The silence of failure was a suffocating shroud. Okarun was the first to break it, a choked gasp escaping his lips as he stared at Aira's lifeless body. Momo cried out, a sharp sound of horror and disbelief. But Rei remained still, a statue carved from guilt. The Hollow within him was quiet, its predatory instincts silenced by the overwhelming wave of its master's despair. This was the core of his power, the loneliness he shared with the beast, and in this moment, it was an agony that eclipsed any physical pain.
The Acrobatic Silky stared at what it had done. The murderous rage in its eyes had been replaced by a vast, empty confusion. It looked from the tendril still embedded in Aira's chest to its own hand, as if it couldn't comprehend how one was connected to the other. It had destroyed the very thing it sought to possess.
"Baby?" it whispered, the sound fragile and broken. It took a hesitant step toward Aira's body, its movements no longer graceful but clumsy with grief.
"Get away from her!" Momo screamed, her voice cracking. Raw psychic energy, fueled by rage and sorrow, erupted from her, sending a wave of telekinetic force at the yokai. The Acrobatic Silky was thrown back, slamming into the far wall and slumping to the floor in a heap.
Okarun rushed to Aira's side, fumbling for a pulse, his face a mask of panic. "She's... she's not breathing! We have to do something!"
But Rei knew it was too late. He could feel her life force, her soul's light, guttering out like a candle in the wind. He had known this would happen. He had read it in the manga. But knowing and seeing were two different worlds. The knowledge did nothing to dull the sharp edges of his failure.
The Acrobatic Silky began to sob. It wasn't the sound of a monster, but of a grieving mother. It was a heart-wrenching wail of pure despair that echoed through the abandoned building. It pushed itself up, its body trembling. "I can save her," it choked out, tears of black ichor streaming down its face. "My baby... I can save her."
Momo's psychic aura flared again, ready to strike. "You've done enough!"
"Wait," Rei said, his voice quiet but firm, cutting through Momo's anger. She turned to him, her eyes flashing.
"Wait? She just killed Aira!"
"I know," Rei said, his gaze fixed on the weeping yokai. "But she's telling the truth. She can save her." He remembered this part of the plot vividly. It was the crux of Aira's transformation.
The Acrobatic Silky looked at Rei, its grief-stricken eyes latching onto the flicker of understanding in his. "My aura... my life force... I can give it to her. It's all I have left." It held up its hands, which began to glow with a faint, crimson light. "But I can't do it alone. I need... help." Its gaze shifted to Momo. "You. Your power. You can guide it."
Momo stared, her anger warring with her desperation. Could she trust this thing? Could she risk it? She looked from the yokai to Aira's still form, and then to Rei. He hadn't moved, but his entire posture had changed. The crushing guilt was still there, but it was now overlaid with a grim resolve. He had failed as a fighter; he would not fail as a guardian.
"Do it," Rei said to Momo. "I'll watch it. If it tries anything, I'll end it."
There was no menace in his voice, just a simple statement of fact. The Hollow's power, which had been dormant in his despair, began to stir again, a low hum of spiritual pressure that was both a promise and a threat.
Momo took a deep breath, her decision made. She nodded, her expression hardening. "Okay. What do I do?"
The process was surreal. The Acrobatic Silky knelt beside Aira, its hands hovering over her chest. A sphere of deep red energy, its very life essence, began to form between its palms. "You have to take this," the yokai explained, its voice weak, "and push it into her. All of it."
Momo closed her eyes, concentrating. Her own aura, a bright, ethereal blue, enveloped her hands. She reached out, not physically, but with her psychic power, and took hold of the yokai's red energy. It felt warm, ancient, and saturated with a sorrow so profound it made her own heart ache.
As she began to guide the aura toward Aira's body, a flood of images, of memories, poured into her mind—and into Rei's. They saw the yokai's past life: a young, single mother working tirelessly, her love for her daughter a brilliant, shining light in a hard and unforgiving world. They saw her joy, her struggles, and the heartbreaking moment her child was taken from her. They saw her final, desperate dance off the edge of a building, a fall from grace that transformed her grief into a curse, into a yokai.
Rei felt the yokai's loneliness, a mirror of his own, and for the first time, he understood. This wasn't a monster of pure malice. It was a creature born of love and loss, twisted by its own pain.
The red aura flowed into Aira's body. The wound in her chest began to seal, and a faint, healthy color returned to her cheeks. The Acrobatic Silky grew translucent, its form flickering as its life force drained away.
With a final, gentle push from Momo, the last of the aura was transferred. Aira's chest rose as she took a sharp, gasping breath. Her eyes fluttered open.
The Acrobatic Silky, now little more than a shimmering outline, smiled, a look of profound peace on its fading features. "My baby..." it whispered, before dissolving into motes of red light that drifted up and vanished.
Aira sat up, looking around in confusion, her memory of the last few moments hazy. Okarun and Momo rushed to her, a babble of relieved questions pouring from them.
But Rei didn't move. He stood apart, watching the three of them. The river had reached its destination, after all. Aira was alive, imbued with a yokai's power. The plot was intact. But everything had changed. His secret was out. His hands were stained with failure, yet also with a strange, vicarious act of creation. He was no longer a ghost haunting the edges of their story. He was standing right in the middle of it, and the silence he had clung to for so long was shattered for good.