Darkness pressed on him like a tide. Raizen ran without moving, lungs burning, legs heavy as stone. Smoke smeared the sky, beneath the clouds. Everything burned again in red and black. Whispers coiled through the dark like cold breath on the back of his neck.
You couldn't save them.
The Nyx rose ahead - bent, shifting, its borders bleeding into smoke. Two ember eyes opened and fixed on him, unblinking.
You'll never save anyone.
Hands reached for him - his father's rough palms, his mother's careful fingers - only to be dragged under and swallowed whole.
A sharp, knife-like hand effortlessly penetrated his chest from behind. His faint scream snapped the world apart.
He jolted awake, breath cut, arm throbbed. And a face hovered closely above his own.
Golden strands brushed his cheek. Two clear eyes, the most beautiful blue he has ever seen; steady and far too close, studied him without blinking. Her head tilted slightly, as if he were a puzzle she was taking apart with her gaze.
Raizen froze. "You're… awake," he whispered.
She didn't flinch. She backed up a little, but not far, hands folding in her lap.
"I don't… remember," she said. Her voice was soft, careful, as if she were testing each word before letting it go. He swallowed. "Your name?" he asked. "Do you remember your name?"
She slightly frowned. For a heartbeat, there was only the outside hiss, always present. A single line rose in her mind, bright as a spark:
"Your name will be Hikari… because you will bring light into this dark world."
Her breath caught. She blinked and looked back at him. "Hikari," she said, as if the name had chosen her. "I… I'm Hikari. That's all I know."
"Hikari," he echoed, the word fragile on his tongue. Relief moved through him like warmth after cold.
No one else was there. The chair in the corner sat empty, a cloak folded over its back. Beyond the door, metal hummed and distant voices murmured - the heart of a city breathing.
"Where… is this?" Hikari asked, eyes moving all across the room
"Neoshima, I think" Raizen said. "or something worse" He hesitated. "We made it."
Footsteps filled the corridor - several sets - one step heavy and even, one light and quick, and one measured, each landing with the calm insistence of a heartbeat.
The door swung open.
"Old man!" a joyful voice burst in, bright with mischief. "You got any tea in this rusty shack of yours?"
The speaker was a whirlwind: a boy a little older than Raizen, skin dark and warm, hair a riot of tight curls that bounced with his grin. He shouldered the door shut with a hip, took two steps inside, and lit up even more when he saw the bed.
"Oh-ho," he said, hands spreading. "Guests. Two of 'em! Cute ones, too."
An older woman stepped in behind him with a small basket on her arm. Lines mapped her face, but her smile warmed the room. She took everything in with one sweep - Raizen's bandaged arm, Hikari's closeness, the washed but torn clothes folded at the foot of the bed - and the kindness in her eyes deepened.
A third figure filled the doorway last: the broad-shouldered Takeshi. His gaze passed over the two, a quick assessment, then softened by a margin so small you'd miss it if you weren't looking. He stepped forward, set a clay bowl on the bedside table. Steam curled from the stew.
"Eat while it's hot," he said.
"Thank you," Raizen murmured. His stomach answered for him; the first spoonful nearly burned, and he didn't care. The boy with the curls leaned in until his grin almost touched the bowl.
"Name's Obi," he almost proudly announced. "Expert smith, Tour guide to the underworks, breaker of boredom, stuff like this. You two want the grand tour? Markets, vents, the good shortcuts? I've got it all!"
"Obi," the woman chided gently, setting her basket down. "Let them breathe!"
And with a scolding look, she added "And know your limits when boasting..."
Then, she turned to Raizen and Hikari. "I'm Louissa. Granny to everyone who needs one."
Hikari watched them like sunlight watches dust—quiet and attentive. "I'm… Hikari," she said, almost apologetically. "That's all I can remember."
Louissa's smile didn't flicker. "Then Hikari it is" she said, as if that settled something large. She reached for Raizen's bandage with careful fingers. "And you?"
"Raizen."
"Raizen," she repeated, approving. "Good name. Sit up a little. Let me see that arm."
Obi plopped onto the end of the bed without being asked, elbows on knees, like a kid perched on a windowsill. Grease and soot smudged the creases of his knuckles, faint burn marks old and new traceried across his forearms.
"You carried her all the way here?" he said, eyes bright. "Through the forest? While bleeding? That's either brave or very stupid." He tipped his chin at his hands with a wink. "I'd have built you a cart, but Louissa says I'm only allowed to set my shop on fire."
Louissa clicked her tongue, amused. "Obi works the smithy his parents left," she said to Raizen and Hikari, tightening the sling with a gentle tug. "They were good smiths - better people. Disappeared on an expedition three winters ago. Found him sleeping next to the anvil, and brought him home. He's stayed loud ever since."
Obi flashed a grin that didn't quite hide the bruise of the memory. "Loudest smith in the underworks," he said. "Soon to be the best. You'll see."
"The underworks?" Raizen asked, disoriented. "I thought this was Neoshima!"
With a darkened look, Takeshi responded: "Neoshima is the world above. The world of the wealthy, the world of luxury.
Down here, it's only a place for outcasts, dangers and unwanted people..."
Takeshi stood a half-step away from his chair, the light catching the edge of the scar at his jaw. Raizen swallowed another spoonful, then looked up at him.
"The search board," Raizen asked, not knowing the weight of his words. "And the Moirai. I heard people outside say both. What are they?"
Obi's grin dimmed around the edges. Louissa's hands paused. Both glanced toward Takeshi.
Takeshi's jaw tightened. He had left earlier with that same set to his face, and now Raizen understood why. When he spoke, the words came measured, as if each one were a nail he refused to waste.
"The board is a wall," he said. "Names. Faces. Messages. Work. Warnings. Sightings. It keeps the underworks stitched together." His mechanical fingers flexed, the servos giving a soft, involuntary whir. "And it's where I read the threads."
"Threads?" Raizen asked.
"Patterns," Takeshi replied. His gaze went someplace past the room - out into tunnels, markets, dead corridors, the cold skin of the lotus walls. "A rumor here. A body there. A door that shouldn't be locked. A patrol that goes missing on a quiet shift. Put enough chalk marks on the board and it starts to spell something." He looked back at Raizen. "I've been tracking the Moirai off those marks. Waiting for their shadow to land where I can reach it."
There was nothing theatrical in his voice - only iron.
"Why?" Raizen asked, though part of him already knew.
The answer lived in the silence before Takeshi spoke: a woman's laugh cut off mid-breath, a child's hand wrenching free, a door barred by a stranger's judgment and a mask that didn't blink.
"Because they took mine," he said. "And I intend to take something back."
Obi let out a low breath, respectful for once. Louissa set a palm over the basket lid and smoothed it as if calming down a memory.
"And the Moirai themselves?" Raizen asked, quieter.
"The ones who pull the threads when the world tears," Takeshi said. "Masks or judges, depending on who's telling it. They show up when it matters most, and by then it's too late to argue." A humorless flicker touched his mouth. "You don't ask them for mercy. You make sure they don't notice you."
Obi cleared his throat, shaking the heaviness off like water. "Anyway," he said brightly, "once someone lets you out, I'll show you around. The market, the vents, the place we call The Maw, and of course my forge, which is absolutely not going to explode today."
"Not today," Takeshi agreed, deadpan. "He can barely lift a spoon without splashing everywhere. She just woke up."
Obi threw his hands up, with a surrendering expression. "Too bad! I was going to carry him." He paused, eyeing Raizen. "Okay, I was going to pretend to carry him."
Louissa finished with the new bandage, nodded once, and tucked a clean strip under the knot. "You'll keep this a few days," she said to him. "No lifting. No running. No being a hero unless the ceiling falls in."
Raizen managed a faint grin. It surprised him how easy it was to let the smile live.
Outside, something large moved in the city's depths - a petal of Neoshima's lotus walls grinding into a new position, metal on metal, the distant groan like a sleeping giant turning. The lantern chimed as its flame steadied.
Hikari had edged closer without shifting the mattress. Not touching him, not quite. Just near enough that he could feel the faint cool of her presence. Her hair fell forward like spilled light. She scanned his face again with that same quiet intent, as if the world had narrowed to the shape of his breath. He didn't pull away.
Obi bounced to his feet, already halfway to the door. "Well, gotta go! Got some iron to hit!"
Granny Louissa squeezed Raizen's uninjured shoulder with a grandmother's surety. "don't worry. You're safe, for now."