The morning was gentle.
A pale breeze carried the scent of dew across the hills of the Eternal Lights Cemetery, where time itself seemed to hold its breath.
Kyuroto Mitsuyo walked the familiar path, the same one he had stumbled down three years before as a crying twelve-year-old boy.
Now his steps were sure, measured.
His frame taller, his presence deeper — but his heart still carried the echo of that night.
In his hands, he held two flowers:
a white lotus, for peace,
and a red sakura, for memory.
He stopped before the two gravestones glowing softly in the morning light.
> Mitsuyo Renzou – The Phantom Strategist
Amane Kyoko – The Light Beneath the Shadow
He knelt, placing the flowers side by side.
The petals stirred, responding faintly to his aura, as though bowing in acknowledgment.
> "It's been three years," he whispered.
"I kept training… I became stronger, just like you wanted."
He paused, the calm mask faltering for the first time in years.
A single tear traced down his cheek, landing quietly on the marble.
> "Father… I still remember your words — never lose balance.
I'm trying. I promise I am."
"Mother… I still hear your voice every night. I wish you could see what I've become."
The wind answered softly, brushing his hair across his face.
He smiled faintly — not from joy, but from the fragile comfort that maybe, somewhere, they still watched him.
He reached out, fingertips touching the carved names.
> "There's still so much I don't understand.
So many enemies hiding behind shadows.
But I'll find them — not out of hatred, but because you deserve peace."
His voice trembled.
> "I thought if I grew strong enough, I wouldn't cry again…"
Another tear fell.
"But even now, I can't help it."
He closed his eyes, breathing slowly until the tears stopped. The serenity returned — but this time, it wasn't a mask. It was acceptance.
He rose, standing tall beneath the falling petals.
The sunlight caught his eyes — galaxies of red and green glinting like twin stars.
> "Goodbye, Mom. Goodbye, Dad."
"I'll come back when the world is safe again."
He turned, his coat fluttering as the wind swirled behind him. The cherry blossoms rose into the air — hundreds of petals following his path like a gentle storm.
As he walked away, the cemetery shimmered with quiet light.
For a moment, two faint figures appeared in the drifting petals — smiling, proud, peaceful — before dissolving back into the wind.
Kyuroto didn't look back.
He didn't need to.
He could feel them there — in every breath, every heartbeat, every thread of the infinite.
And when he whispered one final time —
> "Thank you…"
— the world itself seemed to bow in silence.
---