Morning unfolded quietly over the Tatsu Estate.
Sunlight filtered through tall paneled windows, casting long bands of gold across polished floors and silk-draped walls. Dust motes drifted lazily in the warmth, undisturbed by the stillness of the room.
On the bed at its center, Dazai stirred.
Pain greeted him first — dull, heavy, threaded through muscle and bone like lingering static. His eyelids parted slowly. For a moment, he did not move, crimson eyes adjusting to the light as memory struggled to assemble itself into something coherent.
Then he turned his head.
Akatsuki sat nearby in a single upholstered chair, one leg crossed over the other, posture relaxed to the point of mockery. A porcelain cup rested in his hand; steam curled upward from freshly brewed coffee. A faint smirk played at the corner of his mouth.
"Well," Akatsuki said smoothly, taking another sip, "sleeping beauty finally rises from eternal slumber. If this were Fisney, we'd have been banned before chapter one."
Dazai groaned under his breath and pushed himself upright, movements restrained by soreness. His red hair fell loose across his forehead, slightly disheveled.
"Don't you mean Disne—"
Akatsuki coughed abruptly, nearly choking on his drink.
"Careful," he said, lowering the cup. "I prefer not to be sued into another dimension."
Dazai exhaled through his nose, unimpressed.
Silence lingered for a moment before Akatsuki's expression sharpened, though the humor did not entirely leave his eyes.
"So," he continued casually, "care to explain the demonic relic you were swinging around last night? The sword that looked like it crawled straight out of the underworld? Ring any bells?"
Dazai's gaze shifted slightly, distant.
Before he could answer, a soft, velvet voice entered the room — smooth as silk, laced with quiet amusement.
"My, my. The sleeping rabbit finally wakes."
Beatrix stood near the tall windows, elegant as ever. Morning light framed her silhouette, turning strands of her Green hair into liquid shadow. In her hand, she held the pink ruby — the same gemstone that had changed the course of the previous night.
It shimmered faintly.
"Corrupted mana and reckless overexertion," she continued lightly. "Yet here you are, breathing. How fortunate."
Akatsuki's posture stiffened ever so slightly at her presence. His smile remained — thinner now.
Dazai met her gaze without speaking.
"Well?" she asked gently. "How do you feel this morning, dear? Would you indulge me for a moment?"
Her eyes lowered briefly to his hands.
"Release your aura."
There was no command in her tone.
There didn't need to be.
Dazai closed his eyes.
For a second, nothing happened. Then the air around him shifted.
Mana stirred — first subtle, then unmistakable. A faint shimmer enveloped his body, hues of deep blue and pitch black weaving together like twin currents struggling for dominance. Along his forearms, red and gray tones flickered into existence, unstable but contained.
The temperature in the room dipped slightly.
The ruby in Beatrix's hand pulsed in response.
Akatsuki felt it — the weight of it — and suppressed the instinct to move.
Beatrix's lips curved in quiet satisfaction.
"How extraordinary," she murmured. "So many attributes coexisting within one vessel… unstable by nature, yet obedient — for now."
The ruby's glow intensified before gradually dimming.
"You should have died long before crossing my threshold," she added thoughtfully. "Most would have. Your body should not have tolerated this burden."
Her gaze sharpened.
"And yet it does."
She lifted her hand slightly.
"That will suffice."
The aura dissipated at once. The room felt lighter — though not entirely safe.
Dazai opened his eyes again, irritation surfacing beneath the exhaustion.
"We did what you asked," he said evenly. "Now tell me what I'm here for."
Beatrix raised a single finger.
Akatsuki let out a small, poorly concealed laugh at the interruption.
Patience, the gesture implied.
Beatrix began walking toward the bed, each step measured. The faint scent of jasmine trailed behind her.
"Yes," she said softly. "You shall have your answers."
She stopped at the foot of the bed, examining him not as a patient, nor as a guest — but as a variable.
"I will explain why you were brought here," she continued. "And perhaps I will enlighten you about that… sword."
The word lingered.
Akatsuki's eyes flicked briefly toward Dazai.
Beatrix's smile deepened — warm, but never harmless.
"They do say a mother knows best."