The morning came slowly.
Gray light filtered through the skeletal branches above, painting the snow in dull shades of silver. The cold felt sharper than usual—less like an environment, and more like something pressing inward.
Haruki sat quietly near the remnants of their camp.
Awake long before dawn.
He hadn't slept.
Not really.
Every time he closed his eyes, the same fragments returned.
Broken images.
Unfinished futures.
A version of himself standing still in a world he couldn't recognize.
Blind.
Haruki clenched his jaw slightly and exhaled through his nose, trying to steady his thoughts.
It didn't work.
"You're thinking too loudly again."
The voice came from behind him.
Haruki didn't turn immediately.
"…Didn't know that was a thing," he muttered.
Karin walked past him, brushing snow lightly off her shoulder as she moved. The chains around her wrists shifted with a faint metallic sound.
"You make it a thing," she replied.
She stopped a few steps ahead, looking out toward the forest.
Quiet.
Watchful.
Haruki finally glanced over.
"…You didn't sleep either?"
Karin shrugged slightly.
"Didn't need to."
That was a lie.
A bad one.
But Haruki didn't call it out.
Instead, he looked back down at the snow beneath him.
"…I saw it again," he said.
Karin didn't ask what.
She already knew.
"The same thing?" she asked.
Haruki nodded.
"…Yeah."
A pause.
"…It felt closer this time."
The words hung in the air.
Karin's expression didn't change, but her eyes shifted slightly.
More focused.
"Visions aren't always literal," she said.
Haruki let out a weak breath.
"…That's not comforting."
Karin turned to face him now, arms loosely crossed.
"It's not supposed to be."
Silence.
Haruki rubbed the back of his neck, frustration creeping back in.
"…I hate this," he muttered.
Karin raised an eyebrow.
"The visions?"
"All of it," Haruki replied. "Not knowing what's real. Not knowing what matters."
His voice tightened slightly.
"Not knowing if what I saw is something I can change… or something I'm just walking toward."
Karin watched him for a moment.
Carefully.
"…You're asking the wrong question," she said.
Haruki frowned.
"…Then what's the right one?"
Karin stepped closer, stopping just in front of him.
"It's not 'Can you change it,'" she said.
A pause.
"It's 'What are you going to do when it happens?'"
Haruki blinked.
"That's the only part you control," Karin continued. "Not the vision. Not the outcome."
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
"Just yourself."
Haruki looked down again.
"…And if that's not enough?"
Karin didn't hesitate.
"Then you make it enough."
Simple.
Direct.
Unyielding.
Haruki let out a quiet breath, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh.
"…You always make it sound so easy."
Karin's expression softened—just slightly.
"It wasn't."
That made him look up.
Karin didn't look away this time.
"…You asked yesterday how I dealt with it," she said.
Haruki nodded slowly.
Karin glanced down at her hands again.
At the chains.
"…I didn't," she said.
Haruki frowned slightly.
"…What do you mean?"
Karin exhaled slowly, her breath visible in the cold air.
"I told you I accepted it," she said. "And I did."
A pause.
"But not right away."
Haruki stayed silent.
Listening.
Karin turned slightly, walking a few steps away before stopping again.
Her voice didn't waver—but it grew quieter.
"When my Eyes awakened, I thought it was power," she said.
A faint, humorless smile touched her lips.
"Something special."
Her fingers tightened slightly around the chains.
"I didn't understand what it really was."
The wind picked up briefly, carrying her words into the trees.
"The first time it happened…" she continued, "I didn't even realize I'd done it."
Haruki's expression grew more serious.
"There was an argument," Karin said. "Nothing important. Just… people talking."
A pause.
"Then I got angry."
Her voice lowered.
"And everything burned."
Silence.
Haruki didn't interrupt.
Didn't ask questions.
Because he didn't need to.
"I couldn't stop it," Karin said. "Didn't even know how to."
Her grip tightened further.
"It just… kept going."
Her breathing slowed slightly.
Measured.
Controlled.
"By the time it ended…"
She stopped.
Haruki looked at her.
"…There was nothing left," she finished quietly.
The words hit harder than anything else she'd said.
Silence stretched between them.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
"…Karin…" Haruki started—
"Don't."
Her voice wasn't harsh.
But it was firm.
"I'm not telling you this so you feel bad for me," she said.
Haruki closed his mouth.
Karin turned back toward him, her expression steady again.
"I'm telling you this because you're not the only one who thought they were going to lose themselves."
Haruki's chest tightened slightly.
"I was scared too," she said.
That word lingered.
Scared.
"I thought if I used it again…" Karin continued, "…the same thing would happen."
Haruki swallowed.
"So I stopped."
A pause.
"I avoided fights. Avoided people."
She let out a small breath.
"…Avoided everything."
Haruki's grip on his katana tightened slightly.
"That doesn't sound like surviving," he said quietly.
Karin gave a faint nod.
"It wasn't."
Another pause.
"It was just… waiting."
The wind softened again.
"For what?" Haruki asked.
Karin met his gaze.
"For it to happen again."
Silence.
Haruki looked down.
"…So what changed?" he asked.
Karin didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she walked back toward him, stopping just a few steps away.
"I realized something," she said.
Haruki looked up.
Karin's expression was sharper now.
More intense.
"It wasn't the power that caused it," she said.
A pause.
"It was me."
Haruki blinked.
"I was the one who lost control," Karin continued. "Not the Eyes."
The words hit differently.
"So I stopped blaming it," she said.
Her voice steadied.
"And I started fixing myself."
Haruki stared at her.
"…That sounds harder."
Karin smirked faintly.
"It is."
A brief silence passed.
"…But it works."
Haruki looked down at his hands again.
"…My situation's different," he said.
Karin tilted her head slightly.
"How?"
Haruki hesitated.
"…Your power is something you release," he said. "Mine… it just happens."
Karin didn't respond right away.
Instead, she crouched slightly in front of him.
"Then stop treating it like something happening to you," she said.
Haruki frowned.
"…What?"
Karin tapped lightly against his forehead.
"It's coming from here," she said.
Haruki stilled.
"Which means it's yours," Karin continued. "Whether you like it or not."
Her gaze didn't waver.
"So stop acting like you're a victim of it."
The words were blunt.
Sharp.
But they weren't wrong.
Haruki looked away slightly.
"…That's easier said than done."
Karin stood up again.
"Yeah," she said.
A pause.
"Everything worth doing is."
Silence followed.
But this time—
It wasn't as heavy.
Haruki exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing just a little.
"…Thanks," he muttered.
Karin shrugged.
"Don't mention it."
A faint smirk.
"Seriously. Don't."
Haruki let out a small laugh.
For the first time since waking up—
It felt real.
Footsteps approached again.
Raizen.
He stopped near them, his gaze shifting briefly between the two.
"…You're moving better," he noted.
Haruki blinked.
"…I just woke up."
Raizen shook his head slightly.
"No," he said.
"You're thinking better."
Haruki paused.
Karin smirked faintly.
"See?" she said. "Not completely hopeless."
Haruki rolled his eyes slightly.
"…That's reassuring."
Raizen planted his spear into the snow again.
"We leave soon," he said.
Haruki nodded.
But this time—
There was no hesitation.
As they prepared to move, Haruki glanced once more at the forest ahead.
The same unease lingered.
The same distant pressure.
But something inside him had shifted.
The fear was still there.
But it wasn't controlling him anymore.
Not completely.
And for now—
That was enough.
As they stepped forward into the forest once more—
Haruki's vision flickered.
Just for a second.
A fragment.
Fire.
Chains.
And a figure standing in the distance—
Watching.
Haruki's eyes narrowed slightly.
"…Karin," he said.
She glanced back.
"…Yeah?"
He hesitated.
Then shook his head.
"…Nothing."
For now.