Hinata touched the glass table again, delving once more into the memories Michel had been trying to show her…
That was when the darkness awoke.
It was not sound that announced it, but the total absence of everything else.
A tremor passed through that unreal space.
Something manifested, as if it had always been there, simply waiting.
First a whisper.
Then a wind of voices.
Then an ocean of torn souls, screaming and crying from a single body that was not a body, in a voice that was not a voice:
"Michel…"
The name rippled through the void, carried by countless mouths.
A form began to manifest—not in shape, but in weight.
A shifting mass of screaming faces, devoured hopes, eyes and hands and twisted limbs, all speaking in unison with one voice that pulsed like disease.
"Master with no disciples."
"Enlightened soul."
"What a mistake to have let you come."
Michel did not tremble.
He had not before death. He would not now.
"Who are you?"
The creature did not answer with a name.
It answered with intention.
The souls spun, wept, laughed, and begged for help.
A chorus of horror trapped within itself.
And in the middle of that broken symphony:
"I am Shikashi."
"Devourer of what remains."
"The last song of all that ever was."
"She thinks you can change destiny."
"I hope you try."
"Because that will make it all the sweeter to destroy you."
Michel could not move or speak,
but his inner light did not fade.
"There is a pact."
"If you realize the purpose of the one who weeps, I will cease to exist."
"But you will not understand it."
"Not even she fully understands."
"And yet... she clings to you."
Shikashi dissolved and reformed, its existence fluctuating without stable shape.
"We will send you."
"To an unborn soul."
"A pure girl."
"If you fall upon her... she will cease to exist."
"And your consciousness will replace hers."
Michel felt the pull.
Felt the force dragging him toward a life not his own.
Toward a soul--new, innocent, unaware.
He did not know her.
But he knew that if he descended, he would overwrite her completely.
Time lost all meaning as he was cast from an apocalyptic future into a distant past.
Through that strange tunnel dragging him toward a fate not his own, Michel saw... a world of people doing the impossible.
A world of symbols he vaguely recognized.
And the images that surged through him... began to take form.
This is the world of…
"No."
Not with voice, but with soul.
Not with words, but with decision.
And in that instant, he resisted.
He extended his energy—not like a ninja, but as an Enlightened soul.
He touched the vibration that upheld the world's balance.
The white threads that were born from the life of this world became manifest before his eyes.
He held them with all his strength, he stopped the impact.
He did not merge with the girl.
He did not destroy her.
He refused.
But he became bound to her.
Suspended.
A luminous shadow, a guardian who never asked to be one.
From afar, the woman on the broken moon wept again.
And from the abyss behind him, the voice of Shikashi twisted once more, cruel and amused:
"Not the first, soul of light…"
"…but you'll be the last she wastes."
"One more, little goddess. One more attempt before your hope shatters completely."
Hinata slowly pulled her trembling hand away from the crystal table, her voice shaky with lingering fear. "That creature… that monster... is it real?"
Michel's eyes softened. His voice came gentle and low, a tone meant to soothe a storm inside her. "I believe it is. Those memories… they were ones I didn't fully recall until I reached the level of a Silver Soul. But that creature—its intentions were never good. I couldn't accept letting my existence destroy another life. So I resisted, and in doing so… we became bound."
Hinata tried to steady her breath. "What kind of problems did that cause?"
Michel gave her a small, bittersweet smile and glanced back down at the table. "It'll be easier if I show you…"
He was still there—still holding the line, trying to resist the pull dragging him toward the child.
Time passed differently in the realm between souls. Michel didn't know how long he had been there—days, months, hours, seconds? He couldn't tell. But the tension pulling at his being never faded. It was like hanging over the edge of a cliff, arms clinging to the pale threads of the world, knowing that below him lay the soul of a little girl who would be destroyed if he let go.
And yet... pieces of him were beginning to crumble.
Fragments of thought, strands of memory, whispers of will—they slipped away from him, drawn downward by the child's spirit. He couldn't stop it. No matter how he resisted, she slowly absorbed him, like a sponge drawing warmth from the cold.
At first, Michel feared he was hurting her.
But soon he realized something far stranger was happening.
She wasn't fading. She was growing.
Not in the way a child should grow—with laughter, breath, and heartbeat—but with depth. Her soul, once soft and gentle like morning mist, now pulsed with a light too intense for a newborn. It shimmered like silver fire, full of questions she couldn't yet ask, full of strength she couldn't yet control.
Something was wrong.
In the ninja world, they spoke of chakra—of the balance between physical and spiritual energy. But what Michel felt now was something else. Something deeper.
Her energy—what he now understood as soul power—was different. It didn't flow like chakra. It pulsed. It condensed. It resonated with identity.
It was what remained of us after death. The true self, refined by life, drawn toward peace or dragged into torment.
And in resisting her pull, Michel's essence was feeding Hinata with more soul than her small body could endure. She survived—but barely. Her heartbeat flickered like a candle in the wind.
Michel understood what he had to do. Something within him whispered that it would be better if he let go.
But his instinct to protect overrode every other thought.
He extended his will—not toward her, but inward.
To the part of his soul that had always taught, never imposed.
That had always nurtured, never controlled.
And then, he did something no shinobi had ever attempted.
He took the spiritual flow inside Hinata—the radiant core where his fragments now pulsed—and began to guide it downward. Not with violence. Not with force. But with patience, rhythm, and deep reverence.
He recalled breathing techniques.
The way his students once learned to connect their energy to the earth through the soles of their feet.
Now, he imagined that same principle—applied not to breath, but to spirit.
The soul as yin. The body as yang.
If one overwhelmed the other, imbalance would bring ruin.
But if the yin could nurture the yang... she might have a chance.
Thus, Michel began guiding her soul to touch her body, not with power, but with harmony.
Through the parts of his soul already living within her, he gave a gentle push—guiding her essence toward its destination.
To warm her. Nourish her. Awaken her.
To breathe life into her, not with force, but with light.
And slowly... the body responded.
Her pulse stabilized. Her inner light flickered with less violence.
The imbalance didn't vanish, but it no longer threatened to tear her apart.
Michel hadn't saved her. But he had kept her alive.
That, for now, was enough.
But then... he saw her eyes.
They weren't open—not really. She was still a baby, half asleep in the cradle of the physical world.
But Michel could feel them, those strange pale orbs, even in the soul's darkness.
They pulled.
Not through chakra. Not through memory.
Through him.
They were feeding—drinking—from the fragments of his essence, from his grey soul. Not simply absorbing light passively, but reaching, like roots into soil, like formless hunger.
Michel shivered.
He tried to follow the pull, to trace it to its origin—but it vanished, slipping past his senses like smoke through fingers.
There was something buried deep inside.
A weight he couldn't see. A seal he couldn't define.
All he knew was that something within those eyes was not natural.
He didn't understand it yet.
But it didn't feel like her.
It felt foreign—almost as if something was watching him.
Hinata felt a chill crawl down her spine and instinctively stepped back from the table. Her hands came up to cover her eyes, the echo of that void still fresh in her soul.
"Is that… is that why I could never use my Byakugan?" she whispered.
Michel nodded gently. "That's what I suspect, yes. I think what it said about an enlightened soul startled it—enough to force a change in its plan. That's why it took extra precautions. I don't believe it anticipated my resistance to reincarnation."
Hinata slowly lowered her hands and met his gaze. "Then… It was you. You were the one who healed me when I was sick."
Michel's expression turned heavy. "I wish I hadn't also been the cause of your spiritual dissonance."
"I… understand, so… what comes next??" she asked, more composed now.
Michel didn't answer right away. He simply smiled and gestured toward the crystal table.
Hinata said nothing more. She quietly placed her hands back onto the surface.