The ride was silent.
Rain tapped gently against the windshield as Katarina drove, her knuckles pale on the steering wheel. Ryouma stared out the window, watching the blurred trees rush by like memories he didn't want to recall. Beside him, Souta sat curled into herself, her fingers twitching with every bump in the road.
No one spoke.
Not until the town faded behind them, replaced by the misty wilderness that wrapped around the coast like a distant promise.
Katarina finally broke the silence.
"We'll lay low in Kamikawa. It's quiet. Remote. You'll be safe there."
Safe.
That word meant nothing anymore. Not when the monster they feared wore the face of the woman who had once tucked them into bed and kissed their foreheads goodnight.
Ryouma turned to Katarina, voice cold. "Why didn't you tell us earlier?"
Katarina didn't flinch. "Because I hoped it wouldn't come to this."
Souta's voice was barely a whisper. "She killed Aunt Mio. And Uncle Ren. She killed them."
"I know," Katarina said. "I saw it with my own eyes."
The car dipped into a tunnel. Darkness swallowed them for a brief moment, only the low hum of the engine keeping them tethered to the present. When they emerged, the mountains opened up like a mouth.
"We're almost there," Katarina said. "I know someone who can help."
Ryouma wasn't listening anymore. His thoughts circled one word, over and over, like a curse:
Mother.
The one who had given him life had taken so many others.
The house they arrived at was nothing like the one they'd left. Wooden, sloped-roof, nestled in a dense forest with fog curling around the base like smoke. An old man with a scar across his cheek greeted them at the door. He said nothing. Just nodded once and stepped aside.
Inside, the air was warm. The scent of pine and dust clung to everything.
"You'll stay here," Katarina said. "At least for now."
The silence lingered again, stretching thin and uncomfortable.
That night, Ryouma stood outside under the stars, the cold biting into his skin.
He didn't cry.
He didn't scream.
But he promised himself something.
He would find her.
And when he did, he'd make her pay for everything.
Inside, Souta finally allowed herself to sob—silent, shaking, into the futon she barely felt beneath her.
Katarina sat alone in the hallway, eyes closed, heart aching with guilt.
The war wasn't over.
It had just begun.