Why couldn't he speak? Why couldn't he breathe? And why couldn't he move?
Those were the three questions he asked himself as he lay on the ground with Ichiro seated atop his massive chest, the broken sword lodged deep within him.
It hurt so much he could have cried. Not just the stab wound, but his entire body seethed with unbearable agony.
He looked up at Ichiro, but the shadow cast over his face prevented him from seeing his expression.
Was he laughing? Was he scoffing? Or was he looking at him with that same look of pity once again?
A gust of wind swept past them. Ichiro's hair fluttered with it, but he didn't move.
Breathing became heavier and heavier while his body slowly lost its warmth.
The only movement he could still muster was the twitching of his fingers and the blinking of his eyes.
It was then that the soft afternoon sunlight shone across his face. He turned away from its warmth, but in doing so he caught sight of a silhouette in the distance.
Then he saw two.
Then three.
Then four.
One after another they appeared as though emerging from thin air, yet something about them felt familiar.
Then a scent filled his nose.
Nostalgic. Soft. Comforting.
The wind blew once more and he saw the ends of a stitched robe fluttering gently. Its patterns were simple, its quality poor, but he would have given everything just to touch it again.
Then she looked down at him with that soft smile and a tear immediately slipped down his cheek.
Could it really have been her? There was no way.
Yet that scratched but delicate skin, that scar across her cheek, that burn on her neck, that slit along her ear—
It was all unmistakable.
He couldn't explain where he found the strength, but he slowly raised his hand toward her and she reached back.
But just as his misshapen hand was about to touch hers, she suddenly pulled away.
He looked back at her.
The smile was gone.
All that remained was disgust.
"No," he thought silently, unable to speak the words aloud. "Don't look at me like that. Not you too, mother."
The hatred in her eyes only deepened and for the first time he saw her face twisted with resentment.
Was that how she used to look at their father?
Maybe… maybe that was how she looked at them sometimes too.
Then someone tugged at the back of her robe and she turned slightly.
A small child peeked out from behind her before quickly hiding behind her legs the moment he saw him.
That ring around the boy's neck—
That was Asahi. He was sure of it.
Then he saw the others as well, his brothers slowly gathering behind her.
"What is that scary thing, mother?" young Kenji asked.
"Can it even talk?" Takeru added.
The boys asked their questions while hiding behind her, only stealing brief glances at him.
"No… it's me," he mouthed weakly. "Don't you recognise me?"
No one answered him.
They only stared at him with that same mixture of fear and disappointment.
"Please… I'm sorry," he begged silently within his thoughts. "I'm not a monster."
He raised his hand toward them again.
"It's me… Ryuji."
She made no effort to take his hand.
Instead she simply watched as it dropped heavily back onto the ground with a dull thud.
Then he saw him standing behind her as well.
Those fidgeting hands. That downcast expression.
Even he recoiled at the sight of him.
"What is this?" Ryuji thought desperately. "Why are you treating me this way?"
"Aren't you my brothers… my mother… myself?"
"Why are you abandoning me like this?"
Then, off to the side, he saw her standing alone away from the others, that familiar white mask still covering part of her face as always.
She wasn't looking at him with fear.
That was because she wasn't looking at him at all.
Why didn't they look at her that way? Wasn't she the same as him? A person whose worth was defined by strength.
So why was it that they still treated her as one of their own?
Even after she left.
Even after she cast them aside.
She was the first to turn away and walk toward that blinding sunlight.
"Let's go, kids," Atsuko said as she took their hands and began walking with them. "There's nothing left for us to look at."
"No… don't," he pleaded, his lips trembling as tears welled in his eyes. "Don't walk away from me."
None of them answered.
They simply kept walking toward the light.
"Please look back," he begged. "Don't leave me alone."
He managed to raise his hand toward them once more.
"I'm begging you."
Then, with a single blink, his hand changed.
The mangled claws were gone, replaced instead by the small calloused hand of a child.
Even so, he continued reaching out toward them.
"Please… don't walk away from me."
---
What kind of image is it that lingers with someone long after it has passed? One so vivid that it becomes impossible to forget?
All the fear, the pain, the desire to run—suddenly it was all gone.
Was it because he couldn't run anymore? Was that why he sat there dumbstruck before the barrier even as his mother desperately called out to him?
No.
How could he look away when the sight before him was something that would stay with him forever?
With the sun at his back, hunched over and bloodied as he sat atop the beast with his broken sword lodged deep in its chest, Ichiro looked like the victim of a nightmare.
His long hair fluttered gently in the wind, but the rest of his body remained perfectly still.
For a moment, silence was all that existed for Yuto.
Then the bubble burst.
The barrier shattered with a thunderous crack that tore the silence apart.
And with it, the image collapsed as well.
Ichiro fell forward onto the ground and blood poured from the wounds across his back.
"Yuto!!" his mother screamed as she frantically pulled him into her arms.
But he didn't answer her.
He didn't even look at her.
He was still completely transfixed by what lay before him.
Then something else caught his eye.
A girl dressed in the same black-and-white robes as the others.
He could tell she was injured from the way she stumbled while running, but even so she never stopped moving.
The shrill cry she let out sent more chills down his spine than his own mother's voice had.
"Father!!!"
She tripped and crashed to the ground right beside him, but immediately forced herself back up.
"Father!" she cried desperately as she lifted him into her arms and shook him gently. "Please talk to me."
"Miyuki…?" he whispered weakly, his head resting against her shoulder. "Is that you?"
The blue bands that once stretched across his face had long since broken apart and the black vein-like patterns had spread across nearly all of his skin.
"Don't worry," she said as she placed her glowing hand over the wound in his gut. "These wounds are nothing. You'll be back on your feet in no time."
"Miyuki…" he whispered again. "Is everyone okay?"
She looked around.
Takae was on her knees from exhaustion.
Yuriko lay unconscious nearby.
Izumi remained face down on the ground without moving.
Then she looked back down at the blood steadily spilling from Ichiro's wounds.
"They're all still alive, Father."
"Don't think about that right now. We just need to heal you first."
He didn't answer her.
So she pressed harder against the wound and the blue light around her hand began glowing brighter.
"Do you feel any pain?" she asked shakily.
"No," he replied weakly. "I can't feel anything from the neck down."
Her body trembled for a moment after hearing those words, but even so she continued pouring more energy into healing him.
"It's only temporary," she said quickly.
"Yeah," he replied softly. "I'm sure it is."
Why would he tell a lie like that, he wondered.
Maybe it was simply to spare her from any more pain in that moment.
"Yuriko!" Takae called weakly as she dropped to her knees beside her.
After checking her pulse, she let out a sigh of relief.
"Don't worry, Yuriko," she whispered as she carefully turned her over. "It's finally over."
Before she could lift her, a shadow blocked out the sunlight behind her.
She looked up to see Juro and Mei standing there.
Juro immediately knelt beside her and gently lifted Yuriko into his arms.
"Go check on Izumi," he said. "We'll take it from here. I'd hate for us to have been completely useless."
"Right… thank you, Juro," she replied as she forced herself back to her feet. "Please take care of her."
"Don't worry too much," he said. "She's in safe hands."
Takae nodded before turning away.
Juro carefully lowered the unconscious Yuriko onto Mei's lap before taking hold of the handles of the wooden wheelchair once more.
Blood from Yuriko's wounds stained her robe, yet Mei still held her close while gently brushing through her dull orange hair.
"When she's like this she seems so helpless," Mei murmured softly. "Nothing like the Yuriko we know."
"I don't know," Juro replied jokingly as he began pushing the wheelchair toward Miyuki and Ichiro. "I like this quiet version much better."
Meanwhile, Takae helped Izumi back onto his feet, draping his arm over her shoulder.
"I'm fine," he insisted. "You don't have to help me walk."
"You say that, but you can barely breathe properly," she replied. "Now come on."
The moment she took her first step, her legs wobbled violently and the two nearly collapsed together.
"You're in no condition to be helping someone else either," Izumi pointed out as she steadied them.
"It's the least I can do," she said quietly, continuing forward despite the occasional stumble. "Because I didn't fight him with you."
Izumi glanced at her downcast expression before letting out a dry laugh.
"Fight isn't exactly the word I'd use," he muttered. "More like getting beaten viciously."
"I guess we were way over our heads," he continued. "To think we actually believed we could take on all three of them back to back."
"If Master Ichiro wasn't here," Takae said softly, "I'm sure it would've ended much worse."
Izumi's eyes drifted for a moment toward the child and his mother, who were now surrounded by villagers.
He only looked for a second before turning away again.
"Damn it!" Miyuki shouted desperately. "The bleeding won't stop!"
She looked back toward the village.
"At least not here," she continued. "I need to get you back to the house so I can treat him properly."
"Sure…" Ichiro muttered absentmindedly.
Miyuki forced both herself and him upright, pulling one of his arms over her shoulder.
His limbs hung limply at his sides and his fingers dangled lifelessly as his broken sword slipped from his grasp and clattered against the ground.
Miyuki looked down at it for a moment.
Then she hesitated.
Before finally turning away and leaving it behind.
As she turned back she saw the others coming toward them and she asked, "Is everyone okay?"
"We're as okay as we can be right now," Izumi answered. "But what about the teach?"
Miyuki adjusted her grip as Ichiro slowly slipped lower against her shoulder.
"I've slowed the bleeding," she said, "but we need to hurry back before I can treat him properly."
"Then let's move," Mei said, and the others nodded in agreement.
"Don't worry, Father," Miyuki whispered as she looked toward him. "Everyone's still here… so you can finally think about yourself for once."
They all turned to leave.
Then suddenly—
A small rock struck Ichiro in the side of the head.
His neck lurched downward weakly from the impact.
Everyone froze.
Slowly, they turned toward the source.
The villagers stood there silently.
At the very front was Yuto's mother, clutching another rock tightly in one hand while holding her son's arm with the other. Tears streamed down her face.
Miyuki didn't yell.
She didn't rage.
She only asked quietly:
"Why?"
"What do you mean why?!" the woman screamed back, her voice shaking with grief and fury.
She tightened her grip on her son's arm.
"My child almost died because of you people!"
Another rock flew from the crowd.
This one struck Mei in the forehead as she shielded Yuriko with her body.
"Our homes burned down because of you!" the young girl who threw it shouted.
Blood trickled down Mei's forehead.
Juro looked up furiously—only for another rock to slam directly into his bandaged eye, staining the white cloth red.
"You people are a curse!" someone yelled from the crowd.
"All this misfortune started when you came to our village!"
"Curse all of you!" Yuto's mother screamed as she hurled another rock toward Ichiro.
Izumi stepped in front of him and took the hit square in the chest.
He stumbled backward before Takae caught him.
"Why did you jump in front of that?" she asked in shock.
But he gave no answer.
Soon the stones stopped coming one by one.
The entire crowd had joined in.
Rocks flew endlessly while insults rained down upon them from every direction.
"Just walk away," Ichiro said quietly, breaking the silence between them.
"But Father—" Miyuki began before another rock struck the side of his head.
"Just walk away," he repeated, blood now running from his ear.
Miyuki clenched her fist tightly against her robe.
Then she turned around.
One by one, the others followed after her.
And together they walked away while the stones continued pelting their backs.
Yuto clutched his mother's hand tightly even though her grip hurt him.
Yet he still couldn't stop himself from staring at them as they disappeared into the distance—
burning yet another unforgettable image into his mind.