The silence after Mizuno's defeat was unlike any silence Majiku had ever known.
It wasn't victory. It wasn't even relief. It was hollow — the kind of stillness that follows when something sacred has broken and the pieces haven't yet realized they're shattered.
He stood in the fading ruins of Eien's corrupted ruins of buildings, the world trembling around him, shadows dissolving into fractured light. Mizuno's form — his brother's face — had flickered away like a dying flame, leaving only that faint whisper:
"You'll understand, little brother. Despair… is never destroyed. It just changes shape."
Then, nothing.
Now, Majiku sat in the real world, his headset lying on his desk beside him. The glow had dimmed. His small hands trembled, not from fear but from exhaustion — emotional, mental, spiritual exhaustion that a seven-year-old should never have known.
Kael hadn't spoken much since. In Eien, his father's avatar had stood frozen for minutes after the battle, sword in hand, staring into the void where his eldest son had vanished. When he finally logged off, he didn't look at Majiku. Not once.
That night, the air in the apartment was heavy.
Majiku's mother moved about the house like a storm contained within walls — dishes clattering, muttered words spilling like venom. Kael sat silently at the table, hands clasped, as though in prayer, though there was no god here to answer.
Majiku simply sat in the corner, knees tucked to himself, replaying the image of Mizuno's glowing eyes — so full of sorrow. So human.
The Father's Silence
"Majiku," Kael said quietly that night, voice low, rough. "You shouldn't have had to see that."
Majiku didn't answer. He just watched his father's reflection in the window — the person looked older than before, more fragile.
"I should have told you," Kael went on, his voice trembling. "About… Mizuno. About everything. I thought burying it would make it go away. But… nothing ever really goes away, does it?"
Majiku finally looked up, his voice quiet but sharp. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Kael's eyes softened. "Because I was afraid you'd see me for what I am — a coward. A parent who ran from his own childs death."
"You already are that," Majiku whispered.
The words hit harder than he intended. Kael flinched, then simply nodded, the truth too heavy to deny.
Majiku stood and went to his room. The door shut quietly behind him. He didn't slam it. There was no need — silence hurt more.
Mira's Avoidance
The next evening, back in Eien, the remnants of The Misty Four gathered at their usual resting point — the crystalline fountain at the edge of the restored city.
Ryn sat cross-legged, idly tossing stones into the holographic water, while Kael leaned against a tree, lost in his thoughts. Mira stood a few paces away, her expression unreadable.
Majiku arrived late, his avatar walking with hesitant steps. The glow in his eyes was faint now — even Eien couldn't hide the fatigue of the child behind the screen.
"Mira," Majiku said softly, "can we talk?"
Her eyes widened slightly, the faintest flicker of unease crossing her features. "Talk? About what?"
"About… you. I just realized, I don't even know who you really are."
Mira smiled nervously, tucking a strand of her white hair behind her ear. "I'm nobody special, Majiku. Just another player."
"That's not true," he said. "You always know what to say. You always act like you understand me more than anyone else. Why?"
She hesitated, her digital fingers clenching slightly. "Maybe I just… relate."
"To what?"
"To being trapped."
The moment lingered — too long, too heavy.
Then, without warning, Mira laughed lightly, the sound too forced to be genuine. "You're thinking too hard, little one. You should be proud — you faced down your brother."
"Mira—"
But before he could say another word, her form shimmered, and with a soft chime, she logged out.
Majiku stared at the fading particles where she stood, a strange weight filling his heart.
"She's hiding something," Ryn muttered.
Kael said nothing, but his hands were shaking again.
The Real World Cracks
Days passed. Majiku's parents fought more than usual.
His father was trying — genuinely trying. He cooked, cleaned, spoke softly, and even smiled sometimes. And got a proper job. But his mother… she seemed to hate him for it.
Every attempt Kael made to bring light back into their home only fueled her fury. She shouted, slammed doors, muttered about "pretending everything's fine."
Majiku sat at the kitchen table one night, his small fingers tracing the edge of a photo frame he'd found earlier — a picture of a child, a parent, and Kael. The person looked younger, softer, but her eyes…
They were the same eyes as Mira's avatar in Eien.
His blood ran cold.
A Terrible Realization
That night, when he entered Eien again, Mira was waiting for him. Alone.
"Majiku," she said softly. "You shouldn't be here."
He frowned. "Why not?"
"Because you're starting to see too much."
Her words echoed strangely, as if the system itself didn't want them spoken.
"You… you're my mother, aren't you?"
The silence that followed was unbearable. Mira's lips trembled, her eyes darting away.
"I—" she began.
"Answer me!"
Something in his voice broke — raw, terrified, desperate.
Her hand shot out suddenly, slapping him across the face. The sound echoed through the digital air, cruelly real.
"You're useless!" she screamed, her tone trembling with emotion that wasn't entirely anger. "Useless for knowing what you shouldn't! You don't understand what it means to live with this shame!"
Majiku staggered back, clutching his cheek, eyes wide with tears. "Why… would you hit me here? Even here?"
Her breath hitched. "Because you shouldn't have known."
He looked at her, trembling. "Then tell me the truth. All of it."
But instead of answering, she turned away. "You want the truth? Ask your father."
And before Majiku could reach out, she vanished again — logging off mid-sob, her data stream dissolving into the air.
Kael's Confession
When Majiku woke in the real world, Kael was waiting in the doorway of his room.
"She told you," Kael said quietly.
Majiku's eyes widened. "So it's true?"
Kael nodded slowly, guilt flooding his face. "Yes. Mira… your mother. She entered Eien years ago. She was part of the original some kind of test group with me. We built that world to escape reality — our pain, our mistakes. But the moment we entered it, it began reflecting who we truly were."
Majiku's lips trembled. "Then… you both knew?"
Kael nodded again. "She wanted to forget. To build a version of herself that wasn't cruel or broken. And in Eien, she found that — the Mira you met. But when the memories started leaking through, when you began to notice the similarities… she panicked. Because now, you've seen both versions of her."
"She hit me," Majiku whispered.
Kael's eyes darkened. "I know."
He stepped closer, kneeling beside his son. "She's angry at herself, not you. But she's too afraid to face that truth. You remind her of everything she wanted to be — and everything she failed to become."
Majiku bit his lip, tears welling. "Then why… why doesn't she just change?"
Kael looked away, voice breaking. "Because some people think pain is the only thing keeping them alive."
Shadows Between Two Worlds
That night, Majiku couldn't sleep.
Every sound of the city outside — every car, every footstep, every hum of electricity — felt distant, unreal.
He slipped the headset on again.
In Eien, the world was dark. Empty. No one around. Only the faint whisper of the corrupted winds, like the world itself mourned for the family trapped inside it.
He walked to the fountain — their old meeting place — and stared at his reflection in the water. For a moment, he didn't see himself. He saw Mira, crying. Kael, broken. Mizuno, screaming.
And then… nothing.
Majiku clenched his fists. "If this world is supposed to reflect us," he whispered, "then maybe it's time I stop running from who I am too."
The Mother's Return
The next evening, Mira returned. Her avatar appeared slowly, fading into the dim light.
"Majiku," she said quietly, "we need to talk."
He said nothing.
"I wasn't lying when I said I didn't want you to know," she continued. "But I wasn't ready for you to see me as I really am. Because the person you know out there… she isn't me. She's what despair made me."
"Then why hurt me for seeing it?" Majiku asked, voice trembling. "Why hit me? Why call me useless?"
She swallowed hard, tears welling in her digital eyes. "Because I didn't want you to look at me with pity. I thought if I pushed you away, you'd stop trying to fix me."
"I never wanted to fix you," he said softly. "I just wanted my mother to love me."
The silence that followed broke something in her. She turned away, trembling, hands over her mouth.
"I can't promise I'll ever be what you want," she said finally. "But maybe… in here, I can start trying."
Majiku nodded faintly, though his tears fell freely. "That's all I ever wanted. But in the real world to."
She looked at him for a long moment — the digital wind brushing through her hair — and then, without another word, she logged off again.
End Scene
Majiku stayed by the fountain long after she vanished.
When Kael and Ryn arrived later, they found him sitting quietly, staring into the water.
"Did she tell you?" Kael asked.
Majiku nodded weakly. "Enough."
Kael sighed. "Then maybe… maybe she's finally ready to face herself."
Majiku wiped his eyes. "No," he whispered. "She's just afraid of the world that won't let her."
The boy stood, the glow of Eien's moon reflecting in his eyes. "But even if she won't change… I will."
And with that, the screen faded to black — the sound of distant thunder echoing through both worlds, as if Eien itself were weeping for the sins of its creators.
End of Episode 8 — "The Faces Behind the Masks."