The nights grew longer after the Kurogane attack.
Rin trained relentlessly under Rokuro's watch, his body bruised, spirit stretched thin. Every motion began from stillness, every step demanded rhythm. The Moonstep Weave wasn't merely movement — it was reflection made physical.
"You fight against your flow," Rokuro said one evening, his tone calm as always. "Each time your heart resists your body, you shatter your rhythm."
Rin glared, sweat dripping down his face. "I'm trying to stay in control!"
"Control is not stillness," Rokuro replied. "It's fear wearing discipline's mask."
Rin dropped down to one knee.
"Then what do you want from me?! To just— drift?!"
Rokuro's eyes glimmered with faint silver light. "To breathe."
He lifted his staff. "Again."
Days Passed
Rin practiced by the shore at dusk — his steps tracing crescents in the wet sand, each imprint glowing faintly before fading into the tide. The Moonstep became a dance — graceful, reactive, endless.
But inside, something festered.
Every night, he dreamt of reflections that whispered his fears — the faces of the people he'd failed to save, the hunger, the guilt. Each night, the silver glow around him darkened a little more.
And then… it happened.
The air shattered like glass.
It started with a tremor in his heart, a pulse that didn't belong to him. His reflection in the tide rippled — then stood still, staring back with hollow, glowing eyes.
"I wanted to save everyone…" his reflection whispered. "But the more I reached for the light— the darker my hands became."
The Silver Horizon erupted around him — the sea turned to glass, the moon above blackened. Reality bent and broke; voices screamed from their own reflections.
Rin fell to his knees, clutching his head. "Stop— I didn't mean to—!"
The black sea cracked beneath him, shadows crawling up his arms. Each heartbeat bled silver ink into the air. He could feel everything — every sorrow, every fear — consuming him.
"When reflection turns inward," whispered a thousand voices, "the moon devours its own light."
The world froze.
Rokuro appeared in a burst of calm, his staff glowing with gentle lunar resonance. The Moon Veil Requiem descended — the glassy ocean melting into soft light, time itself slowing to a tranquil hum.
"Enough, Rin."
Rin's corrupted form trembled — his eyes half black, half silver, tears made of moonlight streaming down his cheeks.
"Sensei… I can't stop it…"
Rokuro approached slowly, placing his hand over Rin's chest.
"Then stop fighting it. The moon cannot shine if it denies the night."
A pulse of soft energy surged outward. The darkness shattered — the Silver Horizon collapsing into silver dust that scattered with the tide. Rin collapsed unconscious, his body trembling but alive.
Fateful Meeting- The Sōryun Girl
When he awoke, the first thing Rin felt was salt water against his skin and the scent of the sea. The sky above was pale dawn. His head rested on someone's lap — not Rokuro's.
Her voice was soft and melodic almost like the ocean itself.
"You're awake. That's a good start."
Rin blinked up — eyes meeting scales that shimmered faint blue beneath the rising light. Her hair was dark with streaks of aqua, and her pupils glowed faintly like pearls under the surface of water.
"Who… are you?" he murmured.
She smiled faintly, adjusting the cloth on his forehead. "Name's Nahara. I found you washed up near my tribe's cove — unconscious, bleeding silver like some kind of moon ghost."
Rokuro's voice came from nearby, calm as always. "You have my gratitude, Nahara of the Sōryun. His outburst would have consumed the coast if not for your tides."
Nahara looked at Rin, then at Rokuro. "This boy's not like anyone I've ever seen. His spirit's… torn between two currents."
Rin pushed himself up weakly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She tilted her head, studying him with bright, curious eyes. "You flow like water — but your heart fights like fire. You'll drown yourself if you don't choose which current to follow."
He tried to stand, stumbling, but she caught him effortlessly, her hand warm and firm. "Easy, moon boy. You're not healed yet."
"Moon boy?" Rin muttered.
Rokuro chuckled faintly. "A fitting name."
Days passed in Nahara's coastal village — a hidden enclave carved into cliffs and woven with glowing coral. The Sōryun lived in rhythm with the sea, every breath matching the moon's pull.
Rin trained under both Rokuro and Nahara now.
Where Rokuro taught stillness, Nahara taught flow — the way to feel water rather than command it.
"Your power reacts to emotion," she said one evening, standing ankle-deep in the surf. "You don't need to suppress it — just… let it pass through you."
Rin closed his eyes, breathing with the tide.
His steps shifted — gentle, circular — and for the first time, the water didn't resist him.
The Moonstep Weave became something purer — not a dance of survival, but of harmony.
Nahara smiled. "Now you're starting to sound like the sea."
Rin opened one eye, smirking. "Was that a compliment?"
"Don't push it, moon boy."
Later that night, Rin sat beside the shore, Nahara joined quietly, the moonlight painting silver scales along her arm.
"Do you ever feel like you're just… pretending?" Rin asked softly. "Like you're not meant to be what everyone thinks you are?"
Nahara looked out to the sea. "All the time. The tide pretends to leave the shore every day — but it always comes back."
She glanced at him, her eyes gentle.
"You don't have to control your reflection, Rin. Just learn to dance with it."
For a long moment, the two sat in silence — the broken moon reflected in both their eyes.
And somewhere deep inside him, Rin felt something shift —
not light, not darkness,
but balance.