Persetta sat in silence. Not of peace—only silence.
The flames lasted through the night of the raids. They had finally died out the following morning, however, the air had yet to rid itself of the smoke and metallic tang of blood.
Every step kicked up soot, and every wall bore another scar on the district's body. The people—those that remained—moved quietly and in slow steps. They swept rubble, and dragged debris with empty faces—hoping for signs of life.
It wasn't a rebuild. It was erasing the worst of memories, piece by piece.
Tsuki walked through the center of Persetta's plaza, boots crunching against the broken stone below. The others in Judgment followed shortly behind—with one spot left empty.
Tears still ran from Azumi's face—her eyes were puffy and red. Geo muttered not a word, his hands still curled into fists.
Their steps led to a stone fountain, still sputtering water from its head. At the base, resting against the cold stone was Maro. He lay upon a cloth, torn and used as makeshift covers. His lifeless body that still held a faint smile—even in the darkest of times.
The squad stopped, all eyes fixated on their fallen leader. The one who brought them to the light.
The one who changed Tsuki's life.
"Our hope… and morale. Shattered. Just like that," muttered Hatori, his eyes refusing to meet Maro.
Tsuki approached the Phoenix, lowering to a knee. Her hands brushed his cloak, and a single tear fell from her cheek.
"So… is that it? Is this the end of Memento?" Azumi asked, her head down.
"No," Hatori said firmly. "It's a turning point. One for us to adapt. To show our stubbornness."
A small silence followed. Azumi opened her mouth, choking on her words.
"I… I never apologized to him. To Knoxx… for being so insensitive…"
Tsuki turned her head, meeting Azumi's gaze. She had never seen someone so surely alive—when she felt so dead.
Geo put a hand on her shoulder. "And I watched him die. Right in front of me. I thought we had killed Tobamako… and it cost me a friend. A brother."
Hatori leaned down to Maro's body offering a nod of respect.
"And—the worst part of all—I couldn't bring him home. I—I left him behind."
Geo broke down, covering his eyes with an arm. Tears fell like rain, watering the dry and life-stripped ground.
Tsuki rose to her feet, and took his hand. Not a word left her mouth.
I want to say something… but what? That it'll be okay? That we won't let it be in vain? Everything seemed like wishful thinking when everything was crashing down.
She squeezed his hand once in reassurance. A quiet message that she was there—and she wasn't going anywhere.
Later that day, the square was now packed. Not with merchants or laughter—but with every remaining heartbeat in Persetta.
The sky was a dark overcast, plagued with the looming chance of thunderstorms. What had been the most soulful district across Alden days before, now laid in ruin and decay. The rubble took pieces of its citizens along with it.
A large casket, built from salvaged stone and wood, sat in the center of the crowd. Around it, rows of small markers—hand carved signs for each fighter and civilian that had been recovered. The Ritual of Ashes would follow soon after. But for now, the dead lay where they could be honored and grieved in peace.
Tsuki stood among the front ranks, her hands folded together. Her eyes remained on Maro's casket at the top. Memories flashed through her mind—meeting the leader in Alden Central, her welcoming into Memento and more.
She blinked them away.
Geo stood next to her with a tight jaw and fists clenched. Anger was written across his face.
He took a deep breath, gathering himself and easing the tension. He looked at Tsuki, who offered a soft acknowledging smile.
Hatori stood still as stone behind them. He bore his mask, pulled only to cover his lips. Only his eyes betrayed the trouble brewing within him.
Azumi stood next to him, tears still gathering—though it had slowed. She made no attempt to hide them.
Viper Squad stood shoulder to shoulder with Judgment, faces hollow. Neko tried to smile to ease the pain, but it quickly fell.
A hush overcame the crowd as Danzo stepped forward. His dark cloak flowing behind him in the midst of the plaza.
He looked different. Still unfazed in stance, strong and solid. But his eyes held the weight of someone who struggled with things to say.
Other Memento higher ups flanked him. Hajima from Phantom and Tiero from Mican Squad. Both with bowed heads as Danzo spoke.
His voice cut through the square, with deep commandment—but not without its cracks.
"Attention. Attention all," he called.
Every head turned to his voice.
"Today, we stand on our homeland… and this is what remains of it. We've seen the streets we love, flooded in blood and reeking of death. We've seen the people we swore to protect—lifeless on the pathways."
No one spoke. The silence wasn't respect, it was for mourning.
"Among the fallen, was our unwavering leader. The symbol of our strength—the Phoenix. Maro. A man of justice and will to do right."
He drew a breath, glancing to the sky before returning his gaze to the crowd.
"And yet… even in his final moments, Maro gave to us. A parting gift," he said, gesturing upward.
"The crest, you all saw it. The phoenix over the sky, burning bright and visible to every district in Alden."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"That insignia wasn't a request. It was a final order—from Maro himself. To continue forward, so those that have fallen—those like him, weren't in vain. The head may be gone, but his will—his fire, remains and it will burn brighter than before."
Heads began to nod. The sounds of sniffles shifting into the rustle of shifting boots.
"So yes. We mourn today. We grieve—but our oath stands. We honor the fallen through the Ritual of Ashes, and then we fight until the rest of us fall."
He raised a fist high.
"For Maro."
The entire crowd raised theirs in unison, echoing back.
"For Maro!"