The night bled into the edges of the city, swallowing every flicker of light like a beast too long starved. Shinomiya Reiji walked through the silent district, his footsteps the only rhythm in a world that had forgotten sound. The rain had stopped hours ago, but the streets still shimmered with the memory of it—broken reflections, twisted shapes of a man who could no longer recognize his own shadow.
Every corner he passed whispered fragments of the past. The cracked windows, the scent of rust and rain, the distant hum of electric lines—everything felt like a chain, dragging him back to the one truth he had tried to bury.
No matter how far he ran, the past never loosened its grip.
He stopped under the remnants of an old bridge. There, the air was heavy with the ghost of a memory he wished he could forget. Years ago, this place had been soaked in blood—the first time he learned what it meant to take a life. The echoes of that night still clawed inside him, a voice that never stopped whispering his name in the dark.
> "You made your choice, Reiji."
"And now you live with it."
The words weren't real, but they felt heavier than the rain ever did. He closed his eyes, his gloved hand resting against the cold concrete wall, tracing the faint etchings of time—scratches left by those who had died here. His pulse trembled beneath his skin, a reminder that he was still alive… though he no longer knew why.
A low voice interrupted the silence.
> "Still visiting ghosts, Reiji?"
He turned sharply. From the shadows, a figure emerged—tall, cloaked, eyes burning with a cruel kind of recognition. Rin Asahiro. A former ally. A man who once fought by Reiji's side before betrayal tore their paths apart.
Reiji said nothing. The wind filled the gap between them, carrying the distant chime of metal as Rin drew the blade from his side.
> "You shouldn't be here," Rin said. "Not after what you did to them."
Reiji's voice came out low, almost mechanical.
> "You think I've forgotten? Every face. Every scream. They're all still here."
He tapped his chest once, his eyes empty.
"That's the curse of remembering."
Rin's lips twisted into something between a smile and a wound.
> "Then maybe it's time to forget. The dead don't need your guilt anymore."
Their blades met before the last word finished leaving his mouth. Sparks burst in the darkness, their movements swift, silent, almost choreographed by the shadows themselves. Every strike, every block carried history—two men who once trusted each other now bound by opposite sides of the same tragedy.
Rin's strike grazed Reiji's shoulder, drawing blood.
Reiji retaliated, twisting his blade, forcing Rin back against the broken wall. The air between them pulsed with unspoken memories.
> "You betrayed us," Rin spat. "You turned your back when we needed you the most."
> "No," Reiji replied, his breath harsh. "I did what had to be done."
The rain began again, thin and cold, dripping through the gaps in the bridge. Rin lowered his blade slightly, eyes burning with a bitter calm.
> "You call it survival. I call it cowardice."
Reiji hesitated—not from fear, but from the weight of knowing Rin might be right. For years, he had carried that same accusation inside his own head. He had walked through every mission, every blood-soaked street, wearing the same guilt like armor. The more he fought, the heavier it became.
Then Rin spoke again, softer this time.
> "You can't atone by killing ghosts, Reiji. The past won't forgive you."
Reiji's hand trembled slightly. For a moment, the old bridge around them seemed to vanish, replaced by flashes of memory—the screams, the flames, the bodies. A younger Reiji, standing amidst it all, holding his sword like a lifeline.
He had been given an order that night. One that saved a hundred lives… at the cost of six.
Six he had sworn to protect.
He exhaled, long and quiet, the kind of breath that sounds like surrender.
> "Maybe forgiveness isn't what I'm looking for," he said. "Maybe I just want to understand why I'm still alive."
Rin stared at him for a moment, then sheathed his blade. His voice lowered to a whisper.
> "Then keep walking. But remember—chains don't break just because you close your eyes."
He turned and disappeared into the rain, leaving Reiji alone again with the ghosts. The silence returned, colder now, as if the city itself had been listening.
Reiji looked down at his blood-stained hand. The crimson felt almost alive against his skin. He clenched his fist, watching the droplets fall to the wet ground.
> "Chains of the past…" he murmured. "They never rust, do they?"
A faint sound caught his attention—a soft click from the distance. Not the wind. Not the rain.
Someone else was there.
He drew his blade slowly, eyes narrowing as he scanned the shadows. A faint silhouette moved beyond the fog—small, deliberate, and too calm to be a bystander.
The voice that followed was sharp, female, and unfamiliar.
> "Shinomiya Reiji. I've been looking for you."
From behind the mist, a figure stepped forward, wearing a mask etched with the insignia of the Court of Shadows—a group Reiji thought had been dismantled years ago.
> "You shouldn't exist," Reiji said coldly.
> "Neither should you," she replied, her tone devoid of emotion. "But here we are—both survivors of something that should have ended long ago."
She dropped something at his feet—a rusted chain, broken in half.
> "A reminder," she said. "That the past isn't done with you yet."
Before he could react, she vanished into the storm, leaving only the faint sound of metal clinking on stone. Reiji knelt, picking up the broken chain, its weight oddly familiar. He turned it in his hand, the cold metal pressing against his scarred palm.
He remembered then—who the chain belonged to, and what it symbolized.
> Kaede…
The name escaped his lips before he could stop it. A face from another time—one he thought he'd buried with the rest of his sins. The rain fell harder, washing away the blood on his hand, but not the ache inside his chest.
He stood there beneath the bridge, the city silent around him, the chain gleaming faintly under the dying light.
The past wasn't gone.
It was waiting.
And somewhere deep inside, Reiji finally understood—
the chains weren't holding him down.
They were pulling him back.