They walked under the lantern light, side by side.
Yuhi and Arav.
Mother and son — not by blood, but by something stronger.
He didn't speak right away. Neither did she.
Only the soft sound of footsteps echoed through the empty garden paths.
Yuhi kept glancing at him — the boy who had once fit in her arms like a prayer.
Now he towered beside her, silent, unreadable.
"You grew so tall," she said softly.
Arav gave a crooked smile.
"You look... the same. Just more tired."
She laughed — but tears flickered in her eyes.
"You remember me?"
He looked ahead.
"Like a painting. Some pictures stamped in my mind."
They reached the stone bench where she used to sit with him — when he was small, and Demon would hide in the trees like a shadow that loved too loudly.
Arav sat first. Yuhi joined him, her fingers brushing the worn vines on the stone.
"Do you remember anything from before?" she asked. "Before I left?"
He looked down at his hands — strong now, calloused with training.
"Only pieces," he said. "The warmth. The songs. The scent of that soup you used to make.
You sang to me once… I think.
And... your eyes."
Yuhi smiled through the ache.
"I did sing. You used to fall asleep mid-bite."
They laughed softly.
Then Arav's gaze shifted — deeper now, thoughtful.
"Papa told me everything," he said quietly.
"How you fought for me. How you held me through the worst.
How he couldn't protect us both — not the way he wanted to."
Yuhi looked down.
His voice didn't blame. But it carried the weight of those missing years.
"I think he loved us in different ways," Arav said.
"You gave me a childhood. He gave me survival."
"You needed both," she whispered.
His voice trembled.
"I still do."
He reached out and gently took her hand — fingers laced with memory.
"Can I still call you Mom?"
Yuhi didn't answer with words.
She only pulled him into her arms, held him against her shoulder, and kissed his hair the way she had when he was a toddler.
"You never stopped being mine, little one."
Later That Night
Yuhi stepped into the temple garden, barefoot.
She didn't light a lamp.
She didn't call his name.
She just… stood there.
He was already waiting.
Leaning against the tree where he had once burned through the bark with his own hands.
The place he had watched her from for fourteen long, cruel years.
His eyes glowed faintly — not with rage, but with something quieter.
Hope? Hurt?
She stood a few feet away.
Neither of them spoke.
The wind moved between them like a child unsure which parent it belonged to.
Yuhi stepped closer. Just a little.
The demon didn't move.
She could hear his breathing.
Slow. Measured. But deep — as if holding back a hurricane behind his ribs.
"I saw him," she whispered.
"He's so much like you."
Still no reply.
But his jaw clenched. His eyes closed.
She stepped closer. Barely.
"I missed you," she said, voice cracking.
"Even when I forgot why."
That did it.
He opened his eyes.
And for the first time — they weren't glowing.
They were simply his.
Soft. Broken. Full of oceans.
"You didn't forget," he said. "You just buried it to survive."
She didn't argue.
They stood there, in a garden haunted by memories.
Breathing in the same pain.
He stepped forward. One step. Then another.
They were inches apart.
Still — no touch. No embrace.
Only ache.
"I'm not angry you left," he said. "I'm angry time moved without me."
"It hurt you."
"Everything that doesn't kill me does."
Silence.
Then — her hand reached out.
She touched the edge of his coat. Nothing more.
And he didn't pull away.
"You're still my fire," she whispered.
"And you're still my ruin."
He stepped back before the weight of it crushed him.
She let him go.
Because love like theirs… sometimes needed distance to breathe.
Later that night, Arav found her sitting at the temple steps, staring up at the moon.
"You okay?" he asked.
Yuhi smiled faintly.
"I'm learning how to be."
"Don't you want to go home? It's already midnight."
Not like he really meant it.
Yuhi looked at him — eyes tired, heart heavy.
"Aren't you going home?"
But Arav just smiled softly.
"I'm in my home right now."
"But… your parents…"
He cut her off gently.
"I'm already sixteen, you know. As a demon, I can make my own decisions."
"The day I turned sixteen, the first thing I did was ask the Clan Leader if I could move into the academy. He agreed. I've been there ever since."
"I already cut ties with my demon parents."
Yuhi heard it — the rage in his voice.
The pain behind the calm.
"May I ask why?"
Arav's eyes darkened — not evil, just honest.
"They don't deserve to be called parents.
Even for a demon."