies, tense hands mirroring tense mind. And so Hikari stayed home in the house, home in the brain, own mind, and with the red petal goading her for some kind of reaction.

  "You sacrificed everything," she whispered, cold. "But was it sufficient?"

  She placed the petal down a second time on the table, studying it as she pictured Rinne's mind's eye. His gentle voice, his rocklike stability, how he'd ever been able to stay unaltered in the midst of all the whirlwind of change that whirled around him.

  He wasn't there any longer, though. Reduced to a mere petal.

  Her fists were balled tightly, her judgment beads softly throbbing as her emotions ran amok. "Why did you do this, Rinne?" she shouted, spluttering. "Why didn't you let someone else—"

  She cut herself short, her breath caught in her throat as her eyes filled up with tears. The answer was obvious, wasn't it? He'd done it because no one else could. Because no one else was strong enough to make that choice, to bear the weight of the sacrifice.

  Hikari wiped at her eyes, her shoulders trembling. She gazed back at the petal again, its soft light pulsating in the stillness of the room.

  "I don't know," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I don't know why it had to be you. Why not me instead."

  Her beads glowed softly, the fire warm for an instant before it went out. Hikari looked at them, the aching of her guilt and her terrors pressing on her heart.

  The room grew cold now, the quiet oppressing her. She folded the petal to her once more, tucked against her breast as if somehow it would soothe her.

  It didn't.

  It was only one petal. A broken fragment of something whole, something lost. But...

  She was alone.

  Or so she thought.

  Unseen in the dim light, a shadow lingered at the edges of the room, a presence just beyond the veil of the living. A whisper of breath stirred the air, faint as falling ash. The beads around Hikari’s wrist trembled, their glow flickering—not from her, but from something else.

  Rinne was near. Or perhaps... what was left of him.