Mei Terumī's hand trembled slightly.
She continued walking forward.
Chōjūrō leaned against a broken wall, clutching the Hiramekarei in his arms.
The blade was broken, and he was broken too. One side of his glasses was shattered, and the remaining lens was stained with blood.
Kisame lay face down on the ground, a large pool of blood beneath him.
Samehada was plunged into the earth beside him; the sword that never left his side now stood lonely, as if guarding his corpse.
Zabuza knelt in the middle of the ruins, his head bowed.
The executioners blade was thrust into the ground in front of him, his face reflected on the blade's surface. There was no expression on that face, only a deathly calm.
Mei Terumī stood there.
She wanted to scream, but she couldn't. Her throat felt as if it were blocked by something, and as if it had been scorched by fire, aching with dryness.
She continued walking forward.
In the center of the ruins stood a person.
Nobunaga.
He was wearing the formal attire she had ironed with her own hands. A dark kimono; she had smoothed out every single wrinkle.
That morning, as the sun was just rising, she had stood by the window with the iron, pressing it flat bit by bit.
He stood in the center of the ruins, his back to her.
In his hand, he held that ninja sword. Blood dripped from the tip of the blade.
One drop. Two drops. Three drops.
They fell to the ground and were quickly absorbed by the ashes.
"Nobunaga..."
Her voice was very soft, as if she were afraid of disturbing something.
Nobunaga turned around.
He looked at Mei Terumī. Those eyes were as calm as a deep pool, without a single ripple.
Then he looked down, toward her heart.
Mei Terumī also looked down.
A sword was thrust there.
It was exactly the same as his sword.
The blade was buried in her chest, with only the hilt exposed. Blood gushed from the wound, staining the clothes she wore red.
The shiromuku.
The shiromuku she had only worn once in her life.
The blood spread across the white cloth like a blooming red flower.
It grew larger and more vivid, until finally, the entire shiromuku was dyed red.
Mei Terumī fell to her knees.
Her knees slammed onto the gravel.
It hurt. A sharp pain. But it didn't hurt as much as the hole in her heart.
That hole was expanding, swallowing everything.
Those years. Those words. Those things she thought were real.
The red lanterns at the wedding. The children chasing fireworks. He stood by her side, pouring wine for her, saying "Drink less."
She drank it.
And then everything shattered.
She knelt on the ground, clutching the hem of his clothes, asking him "Why?"
He didn't answer.
He just looked at her. Those eyes were still so calm.
"Nobunaga..."
She looked up, wanting to see him one last time.
But he had already turned away.
He walked into the ruins. Into the ashes. Into that eternally gray sky.
"Nobunaga!"
She wanted to chase him, but she couldn't stand up.
She knelt there as the blood kept flowing. It flowed into the cracks in the gravel, into the ashes, and beside those corpses.
A rumbling sound came from the distance.
She looked up.
The Hidden Mist Village was burning. Those buildings she had desperately protected, the homes she had rebuilt with her own hands, were collapsing one by one.
Ao. Chōjūrō. Kisame. Zabuza.
They were all dead.
She was going to die too.
She knelt there, unable to do anything.
She could only watch.
Watching everything turn to ash.
The vision shattered.
Mei Terumī opened her eyes.
She found herself kneeling on the ground.
Her hands braced against the floor, gasping for breath.
Cold sweat dripped down her cheeks, drop by drop, onto the floor, creating dark wet marks.
Her back was soaked with sweat, her clothes clinging to her body, cold and sticky.
Her heart was beating so fast it felt like it would jump out of her chest, thumping painfully against her ribs.
She looked up and stared at Nobunaga.
Nobunaga stood there. Moonlight shone in from the window, falling upon him.
Those Mangekyo Sharingan were still spinning. The hexagram patterns rotated slowly in the moonlight like two eerie windmills.
But his face was pale, as white as paper.
Fine beads of sweat broke out on his forehead, glistening in the moonlight. His body swayed slightly, but he forced himself to remain steady.
The drain from Tsukuyomi was too great.
Especially against a powerhouse of Mei Terumī's level.
He was at his limit.
But he did not fall. He stood there, looking down at her.
In those eyes, there was exhaustion, there was strain, and there was something else indescribable.
It was the posture of a victor.
"Mei Terumī," he said, "You asked if I wanted to fulfill her wish?"
He smiled slightly. A very faint smile.
"I'm telling you."
His eyes suddenly widened.
"With me here, no one can hurt her!"
Nobunaga looked at her.
At this moment, it was a battle of momentum.
He absolutely could not show weakness.
Otherwise, the consequences would be unimaginable.
The moonlight fell between the two of them. They were very close.
Close enough that Nobunaga could see the fire burning in the depths of Mei Terumī's eyes, close enough to see her clenched teeth.
"Mangekyo Sharingan..."
Mei Terumī slowly stood up. Her movements were slow and steady, but her hand was pressed against the hilt of her sword.
She didn't draw it. She just held it.
"Tsukuyomi," she said, "This is Tsukuyomi."
Nobunaga didn't speak.
Mei Terumī looked at him. In those emerald eyes, there was apprehension and wariness. There was also a trace of something she couldn't explain herself.
Mei Terumī's hand was on the hilt of her sword.
But she didn't draw it.
She was wary.
She had broken free from that genjutsu just now. But it had taken longer than she had expected.
If Nobunaga had done something to her while she was in the genjutsu—
She didn't dare think about it.
Nobunaga looked at her expression and knew what she was thinking.
He breathed a sigh of relief in his heart.
But he didn't show it on his face.
He had to hold on. He couldn't let Mei Terumī see that he could barely even stand right now.
"Mei Terumī," he spoke.
Mei Terumī looked at him.
"Our business, we settle it ourselves."
His voice was steady. As steady as if nothing had happened.
"There's no need to involve others."
Mei Terumī's eyes narrowed slightly.
She glanced at Hinata standing by the door.
The young girl was still standing there, holding a basket, her face deathly pale and her eyes full of fear.
But she didn't run. She just stood there, looking at Nobunaga.
Mei Terumī suddenly smiled.
"Our business, we settle it ourselves," she repeated the words he had just said.
Nobunaga looked at her.
"Good."
Mei Terumī finally nodded.
She turned and walked toward the door.
After two steps, she stopped.
She didn't look back.
"That little girl—"
Nobunaga's body tensed up again.
Mei Terumī felt it. The corners of her mouth curled up.
"Don't worry, I won't touch her."
She paused.
"Not today."
She continued walking forward.
When she reached Hinata's side, she stopped.
She looked down at her.
Hinata stood there, still holding that basket.
Her face was deathly white, and in her eyes were fear, worry, and an indescribable stubbornness.
But she didn't run. She just stood there looking up at Mei Terumī.
Mei Terumī looked into those white eyes.
There was still fear inside, but beneath the fear, something was burning.
Just like she had been when she was young.
"Interesting," Mei Terumī said softly.
Then she reached out and gently patted Hinata's head.
It was very light, like patting a startled small animal.
"Little girl."
She said: "You are very good. But this man is not someone worth entrusting your feelings to. He's a scumbag who specializes in devouring love!"
Hinata was stunned.
Mei Terumī withdrew her hand and continued walking forward.
Walking into the moonlight.
The sound of footsteps gradually faded away.
This time, she was truly gone.