Inside the illusion, the airflow was turbulent and the light and shadow were distorted.
"Mamoru!"
Yakumo shouted hoarsely, her chest heaving violently, as if even breathing brought pain.
The surrounding illusion she had constructed began to fluctuate wildly, the colors twisting and the scenery rippling like a stone thrown into water, clearly difficult to maintain.
"Yakumo!" Kurenai shouted in concern.
She wanted to step forward, but the lower half of her body had been erased by Yakumo's Genjutsu, leaving her unable to move an inch.
Yakumo's face was as pale as paper, cold sweat soaking the hair on her forehead and sticking it to her skin. Her lips trembled slightly, but her eyes still burned with a stubborn fire, staring fixedly at the figure in the light screen.
"Yakumo, please stop!" Kurenai's voice carried an uncontrollable tremor and plea.
"If you continue, your body won't be able to take it! You'll be consumed by your own Genjutsu!"
"Yes... it's time to end this." Yakumo's voice was low and raspy, with a calmness of despair and utter hopelessness.
Kurenai's gaze swept rapidly across the phantom in the light screen that resembled Mamoru, instantly understanding Yakumo's intention, and her heart sank.
"Yakumo, stop! Let me tell you the truth!" she shouted urgently, "Don't attack the village!"
Yakumo slowly turned her head, her eyes incredibly gloomy, her gaze bone-chillingly cold. "Kurenai-sensei, don't think about lying to me. Otherwise, I don't know what I'll do."
"The one who truly killed your parents..." Kurenai closed her eyes, as if shutting out all light and her last bit of hesitation.
She took a deep breath and said, "It was me."
"Why?"
Yakumo's pupils suddenly constricted, and the blood in her body seemed to freeze instantly. Her voice trembled with extreme shock, almost cracking. "Why did you do that!?"
Kurenai turned her head away, biting her lower lip hard, her tone deliberately maintaining a nearly cruel coldness. "As long as the Kurama clan is eliminated, the title of 'Strongest Genjutsu User,' my title, will be well-deserved."
Her nails dug deep into her palms, leaving crescent-shaped blood marks.
A surge of hatred instantly overwhelmed Yakumo. She stared fixedly at Kurenai, her once clear eyes now occupied by intense resentment and pain, as if wanting to carve the other's image into the depths of her soul.
Just then—
Schrick—
A piercing tearing sound suddenly rang out!
The void was torn open like a piece of cloth, and a faint blue glow spread out of thin air like a tide.
Following that, a figure wrapped in scorching flames burst arrogantly into the already unstable illusion, his powerful aura instantly disrupting the energy flow here.
Mamoru stabilized himself, the flames coursing around him slowly receding like tamed beasts, forming a red film.
"Yakumo, that's enough trouble."
His deep blue eyes swept over the two people with different expressions before finally landing on Yakumo.
"Don't come and interfere with me!"
Yakumo said sharply, suddenly raising her trembling arm and pointing straight at the pale Kurenai. "She told me the truth! She told me everything!"
Mamoru frowned, looked at the complex-faced Kurenai, and asked, "The truth? You told her everything?"
Kurenai opened her mouth, her throat feeling as if something were blocking it, but in the end, she couldn't make a sound. She lowered her eyes, not knowing how to answer.
The 'truth' Yakumo knew was a lie she had fabricated to protect her, a heavy choice to take all the blame upon herself.
"That's right, she did everything, the murderer of my parents!" Yakumo's voice had a suppressed sob, but more than that, it was the pain of betrayal.
Mamoru sighed, his tone carrying a trace of helplessness, "What are you even talking about? Yakumo, the real murderer of your parents..."
"Mamoru! Don't say any more!" Kurenai suddenly looked up, hurriedly speaking to interrupt, her eyes full of pleading and urgent restraint.
"Do you think hiding the facts is helping her?" Mamoru looked back at Kurenai, his gaze piercing. "Don't be so self-righteous, everyone should be responsible for their own mistakes. Including you, and including her."
His voice echoed clearly in the turbulent illusion.
"What... are you two talking about?" Yakumo looked at this unusual interaction between the two, her anger and hatred replaced by sudden confusion and a faint unease.
She looked at Mamoru, then at the pale Kurenai, her chaotic thoughts tangling like a mess.
Mamoru turned to her, his voice suddenly dropping, his gaze becoming sharp. "Yakumo, when your parents had their accident, do you remember what you were doing at the time?"
"I..."
Yakumo was stunned, her pupils trembling slightly, her gaze gradually becoming vacant. "What was I... doing?"
She suddenly clutched her head, a pained expression appearing on her face. Her memory was shrouded in mist, and she couldn't penetrate it no matter what.
"Why... why can't I remember anything..."
"Let me tell you the truth." Mamoru's voice cut through the suffocating silence.
Yakumo slowly raised her head, looking at him with tearful eyes, like a lost child.
Mamoru said clearly, word by word, "Your parents were killed by Ido, the demon born from the resentment deep in your heart."
These words exploded in Yakumo's mind like a thunderclap, plunging her into great shock and pain. Some blurred and fragmented images began to flash uncontrollably in her mind, looming in and out of sight.
Clang!
A sudden crisp sound broke the silence.
A portrait that had been floating in mid-air suddenly fell and hit the floor.
The gazes of the three were all drawn to it. They saw the oil paint on the canvas fading at a speed visible to the naked eye, as if wiped away by an invisible force.
The true portrait hidden under layers of paint gradually revealed itself—it was a terrifying monster with green skin and sharp fangs, sharp horns growing on both sides of its head, an unnaturally tall body, and strangely long limbs.
"I... I remember now..."
The moment Yakumo's gaze touched the portrait, it was as if an electric current had surged through her entire body. All the memory fragments crashed together, forming a complete picture.
She remembered everything!
She stumbled to her feet, staring in disbelief at her trembling hands, her voice broken. "That's right... it was me... it was the other me inside me... using Genjutsu... I killed my father and mother..."
"No!" Kurenai's voice trembled slightly with urgency. "That wasn't you! You and that monster are different!"
"No... there's no mistake..."
Yakumo slowly crouched down and picked up the cold-glinting palette knife.
Her eyes were as empty as two holes, and her voice was so soft it was almost inaudible. "It's the thing that lives in my heart..."
Regret and self-reproach swallowed her like a tide. It turned out that all these years, she had been wrongly blaming Kurenai.
"Thank you, Kurenai-sensei... Goodbye."
Her face was no longer full of life, like a puppet whose soul had been drained, as she mechanically turned the tip of the palette knife toward her own chest.
Mamoru reminded her in a flat tone out of 'kindness', "That thing won't kill anyone, it'll only hurt like hell."
"Mamoru! Shut up!" Kurenai shouted, both anxious and angry.
Yakumo looked up at Mamoru, her eyes churning with complex and inexplicable emotions—anger, grievance...
"Why... are you always like this..."
For some reason, with Mamoru's interruption, the atmosphere of the scene instantly shifted from a resolute tragedy toward an irredeemable absurdity.
(End of Chapter)
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