Kaoru yawned, graceless and unbefitting of her upbringing.
A traitorous tear gathered in the corner of her eye, stubborn against the cold. She curled her fingers deeper into her sleeves, sneakers too thin for December, and tipped her head back toward the snowfall drifting through the gaps in Tokyo's skyline. It would never settle; it was still too warm.
Thunk.
Something warm and metallic pressed against her cheek. She startled at the familiar aluminum of a canned coffee. Haibara beamed beside her, looking absurdly awake for the hour; his winter hat had slipped sideways, and strands of his bowl-cut hair was sticking out in every direction.
"Kaoru-san! Black coffee, right?"
Kaoru blinked, still half-lidded with sleep. There was something criminally cheerful about the way he said it; it wasn't even four in the morning. She gave a sleepy nod and accepted the can. "Mm. Thanks," she mumbled, popping it open.
Her eyes rose again to the sky, where the snow was still falling. Of course Scarlet Mist would choose Christmas for an appearance; that damned spirit had a sense for drama.
Thunk.
Another can slapped the opposite side of her face with enough force to be legally classified as an assault. Kaoru didn't even have to look. "You've got to be kidding me."
"Ka-o-ru," Satoru sing-songed behind her, grinning like a menace. "I got you coffee, too. I know you didn't get your usual fourteen hours last night, so…" He gave her a shove with the can. "Figured you'd need the energy boost."
She narrowed her eyes at him, noting his coat, open despite the cold, and the white bandages over his eyes. His hair was windswept from teleporting across town just to get that can of black coffee. He pushed the can against her again, twice as dramatic, like caffeine was some sort of love declaration.
Kaoru grunted and weighed both hot coffee cans in her hands, questioning her too-long-life choices. "Wonderful," she deadpanned. "You're trying to kill me with caffeine."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Satoru replied, pushing his bandages up over his eyes just enough to wink at her like he hadn't just committed a petty act of beverage-based jealousy.
Then—
"Tch. Hold this."
The clipped voice belonged to Shoko, who strolled up without preamble, depositing her purse into Hisanobu's waiting hands. He accepted it with the formality of a court official, his Moon Pride nodachi slung over his shoulder, perfectly balanced despite his tailored three-piece suit. He watched with some interest as Shoko rifled through the purse, single-minded. She extracted a single green jade earring and inserted it into her left ear with surprising care.
Kaoru froze, lips halfway to her coffee. That shape—no, that glow—no, that memory—
"Shoko," she said before she could stop herself. "That earring. Where did you get it?"
The other woman glanced over. "Hmm? Oh, just a family heirloom. My grandma's grandma or something. I wear it on missions. Supposed to bring good luck." She turned slightly, letting Kaoru get a better look at the jade earring. "Cute, though."
"It's very refined," Hisanobu offered solemnly.
Kaoru stepped closer without realizing, just as Satoru leaned in, half-hunched beside her to peer at Shoko's ear. "You still wear that old thing? I thought you said it made you look like a shoujo villain."
"Shut up."
Kaoru wasn't listening anymore. Her eyes locked on the earring, the single jade drop, late Sengoku-period craftsmanship, authentic stone. She knew that earring; she'd seen it dangling beside a certain face, framed by white hair and a crooked grin. Her breath hitched in her throat as her gaze flicked slowly to Satoru's face; he turned on her, confused, tilting his head—that tilt, a smart man pretending to be dumb. It was the same expression; it was the same face that had once worn that earring. She'd teased him for wearing it, told him he looked like a courtesan, but secretly, she'd thought it suited him. And later, she remembered that same earring stained with blood, cradled in the hands of a mute child with brown hair running barefoot from the ruins of Sekigahara, crying for a man that would never rise again
Kaoru could almost see the memory overlaying the present. "Pft," she exhaled softly.
So Shoko's that girl descendant, huh? I should've seen it sooner.
She lifted her eyes again and found Hisanobu still perfectly straight-backed beside Shoko. He met her gaze and returned it with the unmistakable grimace of a Kashimo man about to say Ojousama, you are being weird again, please stop.
Kaoru forced a smile and Shoko noticed. She narrowed her eyes and stepped deliberately into Kaoru's line of sight. "You can't have it," she warned flatly. "History nerd."
"I wasn't—"
"You looked like you wanted it."
Kaoru lifted an eyebrow, meeting the challenge without flinching. "Relax. I wasn't about to snatch it off your ear." She hesitated for just a breath, smirking. "It's right that it found its way to you."
Shoko studied her for a second longer, then gave a noncommittal nod and turned, slipping the earring into place.
Kaoru moved on without another word, brushing past a confused Haibara, and she barely had time to register the warmth of Satoru falling into step beside her.
"Okay," he started, amused. "You gonna tell me what that was all about, or do I have to start guessing? You're smiling. You never smile when you've had zero sleep, unless there's a cursed artifact nearby."
"Nothing," Kaoru said softly. "It's just… ironic, I suppose." She glanced back once more, toward the earring, toward Shoko, toward the man still holding the purse like his life depended on it. "Some people are just meant to find each other, one way or another," she murmured at last, more to herself than anyone else.
Satoru gave her a sidelong look. "Great. You're being cryptic again."
Snow was still falling by the time they reached the alley behind the hospital, a forgotten strip of concrete fenced in by rusted pipes and chain-link. The Kusakabe siblings were already there, hunched in matching oversized coats and a katana over their shoulders, which made them look like annoyed samurai on laundry day. The older brother raised a hand in lazy greeting, while Uzuya stood beside him, scrolling through her phone with a look of restrained panic.
"Yo," Kusakabe greeted, sounding like it hurt.
"Yo," Kaoru echoed, her tone matching the exhausted disdain of someone who deeply resented being awake at 2 a.m.
Satoru and Haibara moved toward Kusakabe, Haibara already babbling about Emphatic assonance activation, but Kaoru's attention lingered on Uzuya, who stood to one side, face lit only by her phone screen, fingers furiously typing, erasing, typing again. She looked like she was trying not to cry or commit arson. Then—sigh. Delete and retry again.
Whatever she was typing was clearly not going well.
"Uzuya," Kaoru said quietly. "You good?"
The older woman started, as if she hadn't noticed Kaoru at all, then tugged her beret down and offered an awkward smile. "Sorry, Kaoru-san. Just—" Her voice wavered as she tucked her phone away. "Takeru. He caught a bad case of pneumonia. And... It's Christmas, and I'm stuck out here on a mission instead of at his bedside."
Kaoru hummed. "Children always get sick at the worst possible times. It's one of their many supernatural talents."
That earned a half-laugh, though worry still clung to Uzuya's face. "He's in good hands. Tokyo Metropolitan Children's Center and my husband's there, but… I just want to be there in time for Christmas morning."
"Then we'll make sure you get there by morning," Kaoru said simply.
Just then, Haibara bounded over, practically radiating sunshine. "Uzuya-san, your turn!"
Uzuya nodded, straightening as Haibara placed his hand gently on her shoulders, cursed energy thrumming as cloth heated just right. Kaoru didn't need the Six Eyes to feel the shift in the atmosphere; something softened in Uzuya's posture, and she exhaled as if she hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath.
"Ooh," Uzuya let out a surprised chuckle. "It's like… being wrapped in a heated blanket."
Satoru leaned in, examining the effect with his Six Eyes as snowflakes settled on his shoulders. "Yep," he confirmed. "Solid connection. You're good."
He pulled the white cloth from his face, hair falling in unkempt white tufts across his forehead, and turned toward the group with a spark of energy that didn't come from any technique Kaoru had ever studied, just the sheer, absurd charisma of being him. "All right, dream team," he snapped the collar of his uniform up, flashing Kaoru a grin. "The Anti–Scarlet Mist Operation is officially a go. Yu-kun, how's the connection with the Kusakabes?"
Haibara snapped upright as if he were reporting for duty. "Yes! I dissolved my other connection this morning, so I'm only focused on them." He beamed, visibly proud of himself, as Shoko gave him a small pat on the back.
"Nice. Kusakabe siblings," he continued, turning to the pair of siblings. "You enter the hospital from the west wing. Blend in with the late-night visitors, don't cause a scene, and flash your passes only if necessary. Our support team of assistants will lock the perimeter once the Red Ward triggers."
Uzuya adjusted the weight of her katana on her back. "We'll see you in five," she said, too cheerfully.
"Or never," Kusakabe mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck like a man counting down to his own funeral.
"Gee, try not to trip over your own feet, brother," Uzuya shot back and elbowed him in the ribs.
They disappeared around the corner, still bickering in sibling chaos.
"Good," Satoru said, nodding and turning back to the rest. "Shoko, Yu-kun, 'Nobu. Stay by the front gate statue, nice and visible. Haibara, you ping us if anything shifts in the Kusakabes' energy."
"Roger that," Haibara beamed, jogging backward toward Shoko.
"'Nobu…" Satoru squinted at him. A silent glance passed between the two men, bro-code levels of nonverbal communication activated: his eyes briefly dropped to Shoko and Haibara before flicking them back up with an impish half-smirk. "Don't screw up your job, bodyguard."
Hisanobu did not dignify that with an answer, but the twitch in his temple spoke volumes. He slowly lowered Moon Pride from his shoulder, gaze slicing between Satoru and Kaoru like he suspected this entire operation might be a cover for a poorly concealed kidnapping of his Ojousama. "Ojousama," he said gravely, eyes locked on hers. "Do not let this fool compromise your safety."
Kaoru—exhausted, overcaffeinated, feet numb—managed a lopsided smile. "You too, 'Nobu. Stay safe—"
She didn't get to finish. Satoru's arm landed casually around her shoulders as if it belonged there. She blinked, thrown off balance as he leaned into her space and waved smugly at Hisanobu, who now looked a heartbeat away from violence.
"What?" Satoru asked sweetly. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of the Ojousama."
Kaoru sighed in half-exasperation, half-resigned fondness, and didn't bother shaking him off as he teleported them both in the blink of Blue. The city vanished, and her sneakers landed solidly on the concrete of a rooftop high above the hospital. She wobbled, slightly off-balance. His arm was gone now, dropped the second they arrived, but the point had been made, childishly.
"You really had to do that?" she muttered, brushing snow from her hair.
"Please," Satoru replied, already walking toward the ledge with a swagger, "I'm ninety percent sure 'Nobu's having a breakdown. Totally worth it."
He crouched at the very edge, face turned toward the glow of the hospital windows. Kaoru followed more cautiously; she tightened Mame at the base of her ponytail and tucked her hands into the pockets of her long skirt, letting the cold bite her fingers enough to keep them sharp. The snow stuck to her lashes, but she barely noticed, and the wind was worse up here. The view, however, was perfect; the hospital in full sight, no obstructions. Far enough that Scarlet Mist wouldn't sense them immediately, assuming things went as planned.
Satoru pulled out his phone and tapped lazily. "Ijichi," he said, not even bothering to check if it was ringing. "We're in position. Once Shoko gives the signal, move the rescue teams in. I'll track Scarlet Mist from up here." He didn't wait for a reply; the phone was back in his pocket by the time Kaoru came to stand beside him. He threw his head back against the falling snow and gave her a self-satisfied grin that had no right being that pretty in the middle of a Scarlet Mist mission. "Now, we wait."
Kaoru rolled her eyes, but the ghost of a smile tugged at her lips as she joined him at the ledge. They kept their eyes on the courtyard where Shoko, Haibara, and Hisanobu now loitered, on the west entrance where the Kusakabes would be blending in among exhausted parents and nurses, on the Christmas lights blinking through the windows. Kaoru exhaled slowly. She had a good feeling tonight, and everything was falling into place. Which, of course, was exactly when the dread hit: a sharp, involuntary jolt of unforgiving instinct, deep and old, the kind that had outlived empires.
Don't let your guard down, something in her warned. That's when it always happens.
Her eyes slid sideways. Satoru hadn't moved; he was watching the building with a dangerous kind of focus, the kind she remembered, that terrifying stillness that used to freeze the battlefield. Even his cursed energy had gone still and withdrawn inward like a silent predator in a snowfall. Kaoru almost laughed; she hadn't seen that stillness in four hundred years.
She breathed out. "Satoru."
"Hm?"
"You sure you don't need a connection with Haibara too?"
"Nah. My RCT's top-class."
She blinked, surprised. "You sound very confident."
He gave a mock gasp. "And you sound suspiciously surprised."
"Oh, you have no idea," she chuckled under her breath.
Time passed. A full hour, maybe two, and the city was beginning to wake itself. Somewhere in the distance, strains of holiday music drifted up, tinny and optimistic. Kaoru curled her hands in her coat, just to keep them moving against the cold.
Satoru sighed dramatically. "This is boring." He dropped his head into his arms, sulking like a child.
And then—
The air changed. Around the hospital, it pressed inward, like a dropped curtain.
Kaoru's head snapped up at the same moment Satoru straightened. "That's it."
Above the hospital, the sky rippled, in a barely perceptible shimmer, like dark glass fogging over; a vast dome slid down, soundless, around the building. Then—pulse. The cursed energy snapped outward in a wave the moment it finished forming a perfect sphere. Around it, snow twisted, and lights blinked.
And just like that, the hospital was sealed.
Satoru whistled low, the edge of a grin returning to his lips. "Well. Here come the longest five minutes of our—" He stopped cold and his whole body tensed. His eyes narrowed, fixed on the curtain until he frowned.
Kaoru felt her stomach lurch as she followed his gaze, locking onto the curtain; all the signs were right. The timing, the snow, the building, the people; it all matched the fragments Murasaki's mask had shown her far too well. Outside, Shoko's hands were already on Haibara's back, RCT flowing in a steady loop, and Hisanobu had drawn closer. The Kusakabes were inside. Everything was going according to their plan.
And yet—
"That's..." she trailed off.
"That's not…" Satoru's voice dropped, nothing like the voice of the man who had playfully shoved a coffee can against her cheek.
It was a curtain, a kekkai, yes, but not the right kind, not red, twitching, and wet; not Scarlet Mist's signature kekkai that bled death and disease. This was standard-issue, the kind of curtain designed by human sorcerers.
Her instincts shrieked. "That's not a Red Ward."
Beside her, Satoru had gone completely still. His breath fogged the air. "Not even close," he murmured. "And that cursed energy signature is—"
Kaoru's eyes snapped to him as his lips parted, but he didn't finish the sentence; that, more than anything, terrified her. Satoru Gojo didn't stop mid-sentence unless something had shifted beyond what even he could spin into a joke. Kaoru studied his face; she knew that look. Something burned at the edge of her thoughts. Her jaw clenched in frustration. Not now, not here; she could press him later. For now, they had to move. Standard curtain, sorcerer's type; someone had seen through their plan, predicted and anticipated it. And that meant—
"Trap," they both muttered.
They moved at once.
Satoru clicked his tongue and yanked his hands free of his pockets, just as Kaoru dropped low, fingers slicing through her shadow; she drew a katana in one clean arc, and before she'd even fully straightened, Satoru's hand landed firmly on her shoulder. Blue crackled again, and then the world twisted. They landed in front of the hospital gates, just meters from Shoko, Hisanobu, and Haibara, directly facing the sealed curtain.
Hisanobu stepped forward the instant Kaoru arrived, Moon Pride drawn. "Ojousama—"
"They played us," Kaoru said flatly, swatting Satoru's hand from her shoulder. "Scarlet Mist, and whoever the hell's backing him." She stepped toward the curtain without hesitation, black eyes narrowing.
Instantly, Haibara's eyes snapped toward them; of course, he noticed, he probably remembered from seven years ago being trapped inside a Red Ward. You didn't forget something like that, after what it had done to your lungs. "K-Kaoru-san!" his voice cracked. "This isn't a—!"
"I know," she confirmed. "Not a Red Ward."
Next to her, Satoru hadn't moved, and she didn't need to look to know he was using the Six Eyes overtime. That eerie stillness of his only meant one thing: data analysis, high-speed perception, and deep, deep concentration.
"Can you see anything inside?" she asked quietly.
"No," he said, immediately. He raised a hand to touch the barrier, but the moment his fingers brushed its surface, a surge of cursed energy cracked out like a whip, rejecting him with a hiss; his palm came away smoking, already healing under a lazy puff of RCT. "But it's definitely not friendly," he muttered.
Kaoru stepped back instinctively as Hisanobu stepped forward and raised Moon Pride. "Tch." He dropped into stance, one fluid breath, then a crescent slash—Lunar Cut—a silver arc of cursed energy that slipped from his blade, slicing through the air before crashing uselessly against the curtain. It fizzled harmlessly.
Satoru's mouth twisted into a joyless smirk. "Clever. It's keyed to reject, keeps people out."
Kaoru tilted her head, considering. "Question is... does it also keep them in?"
Behind them, Shoko's voice had lost its usual dryness. "You think the Kusakabes are trapped inside?"
"Possibly." Kaoru didn't turn, eyes stayed locked on the curtain. "Keep RCT steady until we know more. Haibara?"
"On it!" Eyes closed, Haibara formed the hand seal, brow furrowed in concentration. His cursed energy rolled in quiet pulses, reaching his connections. "Both Kusakabe-san and Uzuya-san are alive," he said finally, relief blooming in his tone. "No injuries or distress. Yet."
Kaoru exhaled through her teeth. Yet. Temporary relief that wouldn't last; they'd been outmaneuvered, led straight into a trap, and played like fools. Behind her, she heard Satoru's cursed energy spike before she saw it; his hand lit up with a volatile crimson sparkle gathering fast in his palm. "Stand back," he said, not even asking. "I'm collapsing the whole thing in a sec."
"No." Kaoru extended her arm across him before she even thought to. "You'll bring the building down on everyone inside."
He didn't argue, but his expression soured. Frustrated; not at her, probably, at the situation, at the curtain, and at whatever bastard had built it.
Kaoru turned back toward the curtain, katana still in hand. Her other thumb found her mouth in an old, unconscious habit. She bit down, tasting iron, grounding herself; she didn't even notice as Mame healed her seconds later. "Dammit. This wasn't supposed to happen. How the hell did Scarlet Mist get ahead of us—" She cut herself off, refocused. "No, later. We get them out first, then I find that brat, tear him apart, then deal with whoever thought this was funny."
Without thinking, she reached forward the curtain's edge, fully expecting to be repelled like Satoru and Hisanobu—
Her fingers slipped through it.
No burn, no pushback, no resistance at all.
"…Huh."
Behind her, Hisanobu stepped forward. "Ojousama. It lets you in?" he murmured, crouching to eye the point where her hand had entered.
Satoru joined him, leaning in at the same angle, studying the point of contact. "Looks like it," he said calmly.
Kaoru didn't respond right away; a very bad feeling bloomed in her chest as she still felt the curtain's cool, unnatural pressure on her wrist. "Why would—" Her voice cut off; the answer was already forming, and she didn't like it.
A shrill ring cut the moment. Satoru didn't take his eyes off her; he just raised the phone and answered on speaker. "Ijichi. Very bad time, we're in the middle of—"
"G-Gojo-san—!" came the panicked reply. "Red Ward! A confirmed Red Ward just went up in West Tokyo! At the—at the Tokyo Metropolitan Children's Center—!"
The air went dead as silence slammed into the group. For a heartbeat, no one breathed; there was only the sound of snow falling.
Then Kaoru heard Haibara's breath catch, sharp and too loud. "That's across the city, and—"
Shoko whispered aloud, already a bit pale, "The Children's Center…? That's—"
She didn't have to finish; a children's hospital, no, not just any hospital. Uzuya's son—
Kaoru's stomach dropped violently, and she whirled to Satoru. His eyes—those brilliant, inhuman blue eyes—went wide for the briefest of seconds before narrowing again into a focused, lethal calm. He glanced down at her hand still buried in the barrier, then back to her eyes.
The same thought: Too far, too little time, too late—
The University Hospital was not the only target; it had only mimicked her vision close enough to bait them.
They were being split. Whoever was inside the curtain—whoever was working with Scarlet Mist—knew exactly what they were doing and wanted them separated in two places.
"Go," Kaoru ordered. "You're the fastest. I'll handle this."
For a moment, it looked like he was about to protest; she saw the tension in his jaw, and he didn't want to leave. But then, he glanced over the building again and nodded before turning away.
"Got it." Satoru raised the phone again, apparently calm. "Redirect every available medical assistant to the Children's Center. I'll be there in a sec."
As he reached the center of the courtyard and turned, Kaoru didn't say the thing in her mouth. Be careful, don't do anything stupid, I know what you're thinking, don't underestimate what's in there.
He nodded again, just barely, like he'd heard it anyway. Then he was gone, vanished in a pulse of cursed energy. The air stilled, and the courtyard felt colder; Kaoru closed her eyes briefly as the words still sat heavy on her tongue. Foolish. As if he were the one who needed protecting. She was the one with her hand still inside the curtain.
"Ojousama." Hisanobu's voice brought her back.
Kaoru opened her eyes. Right. Focus, Kaoru. These people depended on you now. You're the only one who can enter. She took a slow breath, the kind she'd learned to take before a duel. A snowflake landed cold against her cheek and melted; it startled her into motion. She reached back, tightened the base of her ponytail with one tug, and turned toward the others. "Shoko, Haibara, you stay here. Keep the edge safe in case someone needs to be pulled out."
Shoko nodded once, already focused, and Haibara stayed kneeling, pale but steady, maintaining his tether to the Kusakabes.
Then her gaze shifted to Hisanobu. There was no time for over-explaining. "I'm going in."
He stepped forward instinctively. "Should I—?"
"No." Her tone softened a fraction; she offered a dry, war-worn smile that conveyed enough resolve to convince him. "You're the only one I trust to keep them safe. And—" she nodded toward the curtain, "—I'm counting on you to bring that thing down."
His grey eyes widened, face scrunching in protest. "Me? Ojousama, I already tried, it didn't even—"
"Then start trying again," she cut in. "There are people trapped in there. Satoru is handling the pediatric hospital, and I'm the only one who can go in. If anyone can break it from the outside, it's you, 'Nobu." She smirked because she knew him and knew exactly where to strike. "Come on, didn't you use to beg me to take you with me on Scarlet Mist hunts when you were a brat?"
He shut up, and his ears turned red as he rolled his eyes, six years old again for one second. But he squared his stance. "Fine. I'll deal with the curtain, Ojousama. But don't do anything reckless in there."
"Don't worry." Her fingers grazed the comb pinned near the base of her ponytail. "I've got Mame with me."
Mame gave its usual faint hum as if to say, Leave it to me.
The moment shattered with a wet, choked gasp behind them. Both turned as blood splattered against the ground.
Shoko's voice rose just a little for the first time since Kaoru knew her. "Oi, Yu—!"
Blood dripped from Haibara's lips; he swayed forward, a strangled breath escaping his lungs as a wound opened across his chest from shoulder to rib, as if a blade had slipped through him. Shoko's hands were already increasing her RCT output, pouring into his back, knitting muscle and tendon back together.
Kaoru's mouth tightened. "Was that a redirected damage?"
Shoko's brow furrowed. "Not Scarlet Mist. No sickness signs. This was a physical strike. Blade."
Haibara coughed once—spitting blood into the concrete—then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "It's from Uzuya-san."
"Where?" Kaoru's tone cut through the cold. "Give me a direction, Haibara, even a rough one."
Haibara's eyes slipped shut again. He inhaled deeply. "West side. Elevated but not too high. Probably second to fourth floor." His breath evened out under Shoko's touch. "She's still near her brother. They're close but—" A pause, then confusion. "They're… they're fighting each other?" The last words were barely a question; he sounded horrified.
Kaoru's jaw clenched; whatever was in there managed to manipulate those two against each other. "Well done." She stepped toward the curtain once more; her hand passed through, and she didn't hesitate this time. "I'm going to get them out."
With that, she walked forward, and the dark curtain swallowed her whole.
The shift was immediate; sound died, color bled away, and the temperature dropped fast. The hospital interior had become a maze of shadow and fluorescent lights that blinked overhead, buzzing. On the ground floor, it wasn't chaos yet. The hour had spared them worse: only a handful of civilians wandered the corridors, dazed and disoriented but untouched. A nurse turned at the sound of her steps, eyes wide, instinctively moving to shield a young patient behind her.
Kaoru didn't slow. "Get to the lobby," she said, curt and clear, and moved on.
Heads turned as she passed, more startled by the sight of a woman in a sukeban uniform wielding a katana than by the cursed energy hovering around them. Not that they could really understand what was happening. Let them stare, so long as they weren't dying.
West Wing. Second to fourth floor.
She needed verticality. Kaoru broke into a run, sneakers thudding against the vinyl in a steady rhythm as the halls blurred past. Her lungs didn't burn from the sprint; it was her instincts that made breathing feel like a fight. She didn't allow herself to think of Shoko, or Haibara, or Hisanobu, or—
Satoru.
The stairwell loomed up ahead. She jumped the steps two at a time, grip tight on the rail, and only twelve seconds later, she hit the third-floor landing. It started there: panicked footsteps echoed from above and below, too many, too frantic, as patients in gowns stumbled into the corridor, some barefoot, all terrified. A man almost collided with her and yelped, scrambling backward when he saw the blade. She dodged him with a half-twist. A breathless voice behind her: "There's a beast on the third floor!" Two more civilians rushed past, driven by panic rather than reason. The curtain wouldn't let them out, but they didn't know that.
Kaoru clenched her jaw; she couldn't help them, she didn't have time.
From the corner of her vision, she caught an elderly woman slumped in a wheelchair, outside a room, calling for help as inside, a monitor beeped a slow rhythm. Kaoru faltered just for a breath. Later. If Hisanobu could bring down the curtain, the medics could evacuate. Until then—
"Just hold on a little longer," she murmured under her breath.
Then pressed forward.
The further she moved, the heavier the air grew. The tang of antiseptic gave way to the iron sting of blood that coated the floor in long, erratic streaks, smeared by dragging limbs and panicked feet. Two nurses lay collapsed in the hallway, still breathing, but unconscious. Then she turned the corner and there...
Bodies.
Three, no, five. Sprawled across the sterile tile, limbs twisted at impossible angles. The walls were smeared with red; deep slashes split open shoulders, torsos, some with chunks of flesh torn away. Teeth marks. Messy, wide, as if a wild animal had been let loose in a room of civilians, chewed, partially, then left to rot.
"Tch." Her grip on the katana tightened until her knuckles blanched.
West. Haibara said west.
She kept moving.
Corridor after corridor blurred together, doors on either side, some flung open, others sealed, a few with claw marks raked across them, or holes punched straight through. Then just as she quickly rounded a corner—
Light. A sudden, bright gleam, reflective.
Kaoru reacted before her thoughts caught up; blade up, cursed energy rushing along the steel. She stopped mid-step, held her breath, eyes straining as her vision adjusted. At the end of the hall, under the fractured hum of a half-dead overhead light, stood a mirror. Round. Ornate with gold trim laced with accents of blue. It was suspended perfectly at her eye level, held aloft by hands she hadn't registered yet. Her eyes locked on the reflection, at her own black eyes staring back. Her reflection blinked and frowned, just like her. Yet, the longer she looked, the less she liked what she saw.
Sick instinct twisted beneath her ribs. It made the hairs on her arms stand on end. Off. Get away. Don't look. Don't look. She stepped back once. Turn around. Turn. Around. But just as her gaze tore away from the mirror, a voice—that voice—came from behind her.
"Going somewhere, Pretty Boy?"
Everything in her froze, her blood, her thoughts, her grip. That voice. That cadence. That stupid nickname softened by affection, dipped in mockery, impossible to mimic.
No she couldn't fall for this, couldn't let herself fall for this. It couldn't be, it was impossible. She knew better; he was gone, he had died, and been reborn as someone else, as Satoru Gojo, who right now was halfway across the city, maybe already standing face to face with Scarlet Mist. So this couldn't be him, she had no reason to look back.
It's not him. Don't look. Don't listen. Get out of range—
But hope is a cruel thing. It carves holes through logic, digs up memories best left buried, and some voices never leave you, even after centuries.
"Zenin-dono...?" the voice tried again with fondness.
Her breath caught at that mocking fondness in her former title, spoken aloud in that way only he could ever manage. Four hundred years; no one had called her that in four hundred years. The air grew too heavy, her skin too tight. Something uncoiled inside her: grief, maybe, or probably madness.
...What if?
She turned, slowly, against every better instinct, against the decades of training and experience that told her not to look. She turned and looked at the mirror, at the hands holding it. Then her gaze traveled upward—
—over the edge of a white haori, draped carelessly over broad shoulders because he never bothered to wear it properly.
—over the pale mess of white hair, tied low at the nape, strands falling across one shoulder.
—over the jade earrings, teardrop-shaped, swinging at each side of his face.
—over a smile she'd hated and loved in equal measure.
—into eyes that were exactly the same shade of winter frost she remembered so well, looking straight into hers.
For just a second, her heart betrayed her even as Mame trembled in her hair, cursed energy pulsing violently like a warning or perhaps a shared disbelief. Her knees nearly gave way, lips trembling at the start of a smile. She should have summoned a shikigami; she should have known better, but really, she never did when it came to him.
Foolish as she was, she didn't even realize her lips were moving until the word slipped out, soft and breathless and so stupidly hopeful.
"…Seijiro?"
The man, who looked like a ghost wearing his face, tilted his head just so, the way only he ever had. His grin widened, affectionate, still holding the mirror, still watching her as if she were the only thing in the world that mattered. She didn't see the nine-tailed shadow flickering along the wall or the white foxfire kindling at his heels.
"Kaoru," he said, like it hadn't been four hundred years. "Been a while."