Pain came in waves.
Ayaka lay on the floor of a small hut—its walls patched with straw, its roof creaking beneath falling snow. A faint fire crackled in the corner, barely holding back the chill that crept through the cracks. She opened her eyes slowly, gaze locking on the sleeping girl beside her—curled near the hearth, hugging her knees like the world might end again. Hinako. Ayaka looked away.
The wound in her ribs throbbed. But it was nothing compared to the weight in her chest. Why is she alive?
Why does she look at me like I'm not a monster? The door creaked open. Kaede appeared—not through it, but in midair. A floating interface, glitching like shattered glass before stabilizing into the figure of a girl with short silver hair, dressed like a school uniformed librarian from another world. "You're finally awake, Frost Queen," Kaede grinned. "Took you long enough. I was starting to think you'd make your second life just as short as the first."
Ayaka winced. "You… I remember your voice." "Of course you do. I'm the last piece of your fractured soul, remember? The part that didn't give up when the world did."
Kaede hovered upside down, hands behind her head. "Anyway—since you decided to defy fate, I've re-initiated the Villainess Path protocol. Congratulations. You're back on the board."
"I never asked for this." "And yet, here we are."
Ayaka sighed, closing her eyes. "Leave me alone." "Sorry, no can do. We're soul-linked, ice queen."
Kaede smirked. "But I'm not your biggest problem right now." Ayaka's eyes opened sharply. "What?" Kaede nodded toward Hinako. "She's glowing in her sleep. Not the 'holy maiden' kind of glow, either. More like… 'possessed by a vengeful yokai spirit that wants your head' kind of glow."
Hinako stirred.
Her breath hitched, fingers curling into the threadbare blanket. Ayaka watched from the corner, silent, unmoving, like a ghost haunting her own rebirth. "She's dreaming," Kaede said softly.
"No," Ayaka replied, voice low. "She's remembering." Hinako whimpered—barely audible. Her lips moved, forming fragments of names that had been buried in time. One name reached Ayaka's ears and split her heart open.
"...Aya...ka…"
The fire dimmed. For a moment, Ayaka forgot how to breathe. Kaede's expression shifted. "That shouldn't be possible. Her soul shouldn't recognize you yet. Not consciously." Ayaka didn't respond.
Hinako began to tremble. Her hands reached out blindly, like she was falling. Then, suddenly—her body arched, and her mouth opened in a silent scream.
Ayaka moved before she could think. She caught her—held her—Hinako's body burning with unnatural heat, skin glowing faintly like a paper lantern lit from within. Her eyes snapped open—completely white, pupil-less, and filled with light. Then she spoke. But it wasn't Hinako's voice. "Traitor of the Moon... you dare touch the bloom again?"
Ayaka's breath caught. The hut shook.
Snow fell from the ceiling. Kaede's face turned grim. "It's starting. The thing inside her—it remembers." Hinako's arms gripped Ayaka's kimono tightly, her voice trembling now, back to her own. "Don't leave me… please... I'm scared…" Ayaka froze. Her instincts told her to pull away—to run, to escape, to hide. But the warmth in her arms…
It was the same as that day. The day she chose betrayal over love.
"I'm not going anywhere," Ayaka whispered, tightening her hold. "Not this time." Outside, the wind howled. A yokugan's distant cry echoed in the mountains. The world was watching. The past was stirring. And Ayaka's sins were waking with it.
The knock was too soft for a threat. Yet Ayaka's instincts screamed. She stood slowly, one hand on the door, the other hovering near the dagger Kaede had materialized for her earlier—a fragile spirit-formed blade, already cracking under strain. Hinako blinked sleepily behind her. "Ayaka…? Who would knock in this weather?" Ayaka didn't answer. She opened the door just a sliver.
Snow rushed in. So did a shadow.
A figure stood at the threshold—cloaked in black, face half-hidden beneath a veil of crimson silk. In her hand, she held a folding fan, its edges stained with dried blood. On her chest, a sigil: a wilted camellia. Ayaka's breath stilled. "You," she whispered.
The woman smirked. "It's been a while, General Tsukihana." Hinako's eyes widened. "General…?" The woman stepped inside uninvited, closing the door behind her like she owned the world. Her voice was sweet venom.
"Lady Sayuri sends her regards," she said. "Though she'd rather have sent poison." Ayaka didn't flinch. "What do you want?" "Your head," the woman replied casually, opening her fan with a sharp snap. "But I've been told to be civil. For now."
Kaede floated into view, lips tight. "She's from the Crimson Sect. High-ranking. Probably Sayuri's current favorite." Ayaka stepped forward. "If Sayuri wanted to kill me, she would've come herself."
"She will. Soon."
The woman's smile faded. "But she wanted you to know something first: The Yokugan you killed last night? It wasn't alone. The Blooming Path has begun to rot. And you, my dear villainess… are the disease."
She turned to Hinako. "And this girl—"
She inhaled deeply. "—smells like forbidden light. Dangerous." Ayaka stepped between them. "If you touch her, I will bury you under the snow you came from."
For the first time, the woman hesitated. Then she laughed, sharp and melodic. "Still sharp, Tsukihana. Just how I remember." She turned toward the door.
"Enjoy your second life, General. You won't get a third." With that, she vanished into the storm. Hinako looked at Ayaka—eyes filled with questions, fear, and something else… heartbreak.
"Who are you?" she asked softly. Ayaka didn't answer. Not because she couldn't. Because for the first time in this life…She didn't know.