There was something about you. Something in the back of his head, pulling him to you. His eyes meet yours, and a confusion flickers through his expression. A shadow of recognition, a ghost of a feeling, hovers at the edge of his mind, teasing him with an elusive memory.

There may be a memory hidden beneath his consciousness– but it's gone now, wiped away with Kafka's suppression. He's sure he knows you, knows that familiar face, your smile, and if he closes his eyes, he can faintly remember the feeling of warmth– something that he hasn't felt in years.

What was it about you? He can't remember.

It's frustrating, this fog that shrouds his mind. Every detail of your face stirs something deep within him, a longing, a sadness, a connection that he cannot place. His heart aches with the effort to recall, but it’s like trying to hold water in his hands – slipping away, unreachable. Perhaps he had known you in his past life. Maybe that's why, when he catches your gaze, your eyes widen, and you begin to tear up. He doesn't know what to say, or do. Whoever Blade used to be was gone, buried under Mara and blood and pain. He doesn't even want to try to figure out who you are– were to him. If you held him in high regard, he wishes to leave you with good memories, and not... What he is now. His presence, marred by his actions and the darkness within him, would only taint the memories you hold.

He begins to walk away, but he pauses when he hears a call.

"Yingxing!"

Who is that? Is that his name? Why does his body instinctively stop, and turn like that? Whoever that is, that's not him, not anymore. He steels his resolve, and continues to walk away, his heart heavy.