Yuki's POV – The Road West
The road west wound through hills dappled with autumn's first blush—russet and gold leaves crunching beneath their boots, the air crisp with damp earth and distant woodsmoke. Yuki walked between Rin and Kazuyoshi, the baker's bundle now light after they'd demolished the last honey cakes at breakfast. She could still taste the sweetness and remember Kazuyoshi quietly sliding the final cake onto her plate with a murmured "You need it more."
She hummed without noticing—those same three soft notes that kept surfacing like bubbles from somewhere deep.
Rin bumped her shoulder. "That tune again. It's haunting me now."
"I don't even know where it comes from," Yuki said, cheeks warming. "It just arrives."
Kazuyoshi glanced back, crimson eyes catching stray sunlight. "Let it arrive. Some melodies remember for us when words fail."
They crested a rise; the land spilled open into a shallow valley where a silver river glittered. Rin declared mutiny of feet and flopped onto the grass. Yuki laughed and sat beside her, legs dangling over the bank. Kazuyoshi lowered himself when she patted the spot on her other side, cloak pooling like liquid night.
Silence settled, comfortable and full of river-sound. Then the flash struck—sharp, vivid, undeniable:
She was ten, barefoot on a riverbank just like this. A boy with onyx hair and laughing green eyes pressed a flat stone into her palm.
"Loosen your wrist, Yuki. Flick, don't throw. Watch—"
Six perfect skips. His proud grin when she managed four. The warmth of his hand guiding hers.
The memory vanished. Yuki's breath caught; the world tilted. She stared at the river, pupils blown wide—cheese forgotten halfway to her mouth.
Rin waved a hand in front of her face. "Yuki? Hello?"
Kazuyoshi's voice drifted in, warm. "Stone bridges over steaming canals… lanterns on chains… hot springs that steal every ache…"
Yuki blinked slowly, surfacing. She managed a faint smile and they moved on.
Late afternoon: lightning-blasted oak. Yuki moved it with shard-force. Kazuyoshi's quiet "Well done" warmed her.
Eldridge – Dusk
Lanterns, steam, crowds.
Skinny pickpocket. Yuki knelt, gave him three silvers. "Food first. There's a cheap stall just back that way."
The boy fled in the direction we just came from. Rin whistled. Kazuyoshi watched the alley with unreadable eyes.
Once at the inn it was all the Stew you could eat, Laughter mixed with Mud-pit retelling. Gravy mustaches. Crumbs in Kazuyoshi's hair. As well as the cat plotting sausage theft.
Later though, after getting clean from the hot springs, Yuki sat on the edge of her narrow bed brushing out her long raven hair. Rin already snored softly in the next bed. Moonlight silvered the room; Kazuyoshi stood at the window, sharp profile cut from shadow.
Another flash—stronger, clearer:
Candlelit room. Gentle fingers braiding her damp hair while she fought sleep on someone's shoulder.
"Hold still, clumsy. Half the forest is in here again."
Warm breath against her ear, cedar and smoke, safety so complete it felt like home.
The brush slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor.
She froze, eyes wide and unfocused, breath shallow, heartbeat loud in her ears.
Kazuyoshi crossed the room in three silent strides and sat on the edge of her bed. "Yuki?"
She didn't answer; she was still somewhere else.
Very gently, almost tenderly, he lifted one hand and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear—exactly the way the memory had done. At the same moment a thread-thin ribbon of darkness, invisible, slipped from his fingertips into her mind—quick, surgical, painless. He plucked the newest memory away before it could root, then another older one that had been rising behind it, sealing every crack with practiced precision.
Yuki blinked. The room swam back into focus. She swayed, suddenly heavy, eyelids fluttering.
Kazuyoshi's voice was low, soothing. "You dropped your brush."
She looked down at it as if seeing it for the first time. "Oh… I zoned out again, didn't I? I feel so—"
Her words slurred. "—so dizzy all of a sudden—"
Her eyes rolled back mid-sentence and she pitched sideways.
Kazuyoshi caught her instantly, one arm sliding behind her shoulders, the other cradling her head before it could fall. He eased her down with exquisite care, settling her against the pillow so her raven hair fanned across the linen like spilled ink. He drew the blanket up to her shoulders, tucking it gently around her as though she were something fragile and infinitely precious. For a long moment he simply watched her face smooth into peaceful, dreamless sleep, thumb brushing once—almost regretfully—across her cheekbone.
Rin muttered in her sleep and rolled over, undisturbed.
Kazuyoshi lingered another heartbeat, then rose and returned to the window, moonlight carving sharp, unreadable lines across his face.
Kaname's POV – The Infirmary, Rose Academy
Kaname woke to pain and low voices.
Elias sat beside the bed, light spear across his knees. Across the room Kazuhiro lay bandaged and pale; Seraphina had fallen asleep with her cheek on his blanket.
"She's alive?" Kaname rasped.
"Moving west with Rin," Elias answered quietly. "Scouts lost them near Eldridge two days ago."
Kaname closed his eyes. Kazuyoshi's words echoed: I erased you.
He told Elias everything again, slower, rawer. When he reached the memory wipe, his voice cracked.
Elias listened without interrupting. When Kaname finished, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and spoke with quiet certainty.
"No mind-weave is ever absolute. Even the strongest leaves seams—dreams, muscle memory, the pull of shard-sense. Hers is stronger than most. It's already fighting back. We just have to reach her before the weave hardens into something harder to break."
Kaname stared at the ceiling. "She thinks he's her family. How do I fight that?"
"You remind her what family feels like," Elias said. "Not with words. With presence. With truth." He softened. "Love leaves fingerprints even shadow can't quite erase."
Across the room Kazuhiro stirred. Seraphina woke with a startled gasp of relief. Moments later Shiro swept in, violet runes flickering over the wound.
Kazuhiro's green eyes found Kaname's through the haze of pain. His voice was a cracked whisper, but it carried.
"I've read the old council archives. Only a handful of bloodlines in centuries have ever resisted shadow-weaving—even a little. Whatever she is, whatever shard chose her… it's rare. It's fighting him. His hold won't last forever."
Kaname reached across the gap and gripped his friend's forearm. Kazuhiro's fingers closed weakly in return.
Outside, thunder rolled low and long, as though the sky itself were reminding them the storm had only begun.