Nowa clutched at his chest, his fingers clawing into the fabric of his sweater as if he could physically grasp the aching organ beneath. Each step away from the garden, away from her, made the yearning intensify, a phantom limb screaming for a connection it remembered but could no longer have.
'Stop it...' he begged the feeling.
It did not obey. He slowed, his steps faltering.
'Stop it... Please...' he pleaded again.
It never did. He could hear nothing but the frantic beat of his own heart, a drum of hope against the silence of his despair. He clutched his chest tighter. His nails dug in deep enough to bleed, staining his white sweater.
'STOP IT!' he hissed at himself.
But the heartbeat of wanting, of longing, did not yield. His control shattered. The aura of the Cosmic Slayer erupted from him as a wave of unchained self-loathing. The air around him crackled like thunder, and the few fairies still in the corridor shrieked and scattered away.
'YOU'RE AN IRREDEEMABLE MONSTER, YOU KNOW THIS! YOU DON'T DESERVE TO LIVE!' His teeth grinding to one another.
The black fire that unmade many gods, evil and innocent, intensified, focused inward. He could feel it, the power to unmake.
'THAT'S IT! I'M RIPPING YOU AWAY!' He focused the black fire inward, aimed at his own soul.
"What are you doing, Beckitzer." The voice cut through behind him.
He glanced back, his eyes those of a predator. The black fire writhed around him. "Go. Away."
Sakuya watched his movements, his blood-stained chest, the black fire from his hand, aimed inward at his own chest. At his very heart.
'He's committing suicide.' The realization struck cold. 'This is bad. For all the things I've learned thanks to Lady Patchouli's books... I have no Maid 101 guidebook for this, especially for the likes of him, ...How do I stop him?'
Her mind raced, but she had no answer. So she did the only thing she could: she reached for her experiences, her entire existence of order, duty, protocol and prayed it would be enough. That, against someone like him, it might actually work.
She stood her ground. "I will not," she stated. "You are a guest under the protection of the Scarlet Devil Mansion. That protection extends to you from yourself."
"Why do you care?!" he snarled, swinging his arm in a violent, dismissive gesture that created a mini whirl of wind. "Leave! This has nothing to do with you!"
She stood still, unmoved by the wind that tried to push her. "You made a bargain with Yukari Yakumo. Your personal crisis does not exempt you from that responsibility. Your mission is not complete," she reiterated.
"Yeah. That's why I'm taking the weakness out," he gritted his teeth, the black fire spewing erratically around his clawed hand. "Leaving the weapon you all wanted. So go away!"
'He's so persistent. He's already deep into self-loathing.' She thought. 'There's no way my method will work...' She almost believed it. Then the image of Remilia surfaced, her mistress, her purpose, her home. The word anchored her. 'I can't fail my mistress. I must break through his armor... For my home.'
With that determination, she took a single, deliberate step forward. Her voice dropped, losing its professional chill, gaining a sharp, undeniable intensity.
"You are a fool, Beckitzer." She let the insult hang against his despair. "A weapon without a heart is a useless, directionless tool. What you call 'weakness' is the very thing that lets you choose to protect. It is what made you save Reimu."
"It's because of my debt to Amy's kindness!" he protested.
She briefly stopped. Before resuming. "It is what made you craft the jacket that saved my life."
"It's not mine. The craft was a lie. It was a gift to me. From BION! I just upgraded it. I just draped it over you because... because..." His gaze slowly fell to the floor. He was losing ground.
She saw an opening. She pushed more. "Without it, you are just a force of nature, you may be one of it. But we already have one of those breaking up our garden parties. Zero cannot be defeated by a mere weapon. It must be defeated by a protector. And you cannot protect what you have rendered yourself incapable of valuing."
Nowa halted. The black fire around his hand sputtered and died slowly. "...I am more than what all of you can handle," he whispered, the snarl gone. "I am a monster. Go... away.."
She did not yield an inch. "My life has been in service to a monster within this mansion. It doesn't—"
"You don't know me!" he shouted. "You don't know what I did! what I did to reach this state! what I did to achieve this peak! I'm more than a monster, I'm... I'm—"
He was searching for a word, a title horrific enough to describe the deepest depth of the abyss he saw of the truth in himself.
Sakuya did not let him find it. Her voice, clear and absolute, cut through his building intensity with a final, quiet verdict.
"You're a human," she stated. "With a heart bigger than anyone in this place."
His grief-etched expression slowly turned to meet her gaze. And once he saw her, the illusion shattered. He did not see Amy anymore. He saw Sakuya Izayoi—the Chief Maid, the Time-Keeper, the woman who had just looked into his abyss and refused to flinch, the one who saw the man within the monster. He bit his lip, a single tear threatening to betray him.
"Damn it..." His eyes squeezed shut. "Damn it, damn it, DAMN IT!"
He opened his eyes, meeting hers. His hand fell away from his chest.
"Why can you people understand?!"
"Because—"
He cut her off. "I don't have much time left on me! I don't even know whether I'll live! But you people keep dragging me where I could remain alone and die alone!"
"All we need—"
"This is what I deserve! For what I've become! I don't need any more hope! So please, let me die—!"
"We can't, damn it!" Her composure shattered. "All you talk about is death, death, death! We can see you are hurt! We too, damn it! You're not alone in this. We don't deserve our fates to be branded by this Zero! We have no idea what we're even fighting against, let alone what's going on! That's why we need you!"
His face twisted with grief. "But I'm a monster! You understand that I am way above all of you! I've done wors—"
"My view of you doesn't change! You are hurt. Words can reach you. Our actions affect you. You are still a human despite it!"
Nowa faltered. "But—"
"We don't care about any of that! All we care about is the one who saved us now! Right now, that's you!"
A single tear fell. "Please, throw me ou—"
"We won't! Why are you so persistent about it?!"
"Because I'm not allowed in this story—"
She stepped forward. "What are you babbling about?! Not all stories revolve around one thing! Every story is welcome in other stories!"
"That's not what—"
She stepped closer. "Does it matter? No. I assure you, all outsiders are welcome, so long as they obey the house rules!" Her hand moved to her chest. "You're more than welcome here, thanks to Milady and to me, no matter how infuriating you are!"
He stepped back. "But—"
She closed the distance and slapped his cheeks.
"Because you are still a human." Her face was etched with quiet grief.
He slowly touched his cheeks. His eyes welled with tears. He shut them and looked down.
He gave up.
Sakuya lingered for a long moment. She sensed the shift; the storm was finally over. For one suspended heartbeat, she allowed herself to feel it, the relief. Her shoulders loosened, the tension she hadn't realized she'd been holding draining from her posture. It worked. Her gamble, launched without guide, without certainty, without any guarantee except desperation... it had actually worked.
She did not linger in the feeling. There was no time, and more critically, there was him, still standing, still breathing, still there because of her, still bleeding through his chest. That would have to be enough.
"You need to be treated," She said as she grabbed his wrist.
Dragged him with her, her demeanor already reforming into that of the impeccable servant. "Your room is this way." She did not look back.
He let himself be dragged, his steps heavy and silent behind her.
As they reached his doorstep, they entered the room. He finally opened his eyes as she let go of him.
"Sit down, Mr. Beckitzer," She gestured at the chair.
He quietly sat down on the chair she pointed. She entered the bathroom and exited with a med kit.
"Please lift your shirt. I'm going to treat it now."
He slowly lifted his shirt.
The wound was worse up close. Four deep crescents, each one carved by his own nails, raked across the left side of his chest just above the heart. The bleeding had slowed.
Sakuya said nothing. Her expression didn't change.
She knelt beside the chair, closer now, and opened the med kit. The scent of antiseptic drifted into the air between them.
"Hold still," she murmured.
The first touch was cold, a damp cloth pressed gently against the torn skin. He didn't flinch. The cloth came away stained, and she folded it once before pressing again, working outward in slow, careful strokes, cleaning away the dried blood.
He stared at the wall. Not at her. Not at the wound. Just the wall.
She set the cloth aside and reached for a small tin of ointment. The lid came off. She used two fingers to apply it, dabbing rather than rubbing, her touch was light.
The only sounds were the soft tick of the clock near the door, and the quiet rhythm of two people breathing in the same room.
When the ointment was applied, she unrolled a length of clean bandage. She leaned forward, bringing it around his chest with practiced efficiency, her arms briefly encircling him without ever touching more than necessary. She tied it off at his side.
"There," she said.
He didn't answer.
She began returning the unused items to the med kit. The antiseptic went in. The ointment went in. The remaining bandages went in. The cloth, bloodied and spent, she folded and set aside.
Then she stood, lifting the kit, taking the cloth that was set aside with her. "I will take my leave now,"
He lowered his shirt. "...I'm ...not joining the dinner tonight." His voice was hollow.
Sakuya nodded. "I will deliver the food to your room, then."
Nowa was somber, staring at the wall. "And... I'm sorry."
Sakuya held her gaze on him for a moment, her expression unreadable. "I am just doing my duties. That is all."
She then walked by the door. Before she could step out, he looked at her one last time. She glanced over her shoulder.
"And make sure you do not harm yourself, Beckitzer." Her voice was soft. The latch clicked into place, then she was gone.
Nowa sat for a long moment, watching the empty space where Sakuya had been. He finally stood up. He took steps to the side and his body gave out, collapsing onto the bed. He didn't stir, didn't make a sound. He simply surrendered to a deep, exhaustive silence of the room. The constant, grinding tension that had defined his existence for years simply... evaporated.
And then, a single tear ran down his eyes and onto the pillow. It was followed by another. He didn't sob; the grief was too vast for that. It was a quiet fall. The walls of cynicism, anger, and nihilism he had painstakingly built over a decade, the fortifications that made him the Flame Noah, the Cosmic Slayer, crumbled into dust, leaving only the raw, grieving man named Nowa Beckitzer exposed to the world.
Meanwhile, in the Yakumo household, the boundary image of him faded. Ran slowly lowered her hand from her mouth, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and pity.
"Poor man..." she whispered.
Yukari, however, nodded in deep satisfaction, then let a slow, triumphant smile spread across her lips. She snapped her fan shut with a definitive click.
"This," Yukari declared, the boundary image faded to nothing. "This was the hunch I was feeling. The catalyst had to be genuine connection, not forced confrontation." She glanced at Ran. "It seems Reimu's practical decision to let the Scarlet Devil Mansion handle our troubled cornerstone has paid off beyond expectation. The weapon has been disarmed. Now, the man can be approached."
A boundary rift, eyes peering from the edges, ribbons trailing along the seams like elegant sutures holding reality together, opened beside her.
Ran stood up immediately, her tails bristling. "Wait, Milady, I will come with you."
Yukari raised a single hand, a stop gesture. "No. He is vulnerable at this moment. He will not be a threat, but that is precisely why I must go alone. A show of force, even a concerned one, would shatter this fragile opening." Her gaze was unwavering. "He gave us a three-day deadline. I must ensure his path still aligns with our goal and, if I am very persuasive, the negotiation of an extension to his stay in Gensokyo is very likely."
Without another word, she stepped through the boundary. It closed behind her without a sound, leaving Ran and Chen in the sudden quiet of the room.
In Nowa's chamber, the silence was a heavy shroud. He now lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, too emotionally drained to even summon the energy to despair.
Then, the air in the corner of the room folded.
It was not a violent tear, but a subtle re-weaving of reality. From the rift stepped Yukari Yakumo, her eyes immediately scanning the room and settling on his lying form. She did not speak immediately, allowing her presence to be acknowledged, giving him the choice to be the first to break the silence in his own sanctuary.