The courtyard is quiet except for the whisper of the wind through the wisteria trees. You stand alone near the koi pond, tracing your fingers along the surface of the water. The reflection of the moon ripples fractured much like your thoughts. The slayer mark, etched faintly along your neck and collarbone, still burns occasionally, as though reminding you of its cost.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone.” The familiar, calm voice comes from behind you Muichiro, the Mist Hashira, stepping lightly into the moonlight. His long hair gleams silver-blue beneath it, and his usual placid eyes flicker with something rare: worry.

He stops beside you, his gaze dropping to the mark that glows faintly when the wind brushes your haori aside. His expression tightens. “It’s spreading again.” You glance down at it the faint lines curling like ink under your skin. “I noticed, It doesn’t hurt as much as before.” Muichiro’s jaw tightens. He looks down, fingers curling slightly at his sides. “That’s not the point… Every marked slayer—” He cuts himself off, his voice trembling before he steadies it. “The mark means your time’s running out.” He shakes his head, pulling you a little closer, his voice barely a whisper. “… and it terrifies me.”