"...Mom."
The trembling voice came from outside the shrine. Before Raizen could turn, a small figure burst through the doorway—Amamiya Yume, her eyes wide and wet with panic. She stumbled forward and threw herself into Zhige's arms.
"Mom!" Her voice cracked, breaking into sobs. "Mom, I saw it again—!"
Zhige's expression softened, though her gaze held that same quiet sorrow Raizen had seen before. She gently brushed her daughter's hair aside, speaking in a tone as calm as falling ash."Yume... what did you see this time?"
Yume's lip trembled. She lifted her tear-streaked face, voice barely holding together."I saw you... I saw you die."
Zhige didn't flinch. "So that's it," she murmured. "Then the vision remains the same."
Raizen blinked, unsure he'd heard right.She's talking about her own death like she's discussing the weather.
Zhige smiled faintly, almost at peace. "It's all right. A Miko's duty ends where her life does. That's the way of it."
Yume broke again, clutching tighter to her mother's robe. "No! You can't say that!"
"Yume," Zhige whispered, "fate is a current we can't swim against. Fear won't stop it. Even death must be faced with stillness."
Raizen's brow twitched. "Fate, huh?" He let out a quiet, humorless laugh. "I've heard that word too many times. Always some cosmic excuse for giving up."
Zhige turned to him then, her tone patient yet heavy with finality. "Raizen."
He looked up, jaw set.
"Maybe I'll die tomorrow. Maybe the day after," she said simply. "You're a shinobi. You understand power. So... when that happens, please protect my daughter. That's all I ask of you."
Raizen froze. "What—?"
But before he could say more, Zhige knelt before him—formal, resolute, her forehead touching the cold floor.
"Hey, don't do that," Raizen muttered, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. "I'm not a god."
Still, when he looked at Yume's trembling hands, he sighed. "...Fine. You have my word. I'll protect her. Whatever it takes."
"Thank you," Zhige whispered. Her shoulders eased. She took her daughter's hand, guiding her to Raizen's side.
Then she removed a small silver bell from around her neck—the shrine's sacred charm—and pressed it into Yume's palm.
"From today onward," she said softly, "you are the new Miko of the Land of Ghosts."
The bell chimed once, a fragile sound that seemed to echo through the shrine. Yume clutched it tightly, her tears slowing as her violet eyes began to glow faintly—like lotus petals blooming beneath moonlight.
For an instant, time itself seemed to fracture. Images flashed before her—blood, fire, the echo of screams. Raizen standing amid it all... unmoving. Cold chakra flickered through her vision, dark and alien.
Then came the stillness.And death.
"You'll die," Yume whispered, eyes wide, staring straight at Raizen.
Raizen blinked. "...Me?"
Yume nodded once, voice trembling but clear. "You'll die. I saw it."
For a moment, silence. Then Raizen actually laughed—low and rough. "Yeah? Well, thanks for the spoiler. But you know what?" He leaned closer, a grin curling at the edge of his mouth. "I'm not planning to give the universe good ratings."
"Fate can't be changed," Yume said quietly, her voice already fading into resignation.
Raizen just snorted. "Maybe. But if I've got chakra in my hands and air in my lungs... I'll damn well try."
Zhige watched them both with weary eyes. The faint chakra glow around her body flickered, fading like a candle in the wind.
If someone can defy fate, she thought, let it be him.
By the next morning, Raizen was awake before dawn. The entire village was already stirring—guards shouting orders, sealing teams preparing runes, smoke from torches filling the early mist.
Word spread fast: Zhige had repaired the Guardian Monument last night. Today, she would attempt the final sealing of the Sprite.
Raizen tightened the straps on his bracers, face grim.So it's today... the day everything ends.
He remembered Zhige's words from last night—the four rogues who once stole the Sprite's power. They'd be coming, no doubt about it.
And if they came... then Zhige's death wasn't prophecy anymore. It was schedule.
"...Guess it's my turn to flip the script," Raizen muttered, stepping out into the smoke.