The fire crackled in the corner of the cell, casting flickering shadows that danced like ghosts along the stone walls. Its light barely reached past their feet—
But in this place, even a flicker felt like sunrise.
Rei sat with his back to the wall, arms resting loosely across his knees, eyes half-lidded. His breath had slowed. The whisper of the Rift — that hungry presence stitched into the mark across his chest — had receded.
Not vanished.
Just watching.
Just waiting.
Across from him, Kaia sat cross-legged, sharpening her twin bone knives.
Not out of need.
Out of ritual.
Each stroke of the blade across the whetstone was measured. Controlled. It tethered her. Not to the cell, but to herself.
Rei glanced at her — not with curiosity, not even admiration.
With relief.
Because she was the only real thing in this place.
The Void showed him memories that weren't dreams.
Flickers of a life once lived — neon lights smeared by rain, the hum of vending machines, cheap curry buns, warm kotatsu nights and colder beds. A cracked phone screen. Silence.
That kind of silence — the kind that screamed.
And now?
This world.
Chain and cinder.
Blood and breath.
"You were shaking," Kaia said, not looking up.
Rei blinked. "Just the cold."
"Liar."
He gave a soft, breathless chuckle. "Guess I'm not very good at that."
"Good."
She tested the edge of the blade with her thumb.
"This place breeds liars. Best not to become one."
The silence between them didn't feel empty.
It felt… earned.
Rei looked down at the brand beneath his tunic — violet, jagged, alive. It hadn't burned since the Trial. But it pulsed beneath the skin. Not in pain.
In presence.
"What is it?" he asked quietly.
Kaia looked up this time, the fire reflecting in her gold-ringed eyes.
"The brand?"
He nodded.
She slid the blade away and leaned forward slightly, elbows on her knees.
"It's not just a mark," she said.
"It's a beacon. A wound between worlds. A tether."
Rei frowned. "I didn't ask for this."
"No one does."
"Then why me?"
Kaia was quiet for a long beat.
Then she said:
"Because something saw you…"
"And didn't look away."
That struck deeper than he expected.
Because wasn't that all he ever wanted?
To be seen.
Not overlooked. Not pitied. Not forgotten.
The silence that followed wasn't sharp.
It was soft.
Like breath shared under frost.
Kaia stood, stretching slowly. Graceful. Feral. Whole. Her movements were fluid — like snow caught in a flame, untouched but alive.
She walked to the bars and leaned slightly, her profile glowing in the firelight.
She met his eyes again — and held them.
"I don't know what you are," she said, quiet.
"But I've seen what you're not."
"And what's that?"
Her answer was a blade, unsheathed in truth.
"Weak."
Rei blinked.
Then smiled.
Not wide. Not bright.
But real.
Maybe it was the warmth of the fire.
Maybe the ghosts of Tokyo were fading into ash.
Or maybe…
It was the simple truth:
Someone here believed he wasn't already lost.
And for now —
That was enough.