The sun had already begun its slow descent behind the mountains when Kaiser Seishiro finally finished his session in the backyard. Sweat poured down his face, his light-brown hair plastered to his forehead, every muscle in his carved frame trembling from the relentless pace Azrael had set. He stood in the center of the scarred earth, breathing steadily but deeply, his fists still clenched.
Azrael regarded him for a long moment, silver eyes unreadable.
"You improve every day," the master said at last, voice low but carrying clear approval. "Your form is clean. Your endurance is growing. You landed three solid strikes today. Most take months for that."
Kaiser bowed slightly, exhaustion and pride mixing in his orange eyes. "Thank you, Master."
Azrael nodded once. "Rest. You've earned it."
Kaiser straightened, wiping sweat from his brow, and made his way back to the hall. Zen, who had been watching from the veranda with wide eyes, whistled low. "Damn… you're a monster."
Kaiser managed a tired grin. "Just surviving."
Rein was still out cold on the cushion beside Principal Wilson, breathing steadily now. Stella sat close, holding a damp cloth to his forehead, worry etched in her features. Valkyrie stood nearby, arms crossed, while Esil and Maki lingered in the doorway, watching quietly.
Azrael glanced at the group. "Dinner in one hour. Wake him if he stirs."
He left as silently as he'd come.
Zen flopped down beside Kaiser. "So… how bad is tomorrow gonna be?"
Kaiser chuckled weakly. "Worse."
An hour later, the dining hall filled with the warm scents of steaming rice, miso soup, grilled mackerel, and pickled vegetables. The long, low table was set for everyone — even the three battered boys.
Rein stirred just as they were about to start, groaning softly as consciousness returned. Pain lanced through his chest and back, but he pushed himself up, violet eyes bleary.
Stella was there instantly, helping him sit. "Easy. You're okay."
Rein rubbed his head. "How long was I out?"
"About an hour," she said softly. "You scared me."
He managed a weak smile. "Sorry. Guess I'm not ready for that fusion yet."
Zen, already seated and halfway through his soup, waved a chopstick. "Welcome back, hero. You missed Kaiser making Master actually compliment someone."
Kaiser, across the table, shrugged modestly. "It wasn't much."
Maki Voss raised an eyebrow. "Three strikes on Uncle? That's more than most manage in a year."
Esil grinned, purple hair catching the lantern light. "Told you the newbies would shake things up."
Principal Wilson chuckled from his spot. "Eat, Rein. You'll need it."
Rein nodded gratefully and joined them, the group settling into an easy rhythm. Chopsticks clacked, bowls passed hands. Zen recounted his fight with exaggerated flair — "I almost had him! Swear!" — earning laughs from Esil and eye-rolls from Valkyrie.
Stella stayed close to Rein, occasionally refilling his tea without asking. He caught her hand once under the table, squeezing it in silent thanks.
Even Azrael joined briefly, sitting at the head and eating in silence, but his presence felt less oppressive tonight.
For the first time since arriving, the table felt full — not just of food, but of something warmer.
Laughter. Stories. The quiet clink of shared meals.
They were bruised, exhausted, and far from ready.
But around that table, under the soft lantern glow and the distant roar of the waterfall, they felt a little less alone.
Tomorrow would hurt again.
Tonight, they healed together.
The dining hall had quieted after the meal, bowls pushed aside, tea steaming lazily in cups. The group lingered around the low table, the waterfall's distant roar a constant companion.
Azrael leaned back slightly, gray eyes fixed on Rein with that familiar mix of sharpness and something almost parental.
"So, Rein," he said, voice heavy but warm at the edges. "What do you call that form of yours? The mixture of Astral and Chaotic energy."
Rein paused mid-sip of tea, lowering the cup slowly. "Uh… I haven't thought of a name for it yet."
Kaiser tilted his head, orange eyes curious. "Why not?"
Rein shrugged, looking down at the table. "I don't think it's necessary."
Principal Wilson let out a soft chuckle, setting his own cup aside. "You must decide a name for it, my child. In a fight, what would we call it? 'Rein is in purple form'? Doesn't sound very threatening, does it?"
The table rippled with quiet laughter.
Zen's eyes lit up instantly. "OH OH! I HAVE A NAME IDEA!"
Kaiser raised an eyebrow. "Let's hear it."
Zen leaned forward dramatically. "Purple Vein!"
Silence.
Then Esil snorted, pink eyes sparkling with mischief. "That sounds stupid. No offense."
"Yeah, it really does," Kaiser agreed, trying not to grin.
Stella covered her mouth, shoulders shaking. "Couldn't agree more."
"OH COME ON!" Zen threw his hands up. "It's catchy! Mysterious! Vein-like energy veins, purple like—"
"Like a bruise," Maki deadpanned, earning another round of laughs.
Valkyrie turned to Rein, calm as ever. "Rein, what about you? Do you have an idea?"
Rein had been quiet, staring into his tea as if the answer floated there. He looked up slowly, violet eyes steady.
"Yeah," he said. "I do."
Stella leaned closer, curious. "What is it?"
Rein met Azrael's gaze for a moment, then spoke clearly.
"Abyssal Amethyst."
The room went still.
Azrael's stern face broke into a rare, genuine chuckle — low and approving.
"Now that's what I like to call a name."
Principal Wilson nodded, smiling proudly. "Indeed."
Esil whistled. "Damn. That's cool."
Maki gave a small, respectful nod. "Fits."
Even Zen, still sulking over his rejected idea, grinned. "Okay, fine. That's way better than mine."
Stella reached under the table and squeezed Rein's hand. Her smile was soft, proud.
Azrael raised his cup slightly, as if in a toast.
"To the Abyssal Amethyst," he said quietly. "May you master it… before it masters you."
The group fell silent again, but this time it felt different.
Not fear.
Acceptance.
The name had weight now.
And Rein carried it — willingly — for the first time.
The hall had settled into a comfortable quiet after dinner, the clink of bowls replaced by soft conversation and the occasional laugh. Rein sat close to Stella, still feeling the dull ache from the day's training, but the food and company had eased some of the tension.
Azrael stood near the sliding doors that opened to the back yard, gazing out at the moonlit mist drifting from the waterfall. He turned, his pale gray eyes finding Rein.
"Rein," he said, voice low but carrying that unmistakable weight. "If you don't mind… let's take a walk. You can walk, yes?"
The room stilled. Everyone looked up.
Rein hesitated for a heartbeat, surprise flickering across his face. "Oh… of course."
Azrael nodded once, a faint softness in his otherwise stern expression. "Come on then, my child."
Rein rose slowly, legs still a little unsteady. He glanced at the others, managing a small, uncertain smile. "Um… catch you guys later?"
Stella gave him an encouraging nod, though worry lingered in her electric-blue eyes. Zen lifted a hand in a lazy wave, Valkyrie offered a steady gaze, and the others watched in quiet curiosity.
Azrael waited patiently at the door, then stepped out into the cool night air. Rein followed, sliding the door shut behind them.
As soon as they were gone, the hall erupted in hushed questions.
Zen leaned forward. "Um… is he gonna be okay? Azrael doesn't just… take random walks with people."
Principal Wilson exhaled slowly, folding his hands. "Yes, my child. He'll be fine."
Kaiser rubbed the back of his neck, his orange eyes thoughtful. "You sure? He's never taken me for a walk out of nowhere."
Maki Voss, sitting with perfect posture, nodded in agreement. "Actually… none of us. Ever."
Esil tilted her head, purple hair falling over one shoulder. "That's kinda huge, right?"
Wilson looked toward the closed door, a knowing warmth in his smile. "He knows Rein isn't opening up properly. The boy carries too much alone with the fusion, his father, and the fear of becoming something he hates. Azrael sees it. He's giving him space to breathe… and perhaps a chance to speak."
Stella's fingers tightened around her teacup, worry softening into something gentler. "He'll listen to Rein?"
Wilson nodded. "In his own way. Azrael doesn't waste words, but when he chooses to speak… people listen. And sometimes, they finally talk back."
Outside, under the silver moonlight and the endless roar of the waterfall, two figures walked the stone path in silence — master and student, darkness and the boy who carried it.
For the first time since arriving, Rein didn't feel quite so alone.
Rein and Azrael walked the quiet stone paths of Reiketsu Village under a sky so clear it felt endless. Moonlight bathed everything in silver, tiled roofs glistening like frost, lanterns swaying gently, the distant waterfall a shimmering ribbon of white against the dark mountains. The stars were sharper here, brighter than Rein had ever seen them, even back home. They crowded the heavens like scattered diamonds, watching silently.
Neither spoke for a long while. The only sounds were their footsteps and the soft rush of wind through the pines.
Azrael noticed first Rein's gaze lifted upward, violet eyes wide with quiet wonder, tracing constellations as if searching for something familiar among them.
"You like the stars, my child?" Azrael asked, his voice finally shedding its usual edge. It was warm now, almost comforting, the tone of someone who had carried too much for too long.
Rein blinked, startled by the gentleness, but he didn't pull away from it. "Yes… I do." A small, wistful chuckle escaped him. "Mom used to say they were people watching over us. Guardians. Family, we couldn't see anymore."
Azrael walked in silence for a few steps, letting the words settle.
"I see," he said softly.
They rounded a bend near a small shrine, moonlight pooling on the stone torii gate.
Rein stopped, breath catching. "Master Voss… did my dad ever say anything about me?"
Azrael halted beside him, hands clasped behind his back. "Hmm. Yes, he did." A pause, gentle. "He spoke of you often. And of your mother. Nora."
Rein's throat tightened. "M-Mom?"
"Yes, my child."
The words hung between them. Rein stared at the ground, fighting the sudden burn in his eyes.
Azrael's voice lowered further, carrying a weight of regret. "I know your past, Rein. I'm sorry for your loss."
Rein's vision blurred. His voice came out thick, barely steady. "W-what did he say?"
Azrael turned to face him fully, moonlight catching the silver in his dark hair. "That man was… strange in many ways. Driven. But he knew he had done wrong, leaving you and Nora behind. He carried that guilt like a chain."
Rein swallowed hard. "You said he came here for power."
"He did," Azrael admitted. "But not to destroy the world. To kill Chaos."
Rein's head snapped up, shock cutting through the grief.
Azrael met his gaze, steady and sorrowful. "The things I told you before… most were lies."
"Why?" Rein whispered, voice cracking. "Why didn't you tell me the truth?"
"Because the real truth would have hurt far more," Azrael said quietly. "And you were not ready to carry it."
Rein's fists clenched at his sides, tears threatening again. "Then… what really happened?"
Azrael studied him for a long moment, genuine worry creasing his usually emotionless face, the closest thing to vulnerability Rein had ever seen from the master.
"Are you prepared for it, my child?"
Rein fought every urge to cry, chest heaving. The stars above seemed to press down, waiting.
"Crap…" he muttered, voice breaking. "I don't know."
Azrael placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, firm, grounding.
"Come," he said softly. "Let's sit somewhere."
He guided Rein toward a low stone bench beneath an ancient pine, moonlight filtering through the branches like silver threads.
The waterfall sang in the distance.
And for the first time, Rein felt ready, or as ready as he would ever be, to hear the rest.
Azrael led Rein to a quiet overlook above the village, a small stone bench carved into the hillside, facing the waterfall. Moonlight turned the cascading water into a river of silver, stars reflecting in the mist like scattered jewels.
They sat in silence for a long moment, the roar of the falls filling the space between words.
Azrael spoke first, voice low and steady, carrying the weight of memory.
"Your father was not always the man the stories paint him to be."
Rein looked at him, violet eyes guarded but listening.
Azrael gazed out at the water. "Let me tell you of a day I remember clearly. A day when Silas was still… hopeful."
He closed his eyes briefly, as if stepping back in time.
It was a crisp autumn afternoon, much like tonight. Silas had been training under me for barely four weeks, yet his growth was nothing short of astonishing. Penta Vein, reached in record time. His determination burned brighter than any talent I had seen.
He was in the back yard, drenched in sweat, practicing fusion strikes against the stone dummies. Purple sparks danced at his fingertips, controlled, precise, beautiful in their danger.
A messenger arrived at the gate, carrying a single sealed letter.
"For Silas Seethoshi," the man said. "From Nora Seethoshi."
I took the letter and called across the yard. "Silas. A message for you."
He stopped mid-strike, breathing hard, eyes wide with something I had never seen in him before, fear mixed with desperate hope.
He rushed over, hands trembling as he took the envelope. He tore it open right there, under the pine trees.
Inside was a photograph, Nora, exhausted but radiant, cradling a tiny newborn wrapped in soft blankets. The baby's small fist clutched her finger, white hair already peeking out.
Silas stared at it for a long moment, silent.
Then his knees buckled.
He fell to the ground, clutching the photo to his chest, tears streaming down his face, not quiet tears, but great, heaving sobs of pure joy.
"Master…" he choked out, voice breaking. "I have a child. I have a son."
He kept repeating it, over and over, like he couldn't believe the words were real.
"Master, I have a child…"
I knelt beside him, something I rarely do, and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"What is his name?" I asked.
Silas looked up, eyes shining through the tears. "Rein. Rein Seethoshi."
I allowed myself a small smile, the first in years, perhaps. "Congratulations, Silas."
He wrote back that same day. A letter full of love, promises, and apologies. But he did not go home.
He stayed. Trained harder. Because he believed, truly believed, that only by destroying Chaos could he keep that child safe.
Azrael opened his eyes, the memory fading.
"We went together, in the end. To face Chaos in the deepest rifts of the Void."
His voice grew quieter, heavier.
"The battle was… catastrophic. Chaos was stronger than we understood. In the end, he did not kill Silas. He erased him. Took his memories, twisted his will, made him a servant, a warrior bound to the Void."
Rein's breath hitched.
Azrael looked at him, gray eyes filled with old guilt. "Chaos sent me back alive. Alone. With the knowledge that I had failed to save him. That failure has lived in me every day since."
Rein's tears finally spilled over, silent but unstoppable.
Azrael placed a steady hand on his shoulder again.
"Your father did not abandon you, Rein. He fought for you. And he lost everything trying to protect the family he loved."
Rein bowed his head, shoulders shaking.
Azrael's voice was soft now, the closest to gentle it had ever been.
"You carry his hope now. Not his failure."
The waterfall roared on, washing the night clean.
Under the stars, Nora once said, were guardians, master and student sat together, carrying the same weight, but no longer alone.
Azrael's gaze drifted back to the stars for a moment, as if drawing strength from them before continuing.
"The letter Nora sent… it wasn't long. But every word carried her heart."
He reached into the inner pocket of his robe and drew out a small, folded paper — aged, edges soft from years of careful handling. The envelope was yellowed, the ink slightly faded, but the handwriting was still clear and elegant.
"I kept it," Azrael said quietly. "Silas asked me to. After we left for the Void… he never came back for it. I thought one day his son might want to read his mother's words."
He handed it to Rein.
Rein's fingers trembled as he took it. The envelope was addressed simply:
For Silas Seethoshi
Inside was a single sheet and the photograph Azrael had described, Nora in a hospital bed, exhausted but glowing with quiet joy, cradling newborn Rein. The baby's tiny hand clutched her finger, white tufts of hair already visible.
Rein unfolded the letter with care, as though it might crumble.
The handwriting was Nora's, gentle loops, steady despite obvious fatigue.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
My dearest Silas,
He's here.
Our son was born this morning, just as the sun rose.
We named him Rein — like the pure, cleansing rain after a storm. He has your eyes already, that beautiful violet, and a little tuft of white hair just like yours. He's so small, but when he holds my finger, I feel like he's already strong.
I wish you were here to see him. To hold him.
I know why you left. I know you're fighting for a world where he can grow up safe, without fear of the darkness you carry. I don't blame you. I never will.
But please, my love… come home when you can.
He needs his father. And I need you.
We'll be waiting.
Always.
With all my love,
Nora
(and baby Rein)
----------------------------------------------------------------
Rein read it once. Then again. Tears fell silently onto the paper, but he didn't wipe them away.
Azrael sat beside him, giving him space, staring at the waterfall.
Finally, Rein whispered, voice thick, "She… she never stopped loving him."
"No," Azrael said softly. "She didn't. And neither did he."
Rein clutched the letter to his chest, the photograph pressed between his fingers.
"Thank you… for keeping this."
Azrael placed a steady hand on his shoulder once more.
"Your father failed to destroy Chaos. But he succeeded in something greater. He gave the world you."
Rein closed his eyes, letting the tears fall freely now.
Under the watching stars, the weight felt a little lighter.
Not gone.
But shared.
Rein sat alone on the stone bench long after Azrael's footsteps faded into the night. The waterfall roared endlessly, mist cool against his skin, stars watching like silent witnesses.
Finally, he spoke, voice barely above a whisper. "Master Voss… could you give me some space?"
Azrael paused, understanding in his gray eyes. "Of course, my child. I'll return home. Take all the time you need."
He rose and walked away without another word, his silhouette disappearing down the moonlit path.
Rein waited, counting breaths until he was sure Azrael was gone.
Then the dam broke.
A raw, guttural scream tore from his throat — primal, furious, heartbroken.
"AHHHHHHHH!"
The sound echoed off the mountains, swallowed by the waterfall's roar.
Azrael, still on the path home, heard it. He stopped for a moment, shoulders tensing. A single tear — rare, almost foreign — escaped the corner of his eye. He wiped it away quickly and continued walking.
Back at the bench, Rein's scream dissolved into sobs. Tears streamed down his face as anger surged — hot, blinding rage at Chaos, at fate, at everything stolen from him.
He stood abruptly and turned to the nearest pine tree.
His fists slammed into the bark.
Once.
Twice.
Again and again.
Knuckles split open. Blood smeared the rough trunk. Pain should have registered, sharp and immediate — but he felt nothing. Only the rage.
He punched harder, breath coming in ragged gasps, tears mixing with sweat and blood.
The tree didn't yield.
Neither did he.
Azrael slid the door open at the estate, face composed again, but eyes heavier than before.
Principal Wilson looked up from his tea, concern immediate. "Master… what's wrong?"
The others noticed too — Stella pausing mid-sip, Zen frowning, Valkyrie tensing, Esil and Maki turning from their conversation, Kaiser straightening.
Azrael stood in the doorway, moonlight at his back.
"I told him the real truth, Wilson."
Kaiser leaned forward. "What truth, Master?"
Azrael's voice sharpened. "It's not yours to know, Kaiser."
Wilson exhaled slowly, understanding dawning. "That truth, Master?"
"Yes."
The room went quiet.
Wilson set his cup down carefully. "Oh my…"
He turned to Stella. "Stella, go check on him. Now."
Stella was already standing. "Where?"
"By the waterfall," Azrael said quietly.
"I'm coming too—" Zen started.
"No," Wilson cut in firmly. "Stay here, Zen. Let Stella go alone."
"But—"
"No buts." Wilson's tone left no room for argument. "Hurry, Stella."
Stella nodded, grabbing a small towel and a clean cloth before rushing out into the night.
Maki crossed her arms, blue eyes narrowing. "What the hell is going on?"
No one answered immediately.
Outside, Stella ran toward the waterfall, heart pounding, the echo of Rein's distant scream still ringing in her ears.
She had to reach him.
Before the pain swallowed him whole.
At the waterfall, Rein was lost in a storm of grief and rage.
He punched the pine tree again and again, fists slamming into rough bark with sickening thuds. Blood smeared the trunk in dark streaks. Skin split open, knuckles shattered, fragments of white bone glinting through torn flesh. Every muscle and tendon was exposed in raw, gruesome detail, yet the physical pain didn't register. Not yet. Only the emotional agony burned — hot, blinding, endless.
Tears streamed down his face as he screamed silently into the night, each strike a release, each impact a plea.
Then something inside him snapped.
The two cores — Astral and Chaotic — clashed violently, unwillingly. Light and darkness collided in his chest like opposing storms.
A massive shockwave erupted outward, deep purple energy rippling through the air. Trees swayed violently. Mist from the waterfall scattered. The blast rolled all the way back to the estate, rattling windows and shaking lanterns.
Rein was thrown backward by his own power, slamming onto the damp grass. The world spun. Stars wheeled above him, sharp and indifferent.
Only then did the pain hit.
A tidal wave of agony crashed over him — fire in his ruined hands, lightning in his veins, exhaustion crushing his bones.
He lay there, gasping, staring up at the endless sky. Tears fell again, silent now, tracing cold paths down his temples.
Footsteps pounded on the path — fast, desperate.
Stella burst into the clearing, breathless from running. She skidded to a stop beside him, eyes widening in horror.
His hands… oh god, his hands.
Skin shredded, blood pouring, pieces of bone visible in the moonlight.
"OH MY GOD, REIN!"
She dropped to her knees, yanking the towel from her shoulder and wrapping it frantically around his mangled fists, pressing hard to stem the bleeding. Her hands shook.
Rein's vision blurred, but he saw her — silver hair wild from the run, electric-blue eyes filled with fear and tears.
He reached for her with what strength he had left, pulling her close. His bloodied arms wrapped around her, and he buried his face in her shoulder.
Sobs tore from him again — deep, broken, childlike.
Stella held him tightly, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other still pressing the towel to his wounds.
"Hey… hey, don't worry," she whispered, voice trembling but steady for him. "I'm here now. I've got you."
She rocked him gently, like he was something fragile about to shatter.
"Let's go back," she murmured against his hair. "We'll fix your hands. You're not alone anymore. I promise."
Rein clung to her, the pain in his body finally real, but the pain in his heart… just a little lighter.
Because she was there.
And for the first time that night, he believed someone would stay.
Stella supported almost all of Rein's weight as they limped back along the moonlit path. His blood-soaked arm was slung over her shoulder, the towel now a sodden, crimson rag pressed uselessly against his ruined hands. Every step sent fresh rivulets of blood dripping to the stone, leaving a dark trail behind them.
Rein's breathing was shallow, ragged. He didn't speak. He couldn't. The tears had stopped somewhere along the way, leaving only a hollow exhaustion in their place.
Stella's own eyes were red, but her jaw was set. She held him up with quiet, fierce determination, whispering soft reassurances he barely heard.
When they reached the estate, she eased the sliding door open with her free hand.
The hall fell silent the instant they stepped inside.
Everyone was still gathered — waiting, worried, talking in low voices.
Then they saw him.
Horror rippled across every face like a wave.
Zen's chopsticks clattered to the floor.
Esil's hand flew to her mouth, pink eyes wide with shock.
Kaiser froze halfway out of his seat.
Valkyrie stood so fast her cushion toppled.
Maki's usual composure cracked — blue eyes filling with something close to fear.
Principal Wilson was on his feet in an instant, face pale. "OH GOD — GET HIM TO THE TREATMENT ROOM NOW!"
The quiet shattered into urgent motion.
Wilson rushed forward, taking Rein's other side. "Easy, my child — lean on me."
Zen was there in a heartbeat, hovering helplessly. "Rein dude, what the hell happened?!"
Stella's voice shook as she guided them down the hall. "His hands… he just… he lost it. The tree…"
Valkyrie grabbed clean towels and a medical kit from a nearby cabinet, moving with sharp efficiency despite the tremor in her hands.
Esil followed close, purple hair swinging, whispering, "Oh gods, oh gods…"
Maki brought up the rear, face tight, already pulling out a small scanning device from her sleeve.
They burst into the treatment room, a simple space with tatami mats, a low futon bed, and shelves of herbal salves and Astral-infused bandages.
Azrael appeared in the doorway moments later, drawn by the commotion. His gray eyes took in the scene — Rein's bloodied form, the panic on every face — and something ancient and pained flickered across his usually stoic features.
He stepped forward without a word.
"Lay him down," he commanded quietly.
Wilson and Stella eased Rein onto the futon. Rein's head lolled back, eyes half-lidded, breath shallow. He didn't resist.
Azrael knelt beside him, robes pooling on the floor. He gently took Rein's mangled hands in his own, careful, almost reverent despite the blood.
Silver light bloomed from Azrael's palms, pure Astral energy, warm and steady.
The room watched in tense silence as the glow enveloped Rein's hands. Torn skin knitted slowly. Shattered bones realigned with soft, audible clicks. Blood flow stemmed.
It took minutes that felt like hours.
When the light faded, Rein's hands were whole again, but scarred. Rough, pale lines crisscrossed his knuckles and palms, permanent reminders of the night's rage.
Maki stepped forward immediately, running her small scanner over them. Her voice was steady, but relief bled through.
"If he'd come in any later… he would have lost them. Every finger was broken, compound fractures, severed tendons, massive tissue damage. Thanks to Master Voss… they're healed."
She lowered the device, blue eyes soft as she looked at Rein. "He'll regain full function. But the scars will stay."
Stella, who had stayed kneeling at Rein's side the entire time, finally let out a shuddering breath. She brushed damp white hair from his forehead, fingers lingering.
Rein's eyes fluttered open, violet and exhausted. He looked at his bandaged hands, then at everyone crowded around him — worry, fear, care etched on every face.
His voice was hoarse. "I'm… sorry."
Stella shook her head, tears spilling again. "Don't. Just… don't."
Azrael stood slowly, expression unreadable once more, but his voice carried a rare gentleness.
"Rest now. The body heals faster than the heart… but both need time."
He turned to leave, pausing at the door. "You are not alone in this pain, Rein. Remember that."
The room exhaled collectively.
Zen dropped onto the floor beside the futon, trying for a grin but failing. "You scared the hell out of us, man."
Kaiser gave a quiet nod of agreement.
Esil wiped her eyes, forcing a smile. "Next time you need to punch something… use a dummy, okay?"
Valkyrie placed a cool hand on Rein's shoulder — brief, but steady.
Maki lingered a moment longer, scanning once more. "You're strong," she said simply. "Stronger than you know."
Wilson smiled softly. "Sleep, my child. We'll be here when you wake."
Stella stayed closest, curling up beside him on the futon, holding his newly bandaged hand like it was the most precious thing in the world.
Rein closed his eyes, the weight still there… but shared now.
In the quiet of the treatment room, surrounded by people who cared, the scars on his hands didn't feel quite so heavy.
Healing, real healing- had begun.
The others left Rein and Stella alone in the treatment room, sliding the door shut with quiet care. Rein had finally drifted into an exhausted sleep, his scarred hands resting on the blanket, Stella curled in a chair beside him, holding one of those hands as she'd never let go.
In the center hall, the mood was heavy. Lanterns cast long shadows across the tatami, and the distant waterfall's roar felt louder in the silence.
Zen was the first to speak, voice low. "So… that purple shockwave earlier. That was from Rein?"
Azrael stood near the open doors to the yard, moonlight outlining his tall frame. He nodded once. "Yes, young Kirisawa."
Zen rubbed the back of his neck, golden eyes troubled. "The truth… it was too much for him, wasn't it?"
Azrael's gaze remained on the night outside. "It always is."
Principal Wilson sat on a cushion, tea long gone cold in his cup. He sighed, the sound carrying years of understanding. "Some truths are heavier than any weight we lift in training. They break you before you can grow stronger."
Kaiser leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, orange eyes thoughtful. "He'll be okay, right? I've never seen him like that."
Maki Voss, sitting with perfect posture, spoke quietly. "He's stronger than he knows. But tonight… tonight he needed to break a little."
Esil hugged her knees to her chest, purple hair falling over her face. Her usual playfulness was gone. "I've never heard anyone scream like that. It felt like… like the whole mountain heard it."
Valkyrie stared at the floor, silver-pink hair hiding her expression. "He carried it alone for too long."
Azrael finally turned to face them, his voice steady but softer than usual. "We will not train for two days."
The announcement hung in the air.
"Noted, Master," they said in near unison, Zen, Kaiser, Maki, Esil, Valkyrie. Even Wilson inclined his head.
Azrael continued. "Let him heal. Body and heart. When he returns to the yard, he will be ready. Or he will not. But we will not push until then."
Wilson offered a small, sad smile. "You did the right thing telling him, Master. Hard as it was."
Azrael's gray eyes flickered with something old and pained. "Some burdens are meant to be shared. I carried his father's truth too long. I will not carry his son's as well."
Silence settled again, deeper this time — not empty, but full of quiet resolve.
Outside, the stars kept watch.
Inside, the group sat together a little longer, no one quite ready to leave the hall.
They were waiting.
For Rein to wake.
For the next dawn.
For whatever version of their friend — their family — would walk back through the door when he was ready.
The next morning dawned soft and quiet over Reiketsu Village. Sunlight filtered through the shoji screens, painting gentle patterns on the tatami. Breakfast was simple — rice, miso, fresh mountain greens — but the table felt heavier than usual. No one spoke much. Eyes kept drifting toward the treatment room door.
After the bowls were cleared, Principal Wilson stood. His usual warmth was there, but tempered with quiet concern.
"I'll check on him," he said softly.
No one argued.
He slid the door open carefully.
Rein was awake, propped against the wall, bandaged hands resting in his lap. The scars were visible even through the wrappings — pale lines crossing his knuckles like maps of last night's pain. His face was drawn, violet eyes shadowed, but clearer than before.
Stella sat beside him on the futon, close enough that their shoulders touched. She hadn't left his side all night.
Wilson smiled gently and knelt nearby. "Good morning, my child. How are you feeling?"
Rein's voice was hoarse. "Better… I think. Still hurts. But I slept."
Stella brushed a strand of white hair from his forehead, her touch lingering. "He woke up a few times. Nightmares."
Wilson nodded, eyes full of understanding. "The body heals. The heart… takes longer."
Rein looked down at his hands, flexing them slowly. The movement sent a dull ache through him, but he didn't flinch.
"Principal…" he started, then paused, gathering courage. "I want you to tell them. Everyone. What Master Voss told me last night. All of it."
Wilson's expression softened further. "Are you sure?"
Rein met his gaze, steady despite the exhaustion. "Yeah. They're… my family now. They deserve to know why I fell apart. And maybe…" His voice cracked slightly. "Maybe saying it out loud will make it hurt a little less."
Stella squeezed his arm, eyes shining with quiet pride and love.
Wilson placed a warm hand on Rein's shoulder. "I'm proud of you, Rein. Truly."
He stood and returned to the hall.
The others were waiting — Azrael at the head, the rest seated in a loose circle. The air felt thick with unspoken worry.
Wilson spoke gently. "Rein is awake. And he has asked — with his full permission — that we hear the truth. The real truth about his father."
Azrael's gray eyes lifted, surprise and respect mingling there.
"He is ready to share it?" Azrael asked quietly.
Wilson nodded. "He is."
A few minutes later, Stella helped Rein into the hall. He walked slowly, leaning on her more than he'd admit, but his head was high. She guided him to a cushion beside her, keeping hold of his hand as he sat.
The group watched with quiet concern — Zen tense, Valkyrie steady, Esil's pink eyes worried, Maki respectful, Kaiser attentive.
Azrael waited until Rein was settled, then looked to him for confirmation.
Rein nodded once.
Azrael began, voice low and measured, carrying the weight of years.
"With Rein's permission… I will tell you everything."
He spoke of the letter from Nora — the photograph, Silas's overwhelming joy at learning he had a son named Rein. The tears of happiness, the repeated whispers of "I have a child."
He told of Silas's incredible growth, his fierce determination — not for selfish power, but to destroy Chaos before it could touch his family.
Then the harder truth: the battle in the deepest Void. Chaos's victory — not death, but erasure. Memories stripped. Will twisted. Silas bound as a servant, an echo of the man who had once cried over a baby photo.
Azrael's own failure to save him.
The hall was utterly silent. No one moved.
When Azrael finished, the weight settled over them like mist.
Zen's fists were clenched, golden eyes wet. "He… tried to kill that thing for Rein? And got turned into its puppet instead?"
Azrael nodded.
Esil wiped tears away, voice trembling. "That's… so cruel."
Maki's blue eyes were fixed on Rein, quiet respect deepening into something fiercer. "Your father was a hero. A real one."
Valkyrie placed a steady hand on Stella's shoulder, then reached across to touch Rein's arm — brief, but full of solidarity.
Kaiser spoke softly. "You've been carrying that alone?"
Rein's voice was hoarse, but he met their eyes. "Yeah. But… not anymore."
Stella leaned into him, tears falling silently onto his shoulder.
Azrael looked around the circle, his stern face softened by pride and something like relief.
"This truth belongs to all of you now. Guard it. Share it. Help him carry it."
Zen stood abruptly, wiping his eyes roughly. "Damn right we will. You're stuck with us forever, man. No escaping."
Esil managed a watery laugh. "Family sticks together — even when it hurts."
Maki nodded firmly. "We all have scars. Yours just have a story. We'll make sure it has a better ending."
Kaiser gave a quiet, steady smile. "Count on us."
Even Azrael allowed the faintest curve to his lips — approval, and perhaps healing of his own.
Rein looked at them all — scarred hands held in Stella's, surrounded by people who now knew his deepest pain.
And for the first time, the weight didn't crush him.
It was shared.
The waterfall sang outside.
And in the hall, under the morning light, something unbreakable had been forged.
Not just a team.
A family.