The sky burned red the day Ayaka no Tsukihana fell.
Amid crumbling temples and blood-soaked petals, her blade was the last to lower. The bodies of her enemies—and her allies—lay frozen in twisted silence beneath the moonlight she once worshipped. She stood atop the broken steps of the Shrine of Eternal Bloom, heart hollow, eyes distant. The whispers of betrayal clung to the wind like ashes. The world below trembled, not from war, but from the consequences of her choice. "This was mercy," she told herself, fingers trembling on the hilt of her Moonblade.
"No... this was cowardice."
Somewhere beyond the carnage, a girl cried out. Not in pain, but in disbelief—
Eyes filled with tears, light, and the question that would never find an answer:
"Why?"
Ayaka turned her back. And the world… ended.
.....
When she awoke centuries later, it was not to glory or redemption—But to silence. To cold. To snow falling gently over a dying village. The moon still watched her. "If this is fate's cruelty..." she whispered, "Then let me be crueler. For her."