The marketplace was alive
Voices rose
Children played
Vendors shouted prices
Shigure walked through it all unseen
No stares
No whispers
No fear
But also no recognition
He used to love this city
Used to sneak out of the temple to buy red bean buns
Used to stand by the fountain and watch the street performers
Now the city had moved on
Changed its name
Rebuilt its square
Painted over every crack where his blood once fell
---
A boy ran past him
Laughed
Chased by a girl holding a paper sword
They reminded him of someone
He paused
Then kept walking
He stopped at a stall
A man sold paintings of heroes
Warriors
Monsters
Legends
"Ever heard of Abysswalker?" he asked
The vendor frowned
"Abysswalker? That old ghost story? Just a myth to scare kids into staying home at night"
Shigure didn't reply
Just stared at the last canvas
A figure cloaked in black
Face hidden
Sword dragging
"That's him right?"
The vendor shrugged
"Some say he never existed. Others say he died a hundred years ago. Me? I think people made him up to give tragedy a name"
---
He walked away
Heart quiet
But it hurt in ways silence couldn't soothe
In the corner of the plaza
A statue stood covered in vines
Its plaque scratched
The face eroded by time
He pulled the vines away slowly
Word by word
It read
"To the one who fought in shadows so others could walk in light"
No name
No date
No thanks
Just a cold stone
For a forgotten ghost
---
He smiled
But it wasn't real
It was a habit
A reflex
The same one he wore when the world first decided he wasn't needed anymore
He left the city without buying anything
Without speaking to anyone
Without making a sound
Because what was the point
When even your smile never belonged to you