The salty breeze of Windmill Village hit Jin like a wave of nostalgia—and blood. Not that anything had changed since he left, but the man returning wasn't the same one who'd walked away.
Kuma's round figure waited at the dock, arms flailing like a toddler spotting candy.
"Jin! You're back! Did you bring snacks?!"
"No. But I brought more trauma, if you want that."
Kuma blinked. "Hard pass."
The village looked peaceful, but Jin's eyes—those cold, mercenary-trained eyes—caught the shifts. New watch rotations. Fishermen staying closer to shore. Kids avoiding the woods.
They were afraid.
He didn't blame them.
Makino was waiting at the bar. She offered no words, just a small nod and a mug. Jin took it, sat across from her, and stared into the wood grain of the counter.
"Still hate this place?" she asked after a while.
"I don't hate it," Jin murmured. "I just don't belong in it."
"You did once."
"Yeah. But that guy's dead. I'm the one still walking around in his body."
Kuma stuffed his face in the background, tactfully ignoring the heavy atmosphere. Makino reached over, touched Jin's hand. He didn't pull away.
"You don't have to run anymore, you know."
He looked at her, half-smiling. "I don't run. I just... don't sit still."
That night, under stars too beautiful for broken men, Jin stood at the cliff's edge with Kuina. She hadn't said much since returning from Shimotsuki, but her presence was solid, quiet, and full of unspoken trust.
He handed her a rice ball, which she accepted with a faint "Thanks..."
Silence passed.
"Still want to be the strongest?" he asked.
She didn't answer right away. "I don't know what I want right now. But I know I want to find out."
Jin nodded. "Good enough."
A gust of wind whipped Kuina's hair across her face. Jin watched her quietly.
"You've changed," she said.
"I'm trying not to," he replied.
She looked at him sideways. "That's not how changing works."
He smirked. "Spoken like a girl who came back alive."
A rare, genuine laugh slipped from her lips. Short. Honest. And for a brief moment, Jin forgot the killing, the system, the paths he couldn't take back.
Later, alone in the dojo, he stared at the wall where swords rested.
He closed his eyes and out of nowhere , mysteriously, A new name appeared in his mind. A location unfamiliar. A flag with an octopus.
His gaze narrowed.
What the Fuck just happened ? Whose name is that and where is that location
He tightened the grip on his blade
This story is inspired from various fanfics i have read from around the world so if you find any similarities please dont mind . Thank you
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T/N :
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