The square was lit only by torches and lantern posts. Nightfall had blanketed the district, and civilians had turned in for the night. Everything was empty—except a single bench, where Tsuki sat—alone, gazing above.
She traced the constellations in her mind, counting the stars like beads on a necklace. Anything to keep her head from spiraling. A slow sigh escaped her mouth, visible in the cool night air.
Her eyes lowered, sweeping over Persetta's skyline. The dark outline of roofs, buildings, and anything that still stood with life. Then she saw it.
A faint purple glow from across the square, moving in the shadows. It pulsed softly with each step, unmistakable to her.
She rose instantly, her boots crunching against the cobblestone as she closed the distance. In front of her, Tona trudged forward.
He didn't look up as she got closer. His head was bowed—gaze fixated on the ground. His steps were slow and heavy—like they dragged chains along with them. Purple light illuminated softly from his fingertips, and dried blood sat at the corner of his mouth and from his nose.
"Where the hell have you been?" Tsuki asked in a demanding tone. Tona didn't answer. He just continued forward, not meeting her eyes.
"You weren't there. The ceremony for the fallen—for Maro."
His fingers rolled the suppression ring, spinning it slowly.
"...Had a mission."
"Don't play that with me," Tsuki said, as her jaw tightened. "There's no way you received a job during a time like this. So… why?"
Again, silence filled the place an answer would normally sit.
"Tona… there's blood on you! What happened?"
His gaze flicked upwards, but it didn't meet hers. "It's nothing," he responded, but his hollowed eyes said otherwise.
She stepped closer. "We all lost him, Tona. Everyone. But he was your—"
She stopped herself, before using the word father.
"...You don't have to do this alone. I'm here—we all are. We'll always be here for you."
For just a beat, his eyes softened. The warmth she knew peeked through—the beautiful violet kicked—then vanished. Shuttered behind a wall.
"It's mine to carry."
Her shoulders sank, and her head tilted slightly. He passed her—as he did, his hand brushed her shoulder. It didn't remain—it was only long enough for her to feel the weight.
"Get some rest. Don't worry about me."
She turned as he walked away, watching his broad back wander through the dim lights of Persetta's night. Her chest tightened, and tears rose unbidden—not because of his words, but because she knew the truth.
He was breaking—and she couldn't stop it.
She didn't see the way his steps slowed for a brief moment. The way his jaw strained, and his fists clenched. He forced himself forward.
Tsuki stood there a while longer. Her head was down, with stray droplets falling like rain into the thirsty stone. The square seemed colder than before, and the distant crashing of waves were all her ears could pick up.
Meanwhile, Tona made his way through Memento's headquarters. It remained usable even after the Persetta Raids, but the fallen structure carried memories from that day.
As he reached his room, he turned the knob, and carefully shut it behind him in a muted click. The room was dark, save for a sliver of moonlight cutting through the half-drawn curtains. Dust swirled faintly in the pale beam, the air heavy and still.
Tona sat at the edge of his bed, with elbows resting on top of his knees. His head was bowed, hiding the dried line of blood from the corner of his mouth. A sign of the strain his heart was under.
His hands shook gently as a slow breath rattled his lungs. He glanced upwards—not at the floor, or door. They met the nightstand beside the bed.
On top of the wooden table sat the well-kept, white scarf.
It was neatly folded, and untouched. The faint scent of Yuki's perfume clung to it, as if it knew it was all that remained in remembrance.
He stared at it for a short while—in distant silence. His chest tightened until he felt the pressure in his throat. His hand twitched toward it—but paused midway, fingers curling slowly.
His gaze hardened, and his jaw flexed before he pulled away. Not tonight.
The following morning came quickly, as Tsuki was awakened by a knock at her door. She rubbed her eyes, moving slightly out of bed, as a second, more insistent knock hit harder.
"Tsuki. It's me," said a voice, instantly recognizable as Azumi. Her tone was gentle, but adamant. More knocks followed.
Finally, Tsuki stumbled to the door, cracking it open slightly. Her hair was wild, pulled into a messy bun. Her eyes were ringed with shadows as dark as her eyes. Azumi didn't look much better—her face marked with her own fatigue.
"Good morning. You sleep okay?"
"Definitely not," Tsuki replied, her voice low and exhausted.
Azumi tilted her head toward the room. "Me neither. Can I come in for a second?"
"Sure," Tsuki nodded, pulling the door inwards. Azumi quietly entered, before closing it behind her with a click. Tsuki took a seat on the bed before her attention turned to the floor. Azumi took the spot beside her, falling into the furred cushioning.
"What's got you troubled?" Azumi asked. "I know the ceremony's been hard… but this isn't the same as yesterday. What happened?"
Tsuki's gaze dropped even further, the muscles in her hand tightening. She finally raised her head, meeting Azumi's glance.
"It's… Tona."
Azumi's eyes lit with a spark of recognition and concern. "You saw him?"
"Yes. Last night. He—he wasn't the same."
"What do you mean?"
Tsuki's shoulders slumped back, and she took a breath as her thoughts gathered.
"He's struggling. I tried to talk—but he pushed me away. He said he was on a mission yesterday, and that's why he missed the Ritual of Ashes."
Azumi nodded, letting her continue.
"I don't get it. In the time we need each other most—all of us—he's unreachable. It hurts… knowing that he'd rather bear the pain alone than let others share it."
"I know that hurts… I do. But you understand why he's like that, don't you?" Azumi asked with a hand softly on her shoulder.
Tsuki hesitated before breathing out. "He doesn't want to burden us… but we can help him."
"He wants to sort it out alone. What can we do?" Azumi smiled calmly.
Tsuki stared into the ground again—hopelessness rising to her eyes. Azumi only sighed, and lightly nudged her shoulder.
"C'mon. Let's go grab some breakfast. It'll help you take your mind off things. My treat, sound good?"
A faint, tired smile tugged at Tsuki's lips. "Yeah. Okay."
The two made their way into Persetta's rebuilding streets—the bustle of market life slowly growing once again. The morning air was cool, and tingled Tsuki's skin. Scents of sizzling meats, herbs and fresh bread from the stands along the road's edge.
They passed rows of vendors, calling out their specials for the day, the lively chatter of Persetta slowly breaking through the uneasiness of the raids from days before.
Tsuki's eyes wandered over the menu—weighing all of her options. She pulled her coinpurse out, unwilling to deal with the guilt she'd felt if Azumi paid for her, and ultimately decided on the same kebab she had the night before.
"One, please."
Azumi ordered a bowl of spicy chicken and rice, the heat of the peppers cutting through the morning chill. They carried their food to a nearby bench, settling into the cooler stone spot.
For a while, they both ate in silence—too hungry to interrupt their feasting. Azumi broke the silence with a mouth full of chicken.
"Oh, by the way," she barely managed, before gulping her food down. "Memento's picking a new leader tonight. It's time for Memento to finally get back on its feet."
Tsuki remained quiet for a moment longer, pausing between bites. "I wonder what the options will be."
"Probably the higher ups," Azumi shrugged. "Personally, I think Danzo would fit great!"
"I second that. He's level headed, and people trust him. Even with his background."
"We'll have to see." Azumi dug into her food once more, stuffing her cheeks full.
Tsuki glanced at her, giving a faint chuckle before shaking her head. "This'll be at HQ I'm assuming?"
"Actually, no. It's in the square, the same place the Ritual was."
Tsuki nodded, before returning her focus to the Yggroka mushroom skewer sitting in her hand. She took another bite, before raising her eyes to a single cloud in the sky. It fluttered along peacefully, allowing her to relax in the day's breeze.