Sosuke stood in the Hall of Memories, surrounded by crystal and silence. Everything shimmered with a soft, unnatural light. The walls pulsed—alive with mana he didn't recognize. It moved under the surface like a heartbeat.
He walked forward.
A whisper met him. Then another. And another.
Voices built—layered like cracked glass beneath pressure. He clenched his jaw. The whispers sharpened into words. Screams. A storm of memories that weren't his, tearing through his mind.
Sosuke collapsed, gripping his head.
"Make it stop…"
Then—
Silence.
"Sosuke."
One voice cut through everything. Low. Warm. Unmistakable.
He looked up.
There, impossibly real, stood a man half-swallowed in shadow. A broad-shouldered figure with storm-battered armor, a weathered cloak, and eyes like polished steel. His presence bent the air. Taller. Heavier. Like he carried the weight of every battle Sosuke hadn't survived.
Sosuke's throat tightened.
"…Father?"
Shuhei tilted his head and stepped forward. "What are you doing on the floor?"
He reached out a hand.
Sosuke hesitated, then grabbed it. Solid. Real.
He stood slowly. "I can touch you…"
Shuhei smirked. "Surprised?"
"This isn't real. It can't be."
"Real enough." Shuhei's hand dropped to Sosuke's shoulder. "Come on. Let's walk."
The hall shifted around them as they moved—stone folding, light bending. After a few steps, a small structure appeared ahead. A quiet little shop, absurdly mundane amid the crystal chaos.
"What is that?" Sosuke asked.
"A quiet place. Sit."
A table and chairs blinked into existence. Sosuke sat stiffly. Shuhei dropped into the opposite seat with casual ease.
A silence stretched.
"I've watched you," Shuhei said. "Not always clearly, but I've seen the important parts."
"You're not missing much."
"Is that what you believe?" Shuhei's smile faded. "Why?"
Sosuke looked down at his hands. "Because no matter what I do… it's never enough. I'm strong, but it's not your kind of strong. I'm fast, but it's not your speed. People see me, and they don't see me. They see you."
"You think that makes you weak?"
"I think it makes me lost." Sosuke's voice tightened. "You were a legend before I even picked up a sword. How do I measure against that?"
Shuhei leaned back, resting his elbow on the table. "Why are you still trying to?"
"I didn't ask to be your son."
"But you are." Shuhei's voice grew quiet. "And you've let that truth chain you. You think you're bound to my path—but that's a choice. Not a curse."
Sosuke clenched his fists. "You don't understand."
"Then explain it to me."
Sosuke's voice broke. "I didn't ask for your legacy… so why am I the one stuck carrying it?"
Shuhei stood slowly. "You're not."
Shuhei flicked his wrist—the shop melted into a battlefield. Blackened earth. Broken swords. The sky overhead swirled like ink dropped in water.
"You keep fighting my wars," Shuhei said, stepping forward. "When do you pick yours?"
Sosuke stared at the charred ground, his voice low. "So what am I supposed to do then?"
Shuhei didn't answer right away. Instead, he walked past a fallen spear and let his fingers trail across its splintered haft. "Your destiny and your abilities—they're not separate things. One feeds the other. If you chase a future that doesn't belong to you, your power will always feel borrowed."
The battlefield began to fade, crumbling around them like ash in the wind. But the vision didn't end.
Sosuke looked up sharply. "Then tell me what my destiny is."
"I can't," Shuhei said, glancing back. "That's not something I give you. It's something you uncover—when you stop chasing mine."
The broken sky above them cracked with a distant, shivering sound, like glass under strain.
Sosuke took a step forward. "Then how do I even start?"
Shuhei turned. "By accepting yourself. All of you."
Sosuke stood still—wide-eyed, lips parted slightly, like something unspoken had caught in his throat. His hands curled into tight fists. Not from anger. From shame. From something colder. He didn't want to feel this—this twisted heat in his chest aimed inward—but it clawed up anyway.
"How do you even know this?" he asked quietly.
Shuhei turned his back to him, voice low. "Because I strayed from my destiny."
He paused, watching something only he could see.
"I was the strongest. But I never evolved. Not truly. That's why—back when we hid in the forest—I barely touched my abilities. I didn't need to reserve them." He looked over his shoulder. "They were already fading."
"You… did?" Sosuke's voice cracked at the edge.
"I was a coward." Shuhei turned fully and smiled. "Don't follow that road. Be better than I was."
His form began to lift into the air, bit by bit. Not light. Not spirit. Dust.
"No—wait!" Sosuke reached out, but his fingers passed through it like mist. "I had so much more to talk about…"
The space around him darkened. Cold. Empty again.
⸻
A serene forest spread like a painting come to life—sunlight pouring through towering trees, their leaves golden, not green. A crystal pond sat in the middle of it, still and perfect. Birds called distantly, but even they sounded reverent.
Ren crouched by the pond's edge, staring into its shimmer. He didn't move much. Only when he peeled off one glove and hovered his hand near the surface did the change come.
The water froze solid the moment his fingers neared it.
"Hey, Ren," Rin's voice came behind him. Light. Teasing. "Still grumpy, or is this your happy face?"
She lowered herself beside him.
He didn't look. "Why are you here? Weren't you with the others?"
"I was curious. Figured you were off brooding in some corner." She dipped her fingers into the water, breaking the frozen edge with a soft crackle. "And maybe I wanted to see the pond too."
Ren turned just enough to glare. "You're wasting your time."
"Maybe I am." Rin's voice was even. "Still here though."
He stood, brushing dirt off his pants. "Leave me alone."
"You can't control your abilities, can you?" she asked, arms crossed casually.
He stiffened—just slightly. Then slipped the glove back on. "You've got wild theories."
"Oh, come on," she stepped forward. "I saw the ice."
"What's your point? Why do you care?" His voice was sharper now.
Rin took a step closer. "Because I never stopped being your friend. Just because the others drifted doesn't mean I did. I know who you are, Ren."
"You don't." His voice dropped. He yanked his arm from her grip and turned.
"I'm trying to help—" Rin called, not yelling, just… louder. Desperate to be heard.
"I don't want your help!" Ren snapped. "I know what I'm doing!"
"What is it you want?" she challenged, stepping into his path. "Power? A title? Something shiny to live up to?"
"You're wrong!" His voice cracked again. "I was pretending when we were around each other. You know that."
"No," Rin said. "You smiled. You laughed. You looked alive. No one fakes that."
Ren paused, his fists trembling.
"My mother had a dream," he said at last. "And she passed it to me. I'll carry it—whether it means joining the High Council or dying trying."
Rin exhaled. "You're chasing something that never belonged to you."
She smiled sadly, hiding it behind her hand. "Hero of the White Star… doesn't really fit you. Though it's got a nice ring to it."
Ren tensed. "So what's your point?"
"You have to let her go, Ren." Rin's voice softened. "She's gone, isn't she?"
He looked away, jaw tight.
"I know what it's like to lose someone," she said. "But this path? This isn't how you carry them."
"I don't want to move on!" Ren shouted. He turned sharply, arms out. "This is all I have of her! All I can do! I didn't get a choice!"
Rin's face changed—just slightly. A flicker of something raw behind her eyes.
"You do have a choice, Ren," she said, stepping toward him. "You just don't see it yet."
"Then enlighten me."
"If you made those bonds once, you can do it again," Rin said, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Your mother's gone, but your life isn't. You have to choose your own path."
Ren looked down. "I don't know if I can. She's all I had."
"Then carry her in your heart, not as a burden."
He glanced up as dusk crept across the treetops. His throat tightened, but no tears came. He stepped forward and gave her a brief hug.
Rin blinked, surprised, then wrapped her arms around him—awkward, but warm. "Come on. It's getting dark."
Ren pulled away, exhaled, and crouched again by the pond. His bare hand hovered—and the water froze.
⸻
The team gathered behind Ouro's home, flames crackling at the center of a freshly made campfire. Reid sat in the grass, holding a few blades of grass out to a small, fluffy creature.
"Why are we doing this again?" Arthur asked flatly.
Gabriel smiled. "For fun. A little bonding time, maybe?"
"We're soldiers," Lyra said. "This is our bonding time."
Gabriel scratched his head. "Right… fair point."
"You're acting different," Lyra added. "Less… commanding."
"I figured a more personal approach would help you all grow into something greater," Gabriel said, lighting the fire with a flick of his hand.
"Still intimidating," Milo said, chewing something noisily.
Sosuke and Ouro rounded the corner.
"What the hell is this?" Sosuke asked.
"My beautiful backyard!" Ouro shrieked. "I had basement beds prepared!"
"His idea," Lyra said, jerking her thumb at Gabriel.
Ouro crouched beside Reid. "What are you feeding him?"
"Uh… grass?" Reid answered nervously.
Ouro eyed the creature. "Wubbin likes you."
"Wubbin?" Reid blinked.
"I made him. He hates me." Wubbin growled on cue. Ouro recoiled, sighed, and gave a small nod. "He's yours now."
Reid beamed at Lyra. She rolled her eyes.
"I suppose I'll allow this gathering," Ouro muttered, settling down with a heavy thud. "Remind me how this works again?"