Part 6 — The Promise We Must Carry
Eventually, the figure spoke again. "You will face more. You will feel more. But never forget—this part of you, this weight you carry… it's a reminder that you are capable. That you have strength. That you have love. And that you will act when it matters."
Haruto stayed silent, letting the words sink in, feeling both small and large at the same time.
Back at home, the clatter of plates and the warm smell of food lingered in the dining area.
Finally, everyone finished eating.
Kaito stood and stretched. "I'm going to sleep, Ayame you coming," he said quietly.
Ayame nodded, leaning on him for support. "Yeah… I'm tired."
Akari helped her up and followed along, making sure she was steady. The two of them disappeared down the hallway, leaving the others in the living room.
Renjiro leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. "I can't believe he's still out there."
Raizen, sitting across from him, said nothing at first, just stared at the darkened doorway. Finally, he muttered, "He'll come back… eventually. Always does."
Akari sank onto the sofa, hands folded in her lap. "I just hope he's okay."
Renjiro sighed. "We can't do anything but wait. He's not the type to stay home when he thinks someone's in danger. You know that."
Raizen glanced at Akari. "Let's just keep watch, quietly. No sudden noises."
The three sat in tense silence, the only sound the faint ticking of the clock and the occasional creak of the house settling.
Even in the stillness, their thoughts were loud—worry, fear, and the unspoken question of when Haruto would return.
The night stretched on, quiet and heavy, the living room empty of laughter but full of anticipation.
No one spoke again. They simply waited.
Haruto stood at the edge of the slanted ground, staring at the dark water below. The night wind brushed his face, and his hands were trembling slightly, but he forced himself to remain still.
The figure beside him—the bruised, injured version of himself—spoke first.
"We can't do anything on our own," it said quietly, eyes locked on Haruto. "We're not mature yet. We depend on others to keep us alive, to keep the people we care about alive. That's the truth."
Haruto swallowed, the words hitting harder than any blow. "…I know," he whispered. "I've always known. But it… it doesn't feel right."
The figure shifted slightly, moving closer. Its red eyes glimmered, reflecting the starlight on the water. "I'll tell you honestly what I think," it said. "And we'll change it together. We can't keep living like this, waiting for someone else to save us."
Haruto's chest tightened. "…Change it… how?"
The figure's bruised face was calm, almost tender. "Since that day we were hunted together… ever since the war… even now, within this week, we've been attacked twice. Not because of anything we did, just because we were born into this clan."
Haruto's jaw clenched. Hearing it spoken aloud made the weight real in a way he couldn't ignore.
"What we have now doesn't matter to me," the figure continued. "Because the life we lived happily—that's the life I remember, the one I call ours. That life… is the one I want to live again."
Haruto stared at him, unable to speak. He's saying what I've never dared to tell anyone… even myself.
"And that life," the figure said softly, "is not something we can fully protect. Today it's hunters. Tomorrow… it'll be something else. Politics will involve itself, just like before. Even when Mom and Dad were alive, we were bullied, even then. Hunters didn't show, and the world pretended to care. But after they left… nothing changed. The pain stayed. The politics stayed. And still… we couldn't do anything on our own."
Haruto's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "…So what do we do?" he asked quietly, almost to himself.
The figure's gaze sharpened. "We stop waiting. Stop depending on anyone else to fix things for us. Stop thinking patience will save us. Every time we stayed silent, every time we relied on someone else, someone got hurt. Enough."
Haruto's eyes flicked to the reflection in the water, and then back to the figure—himself, broken and honest. "…I see now," he whispered. "I can't keep pretending I'm safe just because someone else is watching over me."
The figure nodded, a faint shadow of a smile on bruised lips. "Exactly. That's why I'm here. To remind you—this is our life. This is our burden. And now… it's ours to carry properly."
Haruto exhaled slowly, letting the weight settle, not as a burden, but as a purpose he could face. "…Then we do it," he said, voice low but firm. "No matter what comes. No matter who attacks or what's in the way. I won't run anymore."
The figure's red eyes softened. "Good. That's the first step. The rest… we'll face together."
Haruto turned away from the water and looked up at the night sky. The stars felt distant, the city lights faint, but for the first time in hours, he felt direction, choice, and resolve—a quiet, steady determination forming inside him.
The figure stood beside Haruto, looking out at the quiet night, the water below reflecting broken pieces of the sky.
"This life isn't fair," the figure said calmly. "It never was. And it never will be."
Haruto didn't answer.
"You keep asking why things happen to you," the figure continued. "Why you lose. Why you're hurt. Why you're forced to grow faster than you should. But listen to me—fairness was never part of the deal."
Haruto's hands tightened at his sides.
"What matters," the figure said, turning to him, "is that even knowing that, you still stand. You still care. You still want to protect. That's not weakness—that's determination."
Haruto looked up, eyes glistening.
"You think you're doing this alone," the figure went on. "But you're not. You never were. You've heard these words before… you just forgot them."
The wind passed between them, cold and quiet.
"There's only one thing I ever wanted to ask Dad," the figure said softly.
"Why."
Haruto's breath caught.
"Why choose us? Why choose you, Haruto? Why not someone else? Someone stronger. Someone older."
The figure's gaze hardened—not in anger, but resolve.
"But it doesn't matter anymore. We were chosen. And we promised. So we do it. Not because it's easy. Not because it's right. But because it's ours."
Haruto felt his chest ache.
"…But don't forget," the figure added quietly, "I want to live again. The same life we lived once. The normal days. The laughter. The warmth. I don't want only pain to be our story."
Silence fell between them.