After a day of rest in the kingdom, night falls—and with it, a strange quiet stirs across the land. The moon glows unnaturally bright. As each member of the group finds themselves alone, something begins to stir within them.
Himari – Encounter with Natsume
Himari is meditating under a sakura tree in the garden. The petals stop falling… and a soft voice speaks from behind her.
"You've always been afraid of what you might become, haven't you?"
She turns—and sees herself, older, regal, eyes glowing with power. Natsume offers a hand.
"Let me show you what it means to embrace your purpose."
Aiko – Confrontation with Riven
Alone in her room, Aiko stares into her reflection—and it moves on its own.
"You waste your power on kindness."
Riven steps out of the mirror, aura twisted like flame caught in a storm.
"Let me show you what the world really needs."
Aiko backs away, but Riven follows, calm, deliberate.
"You're already becoming me."
Ren – Return of Jinrai
In the courtyard, Ren senses a change in the wind. The air splits—and Jinrai lands like thunder.
"You've grown soft, boy."
Ren bows instinctively.
"You're dead."
"Honor never dies. Only those who forget it."
Jinrai throws a blade at Ren's feet.
"Train. Or fall behind."
Haru – Awakening of Akuro
Haru tries to sleep, but shadows crawl up the walls. In his dream, a boy made of flickering flame and ash grins at him.
"You wear strength like a mask. Want me to rip it off?"
Akuro drags Haru into a dream-battle of chaos and fear—forcing him to face the part of himself that doubts everything.
"I am your rage. Your truth. Let's burn."
Meanwhile…
Kairo watches all from a rooftop, eyes narrowed.
And near Yuki's room, the young boy (Eidolon in form) hums a strange lullaby… as if he knows what's happening.
Fragments...
The garden was still. Moonlight shimmered across the petals as Himari sat cross-legged beneath the ancient sakura. The soft pink flowers should have rustled in the breeze, but the wind had stopped. Time held its breath.
Her aura was calm—but a flicker danced at the edge of her senses. A whisper, low and melodic, almost like her own voice.
"You always listen to others, Himari… but do you ever listen to yourself?"
She opened her eyes. Standing a few feet away was a woman—taller, radiant, wrapped in flowing spirit silk. Her long hair glowed like dusk, and her eyes shimmered with celestial gold.
Himari's breath caught.
"Who… are you?"
The woman smiled gently.
"I'm what you could become, if you stop holding back. I am Natsume."
"The name I buried…"
Natsume stepped forward, hand outstretched.
"Let me help you remember what you were born for."
A sudden gust blew through the garden—but the petals swirled upward instead of falling. Himari's aura flared instinctively as visions flashed: flames, forgotten temples, a voice calling out her name beneath the stars.
"Will you embrace your truth, or run from it again?"
Aiko wandered alone through the labyrinthine paths of the outer woods, where mist clung to the trees and time unraveled softly like old thread. She could sense Yuki and the others miles away, but something else pulled her here—an echo in her spirit.
Then she saw it.
A clearing of glass. Not crystal, not water—glass, cracked and still. And standing within it, barefoot and calm, was someone that looked just like her.
But older. Tired. Eyes dull like extinguished stars.
"You mourn things that haven't even died yet," the mirror-Aiko whispered.
"You smile so they won't worry. But I know what you feel."
Aiko clenched her fists, her aura trembling.
"You're not me."
"Aren't I?" the reflection replied, stepping closer. "I am your pain, given form. I am Riven."
The air around them began to warp. Aiko's spirit flared instinctively, colors rippling from her back like wings—but Riven only smiled.
"You don't need to fight me, Aiko. You need to accept me. You need me to grow."
And just like that, a storm of glass rose between them, slicing through memory and soul. Aiko screamed—not in fear, but in resistance—and with that scream came a burst of energy she had never used before.
Riven vanished.
But a single shard of glass remained, glowing in Aiko's palm.
Kai stood on the balcony of the kingdom's tallest tower, the wind rustling his jacket as he sipped a bowl of miso ramen—not because he was hungry, but because it calmed the unease in his chest.
Something was… missing.
He didn't know what, only that ever since the group arrived in the kingdom, he'd been having dreams. Faint images of a burning battlefield, a blacksmith's forge hidden beneath the palace, and a single whisper that repeated:
"Return the flame to the iron."
He thought it was nonsense—until the ground below him trembled slightly. No one else noticed. Not Yuki. Not Ren. Not even Himari.
But he felt it again.
"It's calling me," he muttered, placing the empty bowl down as the sky dimmed with dusk. "A weapon... something left behind."
A symbol etched itself briefly into the skin of his palm, glowing with faint red runes—then faded. Kai's eyes widened.
He knew where he needed to go.
"The royal vault beneath the eastern cliffs..."
He turned to leave, calling softly to himself with a grin:
"Guess I'm finally getting something sharp to go with the spice."
The path led him down forgotten stairs, beneath the palace where even the guards refused to go. The air was thick with soot and silence, and the only light came from flickering torches that lit themselves as he passed.
At the bottom, a circular chamber.
No doors.
No guards.
Just a wall of metal carved with a fox, a tengu, and a flame coiled like a serpent.
Kai reached out.
The mark on his palm burned—then pulsed.
The wall shifted open with a hiss of steam and heat.
Inside: a massive forge, untouched by time, glowing softly with embers that never died. Weapons hung along the walls—some cracked, others still glowing faintly, as if waiting.
And there, near the center…
A figure.
Clad in armor made of soot-black iron and molten gold, sitting cross-legged by the forge. No face, only a blackened mask. But its voice echoed like grinding metal:
"I wondered who would come wearing the flame's mark…"
Kai tensed, hand reaching for a blade he didn't have.
"Who are you?"
The figure stood.
"I am the last ember of the First Flame. You may call me Ashir. I forged weapons for gods and monsters. And you… you've awakened something ancient, ramen boy."
Kai blinked.
"Ramen boy?"
Ashir tilted his head.
"You're here for your weapon. But not all weapons are meant to be drawn."
To be continued...