The fog never left the forest of Yomi.
Even when the sun should have risen, it stayed hidden — trapped behind a ceiling of pale clouds that refused to break. Light here was colorless, as if the world had forgotten how to shine.
We walked in silence. The shrine maiden moved ahead, her white sleeves drifting through the mist like wings. Every so often, she glanced back at me — not with fear, but with study, as if she were watching something unfold that even she didn't understand.
The Yomi Flame still lingered in my veins. I could feel it — warm, restless, whispering beneath the skin. Each time my heart beat, it pulsed faintly, like a second soul trying to match my rhythm.
"How long have we been walking?" I asked.
"Time doesn't pass the same in Yomi," she replied. "Every step forward is borrowed from the living world."
I frowned. "Borrowed?"
She turned to me then, her eyes distant. "What is borrowed must be repaid."
We stopped by a dried riverbed. The stones were blackened, slick with something like soot. I crouched and touched the surface — it crumbled under my fingers, leaving a faint blue shimmer.
"It used to be a boundary," the maiden said. "Between life and death. But something has been feeding on it."
"Feeding?" I asked.
"Regret. Fear. Memories left behind by those who died with hatred still in them."
She spoke softly, but her gaze was fixed beyond me — as if she was seeing something else entirely. "When the barrier weakens, the dead begin to remember the living."
Her words lingered in the air like frost.
We followed the river's path until it led us to a broken bridge. On the far side stood a single stone marker, cracked down the center. Carved across its surface were words I could barely read — ancient, smoothed by centuries of silence.
But one name stood out among them.
Kagemura.
My breath caught. "This is—"
"Your clan's name," the maiden finished. "The boundary stone that marked their duty."
I stepped closer. The crack across the stone pulsed faintly with blue light — the same hue as my flame.
"My ancestors…" I whispered. "They guarded this?"
She nodded. "They were chosen by the spirits of Yomi to maintain the balance. But the day they fell, the boundary shattered."
I ran my fingers over the name. "And my brother?"
Her silence was answer enough.
The Yomi Flame flared briefly in my hand — small but sharp. For a heartbeat, I heard Kaito's voice again.
"You weren't there, Ren."
"You left us."
"Now you bear what you could not protect."
I clenched my jaw, forcing the flame to dim. "I won't fail again."
The maiden's expression softened — almost sad. "Be careful with promises here. The dead have a way of holding you to them."
We crossed the bridge. The mist thickened until it was almost solid, swallowing the world around us. I could no longer see the trees — only shadows shifting in the white.
"Stay close," the maiden warned. "This is the Hollow Path. It's where lost souls wander before they fade."
I drew my blade. "And if they don't fade?"
"Then they become something worse."
Something moved in the fog. A whisper, faint but clear — my name. Then another. Dozens, overlapping.
"Ren…"
I turned, blade raised. Nothing. The sound came from every direction. The fog pulsed, breathing.
The maiden began chanting softly, her prayer weaving through the air like threads of gold. The fog recoiled at her voice — but only slightly.
And then, it came.
A shape emerged from the mist — tall, thin, and twisting, like smoke given hunger. Its face was a blur of screaming mouths. Its hands were bones wrapped in shadow.
A Yomi Wraith.
The maiden's chant faltered. "It's drawn to your flame. Don't let it touch you!"
The creature lunged — impossibly fast. I rolled aside, its claws slicing through where I'd stood. The air itself burned cold. My breath fogged with each exhale.
I slashed, and the blade cut through its chest. It screamed — but instead of blood, my own flame bled from the wound.
"What—!" I gasped, stumbling back. The fire coiled in the air, torn from me, and sank into the creature's form. It grew brighter. Stronger.
"It's feeding on your connection!" the maiden shouted. "Your flame links both worlds — it's a door!"
The Wraith shrieked and lunged again. I barely blocked the strike, the impact throwing me into the riverbed. Pain shot through my arm. The flame pulsed wildly, whispering faster now.
"Use me."
"End it."
"You are ours."
The whispers came from inside me.
I grit my teeth. "No… you obey me."
The flame flared to life again — fierce, unstable. I slashed upward, and the blade erupted in blue fire. The strike tore through the Wraith, scattering its form like ink in water. But even as it fell, it laughed — a dry, hollow sound.
"You burn… as we once burned…"
Then it was gone. The fog swallowed its remains, leaving silence.
I dropped to one knee, chest heaving. My hand trembled; the flame still flickered there, weaker now, but darker. A streak of violet ran through it — deeper than before.
The maiden approached slowly. "You've changed the flame's nature."
I looked up. "What do you mean?"
"Yomi responds to emotion. Fear. Rage. Regret. You wielded it through anger — and it answered."
She knelt beside me. "If you keep doing that, it will stop being a weapon… and start being you."
I closed my hand, snuffing the light. "Then I'll just have to control it."
Her gaze lingered on me — not unkind, but worried. "Control is the illusion Yomi gives before it consumes you."
We made camp near the bridge that night. The fog thinned, just enough to let the ghost of the moonlight through. I sat with my back against the cracked stone, tracing the carved letters again — my family's name, barely visible in the dim.
The maiden brewed a faint, herbal smoke from crushed roots — it smelled of pine and ash. She set it beside me. "It wards the whispers."
I nodded, watching the tendrils curl into the night air. "You knew this place before, didn't you?"
Her eyes flickered — just for a second. "I was once sent here to pray for your clan. Before the fire. Before the gate opened."
"Then you knew them."
"I knew… their devotion." She looked into the smoke. "And I saw what it cost them."
A long silence passed between us.
"Tell me," I said finally, "why are you helping me? You say Yomi chose me — but you move like someone who's been here longer than she admits."
Her lips curved faintly, but it wasn't a smile. "Because I was the first to fail it."
Before I could answer, the bell tolled again — faint and distant. The same sound that haunted every corner of this realm.
She rose, her expression turning grave. "That sound marks the awakening of another gate."
I stood, tightening my grip on the sword. "Then we don't rest."
She looked at me once more — eyes heavy with something unspoken. "No. But if you keep burning like this, Ren Kagemura… you won't have much humanity left to fight with."
I said nothing. The flame flickered faintly in my hand — blue and violet, pulsing with the rhythm of two hearts.
And together, we walked on — into the fog, into the bell's call, toward the next gate that waited in the dark.