I wake before the sun. The cold slips through the thin paper walls of my room, brushing against my skin. My breath forms small clouds that vanish into the still air. I lie there, eyes open, listening. The compound is too quiet this morning. No footsteps outside, no low murmurs drifting through the halls. Just silence, heavy and thick.
My hand moves to the wooden sword leaning against the wall. It's rough and worn, the grain smooth where I've held it a thousand times. I close my eyes and feel the rot coil beneath my skin, slow and waiting. It doesn't stir on its own anymore. I have to call it out, or it stays silent. For now, I push it down. Not yet.
I rise and dress quietly. The floorboards creak under my feet, louder than I want. Outside, the sky is pale and empty, the first hints of light just brushing the edges of the horizon. I step out into the courtyard. Frost coats the grass and the stone paths. The air is sharp and still.
Near the training posts, Satoru waits. His wooden blade spins lazily between his fingers. He looks up when I approach and grins.
"You're late," he says, voice rough with sleep.
I shrug. "The sun's not even up."
He laughs. "Doesn't mean we wait."
I catch the blade he throws and draw my own. The cold wood feels solid in my hands. We circle each other, the soft crunch of frost beneath our feet. I swing wide, but he's faster and taps my ribs lightly.
"Too slow," he says, smirking.
"Getting old," I reply, trying to sound braver than I feel.
Satoru laughs again, loud and sharp. "Not as old as your father."
I don't answer. Father is already patrolling the walls, as he does every morning. His footsteps echo steady and sure. I watch him for a moment, wondering how long he can keep this up. How long we all can.
After drills, Ren appears by the old stone wall, a loaf of bread tucked under his arm. He breaks off a piece and offers it without a word. I take it and bite quietly.
"We'll pay them back after this," he says with a crooked grin.
I nod, swallowing. We both know what "this" means, but neither of us says it.
Aya joins us near the back gate. Her hands twist a strip of cloth into a braid, eyes sharp and restless. "You two should help in the stores," she says without looking up.
Ren shrugs. "Busy."
She flicks his forehead. Then looks at me. "You're busy too, right?"
I nod again.
She sighs and stays with us.
The day drifts on in a dull rhythm. Father checks the walls, Mother moves through the compound barking orders. She looks tired, but never lets it show. The weight of waiting hangs over us all.
I help where I can, patching small cracks, listening for words I'm not meant to hear. Always watching the gate.
Night falls cold and still. We gather near the storehouse, sharing stolen sips from a flask. Satoru jokes, trying to break the silence. Aya watches the sky through cracks in the wood. No one talks about the waiting. But it's there. We all feel it.
Then I wake in the dark to a sound that doesn't belong. low, hungry, like the sky tearing apart. The earth trembles beneath me. Dust falls from the ceiling.
My door bursts open. Satoru stands there, mouth moving but no sound comes.
Our eyes met with an eerie sight. The front walls were destroyed, they were nothing but flames now. Our compound was finally hit by the war.
The fire's heat presses against my skin, sharp and unforgiving. Flames curl along the shattered walls, crackling like angry voices. Smoke twists in thick gray spirals, blurring the edges of the world. The smell of burning wood and ash fills my lungs. Every breath burns, but I force myself forward, because standing still is surrender.
Father moves like a whirlwind, blade flashing with deadly precision. His eyes never waver from the attackers. One man charges at him, face twisted in rage. Father sidesteps, barely dodging a heavy strike that splinters a wooden beam behind him. He counters with a swift slash, snapping the man's weapon in two. The attacker stumbles back, clutching his ruined arm, gritting his teeth against the pain.
Nearby, Ren drags the pale boy behind a broken cart, but the attackers surround him, sharp voices barking orders. "You can't hold them off forever, Ren!" I shout, desperation rising in my chest.
Ren glances over his shoulder, eyes blazing. "We have to buy time. For them. For everyone."
The boy trembles, clutching Ren's bloodstained shirt. "I'm scared," he whispers, voice cracking.
Ren's jaw tightens, but he forces a smile. "Good. Fear keeps us sharp. Keeps us alive."
A soldier lunges at Ren from the side. Ren spins, slashing with his knife. The man grunts, but another attacker slams into Ren's side, knocking the wind out of him. He staggers, pain flaring across his ribs.
Ren gasps, breath shallow. "Ken... don't... lose hope."
Before I can answer, another attacker comes from behind. Ren turns just in time to catch the blade in his arm. He grits his teeth, eyes flashing with pain and determination.
Aya rushes to his side, eyes wide with panic. "Ren, hold on! Please!"
Ren reaches out, grabbing her hand tightly. "Aya... keep them safe. Keep everyone safe."
His breath falters. His grip loosens.
"No!" Aya screams, tears streaming down her face.
Satoru fights a few paces away. His wooden sword moves with frantic energy. He knocks a man's weapon aside, then swings fiercely. The attacker stumbles, but another soldier grabs Satoru from behind, pressing a cold blade against his neck.
Satoru struggles, muscles trembling. "Get away... leave them..." he gasps.
The blade presses harder. His eyes lock with mine for a moment. Fear and something like an apology in their depths.
I want to run to him. To save him. But my legs refuse.
Satoru's body goes limp. The attacker pulls away, leaving him crumpled on the ground.
I stand frozen, heart pounding, the rot stirring beneath my skin, begging to be unleashed. But I hold it back, clenching my fists until my nails bite into my palms.
Ren's eyes meet mine one last time. "Ken... it's not your fault."
His voice is a weak whisper.
Then he falls.
Aya's cries fill the burning air.
Satoru's broken form lies silent.
The world narrows to loss and fire.
I swallow the hunger inside me, the dark thing that wants to rise.
Because right now, all I feel as if I can do is watch. Just like how I was in my past life.
π‘π’ π πππ‘π§ πππ§ ππ§ πππ£π£ππ‘
The sounds around me blur into a distant hum. Ren's last words echo in my mind like a fading echo in a vast cave. Aya's cries shred the air, tearing at the fragile walls of my heart. Satoru lies motionless, cold and still beneath the ash and rubble. I want to scream, to break something, but my body refuses to obey. I stand frozen, a prisoner of shock and grief.
My thoughts spiral, heavy and dark. Every face I have ever cared for is fading into nothingness. The weight of loss crushes me, threatening to swallow me whole. Yet, deep inside, a fire begins to burn. It is raw and wild, fueled by pain and a growing hunger for justice. No, vengeance. I cannot let this be the end.
I bend my head, clenching my fists so tightly that my nails dig into my palms. My breath catches as the rot stirs beneath my skin, calling out with a voice I have tried to ignore. But now, it answers. It promises power, release, and the means to punish those who have taken everything from me.
"No more weakness," I whisper to myself, voice rough and broken. "I can't waste this life being pathetic. π'ππ ππππ π§πππ πππ, ππ©ππ₯π¬ π¦ππ‘πππ πππ¦π§ π’π‘π..." The words taste bitter but bring a strange clarity, like ice melting and sharpening my resolve. Hatred coils inside me, dark and suffocating, wrapping around my heart like iron chains.
Suddenly, I catch sight of Father struggling against a flood of enemies. His face is pale, eyes fierce despite the blood seeping from his side. He fights with everything left inside him, but the numbers overwhelm. My heart twists in agony as I watch a blade pierce his flesh. He falters, staggering back, breath ragged and shallow.
"No!" The shout tears out of me, raw and desperate. The power inside me bursts free, black and hungry. It spreads like wildfire beneath my skin, tearing through my veins and flooding into the world. Where I step, decay follows. Wood cracks, metal rusts, flesh rots away in seconds. The air fills with screams as enemy soldiers crumble into dust before me.
I move forward, a whirlwind of rage and destruction, my mind consumed by one thought. . . I will ππππ them all. My hands drip with dark power, my heart pounding with furious resolve. The battlefield blurs around me, but I see only the enemies who took everything from me.
I step over broken bodies, through drifting ash and shattered beams, each footfall cracking the ground beneath me as if it too wants to die under my touch. My breath rasps in my ears. My chest aches, but the pain only feeds the anger boiling through my veins. I feel the rot curling out from my fingertips, thick as smoke, hungry for anything living.
Another man runs at me with a spear, eyes wide, shouting something I can't hear over the roar in my head. I raise my hand before he gets close. The air between us shimmers, then his weapon withers to rust. He tries to stop, but his boots hit the decay spreading through the dirt. The ground beneath him splits like old wood. He gasps as the rot crawls up his legs. His scream dies in his throat when his flesh cracks and turns to powder.
I keep moving. I don't think. I don't look away. Another comes from my left. He swings a blade at my shoulder. The metal meets my arm, but the steel groans and crumbles before it can break skin. I grab his wrist. The rot pours from me into him, his veins turning black under his skin like ink in water. His eyes rolled back. He drops in my shadow, nothing but bones wrapped in tattered cloth.
Flames roar behind me, eating what's left of the compound. The sky glows red and black, ash drifting down like dead snow. I hear Father's last breath in my mind, see Ren's tired smile, Satoru's wide, fearful eyes, Aya's sobs echoing off burning walls. All of it twists deeper into me, feeding the hate, sharpening it.
Someone tries to beg. I hear them as they stumble back, words cracking with fear. I see their lips move, see the tears. But my heart doesn't move. The rot answers before I do, spilling out like a tide. It rushes over him, strips armor from bone, turns bone to dust. I feel nothing.
Another group breaks through the smoke ahead of me. Five men, maybe six, armor mismatched and swords raised high. Their boots crunch over charred wood and splintered stone. They spread out to surround me, thinking they can end this. I watch their eyes flicker to the bodies at my feet, see the fear trying to crawl up their throats.
One swings first, a reckless wide arc. I duck under it, step forward, press my palm to his chest. The rot blossoms out like black flowers, cracking his ribs apart, his scream cut short as he folds in on himself. Another lunges from behind. I spin, letting my elbow catch his jaw. He hits the ground hard. I place my foot on his throat and watch the rot devour the last breath from his lungs.
Steel glints near my shoulder. Another blade swings for my neck. I twist, my hand snapping out to catch his wrist mid-strike. I squeeze. Bone cracks in my grip. His sword hits the ground. The rot crawls from my fingers into his arm. He claws at me, gasping like a dying animal. I pushed him away. He falls apart before he hits the dirt.
The last two turn to run. I watch them scramble, tripping over rubble and bodies, pushing through the smoke like frightened cattle. I take a step. The ground rots under them as they run. They trip. They crawl. They choke on the poisonous air. Their bodies crumble as the rot catches them like a shadow with teeth.
I stand in the ruin, shoulders heaving, sweat burning down my temple. The fire crackles and spits behind me. The compound is gone, just bones of old wood and stone under a sky choked with black. I look at my hands. The black mist drips from my skin like oil, soaking into the ground where my feet touch.
I think of Father's eyes as he fell. Of Ren's last laugh. Of Satoru's fear. Of Aya's tears. I think of my first breath in this world, how small my hands were then, how I didn't belong here. But now the only thing left that does belong is the thing inside me, hungry and awake.
I whisper to the flames, to the ashes, to the silence they left behind.
"I won't waste this life. Not anymore."
And in the glow of ruin, I promise them all.
I will not stop until every last one of them is dust like this.
I continued my slaughter with every single being that destroyed my home. Touching them with my palm, making them only turn to bones with the clothes they wore while the skin and flesh were all black dust.Β
The last man stumbles back, his foot catches on the broken stone. His armor is split, his blade snapped in half, useless now. He tries to crawl away from me on hands and knees. His breath comes out in wet, rattling gasps. He coughs blood onto the ash.
I watch him. My own chest heaves, lungs scraping raw air thick with smoke. My hair sticks to my forehead, damp and dirty, brushing against my eyes when I tilt my head to see him better. His eyes are wide, begging. But he doesn't say the words. Maybe he knows they wouldn't save him.
I kneel down over him, slow. My knees press into the scorched earth. I place my palm on his chest. The rot hums behind my teeth, behind my ribs, wanting out. It listens when I open the door for it. I feel it leave me. I feel it crawl through him. His ribs buckle under my hand. His mouth opens like he wants to scream but all that comes out is a dry, hollow gasp.
I keep my hand there until there's nothing left but clothes and bones and black dust. I stare down at the emptiness I made. My heartbeat pounds in my ears, hard and ragged. My shoulders rise and fall. I can taste ash and something metallic on my tongue.
I look at my hands. They shake, black rot dripping from my fingers like old oil. I hate them. But they're all I have.
A soft sound cuts through the crackle of the fires. Footsteps behind me, slow and careful on burned wood. A voice I know better than my own thoughts.
"Kenjiroβ¦"
I turn my head. Aya stands there. Her face is streaked with ash and tears. Her hair is loose, tangled, clinging to her cheeks. Her eyes, they're the only thing that hasn't burned away. They're the last thing soft in this place.
"Please," she says. Her voice breaks like glass underfoot. "It's enough. Please stop. Come back. Please."
I stand up. My legs feel too long, too heavy. I take one step toward her. The rot crawls up my arms, warm and alive like it knows what I want more than I do.
She takes a step closer too. She doesn't flinch. She's shaking all over but she doesn't step back. "Kenjiro, look at me. It's me. I'm here."
I look. Her face is all I see. For one moment, something in my chest cracks open like old wood. I feel the cold wind rush in. I feel something almost like regret.
She lifts her hand to my face, but I lean forward first. I press my forehead to hers. I feel her breath. I feel how warm she is. My own breath shudders out of me.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, voice hoarse, throat torn raw.
My palm slides up, cupping her cheek. Her skin is soft under my hand. My fingers trembling against her temple.
"Kenβ¦ don'tβ¦" she whispers back.
But the rot is already there. It slips from my palm into her. I feel her body shudder under my touch. I feel her warmth bleed away, piece by piece. Her bones crack under my fingers like dry twigs.
I don't pull away. I keep my forehead pressed to hers until there's nothing left but air and ash between us.
When I open my eyes, all that's left is bone dust clinging to my hand. The wind catches it, scattering her across the broken floor.
I stand there, chest heaving, hair falling into my eyes. I taste blood in my mouth where I bite my tongue to keep from screaming.
I look at my hand. At the empty space where she stood.
No one left. Not her. Not anyone.
Only me. And this rot that feels more like me than anything else ever did.