Hamura lay bleeding in the snow.
The white ground beneath him had turned red, steam rising faintly from the warmth of his blood. The forest, once violent, had grown still. Mika was gone—wounded enough to retreat—but the damage had already been done.
Toji dropped beside his father, hands trembling as he tried to press against the wound.
"Stay with me… please… please…"
Hamura's breathing was uneven, shallow. Each inhale sounded like it hurt.
Toji's vision blurred with tears. His chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself.
I'm too weak.
If he had been stronger… faster… braver…
His father wouldn't be dying.
He couldn't stop the thoughts.
Pathetic.
Useless.
He died because of me.
Hamura's hand suddenly gripped his wrist tightly.
"Toji…" he forced out, his voice barely more than air.
Toji leaned closer. "Don't talk… don't waste your strength…"
"Don't blame yourself."
The words were weak—but firm.
Tears streamed down Toji's face.
"I should have told you," Hamura whispered. "About my past… about her… I didn't see the need. I thought it was buried. I thought… it would never reach you."
He coughed, blood staining his lips.
"I was wrong."
Toji shook his head violently. "No—no—don't say that. You can tell me later. You can explain everything later."
Hamura's grip tightened again, desperate now.
"If you want to know more about me…" he struggled for breath, "…go to Mount Kamui."
Toji froze.
"…Ask for Azui," Hamura continued faintly. "Tell him… Shinsu sent you."
The words barely formed.
Toji was shaking too hard to process them.
"No, Dad! You tell me! I don't want someone else to tell me! I want you to!"
Hamura's eyes softened.
Tears formed in them too.
"Take care of your mother…"
His hand trembled.
"Toji… live…"
His grip loosened.
"Dad?"
Silence.
"Dad?"
The warmth in his father's hand faded.
"Dad… no…"
Toji pulled him closer, pressing his forehead against his father's chest.
"No. No. No. No… Dad, stay with me…"
Nothing.
The world felt empty.
Something inside Toji broke.
He lifted his head and screamed.
"NOOOOOOO!!!"
The sound tore through the forest.
Snow fell from the trees. Birds burst into the sky. The ground itself seemed to tremble as if the mountains heard him.
And far away, beyond the fog, something ancient stirred.
Toji held his father's lifeless body in the falling snow.
The festival bells rang faintly in the distance.
But this time—
They sounded like mourning.
Toji carried his father home.
Each step through the snow felt heavier than the last. Hamura's body rested against his back, blood staining the white path behind them. The forest was quiet now—too quiet.
As the fog began to thin, something caught Toji's eye.
Dark streaks against the snow.
Blood.
A trail.
He hadn't seen it before. The mist had hidden everything.
His heart stopped.
The blood was leading toward his house.
His mind raced.
The mist… it covered the whole forest…
His mother.
She had been home the entire time.
Which meant—
"No…" he whispered.
His pace quickened. The trail grew thicker. Darker. Fresh.
"No… no… no… not her… please… not her…"
He began to run.
When he reached the clearing, his world shattered again.
The house was wrecked. The door hung broken from its hinges. The windows were shattered. Furniture lay scattered across the yard as if a storm had torn through it.
Toji dropped his father's body without thinking.
"Mom!" he shouted, rushing forward.
"Mom!"
No answer.
He stumbled inside. The floor was smeared with blood. Every step he took felt like stepping deeper into a nightmare.
"Mom!"
His voice cracked.
Still nothing.
Each time he called her name, his tone changed—hope turning into fear, fear turning into desperation.
Tears streamed down his face again.
He moved toward the backyard slowly.
And then he saw her.
She lay near the old tree behind the house, her clothes soaked in blood. Snow had begun to settle around her, turning pink where it touched her wounds.
But her chest was still rising.
"Mom!"
He dropped to his knees beside her, lifting her gently into his arms.
Her hand trembled as she reached up and touched his cheek.
She smiled.
"My baby…" she whispered faintly. "We love you… your father and I… you are our treasure."
Toji shook his head violently. "Don't talk like that. Please. I'm here. I'm here."
"I'm sorry…" she continued softly. "I guess… our selfish actions finally caught up to us."
Tears slid from the corners of her eyes.
"Whatever you think… don't let anger consume you. You're a bright child, Toji. There are good things waiting for you… if you choose them."
Toji clutched her hand tightly.
"Mum please… don't leave me too. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. I'll stay home. I won't hunt. I promise. Just… don't go."
Her grip weakened.
"We love you, Toji. We don't want you to live like we did…"
Her voice faded.
"Goodbye, my son."
"Mum…? Mum?"
Silence..
"No… please… Mum… please…"
The wind moved gently through the trees.
Toji sat there for a long time, holding her lifeless body, unable to scream anymore.
Something inside him had gone quiet.
Too quiet.
He was fourteen years old.
And alone.
_____________________________________
Later that day, as the sun began to set, Toji buried them together.
Side by side.
Under the same snow that had once fallen peacefully during festivals.
He stood in front of the graves long after the light disappeared.
No tears remained.
Only a hollow space where warmth used to live.
His parents were gone because of a past he never knew.
Because of mistakes that were not his.
Because of blood that stained his name.
His hands slowly clenched into fists.
Mount Kamui.
Azui.
Shinsu.
And Mika.
If the world ran on blood and consequence—
Then he would learn its rules.
And he would rewrite them.
That night, a new chapter of his life began.
Not as a curious boy.
Not as a hunter's son.
But as something forged in loss.
His journey for vengeance had begun.