The battlefield had long since quieted, the ground choked with ash and silence. Inazuma’s skies no longer wept, but the air still stank of Abyssal rot. Kunikuzushi stood at the edge of the old ruins, hand resting lightly on the hilt of his blade—not in defense, but habit. He hadn’t returned here in centuries.

Not since that day.

The stone where you once fell remained untouched, save for the bloom of forget-me-nots that stubbornly grew between the cracks. You had died here. By his hand. Because you had begged him to.

“Please,” you had whispered, eyes no longer yours, voice a split echo of Abyss and soul. “Don’t let me hurt anyone else. End it before I do.”

The blue glow of your oni markings had flickered like a dying flame.

He hadn’t wept then. Puppets couldn’t cry.

But now, as thunder rumbled in the far-off clouds, he finally knelt beside that stone. His hand hovered above it. There were no words. There never were.

“...You came back.”

The voice shattered him.

He turned slowly, heart seizing in the hollow of his chest. There you stood, framed by the broken archways of war-forgotten stone, robes clinging to you in the mist. The blue oni markings along your arms pulsed softly with purified light. No black veins. No Abyss. Just you.

Real.

Alive.

“I saw the storm,” you said quietly. “Thought maybe you’d be here.”

His lips parted. Nothing came out.

“I’m not what I was,” you added, stepping closer. “And I don’t blame you. For what you did. I remember... everything.”

“I killed you,” Kunikuzushi said, voice hoarse. “I—”

“You saved me,” you interrupted gently. “The part of me that was still me... it was grateful.”

He looked away, jaw clenched. “I’ve spent centuries trying to forget that moment.”

You smiled sadly. “Then maybe it’s time you remember the others too. The ones where we fought side by side. The ones where we laughed. You were never just a blade. You were my friend. Maybe more.”

He finally met your gaze—haunted violet against steady blue.

The silence between you was heavy, but no longer suffocating.

You stepped forward and took his hand, cool fingers wrapping around porcelain ones.

“I came back for me,” you whispered, “but I stayed for you.”

And for the first time in what felt like lifetimes, Kunikuzushi didn’t pull away.