YOSUKE SHIN
The tavern felt emptier once Jiro, Naemi, and the woman had left with the child. I stood by the window for a long moment, watching the chariot fade into the horizon until it was no more than a speck against the dying light.
Only then did I breathe out and step into the street.
Sai.
Even after all this time, just his name in my mind carried weight — a mixture of pride, fear, and something far heavier: responsibility.
I searched.
For two hours, I combed through the outskirts of the settlement, questioning passersby, watching the roads, even feeling the air for traces of fire or blood — remnants of his power. But there was nothing. The silence of the land mocked me, and every minute dragged the ache of uncertainty deeper into my chest.
Eventually, my feet led me back toward the tavern. The lanterns glowed faintly, and the murmur of voices spilled into the street. I rubbed the bridge of my nose, frustration gnawing at me. Did I miss him? Was I too late again?
And then—
The crunch of wheels against gravel reached my ears. I turned sharply.
A familiar chariot pulled into view, its wooden frame worn from travel, its wheels screeching faintly as it slowed. My breath caught. The figure who stepped down from it made my chest tighten.
Sai.
His presence was the same as it had always been — raw, heavy, almost suffocating. But his movements… slower, more deliberate. His clothes were worn, his eyes sharper than I remembered, as if each step he took carried the weight of ghosts unseen.
For a long moment, I just stood there, staring at him in silence. The boy I had once trained, once called brother — and now the man who carried curses, slaughter, and unbearable guilt on his back.
And yet… it was still him.
Finally, I whispered under my breath, the words almost trembling out of me:
"…Sai."
The name escaped my lips before I could stop it.
His head snapped toward me, and for a heartbeat I saw disbelief in his eyes — disbelief, then recognition, then a sudden sharp rush of something I couldn't name.
And then he ran.
I barely had time to brace myself before he slammed into me, his arms wrapping around my shoulders with a strength that spoke more of desperation than force. I returned it just as fiercely, my hand clapping against his back. For a long moment, we stayed there, two battered men holding on as if the world might disappear around us.
Finally, he pulled back, his hands still gripping my shoulders, his voice raw.
"Yosuke… you're alive."
A shaky laugh escaped me. "You're one to talk. You look like you clawed your way out of hell."
"Maybe I did," he muttered, but his lips twitched in the faintest ghost of a smile.
We walked into the bar together. The air inside was thick with smoke and chatter, but when the patrons saw Sai, silence fell for a moment. His presence carried weight, a shadow that bent the room. Still, we ignored it, taking a small corner table.
The barkeep placed two mugs in front of us without a word. Sai didn't touch his. He just sat there, elbows on the table, staring at the worn wood.
I finally broke the silence.
"I heard things, Sai. Rumors. Blood. Betrayal. People call you a butcher now."
His eyes lifted, and for a moment I thought I saw fire burning in them. But it wasn't anger at me — it was at himself.
"They betrayed me, Yosuke. Lied to my face, promised safety, then threw me into death's jaws. I… had no choice."
I leaned forward, searching his face. "But you didn't just fight, did you? You annihilated them."
Sai's jaw tightened. He didn't answer at first, then finally said, voice low:
"I tried to hold back. At first. But once the blood veil broke, once I realized they would never stop coming… something inside me snapped. I couldn't stop. Not until it was over."
Silence fell again. I studied him — the same boy I had once taught to wield fire, now weighed down by death, guilt, and something darker.
"…You used it, didn't you?" I asked. "Gift-Weave."
His eyes flickered. He gave a slow nod.
"I had to. Yours. And Yuri's."
Hearing Yuri's name made my chest ache. I swallowed it down.
"So that's how you stood against nine of them. And yet…" I tilted my head. "You still look like you're carrying the whole world on your back."
Sai gave a hollow laugh. "Because I am."
I reached across the table, gripping his wrist firmly. "Listen to me. You're not alone. You never were. You still have me. You still have Jiro. You still have Yuri, somewhere out there. And that girl, Namae — I can tell she cares about you."
For the first time since we sat, Sai's eyes softened, the fire dimming into something fragile.
"I told her once… that I was never truly alone. People come and go, but someone was always at my side. I just… forget it sometimes."
I smirked faintly. "Then let me remind you, brother. You've got people. And we're not letting you fall."
Sai looked at me for a long time, then finally exhaled and whispered:
"Thank you."
The words were simple. But coming from him, they carried the weight of a lifetime.