(Theme: "Eyes of the Forsaken")
The snow didn't fall.
It just lingered — a quiet white stillness that didn't comfort, didn't bury. It just… watched.
Kaito dragged himself through what was left of the camp — windburnt skin, torn muscles, a wrap of bloodied cloth around his ribs barely holding. The world felt slower. Dimmer.
Then he saw her.
Akari.
She was kneeling in the center of the frost-blackened field, spine straight, unmoving. Before her, Shin's katana was stabbed into the earth like a grave marker. His scorched medic badge hung from the hilt, tied with a frayed red string.
She hadn't moved since he'd gotten there.
Kaito came up beside her, quietly. Breathing hard.
"You know… we should move," he said hoarsely. "Storm's not done."
No answer.
He stared down at the blade. The pin swayed slightly in the wind.
"He wouldn't want us freezing next to his sword."
Still nothing.
Then her voice — low, rough.
"Shin always hated the cold."
Kaito stayed quiet.
"He said it made his stitches sloppy."
He nodded. "That sounds like him."
Her fingers tightened around the string.
"He shouldn't have died."
"No," Kaito agreed. "But he chose to."
"That's not the point."
He crouched slowly beside her, ignoring the protest in his legs. "Then what is?"
Akari exhaled sharply through her nose. Not a sigh — a release of pressure that hadn't found words yet.
"I didn't freeze because I was scared," she murmured. "I froze because… I felt something."
She looked at him. Her eyes looked metallic in the cold light.
"I wasn't built for that."
Kaito frowned. "You're not built. You're not a weapon—"
"Yes," she snapped, eyes flashing. "I am."
Her voice didn't rise. It sank.
"I was trained to kill before I was ever allowed to feel. They took everything soft and taught me how to hide it behind bladework and silence."
Her fingers brushed the hilt of Shin's katana. "And when he died… that softness came back. And I didn't know what to do with it."
She paused, jaw tight.
"I've slit throats without blinking. I've gutted monsters. I've walked over the dead like they were just obstacles. But when he fell—"
She choked for a second. Her next breath shook.
"I couldn't move."
Kaito swallowed. "You were bound."
"I break bindings for a living."
She turned fully toward him now. Her voice cracked, quiet and sharp.
"It wasn't grief I felt in that moment."
Kaito looked at her, really looked.
"What was it?"
Her golden eyes met his.
"Shame."
The word hit the ice like a dropped blade.
"I failed him," she said. "And the worst part? I felt it. I actually let myself feel it."
A tear slid down her cheek.
Then another.
She blinked hard — as if even she was surprised by it.
"I don't cry," she whispered. "Not in front of anyone. Not even alone."
Another tear broke loose, catching on her lip.
"I don't know how to cry. Not properly. Not when it counts."
"You don't have to know," Kaito said softly. "You're already doing it."
Akari's lips parted. Her breath shuddered.
And then — Kaito moved.
Not hesitantly.
He just leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her.
She stiffened instantly — back locking up, breath catching in her throat.
For a few seconds, she didn't move. Didn't breathe.
Then she collapsed into him.
Her shoulders fell. Her hands clutched his jacket like they were the only things keeping her from disintegrating.
Tears kept falling — not loud, not messy — just real.
Her voice came out brittle and shaking. "He smiled when he was nervous. Not many people noticed that."
Kaito didn't speak. Just held her tighter.
"He called me Commander even when I told him to stop. Said it reminded me I was human."
She laughed once — sharp and bitter. "He was wrong. I wasn't."
"You are," Kaito said. "You always were."
She shook her head. "Not back then. Not when Rygar trained me. I was just steel."
"But he saw you."
She nodded into his shoulder. "Yeah."
A silence passed.
Then she whispered, "I didn't deserve that."
Kaito's reply came without hesitation.
"Yes, you did."
She didn't argue.
Eventually, she pulled away — but not far. Just enough to breathe.
"I taught him everything I knew," she said. "And it still wasn't enough."
Kaito looked down at the medic pin in her hand. "He didn't die failing. He died giving you another chance."
She didn't look convinced.
But she stood.
The wind pulled at her cloak again — not like a storm now. More like breath.
Her eyes were no longer glowing faintly. They burned. Her tears hadn't stopped, but now they cut like gold instead of weakness.
She reached down and picked up Shin's katana.
She clipped it to her side — beside her own.
Kaito stepped up beside her, slow.
"What now?"
"We find the crow."
"And if he's stronger than us?"
Her grip tightened.
"Then I learn to kill what they say can't be killed."
He smirked slightly. "Sounds familiar."
Akari exhaled — not a laugh, but close. Her voice dropped again.
"I'm not healed. I'm not whole."
She looked him in the eyes.
"But I'm done pretending I don't care."
Kaito nodded. "Then let's make sure his death wasn't the last word."
She gave a small, sharp nod. The kind that comes after silence, not speeches.
Together, they turned toward the snow.
Far above, a crow perched on a fractured spire, feathers ruffled in the wind. It didn't blink.
Its eyes gleamed — not with light, but with purpose.
Watching.
Waiting.
ORION'S COMMENT:
Oho~! Chains broken, but shadows linger…Will their spark outshine the Eclipse?Next: 'The Crow's Gambit'!