Golden Roads and Silent Questions
That day, dusk painted the city in molten gold as the office lights dimmed and the bustle began to thin. The metallic glint of tail lights shimmered like stars scattered on asphalt. Ren Fujiwara, who had silently slipped away from the office before anyone could stop him for a final report or a casual question, walked with a calm exterior but an unrested heart.
He didn't take the usual staff exit. Instead, he cut through the side alley, his footsteps echoing softly against the empty concrete corridor until he reached a sleek, black luxury sedan parked inconspicuously beneath the shade of tall office buildings. The windows were tinted, the emblem at the front unmistakable—a Fujiwara heir's car, though the world did not yet know who "Fushiguro " truly was.
Ren slid into the backseat without a word. The familiar scent of leather and pine-scented air freshener filled the cabin. His driver, a long-trusted employee of the family, tilted his head slightly in the mirror.
> "Going home, Master Ren?"
> "Yes. To the mansion," Ren replied quietly, eyes staring ahead blankly. "Fujiwara estate."
As the car pulled away from the curb and melted into the steady stream of traffic, Ren leaned back and closed his eyes. But rest did not come.
Yume.
The name echoed in the chambers of his mind like a whispered spell.
Why her?
Why did he see her in his dreams, over and over again, only to wake with the feeling of loss tightening around his chest like vines? And why, when he looked at Yume—when she tilted her head just so, or when her voice dropped to that thoughtful, quiet tone—did the name Shirayume surface like an old melody he couldn't stop humming?
> "Who is Shirayume?" he wondered for the hundredth time.
Not just a name. Not just a figment. The dream had a heartbeat. The woman in it had eyes that glowed like silver mist, hair pale as moonlight, and sorrow deep enough to drown in. She had called his name—Arashi—with desperation, with love, before the heavens themselves tore them apart.
He didn't understand.
And that terrified him more than anything.
---
🎼 Scene: Yumeha Returns
Not far away, a separate car pulled away from the curb outside the same building.
Yume had walked briskly out the front entrance, eyes lowered, arms tucked around her handbag. Her tailored office attire now covered by a sleek, oversized coat, and her expression unreadable to any who passed. A taxi stopped and she slipped inside with practiced ease, giving the address for the piano academy.
Inside, she quickly swapped the plain coat for a delicate, designer shawl. She reached into her bag, pulled out a case, and exchanged her understated office heels for the elegant ones she always wore as Yumeha Mitsui—the hidden heiress of the Mitsui family.
Soon after, her family's car—pearlescent white and chauffeur-driven—pulled up in the alley behind the piano building. She climbed in, the driver greeting her with a polite nod.
> "To Mitsui Mansion, Ojou-sama?"
> "Yes," she said softly, her voice trailing off. "Home."
The car pulled away, the quiet hum of the engine becoming the only sound.
Yume leaned her head against the window, watching the city blur into soft neon halos. Her heart wasn't focused on the piano, nor on the report she hadn't finished, nor even on the upcoming dinner with her family.
It was him.
Arashi .
No_Fushiguro, she corrected herself. Because it was more than a name. It was a presence. And today, something in the way he looked at her had shifted. Something raw, like recognition.
The dream she had the night before was still etched in her mind. The fox with the golden eyes. The one who had stood at the edge of the divine realm and watched her fall.
And that name—Arashi—why had it slipped out of her mouth like she'd always known it?
> "Why does he feel like someone I've lost?" she whispered.
The thought sat heavy in her chest, tightening around her breath like a knot. She didn't know who Shirayume was either, but lately, she had been calling herself that in dreams. A version of herself that wore ancient robes and wandered in a sky of stars.
Her palms tingled as if they remembered holding someone's hand before the heavens cursed them apart.
> "It doesn't make sense…" she murmured.
But the ache felt real.
---
🏯 Scene: The Fujiwara Estate – Quiet Confession
When Ren finally reached the Fujiwara mansion, the grand gates opened automatically. The car glided up the stone driveway, past koi ponds and manicured gardens, until it came to a gentle stop in front of the main entrance.
He didn't wait for the driver to open the door.
Without a word, he stepped out and walked swiftly across the polished stone floors of the entrance hall, past butlers and maids bowing low. His mother's voice called out faintly from the lounge.
> "Ren? You're back early, darling!"
He didn't answer.
He went straight to his room on the second floor, slipped inside, and closed the door gently behind him. Not a slam—Ren never slammed doors. But a quiet, final kind of closing.
He stood still for a moment, letting the silence settle over him like a thick cloak.
Then he walked into the bathroom, washed his face, and returned to his balcony—where the stars above him were dim behind city haze. And yet, he stared at them like they had answers.
The wind ruffled his dark hair. His jaw was tight. His eyes were tired. He leaned on the railing, trying to exhale the weight of something he didn't understand.
> "Why her?" he whispered to the night.
> "Why Shirayume?"
Behind him, the door creaked open again. This time, he didn't hear it.
It was Kiyo, his mother.
She walked in quietly, carrying a folded blanket over her arm, only to stop when she saw the stillness in his shoulders. The way his posture slumped slightly—not like a young man tired from work, but like a soul carrying something it couldn't name.
> "Ren?" she called softly.
No answer.
She walked closer and gently touched his back.
He flinched slightly, then turned quickly, startled out of his reverie.
> "Mother? I didn't hear you come in."
> "I can see that," she said, her voice filled with a quiet concern. "You didn't even greet me today. That's not like you, is it?"
He gave a tired smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.
> "I… I've just been thinking too much, that's all."
> "About what?" she asked, brushing some strands from his forehead. "You didn't come home yesterday either. And today you're like a shadow."
Ren hesitated. For a moment, he almost dismissed it.
But something cracked in him.
He didn't want to lie. Not to her.
> "It's a dream," he said quietly. "One I've had before. It came back again last night."
Kiyo's brows furrowed slightly. "What kind of dream?"
> "It's… strange. There's a woman. I don't know her. But I feel like I do. Her name is Shirayume."
The name left his lips like a prayer.
> "She falls," he continued. "She's punished. And someone is torn from her side. I don't know who. There's this… pain. It's old. Ancient. Like it's not even mine, but I'm living it."
Kiyo said nothing at first.
Then she placed a hand gently on his neck.
> "Maybe," she whispered, "it is yours. Just not from this life."
Ren looked at her, startled.
> "We all carry things, Ren," she said gently. "Things our blood remembers. Maybe this dream… is trying to tell you something. Or bring you back to someone."
Ren swallowed hard.
He didn't tell her everything.
Not about the feeling that this wasn't new. That he'd had dreams like this since he was a child.
And he didn't say that the woman in his dreams looked exactly like Yume from the office.
But the name—Shirayume—lingered in his chest, heavy and warm. Like something that belonged to him. Something… he had once vowed to protect.
The Return to the Mansion
The Mitsui mansion slumbered beneath the breath of twilight—a silent, pale citadel wrapped in creeping ivy and ancestral secrets. Its high gates whispered as they opened, and the sleek black car slid in like a shadow returning to its origin.
Yumeha, now dressed in the elegant persona she wore like armor, stepped out with composed grace. But within her chest, something trembled. Her mind kept looping back to him—the intern, the stranger, the boy with the eyes that haunted her sleep.
She had seen those eyes before.
> Not in this world. Not in any photograph. But in that dream... where golden fire wept through the void, and the fox whispered her name like a farewell.
> "Shirayume…"
She had never heard that name before waking in tears last night. And yet—somewhere deep in her bones—it felt like it belonged to her.
She crossed the threshold of the mansion quietly, her steps like silk brushing old wood. Sakura, already seated in the drawing room, turned as Yume entered.
There was no need for greetings—only that look of gentle, alert concern Sakura always wore when something unspoken lingered in the air.
> "You're late," she said, her tone like still water. "Was the piano lesson difficult… or was something else on your mind?"
Yumeha hesitated.
Then she shook her head slowly. "Have you ever looked into someone's eyes and felt like they belonged in a memory you shouldn't have?"
Sakura blinked.
> "What kind of memory?"
Yume sat beside her, folding her hands neatly. Her voice softened, lost in a place far away.
> "A dream. Maybe. Or a… scar your soul carries, even if your body doesn't."
Sakura studied her in silence for a beat, then reached for the tea between them.
> "Sometimes dreams are just echoes," she said. "But sometimes… they're doors."
> "To what?" Yume asked, almost breathless.
> "To lives we lived before the world chose to forget us."
A pause stretched between them like a thread pulled taut.
> "This boy…" Sakura ventured. "Do you think he remembers too?"
Yume's lips parted, but she could not find the words. How could she explain that just one look from him today—just one moment of meeting his golden gaze—made her feel like the world had fallen apart in another lifetime?
Before she could answer, footsteps echoed from the marble corridor.
> "You have a guest," said a servant quietly.
Yumeha turned her head—and her smile faltered.
Sai.
He stood in the doorway like he belonged to it. Regal. Relaxed. Smiling with that familiar curve of the lips that always carried more affection than Yume could understand. His long coat draped like the night behind him.
> "Yume," he said smoothly, stepping in, "You've grown more radiant. Or perhaps I've simply missed the light."
She stood up, nodding politely.
> "Sai. I didn't know you were visiting."
> "I don't need an invitation to visit my favorite big sister," he said, his eyes gleaming with something unspoken.
Sakura stood too, her demeanor subtly protective.
> "We weren't expecting you. It's been a while."
> "Too long," Sai agreed, his smile never faltering.
Yumeha bowed her head slightly. "Thank you again… for everything you've done for me."
Sai's expression flickered—so fast it was like a heartbeat skipping.
> "You don't have to thank me, Yume. I've always watched over you. Even when you didn't know."
Yume blinked.
> "What?"
He chuckled softly. "Ah. I meant… since your childhood. You were always the fragile one, full of fire."
There was something in the way he said it that made Sakura shift beside her.
> "You speak like someone who's known her for more than just this life," Sakura said lightly, but with eyes sharp as mirrors.
Sai didn't answer.
He simply looked at Yumeha with a strange, almost mournful softness.
> "Some bonds are older than time. But not all bonds are… equal."
Yumeha felt a chill travel through her arms.
Before she could speak again, Sai turned.
> "I'll be upstairs. I have something for you later, Yume."
And then he was gone—vanishing up the stairs, like a shadow returning to the ceiling.
---
🕯️ Later That Night — Yumeha's Room
The silence in her room was louder than any storm.
Yumeha stood by her window, her reflection ghosting the glass. The garden outside lay bathed in moonlight, silver and secretive.
But she wasn't looking outside.
She was looking inward.
At her own eyes.
At the name that had risen unbidden in her mind again and again:
> Shirayume.
And now, a second name had joined it—like a heartbeat finding its twin.
> Arashi.
That boy. That dream. That golden-eyed creature calling her name in despair.
> "We were punished… weren't we?" she whispered to no one. "We lost everything…"
A sudden wind stirred the curtains. It carried a scent she didn't recognize—but her soul did.
---
🌑 Meanwhile: A Secret Room Beneath the Mansion
Sai stood alone, deep within a forgotten chamber of the Mitsui estate—one only he knew existed.
The walls were covered in ancient calligraphy—sealed glyphs of celestial binding.
On the table before him lay a broken pendant… and a faded silken ribbon.
He held the ribbon between his fingers.
> "You always chose him. In every world. In every story," he murmured, voice brittle.
He looked up at the dark mirror above the altar. His reflection was not human.
Not fully.
Behind his eyes shimmered the divine truth he never dared reveal—
He was not Sai.
He was Serafin.
The messenger of the Dragon God.
The one who set the punishment in motion.
> "This time, Shirayume… you'll return to me. You have to. You will."
The shadows seemed to tighten around him, as if the past agreed.