A cold wind swept through the abandoned village, whistling between shattered roofs and half-buried lanterns. Snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky, untouched by the bloodstains beneath them.
Ayaka no Tsukihana stirred beneath the collapsed gate of a forgotten shrine. Her breath came out in soft, broken clouds—like a soul not sure if it deserved to return. She blinked slowly, eyes pale silver, the same color as the moonlight that painted the world in grief."...Where am I?"
Her voice cracked. It didn't sound like hers—too young, too soft. Her fingers trembled as they dug into the frozen dirt, nails dragging across a half-buried charm etched with faded kanji: Blessing of the Bloom. A laugh escaped her lips. Bitter. Hollow.
"A blessing? For me?"
She tried to stand, and pain lanced through her ribs. Her body—this body—was not what she remembered. Thinner. Lighter. Mortal. A reflection caught her eye in a shard of broken glass: long white hair matted with snow, blood on her collar, and eyes that had once commanded legions. Eyes now haunted. "Ayaka… no Tsukihana..." she whispered her name like a forgotten curse.Suddenly—Footsteps.
She turned sharply, hand reaching instinctively for a blade that wasn't there. Only silence. Then—"Are you... alright?"
A girl stood before her—barefoot in the snow, robes dusted with ash, a soft glow around her like spring trying to survive the end of winter. Ayaka froze.
Those eyes. That voice. The scent of blooming lilies. It couldn't be. "You..." Her voice trembled. "You should be dead."
The girl stepped closer, snow crunching gently beneath her bare feet. Her presence was soft—almost too soft for this ruined place. Like someone who had wandered out of a dream and forgotten the world had ended. Ayaka stared, body tense. She looked just like her. The same delicate hands, the faint curve of her lips when she smiled, even the faint scar beneath her left eye… the one Ayaka had left behind in a moment of betrayal centuries ago.
"I… found you lying near the shrine," the girl said. Her voice was a gentle wind in winter. "You were cold. Bleeding. I thought you might be…" She paused. "Gone." Ayaka didn't answer. She couldn't. Because this wasn't possible. Hinako Fujibara had died by her hand in the flames of the Shrine of Eternal Bloom. Her last words still echoed in Ayaka's ears like a ghostly melody—"Even if you cut me down… I'll still believe in you."
Ayaka clenched her fists. "Who are you?" she asked, voice sharp. The girl blinked, startled. "I… I'm Hinako." Ayaka's heart dropped.
No surname. No priestess robes. No celestial aura. Just a village girl with eyes that saw too much.
But that name—"You're lying," Ayaka hissed. "Hinako Fujibara is dead."
"I've always been Hinako," the girl replied quietly. "I… don't remember much else. Just dreams. Strange ones. There's always a temple… and someone crying." Ayaka turned away, trying to steady her breath.
But then—A voice echoed in her head.
[Villainess Path Reinitiated. Synchronization: 63%]
[Mission: Defy the fate that shattered you.]
[System Interface Activating…]
A soft flicker of light appeared in the corner of her vision—text glowing faintly in a language she shouldn't have known. She stumbled back, eyes wide.
"What… what is this?" Hinako tilted her head. "Are you alright?" "No," Ayaka muttered. "Not again."
[Welcome back, Ayaka no Tsukihana.]
[You've been given a second chance. Use it well… or fall again.]
Ayaka's knees buckled. The interface flickered again—lines of glowing kanji curling around her vision like ghost-fire. It pulsed in time with her heartbeat, fast and uneven.
[Reintegration 64%… 65%...]
[Danger proximity: 47 meters]
[Corrupted spiritual energy detected]
The snow shifted. A low growl echoed from behind the shrine—deep, unnatural, the sound of something ancient clawing its way out of sleep. Hinako turned toward the sound, confused. "What was—"
Ayaka yanked her back, just in time. The shrine wall exploded in a storm of ice and debris as a Yokugan burst through—twisted limbs like sharpened bone, mouth split open into a jagged spiral of teeth. It smelled of rotting prayer scrolls and burned incense—holy things consumed by hatred.
Hinako gasped. "W-What is that?!" Ayaka's eyes narrowed. She remembered these monsters.
She'd created the path that let them into this world. The Yokugan shrieked and lunged. Ayaka shoved Hinako aside, rolling in front of her. Pain screamed through her ribs—this body was too weak. No sword. No spirit core. No allies. Only instinct. And guilt. So much guilt.
[Combat protocol unlocked. Temporary weapon: Spiritual Residue Blade]
A shimmer of blue light formed in her hand—a blade of frozen memory, crackling with unstable energy. Ayaka didn't hesitate. She surged forward, slicing upward in a clean arc. The Yokugan shrieked as the blade struck its mask, sending a pulse of ice through its body. It staggered, roaring, flailing with unnatural rage. Her breath was shallow. One more step. One more strike. She had to protect her.
"Stay behind me!" Ayaka shouted. "Don't move!" Hinako stared at her—terrified, glowing faintly again.
And then something dark slithered behind her eyes. A flicker. A shadow. A whisper not her own. Ayaka saw it.
Felt it. "She's being watched."
The Yokugan lunged again. Ayaka leapt, spinning, driving the blade deep into its chest. Snow burst around her like a dying flower, and with a final howl—the beast crumbled into black ash.
Silence returned. Only the sound of Hinako's breathing remained. Shaken. Fragile. Ayaka stood over the fading remains, the spiritual blade vanishing from her hand. She stared at Hinako—not as a stranger… but as someone she had once loved and lost. "She's not just a girl," Ayaka whispered to herself.
"She's the key. And the threat."