Yoriichi opened his eyes. Xiao Yu had returned from the adjoining washroom. But she wasn't carrying a blanket to the armchair. She was wearing her spare nightclothes—a modest but incredibly soft set of pale blue silk pajamas.
He blinked, genuine confusion breaking his stoic mask. 'Why is she coming back in now? And dressed for sleep?'
Before he could voice his thoughts, Xiao Yu marched up to the side of the bed. Unhesitatingly, she kicked off her slippers and climbed up onto the mattress. She pulled the thick, embroidered quilt back, slid under it, and made herself comfortable right next to him.
She fluffed her pillow, sighed in contentment, and then turned her head. She caught Yoriichi staring at her, his crimson eyes wide with silent bewilderment.
A furious, vibrant blush exploded across Xiao Yu's face.
"Idiot brother, why are you staring at me like a fool?" she asked embarrassedly, trying to sound fierce to cover her overwhelming shyness.
Yoriichi's mouth twitched. It was the faintest ghost of an amused smile. He had lived for over eighty years in his past life, observing the strict, rigid boundaries of samurai society. This level of casual intimacy was entirely foreign to him, yet undeniably endearing.
"Now that you could sleep in any of the other rooms in this courtyard," Yoriichi asked calmly, his tone completely flat, "why here?"
Xiao Yu pouted, crossing her arms defensively under the blanket.
"Of course, to watch over you," she declared, raising her chin stubbornly. "I can't let my precious brother sleep alone when he looks so... broken."
The word 'broken' hung in the air, heavy and piercingly true. The playful atmosphere instantly evaporated, replaced by a raw, fragile honesty. Both of them grew silent.
Xiao Yu's pout softened into a look of deep, vulnerable affection. "At least for now, I don't want you to do crazy things. I need to make sure you are actually breathing. And..." she looked away, her voice dropping to a trembling whisper, "it would calm my mind also. When I saw Grandmaster Tie Shan carrying you covered in blood... I thought I lost you again."
Yoriichi looked at her. He saw the slight tremor in her hands clutched over the blanket. He realized that his reckless pursuit of strength was taking a toll not just on his own body, but on the heart of the person who cared for him the most.
She then shimmied closer, snuggling up comfortably beside him until their shoulders brushed.
Yoriichi raised an eyebrow. He stared at the ceiling for a long minute of silence, processing the situation.
"Okay," Yoriichi finally said, his voice laced with a rare, incredibly dry thread of humor. "But try not to fall down. I am a bad sleeper."
It was a blatant lie. Yoriichi slept like a corpse—perfectly still, his breathing regulated by his techniques. But the subtle joke made Xiao Yu huff out a small, wet laugh, easing the lingering tension in the room.
Yoriichi rolled over, turning his back to her and facing the large window.
The moonlight streamed through the paper lattice, casting long, pale geometric shadows across the wooden floor. The world outside was quiet. Too quiet.
And with the silence came the ghosts.
As Yoriichi stared into the cold moonlight, the dark thoughts began to rise again like toxic smoke. The mental dam he had built shattered. He saw the glowing, unstable katana on the anvil. He heard the screech of the beast core rejecting the foreign Dou Qi.
'It rejected me,' the thought echoed in the chambers of his mind. 'The energy of this world rejected my design. Without the Sun Steel, without a Nichirin blade, my Sun Breathing Style is crippled.'
The smell of ozone morphed into the smell of coppery blood. He was no longer in the Xiao Clan estate. In his mind, he was standing in a moonlit forest.
A monster with multiple hearts and brains, regenerating instantly, was standing before him. He felt the horrific realization as the demon split its body into eighteen hundred pieces, escaping into the night, dooming the world to centuries more of bloodshed.
'If I cannot forge a blade in this world... how can I protect them?' His breathing hitched, the rhythm violently faltering as a cold grip of anxiety tightened around his chest. 'If a demon like Muzan existed here, or if a threat of equal malice approached the Xiao Clan... I would fail. Just like I failed before. I am powerless.'
The void of despair threatened to drag his usually unshakeable Dao heart down into the abyss. His body grew rigid, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.
Suddenly, a warm weight settled over him.
Xiao Yu had shifted in the bed. Snuggling flush against his rigid back, she threw one of her long, slender legs over his, and wrapped a delicate but firm arm securely around his waist, effectively locking him in a tight, fiercely affectionate embrace.
Yoriichi stiffened in shock.
But then, the warmth seeped in.
It was an incredible, grounding heat. It wasn't the volatile, explosive heat of the forge, nor the burning, destructive heat of the Sun Breathing. It was the pure, steady warmth of another human being. It was the warmth of family.
It felt as though her body was a physical anchor, tying him down to reality. It pulled him out of the Sengoku period. It reminded him that he was not surrounded by demons, he was not a solitary god among men, and he was not alone. The crushing, suffocating weight of his depression began to instantly melt away under her touch.
Her head shifted, burying her face into the crook of his neck from behind. Her soft breath tickled his skin.
"Sleep, you little fool," Xiao Yu whispered. Her voice was muffled against his hair, but it was thick with a fierce, unbreakable loyalty. "Together we can solve it, if you are in some problem. You don't have to carry the sky by yourself. Just rest now and close your eyes."
Yoriichi's crimson eyes widened slightly in the dark.
Together we can solve it.
In his previous life, he had carried the burden of the world alone because no one else could stand beside him. But here, in this universe, he was Xiao Ning. And Xiao Ning had a sister who would boldly reach into the abyss and pull him out.
A profound, shuddering sigh escaped Yoriichi's lips. It carried out the last remnants of his dark frustration, leaving behind a clean, empty vessel. All the negative, poisonous thoughts vanished, scattered by the simple, profound power of a sibling's love.
"Hmm," Yoriichi whispered back, his voice incredibly soft, finally allowing his heavy eyelids to drift shut. "Good night then."
"Good night..." Xiao Yu murmured, her breathing already evening out into the steady, peaceful rhythm of sleep.
The night marched on. The moonlight shifted across the room, illuminating the two siblings resting peacefully against the harsh realities of the world.
Deep inside Yoriichi's chest, right beneath the newly healed scar, the dark void of failure had been filled. In its place, a small, brilliant flame of hope began to rise. The sword had shattered, yes. But his spirit had not.
Like a new dawn, tomorrow promised a new journey. He would find a way to forge his blade, not just with steel and fire, but with the strength he drew from the people holding him together.