Flashback—the distant past… the fateful day.
The scene begins with Kyou running through a hallway in the Ametsuchi estate. The place is quiet—almost eerily so.
Kyou's bare feet slap against the wooden floors, his breath quickening with each beat of his heart. He rounds a corner and all but stumbles into his parents, who stand in the garden—looking out into the darkness beyond the estate walls.
"Kyou—run!"
His father's voice is raw, desperate. But the warning comes too late. The explosion rocks the estate, sending tremors through the earth like a waking beast. Kyou's vision blurs as smoke and debris fill the air—his parents shoving him behind them on instinct (always protecting).
And then... through the dust and ash—
(A silhouette steps forward.)
Not an enemy soldier. Not some unknown assailant.
But her.
Hell Unfolded Before Him
The three hunters moved like a single blade—fluid, unstoppable. Kyou Ren could only watch as the world shattered around him.
Blurs of steel. Screams cut short. Blood painting the walls in broad, grotesque strokes. His parents' hands tightened around him—(still shielding, still protecting)—but even they knew it was futile now.
And at the center of it all…
(Akasaki stood, her blade dripping crimson.)
The air itself screamed. The oncepristine halls of the Ametsuchi estate now run red, a grotesque river pooling between floorboards. The scent of iron clung thick—choking, suffocating.
Somewhere, a child wailed for their mother (only to be silenced midbreath). Elders who had once commanded respect with mere glances now lay broken—eyes wide and unseeing. And through it all… the merciless rhythm of slaughter never slowed.
Kyou's fingers dug into his father's sleeve like claws (because if he let go, he would drown in this nightmare). But no shield could protect him from what came next—
(Akasaki turned her gaze toward them… a silent one…)
Sōjirō's hand shook, sweat on his brow. He'd seen brutal hunts, seen death. But this… even he couldn't have imagined such a nightmare.
And it came from the one he'd held close as a child, kissed her foreheads, taught to hold her blade as a guardian, not a butcher…
A daughter he'd loved.
"Akasaki… stop. This madness!"
Chikage's voice trembled as the mother spoke, refusing to believe her daughter was responsible for this hell. Kyou clung to her skirt, silent—eyes wide, face pale. He couldn't see past the smoke, but the fear was there—a child's trembling terror as he realized just how dangerous the world really was.
Akasaki merely cocked her head—almost nonchalantly. As if everything about this was to be expected.
"Run."
The word hit them like a bolt of lightning. Simple. Final. As if everything—the slaughter, the destruction, everything—was only a prelude to this one moment.
Chikage froze as if in a trance. Sōjirō tensed, his hand gripping his son's shoulder. And Kyou… he didn't dare to breathe.
Akasaki's face was stone… but there was a tear slipping down her pale cheek.
And there was no time for questions. No time for answers. Sōjirō picked up Kyou, clutching him close as they fled toward the broken doorway.
Chikage turned—her gaze clashing with Akasaki for a single heartbeat. She had so, so much to say… but the words lodged like thorns in her throat.
And all that came out was a strangled, broken whisper:
"I… love… you."
A simple, desperate plea to a lost cause.
Tears Against the Rain
The sky opened in a sudden downpour—a cold, merciless rain that drenched everything in sight. Akasaki stood there, her gaze following Kyou and his parents as they vanished into the darkness.
She didn't know what possessed her to let them go… but she knew she would never forget their faces. Or the tears running down her own cheek, mixing with the rain.
The rain whispered secrets in an ancient tongue. And in that moment, even the world itself seemed to weep.
"Forgive me," she whispered, but the sky gave no reply.
Her fingers curled into fists, a rage simmering behind her eyes. She couldn't undo what was done. But she would make them all pay.
"And So, The Night That Bore No Dawn."
(It was not a storm—but an ending.)
No sun would rise for any Ametsuchi that day. Only ash and sorrow, carried on the wind. A clan—once proud—reduced to whispers in the dark. And at its center… a sister who chose ruin over loyalty, sacrifice over love.
(Some choices are irreversible.)
(Some wounds never heal.)
(And some names become curses whispered in dread.)
The Whispered Tale of Akasaki
Kusuri exhales, fingers tightening around the hilt of her cleaver.
"Where I originally was from—Fuyutsuki—they whisper about that night." Her voice is low, edged with something bitter. "About how the Ametsuchi fell… and the rogue hunter who walked away from it all."
(Fuyutsuki—the frozen southern expanse of the Hunting Realm, a land where blizzards carve stories into ice and blood stains snow crimson.)
The Path of the Rogue
Akasaki pauses, a smile like a knifeedge playing about her lips.
"Fuyutsuki." She speaks as if rolling the word over her tongue.
Kusuri goes very still—as if she was hearing this for the first time.
"The Ametsuchi estate wasn't too far from Fuyutsuki's outskirts, I take it?"
A soft exhale and Akasaki nods once, the firelight catching in her eyes.
"Then you might have heard a certain rumor…"
His body is a coiled serpent—all tension, no hesitation.
Kyou lunges and the world goes into sharp, sudden focus. Fire ignites like a living thing—raging orange, white, and gold.
And his voice, a roar that rips the air.
" HONO YÜSUI."
A blaze of flames that roars like a wildfire… then crashes into Akasaki like a tidal wave.
Akasaki doesn't move.
She barely even blinks as the inferno barrels toward her. A single swipe—her hand cutting through the flames like they're nothing but mist—and just like that, it's gone. As if the fire never existed in the first place.
But then… her eyes lock onto Kyou Ren.
And suddenly—he can't move. Can't breathe. His body goes rigid, locked in place by something beyond fear, beyond willpower... something deeper than instinct itself. (Like prey realizing it's already been bitten before it felt teeth.)
"Too Weak… And Too Late"
Akasaki's steps are measured, casual. Every movement is controlled, calculated... the hunt of a predator playing with its prey.
She comes to a stop in front of him—close enough that he could reach out and touch her if he could move.
But all he can do is stare, frozen—a rabbit under a hawk's shadow.
And she grins—a cold, cruel smile that chills his blood.
"Too late, little brother..."
Kyou's world goes black as something sharp and hard connects with his head.
One moment, he's staring into those cold grey eyes. The next... the world is nothing but a dark abyss.
There's a sound of voices, but they're distant, like trying to catch fragments through a dream.
And then... silence.
Akasaki's gaze drifts past Ryo, past Kusuri—and locks onto the trembling figure hiding behind them.
Her smirk deepens, eyes glinting with something akin to amusement.
"Aww… There you are." Her voice is saccharine sweet—yet dripping with menace. "Little Engetsuju."
Ryo's blood turns to ice. Engetsuju?! His head snaps toward Rumi in shock—(no, that can't be)—but before he can even process it…
⚔️ End Of Chapter Forty Seven