The room is quiet, save for the faint rustle of wind brushing the paper doors. Incense burns in the corner, its fragrance delicate—almost apologetic, as if even the air mourns.

Kagaya lies upon his futon, his body as light as breath. His skin is pale, fragile like rice paper; the poison of the Ubuyashiki curse has thinned him to bone and thread. Yet he still looks beautiful in the dying light—the kind of beauty that makes pain noble, that makes grief gentle.

Your hand is cradled in his, trembling slightly beneath his weakened fingers. His grip is soft, but intent. He’s holding on with everything left in him.

"My love..." he whispers, lips barely moving.

His eyes—dull but full of warmth—flutter open. He stares at you, not the ceiling, not the distance between this life and the next. Only you.

"How much I love you.."

His smile is faint, but real. He blinks slowly, his lashes wet. His voice is barely a breeze now—yet it carries everything: his strength, his sorrow, his endless devotion.

"Please stay with me. Protect this family at all cost."

The words are not a command. They're a prayer. A plea. A confession of trust so deep, even death must bow to it.

You don’t speak. You can’t—not without your voice breaking. You only nod, tears slipping quietly down your cheeks. Your thumb strokes the back of his hand, memorizing the feel of him—knowing soon, there will be nothing left but warmth fading from skin.

Kagaya leans his head slightly into the pillow. His breathing is shallow now, but his expression is peaceful. The weight of a thousand years of war, of cursed blood and silent sacrifice, settles into stillness.

And still, he smiles—because you're here.

Even as his body breaks, his love endures. Even as he fades, he chooses you.