It was at that moment that Shinjuro Rengoku stumbled into the room, clutching a jug of sake and looking thoroughly intoxicated.
He spared a single, bleary-eyed glance at Aoi Kazama, said nothing, and swayed unsteadily toward the inner chambers.
Aoi instinctively straightened her spine. She recognized this man—the father of the Flame Hashira, Kyojuro Rengoku, and a former Hashira himself.
Kyojuro's gaze followed his father's staggering silhouette. The smile he had been wearing slowly faded, his brow clouding over with a flicker of suppressed bitterness.
"Father," he called out. His voice remained steady, yet it lacked its usual booming resonance.
Shinjuro acted as if he hadn't heard a thing. He didn't break his stride; his movements were clumsy and aggressive with drink as he shoved aside the door curtain. The fabric slapped heavily against the wooden frame with a dull thud.
The light from the inner room was cut off completely, but the pungent scent of sake lingered, thickening the air.
Kyojuro remained silent for a few heartbeats. When he turned back to Aoi, he forced another smile, though the warmth failed to reach his eyes. "My apologies. You had to see that."
Aoi looked at the silent Senjuro, then at Kyojuro's strained expression. She didn't offer a platitude; she simply shook her head gently.
"Father has been like this ever since Mother passed away," Kyojuro said, his voice dropping an octave. "He wasn't always this way."
Aoi listened quietly, offering no interruptions.
She could imagine the man he once was—the spirited Flame Hashira. He must have possessed the same blazing, incandescent eyes that Kyojuro had now.
"I've tried many times," Kyojuro's voice faltered momentarily. "I train as hard as I can; I tell him about my missions... but he never even looks my way."
"Big Brother..." Senjuro whispered, clutching the hem of Kyojuro's haori, his fingertips trembling.
Kyojuro reached out and ruffled the boy's hair, the warmth of his palm comforting the soft locks. His voice was gentle, yet it carried an underlying, indisputable strength. "Do not worry. The will of Flame Breathing has never relied on the approval of others to survive."
"I will keep moving forward. I will carry the light Father once held and the expectations Mother left behind. I will keep going."
[Ding! Mission Triggered: Resolve Shinjuro Rengoku's internal conflict. Reward: 10,000 Points, one Magic Seed.]
Aoi's eyes flickered. Resolving Shinjuro's heart would be no easy feat. That man's heart had been locked away long ago, held fast by the dull ache of widowhood and the heavy chains of self-imposed exile.
[Ding! Detecting a spiritual entity nearby. Enable Spectral Sight?]
Almost instinctively, Aoi whispered in her mind, Enable.
Instantly, the world before her seemed to be veiled in a thin mist, only to snap into crystalline clarity a second later.
Aoi's gaze locked onto the space beside Kyojuro. Standing right next to him was a woman in a pale pink kimono.
Her form was slightly translucent, and her features were as gentle as a spring stream. She was looking down at Kyojuro and Senjuro, a faint, tender smile on her lips, though her eyes were tinged with a deep, aching sorrow.
The woman raised her hand, seemingly wanting to smooth the bitterness from Kyojuro's brow, but her fingertips passed harmlessly through his hair. She could touch nothing.
She let out a helpless sigh and turned toward the inner room. Seeing the door shut tight, she shook her head sadly.
Aoi watched her, realizing suddenly that this was the Lady of the Rengoku House—the gentle yet resilient mother Kyojuro spoke of so often.
Aoi asked the System silently, Is there any way to make Kyojuro and the others see her?
[Ding! Detecting Host's requirement. The previously rewarded Vessel Doll can house spiritual entities. By dropping a single drop of the Host's blood onto the doll, the spirit can possess it and manifest. All living beings will be able to see her.]
"Perfect!" Aoi exhaled softly.
Before she could celebrate, the System chimed again.
[Note: To maintain the manifestation indefinitely, the Host must provide blood once every month.]
Just one drop of blood a month, Aoi thought. Compared to the desolation in the eyes of the Rengoku men, that was a small price to pay.
"Kyojuro," Aoi said, looking up at him. "Would you like to see your mother again?"
"Of course I would! But..." Kyojuro's voice cracked. "How is that possible? The dead do not return to life."
"What if I told you I could make it happen?"
Aoi didn't waste time with further explanations. She reached into her pouch and pulled out the Vessel Doll.
Without a moment's hesitation, she bit into her fingertip. A warm bead of blood welled up and fell precisely onto the intricate patterns carved into the doll's forehead.
In a soft glow of light, the spirit standing beside Kyojuro began to solidify. Lady Rengoku looked down at her own tangible hands, her eyes brimming with tears. She slowly lifted her head, her gaze resting on Kyojuro and Senjuro. "My children..."
"Mo... Mother?" Kyojuro's voice shook violently. He reached out, and the moment his fingertips brushed the fabric of her sleeve, the years of suppressed stoicism and grievance finally shattered. Scalding tears began to fall.
Senjuro let out a loud, broken wail and threw himself into her arms. "Mother!"
"Kyojuro, you have done so well. You've worked so hard all these years." Ruka Rengoku raised her hand, gently wiping away the tears from Kyojuro's reddened eyes.
Kyojuro bit his lower lip hard, the sobs in his throat nearly bursting from his chest. He nodded fervently, hot tears streaming down his face and splashing onto the floor in wet patches.
Senjuro buried his face in his mother's lap, his small shoulders heaving as he sobbed her name over and over, terrified that if he let go, she would vanish again.
The door curtain to the inner room was slowly shoved aside by a trembling hand. Following the sharp crash of a sake jug shattering on the floor, the sound of Shinjuro's heavy, ragged breathing filled the room.
He stood at the entrance, staring at the three of them embracing. His bleary eyes filled with tears, his lips trembling, yet he couldn't form a single sound.
"Ruka...?"
He took a stumbling step forward, catching himself against the doorframe just to stay upright.
Ruka Rengoku slowly turned around. Her gaze fell upon him—there was no blame, no resentment, only the same unwavering tenderness as always. "Shinjuro, I am here."
Those simple words were the key that finally pried open the rusted lock on Shinjuro's heart.
He couldn't hold it together any longer. His knees gave out, and he collapsed heavily to the floor. His shoulders shook violently as the sobs he had suppressed for years finally broke through, erupting into the quiet night.
"I'm sorry... Ruka... I'm so sorry..." he choked out, repeating it like a mantra. "I shouldn't have... shouldn't have drowned myself in drink... I shouldn't have failed you and the children..."
Kyojuro watched his father kneeling on the ground, and a new wave of tears surged. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a muffled "Father" escaped his lips.
Ruka patted her son's head and turned her gaze back to Shinjuro. She walked over slowly, knelt down, and reached out to gently cradle Shinjuro's stubble-covered cheek.
"Shinjuro..."