It was an ordinary day in the city square.
The kind of day where the sun blazed high, hot enough to sting the skin, and the smells of sweat, spices, roasted meat, and old stone mingled in a chaotic perfume. Street vendors yelled their prices with cracked voices, competing over piles of overripe fruit, bundles of fresh herbs, and glinting trinkets laid out on fraying cloth. Children darted between stalls, laughing and dodging annoyed adults, while beggars sat in the shadows, their hands stretched out in silence.
Cracked cobblestones baked beneath the weight of a hundred footsteps, and the air buzzed with life and impatience. A bard with a half-tuned lute sang near a fountain that had long since run dry, while an old woman with missing teeth cursed at a young man who had bumped into her. Farther away, a city guard dozed near a wall, helmet tipped over his eyes, indifferent to the noise and the shifting tide of the market.
Amid this current of sound and motion, Toki Ikaru moved like a stone sinking in a river. He walked slowly, deliberately, as if each step required effort, as if the world didn't matter anymore.
He was not dressed like a hero—no gleaming armor, no proud crest on his chest. Just an old red cloak faded by sun and weather, its edges torn like forgotten parchment. A white shirt, loose and wrinkled. Black trousers dusted with travel. Boots scuffed to ruin. And at his side, an old, rusted sword in a plain scabbard—no shine, no gems, just age. A weapon that had seen too much and survived its master.
He paused near a merchant stand, pretending to examine a pile of bruised apples.
But his eyes were elsewhere.
Empty.
Far away.
A man drifting through the world without anchor or destination.
Once, long ago, he might have cared about things like gold, glory, or justice. But those days were ghosts now. Now, he was simply trying to breathe one more day at a time.
"Should I get some bread… or some eggs?" he muttered to himself, barely audible under the noise of the crowd. "Hmm. What's the point…"
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. Worn smooth from years of use, but still heavy. Still capable of deciding things. He turned it between his fingers, then tossed it in the air, watching it spin like a tiny sun catching the light.
"Let's see… left or right?"
The coin landed with a soft clink in his palm.
He smiled weakly.
Right it is.
He turned toward a narrow, darker alley between two leaning buildings, half swallowed in shadow. The kind of place where someone could disappear and not be missed. And that suited him just fine.
Until something—or rather, someone—collided with his fate.
Toki took one step toward the alley, drawn by the cool hush only places forgotten by time could offer. But just before he could disappear into the shade, the sound of hurried footsteps broke his trance.
A figure darted through the crowd—a young woman, running, weaving between people with panicked urgency. Her silver hair shimmered in the sunlight, flying behind her like a comet's tail. She moved fast, but not gracefully—more like someone desperate to escape than someone used to fleeing.
People turned as she passed. A few grumbled. Some stared. One child pointed and laughed, and a vendor muttered loud enough for others to hear, "Another shameless girl—what's she running from now?"
Her dress—elegant but torn at the seams—clung awkwardly to her body, one strap slipping from her shoulder. A butterfly-shaped clip clung loosely to a lock of her hair, trembling as she ran. She tried to pull the fabric over her exposed neckline, fumbling with it, clearly embarrassed.
Toki didn't move. He simply watched her approach with the slow, unreadable gaze of someone who had seen too much of the world to be surprised anymore.
— "Excuse me! Sir!" she cried, her voice cracking between fear and exhaustion.
She stumbled to a stop in front of him, chest heaving. Her pink eyes met his—and for a moment, neither spoke.
— "Are you a knight?" she asked, breathless, clutching the front of her dress with both hands.
He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. His voice came low, dry, and faintly amused.
— "You could say that… if that's what you want to believe."
Her lips parted, unsure if it was a joke or an answer. Then her voice wavered again.
— "Someone… someone stole my mother's ring. It's all I have left of her." She gulped for air. "He ran off through the market. I tried to follow but—he was too fast."
The crowd, uninterested in her grief, flowed around them like water around stones. But Toki just stared, silent.
She wasn't like others. He noticed it right away—not just the strange coloring of her eyes or the silver-white hair that looked like it had been kissed by the moon—but the look in her eyes. Fear, yes. Desperation. But also strength. As if she had more reason to run than she was letting on.
He looked at her again—at her torn dress, her trembling fingers, the way she stood, uncertain and vulnerable in a crowd that had already judged her.
He could've ignored her. It would've been easy. Walk into the alley, disappear like he always did.
But instead…
— "A good deed never killed anyone," he muttered. "Though… who knows."
With a practiced motion, he undid his tattered red cloak and handed it to her.
She blinked, surprised.
— "Take it," he said. "You're not exactly dressed for a walk through the city."
She hesitated, then wrapped it around her shoulders. The cloth was heavy, warm, and smelled faintly of dust, leather, and something oddly comforting—like rain on stone.
And for the first time, she smiled.
— "Thank you…" she whispered.
Toki turned, glancing briefly over his shoulder.
— "Let's see if we can find someone who's seen your thief."
He didn't say it with fire. Or promise. Or honor. Just with the calm, detached voice of a man who had nothing better to do.
But still… she followed.
They walked side by side, though not quite together. Toki kept his hands in his pockets, eyes scanning lazily from one merchant to the next. Utsuki trailed just behind, clutching his red cloak tight around her shoulders, drawing glances from every direction.
The market was still alive with noise — hawkers shouting, coins clinking, the smell of roasted meat mixing with overripe fruit. But beneath all that sound, Utsuki could feel the looks people gave her. Suspicious. Judging. Whispering behind cupped hands.
Toki, on the other hand, moved through it like a ghost.
"Do you even know what he looked like?" he asked, not turning to her.
Utsuki bit her lip. "He was wearing a gray cloak. Hood up. I couldn't see much. Just that he was tall… and fast."
Toki sighed through his nose. "So, basically, every third person here."
They passed a stall of spices — the air thick with cinnamon, pepper, and something sour. An old man sitting behind the counter squinted at them, then leaned forward.
"You two lookin' for somethin'?" the man asked, scratching the edge of his beard.
Toki stopped. "Maybe. You see someone run through here earlier? Gray cloak. Might've bumped into someone."
The old man sniffed. "People run through here every hour. Lost goats, kids chasin' bread rolls, pickpockets…"
He paused, narrowing his eyes at Utsuki. "But yeah. There was a guy. Pushed through the crowd not long ago. Knocked over a basket of dates, if I remember right. Headed toward the southern wall."
Toki nodded. "Thanks."
The man grunted and turned back to his stall. As they walked on, Utsuki spoke softly:
"Why are you helping me, really?"
Toki didn't answer at first. Then:
"Because someone else should've. And they didn't."
They moved away from the heart of the market. The crowd thinned, the buildings older. Stones here were chipped, doors hung unevenly. The cheerful noise faded into the distance, replaced by the flapping of laundry and the quiet muttering of tired people.
Suddenly, Toki stopped.
He crouched beside a crate at the edge of an alley, inspecting something on the ground.
"What is it?" Utsuki asked, stepping closer.
He held up a small object — half-buried in the dust.
It was a coin. Bent at one edge, its symbol nearly worn away.
Utsuki gasped. "That's mine! It was in the pouch with the ring!"
Toki turned the coin over between his fingers, thoughtful.
"He dropped it while running. Which means he was heading this way… fast."
He stood. "We're getting close."
Utsuki's heart thumped harder. The thought of recovering her mother's ring—something she thought lost forever—suddenly felt real.
Toki looked down the narrow street, then turned to her. "You ready to keep going?"
She nodded, gripping the cloak tighter. "I was ready the moment I saw you."
He smirked faintly. "Let's hope that doesn't turn out to be a mistake."
And they continued on—into the part of the city where shadows moved quicker than people, and secrets were easier to find… if you knew where to look.
The moon hung above them like a perfect silver disc, suspended in the sky with eternal grace. The night air was cool and crisp, the sky clear with countless stars scattered like tiny diamonds across the vast dark canvas. The moon cast its soft glow over the old stone bridge, where Toki and Utsuki stood, lost in the beauty of the night. The water beneath the bridge was still, reflecting the glowing orb above, creating a shimmering mirror that stretched far and wide.
The bridge itself, ancient and weathered, seemed like something out of a forgotten tale. The stone beneath their feet was cold, and the shadows they cast on the water were long, distorted, and strange. Toki, his face expressionless as always, gazed at the moon without a word, his thoughts drifting somewhere far away. Utsuki, on the other hand, stood at the edge of the bridge, her gaze lost in the water below, mesmerized by the gentle ripples that reflected the moonlight.
After a moment, she raised her hand slightly, calling on a fragment of magic. "Lux flammae," she murmured softly, summoning a faint glow from her fingertips. Small orbs of light materialized around them, glowing with a soft, bluish hue, floating lazily in the air like fireflies. They drifted around them, but as soon as they neared the water's surface, they vanished into the darkness, absorbed by the depths. The magic, though beautiful, was in vain. It couldn't reach far enough, couldn't pierce the shadows.
Toki watched her for a moment, his eyes lingering on the delicate beauty of her silver hair as it shimmered in the moonlight, and on the ethereal glow of her magic. She was like something out of a dream, a creature caught between the realms of light and shadow. His expression was unreadable, but there was a softness in his gaze that betrayed a deeper understanding, as if he could sense something more than what was visible.
"Nothing..." she said, her voice almost a whisper as she let her hand fall back to her side. "I can't do anything about this."
Toki didn't respond right away. Instead, he looked up at the sky, as if seeking something in the vastness above. His gaze shifted to the horizon, where the stars met the dark outline of the distant city. For a moment, he seemed lost in his thoughts, his mind wandering to places far removed from the present.
"Maybe you don't need to have a result," he said after a long pause, his voice calm but carrying an unexpected depth. "Maybe what matters is what you learn in the search."
Utsuki glanced at him, considering his words. His tone was steady, but there was something in the way he spoke—something that made her feel like he understood more than he let on. He wasn't just offering her empty comfort. There was a genuine wisdom in his words.
She looked down at her hands, fiddling with the edge of her cloak, feeling a sense of restlessness. The weight of her mission, of retrieving the ring that was all she had left of her mother, hung heavy on her heart. She had to succeed. But sometimes, in the quiet moments like this, she wondered if it was all worth it.
"Why are you helping me?" she asked suddenly, her voice breaking the silence. "I mean, I'm a stranger to you. Why bother?"
Toki turned his head to look at her, his dark eyes meeting hers. For a moment, he didn't say anything, just stared at her with that quiet intensity. Then, he offered a small, almost wry smile.
"Maybe you don't need to be important to someone for them to help you. Life can get pretty boring sometimes. And when everything feels still and meaningless, doing something for someone else makes you feel... less lost."
Utsuki's breath caught in her throat. His words struck a chord deep inside her, something she hadn't realized she'd been craving—an understanding, a connection. She wasn't alone in her struggles, at least not in this moment.
Toki's gaze drifted away from her, back to the water below. The soft sounds of the night filled the air, the rustling of the leaves in the trees, the faint hum of distant voices from the city. But all of it seemed distant, like a world that was moving too fast for them to keep up with.
She took a deep breath, steeling herself before speaking again.
"Toki..." She hesitated, unsure of how to voice the question that had been gnawing at her. "Do you ever think about... regret?"
Toki paused, his footsteps slowing. He didn't answer immediately. His eyes, dark as the night, scanned the horizon, his expression unreadable. Then, with a slight shake of his head, he spoke.
"Regret? No. It's not about regret. Regret doesn't help anything. It doesn't change the past. I've learned... it's not about what you lose, but what you do with what you have left."
Utsuki turned her head slightly, studying him closely. His words resonated with something deep inside her. She'd never really thought about regret in that way before. She'd always been so focused on retrieving the one thing she had lost—her mother's ring—that she'd forgotten to look at what else she had left, what she could still do with what she had.
"I... I think I understand," she murmured softly. "I don't want to be useless, either. That's why I have to get that ring back. It's all I have left of her."
Toki nodded slowly, as though he were acknowledging something unspoken between them. His gaze lifted to the sky again, the moonlight dancing on the water's surface.
"I get it. Everyone has something they're holding onto. Something that gives them a reason to keep going, even if it's just a memory, or an object, or a person. It gives you something to fight for."
Utsuki felt a small ache in her chest at his words. She nodded, as though understanding this truth for the first time. She wasn't just fighting for a piece of jewelry. She was fighting for the memory of her mother, for everything her mother had represented in her life.
For a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of their shared understanding settling between them. The small lights from Utsuki's magic continued to float around them, their glow slowly fading into the dark air.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Toki broke the silence, his voice lighter this time, almost teasing.
"But I have to say, you know..." He smirked at her, a playful glint in his eyes. "If you're going to keep wearing dresses like that, we might as well head straight for a tavern. I'm pretty sure you'd attract every drunk man in the city."
Utsuki's eyes widened in surprise, and she spun to face him, her mouth open in shock. "You really have no filter, do you?"
Toki grinned, unbothered by her reaction. "What can I say? Some people need to hear the truth, even if it's wrapped up in sarcasm."
Utsuki couldn't help herself. She laughed—loud, genuine, and free. It echoed in the night, bouncing off the stone walls of the bridge, and for the first time in a long while, Toki felt his own lips stretch into a smile. It wasn't forced. It wasn't bitter. It was just... a smile.
"Well," she said, still laughing softly, "at least I know you're honest."
Toki's grin widened. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
She shook her head, wiping away a tear of laughter, still smiling. The moonlight caught her features, casting her in a soft, ethereal glow. In that moment, Toki thought she looked... beautiful. She always did, of course, but in that moment, under the silver light of the moon, with her laughter filling the air, she was something else entirely.
She turned away from him for a moment, looking back at the city in the distance. The quiet hum of the night seemed to settle over them, but now, there was no tension. No weight. Just two people, standing together, sharing the quiet of the world around them.
"I'll get that ring back," she said quietly, her voice determined but soft.
Toki nodded, his smile fading into something more serious.
"I know you will."
They stood there for a moment longer, lost in the night, the moon, and the soft, steady rhythm of the world that seemed to be waiting for them to take the next step.
And for the first time, neither of them felt quite so alone.
"You know," she said, breaking the silence, her voice soft but steady, "I never expected someone like you to help me."
Toki glanced over his shoulder at her, his expression unreadable. "Why's that?"
"Well..." She hesitated, "You don't seem like the kind of person who gets involved in other people's problems. You look... well, you look like you have your own things to worry about."
Toki's lips curled into a slight smile, though it was a bitter one. "You could say that again." He sighed deeply, as if the weight of something long past was pressing on him. "But sometimes, when life gets too quiet, doing something for someone else feels like the only way to remind yourself you're still alive."
She watched him closely, noting the way his shoulders sagged slightly as he walked. It was like he was carrying something heavy—though not in a physical sense. Something invisible, yet undeniable.
"Do you ever regret it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she were afraid of the answer. "Helping others, I mean."
Toki's footsteps slowed. He turned his head, his gaze catching hers for a moment before looking ahead again.
"Regret?" He chuckled darkly. "No. It's not about regret. It's just... I don't know. It's like the world keeps turning, no matter how much you want to stop it. Helping someone, even if it's just for a second, makes it feel like you're not completely useless."
She felt a pang of empathy for him, though she couldn't fully understand. "I think... I think I understand," she said quietly. "I don't want to be useless either. That's why I have to get that ring back. It's all I have left of her."
Toki nodded slowly, then looked up at the sky. "I get it. Everyone has something they're holding onto. Even if it's just a memory, or an object, or a person... It gives you something to fight for."
The two of them walked on in silence, but this time it was a comfortable silence. A kind of understanding had passed between them, one that neither had expected but both appreciated.
Finally, after a few moments, Toki spoke again, his voice lighter this time, almost teasing.
"But I have to say, you know... If you're going to keep wearing dresses like that, maybe we should head straight for a tavern. I'm pretty sure you'd attract every drunk man in the city."
She shot him a surprised look, her eyes widening. "You really have no filter, do you?"
Toki grinned mischievously. "What can I say? Some people need to hear the truth, even if it's wrapped up in sarcasm."
She laughed, a bright, genuine sound that echoed down the alley. The sound was infectious, and for the first time in a long while, Toki found himself smiling too—something that didn't feel forced or bitter.
"Well," She said, still smiling, "at least I know you're honest."
"I wouldn't have it any other way."