Toki stood in the entry hall, snow melting slowly from his boots onto polished wood. The air smelled of bread, onions, and faint woodsmoke. Somewhere deeper inside the house, metal struck wood in a steady rhythm.
Knife against cutting board.
He closed his eyes.
Of course.
Yuki always woke before dawn.
He moved toward the kitchen.
Each step felt unreal, as if he were walking through a memory instead of the present. His clothes were stiff with frozen water and blood. His hands trembled at his sides.
The kitchen door stood open.
Yuki was there, sleeves rolled up, hair loosely tied back. A potato slipped from the table and rolled across the floor. She bent slightly to reach it.
She didn't turn around.
"If you're awake this early," she said dryly, "make yourself useful. The knife's in the drawer. Potatoes are by the table."
Normal.
So painfully normal.
Toki's throat tightened.
He stepped to the drawer and opened it slowly.
The kitchen knife rested inside, worn from years of use.
How many times had he stood here like this? How many mornings had she laughed at his clumsy peeling? How many times had she flicked water at him when he cut uneven slices?
His hand shook as he picked it up.
He could leave.
He could drop it.
He stepped forward.
Yuki leaned farther over the table, reaching for an onion that had rolled near the edge.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Then he drove the blade into her back with all the strength he had.
Her body jolted violently.
The sound that escaped her was not just pain — it was confusion. Shock. Betrayal.
She collapsed forward, but Toki caught her before she hit the ground. He lowered her carefully, almost tenderly, as if laying her down for sleep.
Blood spread across the floor, dark and fast.
She coughed weakly.
Then she laughed.
It was faint. Breathless.
"Ha… I knew…" she murmured. "I knew I shouldn't trust you."
Toki shook his head frantically. "No. Don't say that."
"I wasn't… gentle with you," she whispered. "I thought if I pushed you… you'd grow stronger."
Her eyes searched his face.
Not hatred.
Not fear.
Something unbearably soft.
"I don't understand," she breathed. "Why can't I hate you?"
His vision blurred.
"Please," she whispered. "Have mercy… on the others…"
Her pupils faded slowly.
Her body grew still in his arms.
Toki pulled the knife free and stood.
He walked toward the door.
It opened suddenly.
Suzume stood there, alarmed. "What was that sound—?"
She saw the floor.
She saw Yuki.
She saw him.
"Toki?" she whispered.
He moved before she could scream.
It was quick.
She struggled only briefly.
He lowered her gently beside Yuki and brushed her hair away from her face.
"You were always a mother to them," he murmured. "But this world devours mothers."
He left the kitchen.
Steam filled the bathing chamber.
Ozvold's voice echoed lazily through the mist. "You coming to clean up before patrol?"
Toki stepped inside. His soaked clothes clung to his skin.
Ozvold sat submerged in the bath, relaxed.
"Pass me that towel," Ozvold said casually. "And close the door — you're letting the heat out."
Toki picked up the towel and tossed it over Ozvold's face.
"What the—?"
Before he could react further, Toki seized him and forced him beneath the water.
Ozvold thrashed violently, shock turning to resistance. Water sloshed against stone. Steam swirled chaotically.
"Toki—!" His voice choked into bubbles.
Toki leaned over him, pressing down with both hands.
"You already died for me," Toki whispered. "I saw it. I watched you die."
Ozvold's strength weakened gradually.
"You're my brother," Toki said hoarsely. "And I won't let you suffer again."
The water eventually stilled.
When he rose, his clothes were soaked through.
He did not look back.
He knocked on Lilith's door.
She opened it with a faint smile. "Changed your mind? You want me to come with you?"
The revolver was already pressed to her forehead.
Her smile faded as she saw his eyes.
"You look exhausted," she said softly.
The gunshot echoed through the corridor.
She fell instantly.
"Between you and Rosalin," he murmured, lowering the weapon, "you were always the better sister."
He opened the triplets' door.
Inside, morning light filtered through thin curtains, casting pale gold across the room. The air smelled faintly of lavender oil and cold winter linen. The three of them sat on the floor near the mirror, backs half-turned toward him.
Haru sat in the middle, her small hands clumsily trying to braid Natsu's hair while Aki complained that it was too tight. Their laughter overlapped — light, unguarded, warm.
For a second, Toki simply stood there.
Memorizing it.
Haru noticed him first.
Her face lit up immediately.
"Toki!"
Natsu turned next, smiling wide. "You're early today!"
Aki squinted at him in confusion. "Why are your clothes wet?"
He stepped inside.
And closed the door behind him.
The click of the lock was soft.
They didn't notice at first.
He slid the bolt into place.
The metallic sound made Aki glance over.
Her eyes moved to his hand.
Then lower.
To the sword.
The smile disappeared from her face.
Natsu followed her gaze.
Haru was slower to understand.
"Toki?" she asked again, softer this time.
He drew the blade.
The steel whispered as it left the sheath.
The sound changed the room.
Something invisible shifted in the air.
The girls instinctively moved closer together.
Not because they understood fully.
But because children always sense danger before they comprehend it.
He took one slow step forward.
They retreated.
Another step.
They reached the corner of the room.
There was nowhere else to go.
Haru clutched Natsu's sleeve.
Natsu placed herself slightly in front of her sisters, trembling but trying to stand straight. Aki grabbed Hana's hand tightly.
"Toki…?" Natsu whispered.
His heart pounded so violently he thought it might tear itself apart.
He lifted one finger to his lips.
"Don't scream."
His voice was calm.
The kind of calm that comes only after something inside has already shattered.
They didn't scream.
They couldn't.
Their bodies were too frozen with fear.
Haru's lip quivered. "Did we… do something wrong?"
The question struck him like a blade.
He knelt slowly so that he was at eye level with them.
"I'll write a story," he whispered, his voice breaking despite himself. "A story where no one hurts you. Where no one chases you. Where we can all laugh without looking over our shoulders."
Aki's eyes filled with tears. "Why are you saying it like that?"
He swallowed.
Because in every other story, you die.
Because the world outside this room is merciless.
Because I am too weak to save you properly.
Haru suddenly reached out with shaking hands and grabbed his sleeve.
"You're scaring me."
That did it.
For one split second — just one — he almost dropped the sword.
But the images returned again, relentless.
His grip tightened.
He stood.
They huddled together fully now, arms wrapped around each other.
"Please…" Natsu whispered.
He closed his eyes.
"I won't let it hurt," he said.
It was unclear whether he meant them.
Or himself.
The room fell into a suffocating stillness.
The morning light did not change.
The curtains did not move.
The world outside continued breathing.
Inside, something ended.
When it was over, the room was quiet.
The mirror still reflected three small ribbons on the floor where they had fallen from unfinished braids.
Toki stood in the center of the room, sword hanging loosely from his hand.
He did not look at them.
He could not.
His breathing came shallow and uneven, as if his lungs had forgotten how to function properly.
He didn't allow himself to think.
The door handle turned.
"Toki? What are you doing in there?"
Tora's voice.
He stepped out.
She saw the room behind him.
Her eyes went wide.
She ran.
He chased.
She tore free from his grasp and fled into Kandaki's room.
Kandaki stood armed.
"Master… what is happening?"
Toki approached slowly.
"As your teacher, it's my duty to protect you from a dark future."
Kandaki shattered the window and leapt out, dragging Tora and Hana.
Toki followed.
The glass from the shattered window still rained down behind him as he leapt. The cold air struck his face like a slap, snapping against skin already numb from shock. For a split second, suspended above the courtyard, he saw them beneath him—Kandaki bracing his body around Tora and little Hana, twisting mid-air to shield them from the fall.
They hit the snow hard.
The impact drove the breath from Kandaki's lungs, but he did not cry out. He rolled, absorbing most of it, and forced himself upright immediately. Snow clung to his hair and lashes. Blood already seeped through the thin fabric around his side from the broken glass.
"Tora—run!" he shouted, shoving her toward the gate with shaking hands. "Don't look back!"
Tora hesitated only half a heartbeat before grabbing Hana's wrist and pulling her forward. Hana stumbled, crying, her tiny legs struggling to keep pace through the deep snow.
Kandaki turned to face Toki.
For the first time since Toki had met him, there was no doubt in his eyes. No confusion.
He lunged.
The blade struck Toki's leg, biting deep enough that warm blood spilled down into the snow.
Toki barely reacted.
Pain no longer reached him properly. It was distant. Abstract. Like something remembered from another life.
Kandaki tried to pull the sword free for another strike, but Toki stepped in close, closing the distance so there was no room to swing.
Their faces were inches apart.
"Master," Kandaki breathed, voice breaking. "Please… wake up."
Toki looked at him—not as an enemy.
As a memory.
As the boy who once trained until his hands bled just to hear a single word of praise.
Slowly, almost gently, Toki placed his palm against Kandaki's head.
"You are a good brother," he whispered. "And a better disciple than I ever deserved."
For a second, Kandaki's expression softened. As if part of him believed this was some cruel test.
Then Toki twisted sharply.
The resistance lasted less than a heartbeat.
Kandaki's body slackened instantly, collapsing into Toki's arms before sliding into the snow.
Toki lowered him carefully.
He did not look at his face again.
Tora had nearly reached the gate.
She was faster than she used to be. Her training showed in the way she leaned forward against the resistance of the snow, in the way she adjusted her footing instinctively.
Hana stumbled beside her, sobbing.
Toki moved.
Despite the wound in his leg, he was faster.
He caught Tora's wrist just before her fingers touched the iron bars.
She screamed—not words, just raw terror.
He held her firmly, not cruelly.
"You're faster now," he said faintly, almost conversationally.
She tried to tear free, kicking, clawing at his arm.
"Let me go! Let me go! Please!"
Her voice cracked into something small and broken.
He closed his eyes.
For one fragile moment, he imagined letting her run. Imagined turning around. Imagined undoing everything.
But he had seen her die before.
He had watched her body among the snowmen.
He would not watch that again.
When he opened his eyes, they were empty.
Her struggling stopped soon after.
The gate stood silent, untouched.
Hana had fallen in the snow.
She wasn't running anymore.
She was digging.
Her tiny hands clawed at the snow desperately, trying to make a hole big enough to hide inside. As if the earth itself could protect her.
"Hana," Toki said hoarsely.
She looked up at him.
Her face was wet with tears. Snow clung to her lashes.
He knelt and lifted her into his arms.
She wrapped herself around him immediately, small arms clinging to his neck with desperate trust.
"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair. "It was just a bad dream. That's all it was."
She nodded weakly against his shoulder, trusting him completely.
He carried her to the rain barrel near the wall of the manor.
A thin sheet of ice had formed over the surface. He struck it with his fist, cracking it open. Frigid water sloshed beneath.
"Close your eyes," he said softly.
She obeyed without question.
He kissed her forehead.
His hands trembled violently.
For a second—just one—he almost pulled her back.
He lowered her gently into the barrel.
He sealed the lid.
Inside, her small fists began striking against the wood. Rapid at first. Panicked.
Toki pressed his forehead to the lid, gripping it tightly.
"I can't watch it again," he sobbed. "I can't lose you like that again."
The knocking slowed.
Weakened.
Then stopped.
The courtyard fell into a silence so absolute it felt unnatural.
The manor door burst open.
Utsuki stood there, fire blooming around her hands, her hair wild.
"Toki?" she called.
Then she saw.
The snow.
The bodies.
The overturned shapes in white.
Him.
Her flames flickered violently.
"This isn't you," she whispered. "This isn't my Toki. Who are you?"
He said nothing.
She threw fire.
It roared toward him in a wave of heat and fury. He raised his sword instinctively, shielding himself, but the flames licked across his skin. Pain returned suddenly and viciously. The smell of burning fabric filled the air.
He staggered.
She advanced, tears streaming down her face.
"Answer me!"
He scooped up snow and hurled it into her eyes.
She gasped, blinded for a split second.
He closed the distance and tackled her into the snow.
They hit the ground hard.
He pinned her down, hands closing around her throat.
"Why don't you ever listen to me?" he screamed, voice breaking apart. "I told you not to come to the city! I told you!"
She clawed at his wrists, struggling for breath.
"Do you know what I sacrificed for you?" he shouted. "Do you know how many times I watched you die? Do you know they're trying to take you from me?"
His tears fell onto her face, mixing with melting snow.
"I'm insane!" he choked. "I'm madly in love with you! Do you understand that? I would burn the world before I let it have you!"
Her hands rose weakly.
Instead of pushing him away—
She touched his cheek.
Gently.
A small, broken smile formed on her lips.
Forgiveness.
Even now.
"Don't look at me like that," he sobbed. "Hate me. Please. Hate me!"
His grip faltered.
But his emotions did not.
In his desperation, he shoved her down too hard.
Her head struck the frozen ground beneath the snow.
The sound was dull.
Final.
Her body went slack.
The snow beneath her darkened slowly.
Toki froze.
"No," he whispered.
He waited for her chest to rise.
It didn't.
He shook her shoulders lightly.
"Utsuki."
Nothing.
His hands began to tremble uncontrollably.
He stared at them as if they belonged to someone else.
The courtyard was silent.
Completely silent.
Only the faint sound of snow beginning to fall.
Soft flakes drifted down around him, settling on his shoulders, on Utsuki's still face, on the blood-marked snow.
As if the sky itself were trying to cover what he had done.
Toki tilted his head back toward the gray heavens.
A scream tore out of him—raw, animal, stripped of language.
Not rage.
Not defiance.
Just grief so immense it hollowed him from the inside.
He collapsed beside her, gathering her lifeless body into his arms, rocking back and forth in the falling snow.
"I saved you," he whispered brokenly. "I saved all of you."
Toki collapsed in the courtyard, sobbing uncontrollably, surrounded by the quiet world he had chosen to empty with his own hands.
A hand pulled him up from the snow.
Toki didn't resist. His knees had already given out, and the cold no longer meant anything.
He looked up.
Green eyes. Blond hair pulled back. One sleeve empty where a hand should have been.
It was the Star Collector.
Their breath fogged between them in the frozen air. Snow fell softly around them, quiet and indifferent.
The man studied Toki's face for a long moment.
"You're a monster," he said at last.
The words were not shouted.
They were stated.
A verdict, not an accusation.
Toki's lips parted, but no sound came out.
"He was right," the Star Collector continued calmly. "You're the same."
Toki's mind lagged behind the meaning.
He was right.
No…
"No more warnings," the man said, releasing him. "You've gone too far."
Toki staggered but remained standing.
"He is waiting for you."
The realization did not come gently.
It struck.
The red lotus carved into the victims' necks.
The same red lotus Leonard had once drawn.
Leonard's voice, quiet and certain:
"I'll be waiting for you."
Toki's breath hitched.
The courtyard. The markings. The pattern.
It was never random.
It was never chaos.
His hands shot into his hair, fingers tangling, pulling violently as if he could tear the thoughts out by force.
"No… no, no, no…"
It couldn't be.
It couldn't.
His heartbeat became erratic, deafening in his ears.
The Star Collector turned his back to him, snow settling across his shoulders.
"Leonard Maho is waiting for you...."