Chōjin Global Headquarters – Tokyo, top-floor secure briefing room.
The three battered heroes sat around a sleek holo-table: Blaze with his shoulder bandaged, Volt cradling his fried hand in an ice pack, Graviton rubbing the deep slice across his deltoid. All three looked like they'd been hit by a very polite truck.
The door whooshed open.
Tony Chōjin strode in—custom crimson-gold exosuit humming softly, arc reactor glowing under the chest plate, helmet tucked under one arm, trademark smirk in place.
He stopped in front of the trio, eyes scanning the injuries with open admiration.
"Well, well," Tony said, voice dripping amusement. "Beaten. You three got absolutely, spectacularly beaten. And by one hoodie-wearing teenager. I'm impressed."
Blaze groaned, slumping back in his chair. "Are you on our side or his, Stark?"
Tony laughed—bright, genuine, the sound of a man who'd just discovered his new favorite toy.
"With you guys, obviously. Team Earth, rah rah." He waved a dismissive hand. "But credit where credit's due—that kid's design is amazing. The economy of movement, the tochi threading, the way he turned Volt's lightning into dental floss? Chef's kiss."
He pulled up a frozen holo-frame from the viral video: Kanashimi mid-air, snow threads glinting, face calm and devastatingly pretty.
"Look at this aesthetic. Black hoodie in a snowstorm? Dramatic lighting? The slow-motion hair flip when he redirected gravity? Come on. This is art."
Volt muttered through gritted teeth, "He fried my hand, Tony."
"And you're alive to complain about it," Tony shot back, grinning wider. "That's mercy with style."
Graviton rubbed his temples. "He could've killed us. Didn't."
"Exactly!" Tony clapped his hands. "Which means he's not a villain—he's a statement. And statements this good deserve to go viral."
He flicked his wrist; a phone projection appeared, already open to Instagram.
"I'm uploading the best still—him hovering over the city like a dark angel. Caption: 'Beaten by Kanashimi. 10/10, would lose again.' Hashtag #BeatenByKanashimi, #NewFavorite, #RespectTheHoodie."
Blaze stared. "You're… fangirling."
Tony shrugged, utterly shameless. "I'm appreciating superior engineering. Kid's running on pure skill and sadness—no suit, no backup, no ego. Meanwhile we brought fire, lightning, and gravity… and still got schooled."
He hit post before anyone could stop him.
The projection showed likes pouring in instantly—millions in seconds.
Tony turned to the three injured heroes, smirk softening just a touch.
"Get patched up. Train harder. And next time we meet hoodie boy… maybe we try talking first."
He paused at the door, glancing back with a wink.
"Though if he ever wants to switch sides, tell him Stark Industries has a signing bonus and a custom suit waiting. Black, obviously. With snowflake accents."
The door closed.
Blaze, Volt, and Graviton sat in stunned silence.
Volt finally muttered, "We just got roasted by Tony Stark… for losing to a teenager."
Blaze huffed a laugh despite the pain. "And the teenager looked better doing it."
Graviton sighed. "We're never living this down."
Outside, Tony's post hit a hundred million likes.
#BeatenByKanashimi trended worldwide.
And somewhere deep in Lumora, Kanashimi's smuggled phone buzzed again under his pillow.
He was still hiding from the world.
But the world had officially fallen a little in love.
Outside the Chōjin Headquarters, Tokyo – rooftop helipad, snow still drifting lightly under the morning sun.
Tony stepped out of the elevator, helmet tucked under his arm, already scrolling through the newest #BeatenByKanashimi edits on his phone with a grin.
He nearly walked into a wall of pure American patriotism.
Captain Valor—real name Ethan Rogers—stood there in full star-spangled tactical suit, shield slung across his back, arms crossed, blond hair perfect even in the wind. The living embodiment of duty, honor, and old-school heroism.
Tony stopped short, smirk widening.
"Well, if it isn't Mr. Stars-and-Stripes himself. Come to lecture me about responsible posting?"
Valor's jaw tightened, blue eyes steady. "Stark. Saw your little Instagram tribute. You're treating this like a game."
Tony shrugged, pocketing his phone. "Kid just took down three of our best without breaking a sweat. I'm appreciating talent. You should try it sometime—might loosen up that perfect posture."
Valor didn't smile. "He murdered a diplomat. Declared war on the surface. And you're… what, recruiting him?"
Tony laughed—bright, sharp. "Recruiting? Nah. Admiring. There's a difference. Kid's got style, principle, and enough power to make governments wet themselves. Reminds me of someone I know—except with better hair and less serum."
Valor's eyes narrowed. "This isn't about ego. He's a threat."
Tony stepped closer, voice dropping. "Or he's exactly what we've needed. We've been playing superhero for years—photo ops, sponsorships, rules. He's out there doing what we forgot: protecting something bigger than likes and approval ratings."
Valor's hand twitched toward his shield. "By killing messengers?"
"By sending one back," Tony countered. "Headless, sure, but the message was crystal clear."
They stared each other down—old friends, old rivals, old arguments.
Valor finally exhaled. "If it comes to it… will you stand with the world, or with the kid who beat your team?"
Tony's smirk softened into something almost serious.
"I'll stand with whoever's trying to keep the world spinning a little longer. Right now… I'm not sure it's us."
He brushed past Valor toward his waiting quinjet.
"Keep the moral high ground, Cap. Someone's gotta."
Valor watched him go, jaw tight.
The wind picked up, snow swirling between them like unspoken warnings.
And somewhere far below, Kanashimi pulled the blanket higher over his head, praying the world would forget his face by tomorrow.
The practice temple in Lumora was alive with the sharp rhythm of blades and breaths, morning light filtering through the canopy in soft green-gold shafts.
Kanashimi moved through his forms in the center circle—katana flashing, movements precise but heavier than usual, ribs still tender, mind clearly elsewhere.
Around the edges, the four—Hana, Sora, Akira, and Ren—practiced in pairs, stealing glances at him every few seconds. The academy had been closed indefinitely "for security review" after the surface explosion, so they had nowhere else to be.
Yoriichi stood at the side, arms folded, silver hair tied high, watching everything with that terrifying calm.
Akira, mid-spar with Ren, finally couldn't hold it in anymore. He lowered his blade, wiping sweat from his brow.
"So… anyone hear the latest from the surface scouts?"
Ren paused, breathing hard. "The ones who went up for recon? Yeah. They came back white as ghosts."
Hana sheathed her practice blade, eyes wide. "They said the entire world is obsessed with Kanashimi. Videos everywhere. Hashtags. Some surface billionaire in a metal suit—Tony something—posted a picture of him with 'Beaten by Kanashimi' and millions liked it."
Sora, usually silent, added quietly, "They're calling him a god. Or a demon. Half want to fight him. Half want to… date him."
Akira snorted. "Date him? The guy who sliced three Chōjin like sushi?"
Kanashimi's kata faltered—just a fraction. His blade paused mid-arc.
Yoriichi's gaze sharpened, but he said nothing.
Ren grinned despite himself. "The scouts said this Tony guy wants to build him a custom suit. Black, with snowflakes."
Hana giggled, covering her mouth. "Snowflakes! That's kind of cute."
Akira turned to Kanashimi, voice teasing but careful. "Hear that, leader? You're an internet heartthrob. Got fan clubs and everything."
Kanashimi resumed his forms, face blank, but his ears were pink.
"I don't have a phone," he muttered. "I don't care."
Hana stepped closer, eyes sparkling. "Liar. Your ears are red."
Sora nodded. "Definitely red."
Ren laughed. "Come on, admit it—you secretly love being famous."
Kanashimi's blade moved faster—sharp, controlled frustration.
Yoriichi finally spoke, voice calm thunder.
"Enough chatter. Pair up. Kanashimi—with Akira. The rest, rotate."
The four scrambled to obey.
Akira grinned as he faced Kanashimi, blade raised.
"Try not to go viral on me, superstar."
Kanashimi's lips twitched—the tiniest curve.
"Just try not to lose too badly."
Yoriichi watched them bow and begin, the faintest exhale escaping him.
The world above might be screaming his student's name.
But here, in the quiet temple, Kanashimi was just a boy learning to be seen.
And for the first time, the people around him were trying too.
The practice temple hummed with the rhythm of blades and controlled breaths, but the air shifted the moment the doors slid open.
Yōsei stepped in—braid swinging, cheeks already pink from running, eyes bright and determined. She carried a small basket (honey-cakes, obviously) and wore that mischievous smile that meant trouble.
Kanashimi's kata faltered—just a heartbeat. His mind flashed traitorously to the balcony: sticky glaze, accidental lips, her laugh afterward.
Wrong timing, he thought, ears burning. Master's right here. If he's thinking about that kiss between you and me…
Yoriichi lowered his arms, turning toward the door with perfect calm.
"Come in, Yōsei," he said, voice smooth as polished steel. "I was just thinking about you."
Yōsei froze mid-step, basket nearly slipping. "You… were?"
Kanashimi's blade stopped entirely. He stared at his master in pure horror.
The four classmates paused their sparring, eyes wide, sensing drama.
Yoriichi's gaze flicked to Kanashimi—sharp, knowing—then back to Yōsei.
"Yes. Your father wishes you to join the next council briefing. Surface matters."
Yōsei exhaled, relief and disappointment mixing on her face. "Oh. Right. Council stuff."
But her eyes darted to Kanashimi, sparkling with mischief.
Kanashimi's ears were now scarlet. He bowed quickly to hide his face. "Master. Shall I continue forms?"
Yoriichi's mouth curved—the tiniest, rarest hint of amusement.
"No need. Take a break. All of you."
He turned to leave, pausing beside Yōsei.
"And Princess… next time you bring sweets to training, share with everyone. Fairness is discipline too."
Yōsei's cheeks flamed. "How did you—?"
Yoriichi was already gone, doors sliding shut behind him.
The temple erupted.
Akira whistled low. "He definitely knows about the tart thing."
Ren smirked. "Your face right now, Kanashimi—priceless."
Hana giggled behind her sleeve. Sora just shook his head, smiling.
Yōsei recovered first, marching straight to Kanashimi with the basket.
"Well, since Master outed me… honey-cake?" She held one up, eyes dancing. "No accidental kisses this time. Promise."
Kanashimi took the cake, muttering, "You're going to get me killed."
Yōsei leaned in, whispering just for him, "Worth it."
The four classmates pretended very hard not to watch… while watching every second.
And somewhere outside, Yoriichi walked the paths, the faintest curve still on his lips.
Young love was a distraction.
But perhaps… a necessary one.
The temple was filled with soft laughter and the scent of honey-cakes—Yōsei perched on the edge of the mat, waving a cake teasingly close to Kanashimi's mouth while the four classmates watched with barely-contained grins.
Kanashimi's ears were still pink, his protests half-hearted. "Yōsei, stop—"
The doors slammed open.
A council guardian strode in—cloak swirling, face grim.
"Kanashimi. Princess Yōsei. Lord Eldrin summons you both. Immediately. The full council."
The laughter died instantly.
Yōsei's hand froze mid-wave, cake forgotten.
Akira muttered, "Uh-oh."
Ren straightened. "That doesn't sound good."
Kanashimi rose slowly, expression shuttering back to careful blankness. He bowed to the guardian.
"Yes, sir."
Yōsei stood beside him, basket clutched tight, worry flashing in her midnight eyes.
They followed the guardian out—past the four classmates who exchanged uneasy glances.
The walk to the heart-tree chamber felt endless.
Inside, the full council waited—Lord Eldrin at the head, Yoriichi to his right, elders and masters in a solemn circle. The air was thick with urgency.
Eldrin's gaze softened when he saw his daughter, but his voice was steel.
"The surface has responded to last night's events faster than we anticipated. Their leaders are in emergency session again. Their Chōjin are divided. Their media calls Kanashimi everything from monster to messiah."
He gestured to a captured surface broadcast playing silently on a crystal projection—clips of Kanashimi's fight, Tony Stark's viral post, panicked headlines.
"But more importantly… they've issued a new message. Direct. To us."
Yoriichi's eyes fixed on Kanashimi.
"They ask for you by name. They want 'the one called Kanashimi' to meet a delegation. Neutral ground. No weapons. To 'discuss peace.'"
Yōsei's hand found Kanashimi's sleeve instinctively.
Kanashimi's face was stone.
Eldrin leaned forward.
"The council is divided. Some say refuse—show strength. Some say accept—buy time. Yoriichi?"
Yoriichi's voice was quiet thunder.
"He is our blade. But blades can also parley… or cut deeper."
All eyes turned to Kanashimi.
The boy who had painted a city street red last night.
The boy whose name the world now whispered in fear and awe.
Eldrin's voice was gentle but unyielding.
"What say you, Kanashimi?"
The chamber waited.
And our butterfly boy—still smelling faintly of honey-cake—stood in the silence, feeling the weight of two worlds on his shoulders once more.
"I… accept," he said, lifting his gaze to meet Eldrin's. "I will meet their delegation. If it can prevent more killing… I will go."
A murmur rippled through the elders—some approving, some doubtful.
Yōsei's hand tightened on his sleeve, her midnight eyes wide with worry and pride. "You don't have to do this alone. I can—"
"No," Eldrin interrupted gently, raising a hand. His expression softened as he looked at his daughter, then turned to Kanashimi with something like paternal regret. "This is not a decision made lightly. But there is more at stake than a single meeting with the surface."
The chamber fell silent.
Eldrin stood, gesturing to a hidden alcove in the living wood wall. It parted like breathing flesh, revealing a pedestal of glowing crystal. On it rested a small, pulsing orb—the size of a fist, both alive with inner light and dead-still like polished stone.
"The Crystal Pilgrimage," Eldrin said, voice reverent. "It happens every fifty years, a ritual to renew the bonds between our eleven villages. Each village holds its own sacred crystal—living yet dead, pulsing with the tochi of our ancestors and the land itself. They must be carried to every other village in turn, exchanged in ceremony, to maintain the wards that hide us all."
He looked at Kanashimi, the weight of tradition in his eyes.
"You, Kanashimi, have been chosen by the council and the heart-tree's whisper. As the bearer, you must travel to all eleven—alone, save for a small escort for safety. The crystal will bond to you upon touch. If anyone else lays a hand on it—friend or foe—you will be executed immediately. No trial. No mercy. It is the law to protect the balance."
Yōsei's breath caught. "Executed? Father, that's—"
"Necessary," Eldrin finished firmly. "The crystal is both live and dead—vital to our existence, deadly if mishandled. Only teens like Kanashimi, pure in tochi and unburdened by age's corruption, can undertake the pilgrimage. It begins in each village simultaneously, bearers crossing paths in sacred neutrality. But in these times, with the surface stirring… if anyone comes to take it, Kanashimi, you must protect it at all costs. Fight. Flee. Destroy if you must. The ritual cannot fail."
Yoriichi's voice cut in, low and steady. "The pilgrimage starts at the next full moon. Three days from now. The surface meeting can wait—or be woven into your path. But know this: the crystal will test you. It has ended bearers before who faltered."
Kanashimi stared at the orb, its light reflecting in his gray eyes like distant stars.
"Why me?" he asked quietly, voice barely above a whisper.
Eldrin's smile was sad. "Because you carry death in your hands already. And you choose life when you can. The crystal will see that. Trust it."
Yōsei stepped forward, chin lifted defiantly. "Then I'm going with him. Escort or not."
Eldrin's gaze softened further. "We will discuss that. For now… prepare, Kanashimi. The villages depend on you."
The chamber emptied slowly, leaving Kanashimi alone with the pulsing crystal.
He reached out—hesitant—and touched it.
Warmth flooded him, alive and dead all at once.
The pilgrimage had chosen him.
And the world above waited, unaware that a boy with death in his veins was about to walk its paths once more.
Kanashimi stood before the council, the sacred crystal's faint pulse still warm in his memory, the weight of the pilgrimage already settling on his shoulders like fresh snow.
He bowed slightly, voice quiet but steady. "When do I have to go for the delegation?"
Lord Eldrin regarded him for a long moment, the chamber silent except for the soft rustle of living wood.
"If you can," Eldrin said gently, "tomorrow."
Yōsei's hand flew to her mouth, eyes widening. "Tomorrow? Father, that's—"
Eldrin raised a hand, silencing her with a look that was both loving and unyielding. "The surface is impatient. Their message demands urgency. Delay risks escalation. Kanashimi is ready."
Yoriichi's gaze flicked to his student—assessing, always assessing. "He will be prepared by dawn."
Kanashimi's face remained calm, but his fingers curled at his sides.
"Alone?" he asked, the word slipping out before he could stop it.
Eldrin's expression softened. "With a small escort. The four you trained with will accompany you to the neutral site. Yōsei…" He glanced at his daughter, who was already vibrating with determination. "May join as observer, if she wishes. But the meeting itself—you will face alone."
Yōsei stepped forward immediately. "I'm going. End of discussion."
Eldrin's mouth curved in the faintest smile. "I expected nothing less."
He turned back to Kanashimi.
"Rest tonight. Meditate. The crystal will guide you when the pilgrimage begins, but tomorrow… you carry Lumora's voice to the surface. Speak with care. Act with precision."
Kanashimi bowed deeper, the motion hiding the storm in his gray eyes.
"Yes, my lord."
As the council dismissed, Yōsei caught his sleeve before he could leave.
"Tomorrow," she whispered, squeezing his arm. "You're not facing them alone. Not really."
Kanashimi looked down at her hand, then at her fierce, worried face.
He managed the smallest, tired smile.
"…Thank you."
Outside the chamber, the forest paths waited—glowing softly, as if the village itself was holding its breath.
Tomorrow, the boy who had painted snow red would walk into the light again.
This time, to speak instead of strike.
Eldrin's voice softened as the council began to disperse, the elders and teachers filing out with quiet bows.
"You may go now," he said to the room at large, but his gaze lingered on Kanashimi and Yoriichi—who remained standing, motionless, because both knew the conversation wasn't finished.
When the chamber emptied, only the three of them remained beneath the heart-tree's gentle glow.
Eldrin turned to Kanashimi, expression kind but resolute.
"Before you leave for the surface tomorrow, there is one more duty. Tonight, you must meet the Crystal of Mind with us. It will bind to you fully—show you glimpses of the path ahead, strengthen your resolve for the pilgrimage."
Kanashimi bowed, accepting without question.
Eldrin continued, voice warm with ancient pride.
"As you travel, the ritual will unfold naturally. When you reach the second village, their chosen bearer will join you—a fighter of their own, sworn to the same pilgrimage. At the third village, another will merge with your group. And so it goes—each village adding its guardian until all eleven bearers walk together for the final exchange. You will not be alone for long."
Yoriichi's eyes flicked to his student, quiet approval in the subtle nod.
Kanashimi absorbed it all, then asked the question burning in his chest—voice low, careful.
"But Master… Lord Eldrin… what are we going to talk about there? On the surface?"
Eldrin smiled faintly, stepping closer and resting a fatherly hand on Kanashimi's shoulder.
"Truth," he said simply. "You will tell them who we are. What we have done for them in silence. Why we will not bow, but why we do not wish war."
Yoriichi added, voice steady steel, "You will listen. Gauge their fear, their greed, their sincerity. And you will remind them—politely—that the hand extended in peace can still close into a fist."
Kanashimi's gray eyes flickered with understanding—and quiet dread.
Eldrin squeezed his shoulder once.
"Speak as Lumora's voice, Kanashimi. Calm. Honest. Unafraid. They have seen your strength. Now let them see our heart."
Yoriichi's gaze held his student's a moment longer—pride and warning intertwined.
"You will not fail us."
Kanashimi bowed deeply to both of them.
"I won't."
Outside, the forest paths waited—glowing softly, as if the village itself was whispering courage.
Tomorrow, he would face the world that feared him.
Tonight, he would bind himself to a crystal older than nations.
And somewhere in the dorms, Yōsei was already packing a basket—because no matter what the council said, she wasn't letting him go alone.
The hidden cave deep within Lumora's roots was lit only by the crystal itself—suspended in mid-air, pulsing with soft, living light that shifted between warm gold and cool silver. The air hummed with ancient tochi, thick and reverent.
Yoriichi led Kanashimi inside, hand steady on the boy's shoulder. Lord Eldrin waited beside the crystal, robes pooling like moonlight on the stone floor.
As they approached, the crystal flared brighter, its surface rippling like water. A voice—not quite sound, not quite thought—filled the cave, genderless and timeless.
"So… he is Kanashimi."
Eldrin bowed his head slightly. "Yes. One of the strongest fighters of his age. His rank among the villages is B-2—highest ever recorded for one so young."
Yoriichi's voice was quiet pride. "So, Kanashimi, you will travel with this crystal. It has chosen you as bearer."
The crystal pulsed again, light swirling into patterns that almost looked like a smile.
"Perfect heir for the village," it declared, voice warm with approval. "Strong. Pure. Burdened yet kind. He should marry the princess. Bind the bloodlines. Ensure Lumora's future."
The cave went dead silent.
Kanashimi's face turned scarlet so fast it was almost comical. His mouth opened, closed, opened again.
"I—I'm sixteen," he stammered, voice cracking for the first time in years. "Only sixteen!"
Eldrin's eyes widened, then crinkled with barely-contained laughter.
Yoriichi—stone-faced Yoriichi—actually coughed once into his fist, shoulders shaking the tiniest bit.
The crystal pulsed again, utterly unembarrassed.
"Age is but a season. The heart is ready."
Kanashimi looked desperately between the two men who had raised him in their own ways.
"Master… Lord Eldrin… please tell me crystals can be wrong."
Eldrin finally lost the battle and chuckled—soft, warm, fatherly.
"The crystal speaks truth as it sees it, Kanashimi. But it does not command. Only… suggests."
Yoriichi's voice was dry. "Strongly suggests."
Kanashimi buried his burning face in his hands.
Outside the cave, if anyone had been listening (and a certain princess definitely wasn't eavesdropping behind a root, nope, not at all), they would have heard the future of Lumora being decided with one very flustered sixteen-year-old at the center.
The crystal glowed brighter, clearly pleased with itself.
Destiny, apparently, had a sense of humor.
The crystal's light dimmed to a warm, conspiratorial glow, as if it, too, was in on the joke.
Kanashimi stood frozen, hands still half-covering his burning face, mumbling into his palms, "I'm only sixteen…"
Eldrin cleared his throat, clearly fighting a smile. "Of course, of course. No one is suggesting anything… immediate."
Yoriichi—stone-cold, terrifying Yoriichi—actually nodded, voice perfectly serious. "When he's older. Eighteen, perhaps. Twenty. Tradition allows time for courtship."
Kanashimi's head snapped up, eyes comically wide. "Courtship?!"
Eldrin chuckled, the sound warm and fatherly. "The crystal rarely speaks so directly. It sees potential. Compatibility. Strength in union. Yōsei is strong-willed, intelligent, fierce. You are steady, skilled, selfless. Together…" He spread his hands, letting the implication hang.
Yoriichi added, calm as ever, "A strong alliance for Lumora's future. Practical."
Kanashimi looked between them like a trapped animal. "Practical?!"
Eldrin's eyes twinkled. "We brought you here tonight not only for the pilgrimage bond, but so the crystal could meet you. It approves. Strongly. And perhaps… to let you begin knowing each other better during the long travel ahead."
Yoriichi inclined his head. "The pilgrimage will take months. You will visit every village. Much time together. Opportunity."
Kanashimi's voice came out a strangled squeak. "Opportunity for what exactly?"
Eldrin laughed outright now, clapping Kanashimi on the back. "For whatever the future—and a certain princess—decide, my boy."
Yoriichi's mouth curved—just a fraction. "She is waiting outside. Eavesdropping, no doubt."
Kanashimi's face went from red to practically glowing.
The crystal pulsed once, bright and cheeky, as if saying told you so.
Eldrin winked. "Go. Rest. Tomorrow you face the surface. Tonight… perhaps say goodnight to your future wife."
Kanashimi made a sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper, bowed hastily to both men (and the smug crystal), and fled the cave as fast as dignity allowed.
Outside, Yōsei was definitely not hiding behind a root.
Definitely not blushing either.
Definitely.
So the crystal's glowing there, all smug and ancient, basically shipping our poor Kanashimi with Yōsei like it's writing fanfiction. And Eldrin and Yoriichi? They're standing there, totally serious, discussing "when he's older" like it's village politics instead of the cutest arranged-marriage setup ever.
Kanashimi's face is on fire, stammering "I'm only sixteen!" and the crystal just pulses brighter, like it's saying sweetie, age is just a number when destiny's involved.
Eldrin's all calm and wise, "The crystal sees the strength in your bond—your kindness tempers her fire, her spirit lifts your shadows. A perfect balance for Lumora's future."
And Yoriichi—stone-cold Yoriichi—actually nods and says, "She challenges you. You ground her. It is… logical."
Logical. From Yoriichi. That's basically a love confession in master-speak.
Poor Kanashimi looks like he wants the cave floor to swallow him whole. "But… we're just… friends," he mumbles, voice cracking.
The crystal hums, warm and knowing. For now.
Eldrin chuckles, patting his shoulder. "No rush, boy. The pilgrimage will give you time. Months together, traveling the villages, facing dangers side by side… feelings have a way of revealing themselves on long roads."
Yoriichi adds, deadpan, "And if anyone threatens the bearer or the crystal… you will protect each other. Instinctively."
Kanashimi's brain is clearly blue-screening. "Protect… each other… marry… I—"
The crystal pulses one last time, light wrapping around him like a hug. You will understand soon, child. The heart knows before the mind.
Then it dims, the ritual complete.
Eldrin smiles. "Welcome to your future, Kanashimi."
Yoriichi inclines his head. "Rest. Tomorrow you speak for us all."