Morning did not arrive in the Swordsmith Village so much as it unfolded.
Heat rose first, slow and steady, carried upward through the stone arteries of the mountain. Forges awakened in sequence, one after another, their rhythm returning with the inevitability of breath. The village was wounded, but it was alive—and life, Karina had learned, was far more resilient than structures.
She stood on a narrow bridge overlooking one of the central foundries, coat folded neatly at her side, sleeves rolled back. Steam drifted past her face as she focused inward, regulating Arcane Breathing with meticulous control.
No lattice.
No externalization.
Just baseline circulation, clean and contained.
Even so, she could feel it—the faint resonance that now existed whether she invoked it or not. A harmonic undertone in her nervous system, like a string that had been tuned and would never return to its former slackness.
"You're awake early," Mitsuri's voice called from behind her.
Karina did not turn immediately. "So are you."
Mitsuri stepped onto the bridge, movements careful but unrestrained. Her shoulder was wrapped securely, her uniform repaired, hair braided loosely down her back to keep it out of the way.
"Shinobu cleared me for light activity," Mitsuri said brightly. "She did not define 'light,' but I assume this counts."
Karina finally turned. "You should not be exerting yourself."
"I'm walking," Mitsuri replied. "Not wrestling an Upper Moon."
A pause. Then, more softly, "Yet."
Karina studied her for a moment longer, then nodded. "Acceptable."
They stood side by side, watching sparks scatter like fireflies below them.
"The village elders are nervous," Mitsuri said after a while. "They're grateful, of course. But they've never seen anything like… that."
Karina understood without explanation. "Visibility increases perceived threat."
"And curiosity," Mitsuri added. "I caught two swordsmiths arguing about whether you bent light or space."
Karina's expression remained neutral. "Both interpretations are incomplete."
Mitsuri laughed quietly. "You say that like it's obvious."
"It is," Karina said. Then, after a beat, "To those with the relevant framework."
Mitsuri tilted her head, studying Karina's profile. "You know, when I first met you, I thought you were intimidating."
Karina blinked. "Only at first?"
Mitsuri smiled. "Now I think you're precise. Like… a blade that refuses to dull itself."
Karina absorbed the comment without deflection. "Precision is a survival trait."
"And affection?" Mitsuri asked lightly. "Is that one too?"
Karina hesitated.
Before she could answer, the sharp clack of geta echoed across the stone walkway.
"Ah," Shinobu said pleasantly as she approached, parasol resting against her shoulder. "I see recovery is progressing at an impressive rate."
Mitsuri straightened instantly. "I promise I'm not doing anything strenuous!"
"Of course not," Shinobu replied, smiling. "You're merely standing near the most scrutinized variable in the Corps."
Karina inclined her head slightly. "Good morning."
"Is it?" Shinobu asked mildly. "That depends."
She unfolded a small scroll and held it out. "You've been summoned. Both of you."
Mitsuri's eyes widened. "Both?"
"Yes," Shinobu said. "A partial Pillar assembly. Informal, but deliberate."
Karina took the scroll, scanning it quickly. "Location?"
"Upper chamber," Shinobu said. "And Karina—Kagaya-sama will be listening."
That confirmed the stakes.
The upper chamber was carved from pale stone, its architecture deliberately minimal. Sunlight filtered through narrow slits high above, casting long, diffuse beams across the floor. The space was designed for clarity—no echoes, no shadows deep enough to hide in.
Several Pillars were already present.
Giyu Tomioka stood near the far wall, arms folded, expression unreadable. Obanai Iguro leaned against a column, serpent eyes tracking movement with quiet intensity. Muichiro Tokito sat cross-legged near the center, gaze distant, as if only partially present.
Conversation stilled as Karina and Mitsuri entered.
Not hostility.
Assessment.
Mitsuri moved to stand beside Karina without conscious thought. The proximity was not lost on anyone.
"Thank you for coming," Kagaya's voice carried softly through the chamber, unseen but unmistakable. "This is not a trial. It is an alignment."
Karina inclined her head. "Understood."
"You engaged an Upper Moon," Kagaya continued. "And survived. More than that—you forced a retreat."
"That outcome was not singular," Karina replied evenly. "It resulted from coordinated effort."
"Yes," Kagaya said gently. "And coordination is precisely what concerns us."
Obanai's gaze sharpened. "Your technique responded to Kanroji's presence."
Mitsuri stiffened slightly. "Is that a problem?"
"It is an unknown," Obanai replied coolly.
Karina spoke before Mitsuri could respond. "The resonance did not originate from emotional proximity alone. It was structural. A convergence of breathing patterns, intent alignment, and synchronized perception."
Muichiro looked up. "Like overlapping waves."
"Yes," Karina said. "Interference patterns."
Giyu finally spoke. "Can it be replicated?"
The question hung in the air.
"I do not know," Karina said honestly. "And I will not attempt to force it."
Kagaya's voice softened further. "That restraint is noted."
There was a pause. Then, "However, Muzan will not exercise the same caution."
Silence.
"We believe he will test this convergence," Kagaya continued. "Indirectly at first. Through provocation. Through those drawn to its gravity."
Mitsuri glanced at Karina. "You mean… us."
"Yes," Kagaya said. "Which is why I ask you both—are you willing to continue operating in proximity, knowing it increases risk?"
Mitsuri answered without hesitation. "Yes."
All eyes turned to Karina.
She felt the weight of it—not judgment, but expectation.
"Yes," she said. "With conditions."
Obanai raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"
"No deliberate exploitation," Karina said. "No forced synchronization. And full withdrawal authority if instability exceeds thresholds."
Muichiro blinked. "You've already defined thresholds."
"I define everything," Karina replied calmly.
A faint ripple of amusement moved through the chamber.
"Very well," Kagaya said. "Then we proceed with awareness."
The assembly dissolved soon after, conversation resuming in quieter tones. Giyu lingered just long enough to offer a nod to Karina before departing. Obanai watched Mitsuri until she noticed—and smiled at him, disarming as ever.
Once they were alone in the corridor, Mitsuri exhaled dramatically. "That went better than I expected."
Karina nodded. "They did not oppose."
"They didn't approve either," Mitsuri said.
"No," Karina agreed. "They observed."
They walked in silence for a few steps.
"Mitsuri," Karina said at last.
"Yes?"
"If Muzan attempts separation—"
"I won't let him," Mitsuri said immediately.
"That is not what I was going to say," Karina replied. "If he succeeds, even temporarily, the backlash may be severe."
Mitsuri stopped walking and turned to face her fully. "Karina."
"Yes?"
"I don't anchor you because I'm strong," Mitsuri said softly. "I do it because I choose to."
The words landed with more force than any strike.
Karina searched her face, looking for hesitation. There was none.
"Choice introduces vulnerability," Karina said quietly.
"It also introduces trust," Mitsuri replied.
They stood there, close enough now that Karina could feel Mitsuri's warmth, the steady rhythm of her breath.
For a moment, the world narrowed.
Then Karina stepped back, controlled but not abrupt. "We should prepare. Surveillance patterns will change."
Mitsuri smiled—not offended, but understanding. "I'll be ready."
Elsewhere, far from the village, shadows shifted.
A figure moved through a ruined settlement, footsteps silent, presence restrained. Her eyes glowed faintly as she paused, sensing something distant yet unmistakable.
"Found you," she murmured, lips curving into a slow smile.
The convergence had been felt.
And it was drawing more than demons.
It was drawing history back to itself.
Unresolved.
Unforgiving.
And very much awake.