They stood in the shadowed alley, the weight of everything they'd just learned pressing down on them. Despite the silence around them, a storm of thoughts swirled in Temoshí's mind.
"Desmond..." he muttered, eyes narrowed, voice heavy with suspicion. "He keeps showing up in every corner. First the marines, then Hollow. He was pulling strings from both sides like it was a game. Then he somehow wormed his way in with the royal guards... and now we find out he's connected to the Holy Arches too?"
Temoshí clenched his fists, staring at the ground. "If he's really tied to them... then that means he might've had a hand in the Deadly Rain. Maybe even this Soul Severing technique. It all lines up too well to be coincidence. Every time something happens, his name finds its way in the cracks."
He looked up, the unease in his gaze reflecting something deeper—betrayal, confusion, and a growing sense that they were tangled in something far more intricate than they'd realized.
"If Desmond's behind all of this… then he's not just a spy or a traitor. He's something else entirely."
Fioren broke the silence, her voice thoughtful yet edged with concern. The pieces just didn't fit neatly anymore—how could Desmond, one man, be tied to so many threads of chaos? And yet, time and again, his name returned like a haunting echo.
"Desmond's name keeps popping up," she said, raising a finger gently to her lips. "And more often than not, what's said about him turns out to be true. All the betrayals, all the secret movements… he's always involved somehow. But I've been wondering—does he really act alone? Or is someone else pulling the strings behind the curtain?"
She glanced toward the group. "Let's be real—even the marines don't seem to know what his endgame is. That says a lot."
Fioren always had a level-headed way of thinking, rooted in reason and unanswered questions. Desmond was a piece of the puzzle—an elusive one they couldn't quite fit into place yet.
But the weight of all this didn't fall on her shoulders alone. Chiaki, though silent, was clearly shaken. Not only by the growing uncertainty surrounding the collapse of her family or the marines' involvement in the "Deadly Rain"… but something even worse. The existence of a soul-based ability, one capable of severing the very essence of a person, was more terrifying than anything she could have imagined. The idea that someone could shatter her soul—erase her identity, her bonds—struck her deeper than any blade ever could.
Temoshí's voice cut through the stillness like a blade, firm yet filled with an undeniable warmth. He didn't raise it in anger, nor in desperation—but with purpose. The kind of voice that no longer entertained doubts. There was no fear, no hesitation left in him.
"We're not backing down."
Those words weren't just for Chiaki. They were for all of them—spoken like a vow, a declaration rooted in everything they'd endured together. From sun-scorched islands to the frozen edges of forgotten ruins, from betrayals within the Marine ranks to the storm-riddled battles at sea… they had stood side by side. Even when the odds were stacked sky-high, they didn't fall apart—they only grew stronger.
Temoshí turned to Chiaki. Her face was pale, strained with the weight of everything she'd learned. Her hair danced lightly with the breeze, but her eyes were distant, lost in the swirl of dark thoughts. Gently, without saying a word, he stepped closer and reached for her hood, pulling it over her head to shield her from the chill. His touch was careful—protective, but not possessive. Then, with a small, familiar smile, he adjusted his own scarf and gave it a tug around his neck as he turned toward the open sea.
The wind picked up, carrying the salty air of Lyvoria Crest. The vast ocean glimmered beneath the golden sun, the waves pulsing like the very heartbeat of their journey. Chiaki blinked, a bit confused at first, her fingers brushing against the fabric of her hood. It had been such a small gesture—yet in that moment, it said more than words ever could.
Temoshí stood at the edge of the path, his posture firm, his back tall and proud. "Do you remember what we talked about?" he asked, glancing back at her. "The promise we made with everyone?"
He didn't need to say more. The memories came flooding in on their own—voices laughing over campfires, shared meals under starlit skies, bruised hands reaching out to lift each other from defeat. It was a promise born not from duty, but from something deeper. A bond stronger than fate.
~
"Listen closely, and take this to heart. I don't care where you're from, who you used to be, or how many pieces of yourself you've buried away. I don't need to understand everything about you to know one unshakable truth—I'm not letting you go. Not now. Not ever. Even if the world falls apart. Even if I'm shattered beyond repair. Even if everything we know disappears into nothing… I'll still be here. You've found a place in my heart, and that's where you'll stay. Always."
~
Chiaki felt her breath catch. Her fears didn't vanish—but they softened. The cold weight in her chest warmed just enough to beat with hope again.
Behind them, Yuka stood quietly, arms crossed and a rare smile forming at the corner of her lips. Fioren remained ever-watchful, eyes narrowed, but not with suspicion—only readiness. And Razor, still crouched nearby, squinted up at the sky and muttered something about the wind trying to flash her tentacles.
For once, no one laughed. But they didn't need to. This moment wasn't about jokes or chaos. It was about being seen. Being reminded that they weren't alone. That no matter how cruel the world became—they had each other.
Chiaki hesitated at first, unsure if her voice would carry the weight of what she truly felt—but this time, unlike two years ago, she didn't stay silent.
"I remember that promise. I really do. But you don't understand everything, not the way I felt back then. Two years ago, I wanted to disappear. I truly believed I didn't deserve to live. But you... you never let me fall. You stood between me and the world like it was nothing, like your life didn't matter as long as I kept breathing. And I hated that, even if it saved me."
She looked him in the eyes now, her voice steadier.
"But I'm not the same girl I was. I've fought, I've grown. I used to stay in the back, thinking all I could do was help from the sidelines. Not anymore. I can fight now. I can protect the people I care about. I don't want you always throwing yourself in front of me. I don't want to see you broken or bleeding just because I was too weak. I don't need you to die for me. I need you to live—with me."
She clenched her fists tightly at her sides, trembling just a little, but her eyes were fierce and sincere.
For a moment, Temoshí blinked in mild surprise—but then, as if the weight of her words simply rolled off his shoulders in the best way, he gave a quiet laugh and smiled without a trace of worry, like none of the world's dangers could reach him.
"Y'know, all this time—through every fight, every storm, every stupid near-death mess we walked into—I've never died. Not even once. And that streak's not ending any time soon, so you can stop worrying so much," he said, his voice light but full of conviction.
Then he turned to face her fully, his hand still resting on his hip with that signature confidence.
"And let's be real. Even if I did bite it somehow… you'd never accept that. You'd tear through the world itself just to drag me back. I can see it already—storming through fire, yelling at the afterlife like it owes you a refund." His grin widened. "And honestly? I'd do the same for you. No hesitation."
His voice softened a bit, but the fire in it didn't fade.
"That's the kind of bond we've got, right? We don't let each other disappear—not without a damn fight."
Razor clutched her head where Fioren had smacked her, then dramatically dropped to the ground like she'd been mortally wounded. "Aaagh! My brain tentacle! You hit the part where I store all my good jokes!" she howled, flailing like a dying fish.
But Fioren wasn't done. "I told you to shut your stupid mouth for five seconds!" she roared, her face fuming as she raised both fists and brought them down like twin hammers on Razor's head.
"Double strike!? No fair!" Razor cried out as stars spun around her, her body squashed flat like a cartoon pancake before she slowly puffed back into shape with a dramatic pop!
Then she popped up again with that same manic grin and pointed a wobbly tentacle finger at Chiaki and Temoshí. "You two better kiss before the next villain shows up and ruins it! I swear, if this turns into one of those 'almost kiss but interrupted by explosions' scenes, I'm gonna riot! I'll toss seafood at BOTH of you!"
She dug into her pouch, pulling out an old, suspiciously slimy clam. "See this? This is Gary. He's been marinating for weeks. Don't test me, lovers!"
"RAZOR!!" Fioren exploded again, grabbing her by the face and slamming her into the ground so hard her legs flew up like a ragdoll's.
Razor held her head with an exaggerated gasp, staggering like she'd been struck by lightning. "Oww! Fioren, you hit the funny part of my brain! That's where I keep all my one-liners and emotional damage!"
Fioren didn't even hesitate—she grabbed Razor's ear-tentacle like a frustrated mom yanking a misbehaving kid out of the candy aisle. "You absolute octo-menace! Can't you go one minute without saying something stupid?!"
Razor flailed dramatically, spinning in slow circles as Fioren dragged her back. "I was helping! Emotional support is important! I'm like the emotional chaos therapist! You can't silence this kind of talent!"
"Watch me," Fioren grumbled, trying not to laugh.
But Razor, never one to stay down, popped back up, wobbling slightly. "Alright, but seriously, if you two don't confess soon, I'm organizing a wedding myself. With tuna-themed decorations. You hear me, Chiaki? TUNA."
She pulled out a tiny notebook labeled Emergency Romance Plans and started scribbling furiously with her tongue sticking out. "Oh yeah. We're talking ring pops, seaweed veils, and instead of rice—confetti fish guts. Romantic, right?!"
Fioren blinked in disbelief. "You are... deeply unwell."
Razor beamed. "Aw, you do care!" then burst into her usual cackling, "wa-hahahahaha!" as she skipped away like the happiest, weirdest octopus to ever live.
Yuka stood quietly, watching the entire scene unfold like a slapstick stage play. As Razor zipped around yelling about tuna-themed weddings and fish-gut confetti, Yuka slowly raised a hand to scratch the side of her cheek, a bemused look stretching across her face.
"…Is she always like this?" she asked softly, her voice tinged with hesitation as if she genuinely wasn't sure whether Razor was some kind of elaborate hallucination.
Chiaki sighed with the weight of a thousand headaches. "Unfortunately, yes."
Yuka leaned closer to Fioren and whispered behind her hand, "Wait... is she actually a human? I thought she was like... some rare breed of hallucinating sea otter."
Fioren deadpanned, still holding Razor's tentacle-ear like it was a leash. "She's part shark, part cephalopod, and somehow still the most chaotic thing we've ever picked up. Just accept it and move on."
Razor, oblivious to the side commentary, was now trying to fashion a tiara out of discarded spoons and muttering, "I dub myself... Princess of Emotional Disasters."
Yuka blinked slowly, then nodded to herself. "Yep. Definitely not a human... or at least emotionally. The rest is a scientific mystery."
To be continued...