This is the last chapter.

All the ideas and plans I was mulling over were just… fillers. And a good rule of thumb in writing is, if it doesn't actively advance the plot, you should throw it out. So, I did. All that remains is what's important. Everything else would've just prolonged the inevitable, I guess?

As always, thank you, thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, and supported these stories. I can't express how much you've helped me over the years, and I am so grateful.


"No one saves us but ourselves. No one can and no one may. We ourselves must walk the path."

The Buddha

Epilogue: Into the Miasma


"Oh. It seems I was mistaken. He made it after all…"

I hesitated and processed this quick turn of events, before pivoting and peering out at the courtyard in front of Genkai's temple. When I saw him, my breath hitched in my chest, and my hand flew to my mouth.

Kuronue stood their calmly, as if his presence here wasn't at all a big deal, grinning up at me. He looked… exactly the same. Same tattered hat, leather vest and pants, strange white skirt-thing… except for one notable difference. He was opaque Solid. Real. Not see-through, but there—as if he were…

"Kuronue?" I tested in a small voice, edging towards the stairs at the front of the porch. I descended a couple steps, and hesitated, still staring at him in complete and utter disbelief. "Is it… really you?"

He rolled his eyes—which, I might add, was a very Kuronue thing to do—and strode forward. My hand shot back up to my mouth to cover a faint gasp as I heard him walking towards me with solid footsteps… not floating towards me, but actually walking, his feet on the ground. He came to a halt just a few feet away from me, and smirked up at me.

"Yup. In the flesh."

"Holy shit," I breathed, just barely believing it. I heard Kurama chuckle slightly as my reaction, and Kuronue followed suit, shaking his head at me. I ignored them both, sucking in a breath to speak. "How…?" Tentatively, I reached out a hand and pressed my finger into his chest—it didn't go through him. His grin widened as I gaped in shock, jerking back my hand like it had been burned. Then, before I knew what I was doing, I launched myself off the steps and wrapped my arms around his neck with an excited shout. He stumbled back slightly out of surprise, then started laughing and curved his arms around me.

"How? How?" I all but screeched, brimming with joy. When he put me down, I stared up at him in wonder. And then promptly burst into tears.

Kuronue's face crumpled in dismay. "Wha—Rei—?!" When I stepped forward and wound my arms around his waist again, sobbing unabashedly now, his arms hovered over my shoulders. When he shot Kurama a bewildered, if not horrified look, my tears quickly gave way to laughter.

"What the hell, woman?" Kuronue demanded when he noticed the change.

"Because," I sniffed mightily craning my head to look up at him (and to his credit, he only withdrew a little bit at the sound,) "I'm just… I'm so fucking happy to see you. I…" My eyes welled again, and his flew open in fright, "I didn't realize—holy, Kuronue, there's so much I didn't say…"

I sensed, in my own way, that Kurama had turned to leave, to give us space. When I turned, his back was facing us, and he was already disappearing back inside the temple. When I send a mental question mark his way, the space where his mind should've been was perplexingly blank. I stared after him, frowning, and then decided to worry about it later. There were more pressing matters to attend to.

"Walk with me?" Kuronue suggested, gently extricating himself. I nodded, and wiped my nose with the hem of my jacket sleeve. He pulled a bemused expression at this, but said nothing.

We walked for a bit in silence, trailing alongside the forest's edge till we came to the long flight of stairs at the entrance of Genkai's temple. I started down, and heard him following me.

He cleared his throat. "You're looking great, by the way, but… this is kinda strenuous, don't you think?"

I snorted. "What're you, chopped liver?" I could almost hear him rolling his eyes, but he didn't say anything.

When I felt that we had gone far enough, I turned towards him, lifting an eyebrow. "Anyone within earshot?"

He lifted a raven eyebrow; his curiosity was piqued. "Ah, no. I mean, you tell me." He waved at his own arm, indicating the mark on mine. I glanced down at my left arm, touched the bandages still twined around it.

"All good on that front," I murmured, and sat on one of the stone steps. After a beat of hesitation, Kuronue followed suit, his legs sprawling down a couple more steps. I planted my feet on the step below the one I was sitting on, and hugged my knees to my chest. We sat in companionable silence for a little while, long enough to allow the creatures roaming the night to pluck up their courage again—they'd gone silent, probably sensing Kuronue's presence.

"So…" Kuronue said. I worried the inside of my lip.

"I don't want to hurt you," I muttered, shaking my head. "Either of you."

The atmosphere changed between us instantly. Kuronue leaned away from me in surprise. "Straight to the point?" he asked, his tone guarded. I couldn't bear to look at him, and nodded.

"No time to waste." I laughed humorlessly, and leaned back, staring at the trees above us. "Losing you taught me that."

His stony silence said it all, and neither of us felt the need to elaborate. It wasn't needed. We both knew what I really should've said—I hadn't lost Kuronue. I'd willingly walked away from him.

"I've been… weak," I murmured.

"Doesn't sound like you," Kuronue interjected. I shook my head.

"No. I think that's the problem."

Kuronue raised an eyebrow, silently urging me to continue. I sighed, somewhat shakily, and ceded his demand. "I'm not… me. I haven't been for a while—since Ryo took my memories."

Kuronue's eyes widened in understanding, but before he could interject his opinion, I continued: "Now that I have all those memories back, I remember who I used to be. I'm not the Reina Kurama fell in love with."

Something in that had caught Kuronue off guard, and he stumbled over his words. "Ah, well—I don't know if he'd agree with you there."

I was already shaking my head. "I'm not talking about him, Kuronue."

When my words were still met with silence, I continued—slowly, purposefully, weighing every word. "I don't… feel like I used to."

Kuronue was clearly uncomfortable with this topic of conversation, but did his best. "I mean…" he shifted on the stone, shrugged, and started rubbing the back of his neck, his violet eyes clouded with something I couldn't name. "So… you're not head-over-heels, but maybe…"

"I know that," I insisted, before he could continue. Suddenly ashamed, I turned my face fro him, stared down the endless stone staircase before us. I couldn't swallow the sinking feeling in my throat. "I know that love isn't just about… feelings. I know that it's much more than that. But in the beginning—hell, at any time, really, shouldn't you at least feel…" I threw my hands up. "Something?!"

"You don't love Kurama?"

"No!" I almost shouted.

The relief that surged through me was almost as potent as the guilt, the panic, the fear. I clapped my hands over my mouth. The corners of my eyes were stinging.

"Oh, my god," I whispered, not to anyone in particular. My fingernails bit into skin as the gravity of what I'd just said, what I'd just admitted, washed over me like a tidal wave. "Oh my god."

"Then…" Kuronue asked slowly, "Why…?"

Beneath his words, there was a deep well of hurt. Of pain that I'd inflicted on him. I didn't look at him, but I could feel his gaze on me, see in my mind's eye the wounded distance in his eyes. I heard a scuff as he scooted away from me, just a few inches, just enough space to give himself the room to process.

If I didn't love Kurama, why had I chosen him over Kuronue? Why had I chosen to seal my powers, if not for love?

"I don't love him." The words run hollow in my head. My heart twisted in a strange mixture of grief and guilt. "I feel… obligated to… step back into my old life. They all… expect me to." My hands dropped from my mouth, hung slack over my knees. I stared unseeingly into the darkness spread out before us. "Everyone back there… they all remember a version of who I was. Being with Kurama was a part of that. I thought I was choosing my old life, choosing to go back to it, but I…"

"You can't," Kuronue assured me. His voice was flat, not angry, more resigned than anything. "That isn't you anymore."

My throat burned. "I miss it," I whispered. "Is it wrong that I miss it? I remember—everything. Every moment with him. Every part of my old life. But I…"

"You were happy then," Kuronue responded quickly, and edged closer to me. I turned my face towards him as he leaned in, his expression earnest. "I remember the old you too, you know. You were happy."

"I…"

"Who's to say you can't be happy again?" he interrupted.

I stared at him as if he'd just revealed the answer to the meaning of life. But it brought me no comfort.

"Who's to say I can?" I whispered.


My mind snaps awake, but my body takes its time. I blink rapidly, and the world slowly comes back into focus.

I am numb with cold, and I remember.

"Why didn't you just kill me?" I mutter.

Karasu—in the lilting, childlike tones of my son, chuckles with delight. "And bring an end to your misery?"

My limbs work, but barely. The burns and wounds he'd inflicted are all but healed now, but snow has fallen, and my arms and legs are deadened by the ice. Pins and needles race up my arms as I roll over in the frost, grass crunching under my ribs, and I grit my teeth as my legs come alive again. Slowly, surely, I rise to my feet, and turn to face him.

"Make your point."

Karasu tilts his head, Kurama's green eyes watching me with faint amusement from Garasuke's pale face. "You came here seeking to fight me. Kill me with your… supposed strength." His eyes flashed. "It was ill advised."

I remember the fight. He'd jumped me, unsurprisingly, in the middle of the forest—used plants to knock me off guard. I was knocked out quickly. I hadn't stood a chance. He'd been in his true form, then, and I'd fought him with everything I had.

It hadn't been enough then.

And now…

My lip curls in a frustrated snarl as I look at him—my son. The bloodlust, the urge to kill, has all but vanished. My honed killer's instinct is deadened with his presence. The only echoes I have left of my human self are making me weak. Karasu knows this. He isn't interested in fighting me, now. He wants to talk.

"You are incapable of killing me with brute force," he breathes; the last syllable ends in a hiss. It's snowing again. The air is still, and large tufts of snow stick to my skin and hair.

"What alternative are you suggesting?" I snap.

Instead of answering, a wide smile breaks across his face. He lifts his chin, testing the air, and the grin widens to show teeth. A glimpse of the monster hiding beneath my child's skin.

I am suddenly aware of the presence he'd sensed, and whirl to meet it.

Kurama is standing beneath a cypress, shielded from the snow. His verdant eyes are as cold as the sleet coating its branches. They flick between Karasu and me, narrow slightly, and then he steps forward, an arm jolting up, hand plunging into his short hair.

In the space between heartbeats, Kurama is armed and upon us, his expression flat but jaw tight with strain.

It looks like he means to kill us both, because we are so close to each other. But I feel no fear. Even as the ground quakes as roots part it, and the trees stretch their branches towards us, I am not afraid. There is no room for it.

I am a mother.

He means to kill my child.

A pale shadow of my maternal instinct clicks into place, and I attack.

Kurama barely has the time to flinch before I lash out with my least-wounded arm, slashing wide and low. And while I am no match for Karasu, Kurama does not expect me to turn on him.

His blood sings in a wide arc through the air, staining the snow and spraying the side of my face. He makes no sound, but the breath leaves his lungs in a quick gasp the moment his body hits the ground.

"What have I—no!" Horror sweeps over me, but before I can go to his side, Karasu appears before me, blocking my path.

A baleful snarl bubbles in my chest, and I lift my already bloodied hand to cut him down—but it stops short, all bark and no bite.

I know what he is, who he is, but I can't bring myself to kill him. Karasu stares up at me with Kurama's eyes, looking every inch the part of a curious child, and I cannot do it; I cannot kill him, I won't, he's my son and I—

I fall to my knees, and the child smiles gently, and places his hands on my face. Kurama groans out a warning, but I can't hear him.

Karasu whispers something to me, and my eyes slip shut. I am weak; my whole body is shaking like a leaf. Of course he would ask this of me.

For all I have done to make myself strong, it has all been a complete waste of time.

I barely notice when he vanishes. When I open my eyes, all I see is Kurama.

He won't die today. His hands are red, stemming the flow of blood from the gaping wound in his stomach, but it is already slowing. There is confusion and pain on his face, but somehow, no betrayal. He'd heard what Karasu said, but doesn't know what it means. Yet.

Sounds of passage reach my ears, and I tilt my head, honing in on them. It's the others, save Shizuru and Chu. They've stayed behind; Chu is likely guarding Shizuru. The others—Kuronue, Jin, Touya—will help Kurama. He will survive this.

Kurama sees the decision in my eyes the moment I make it. His teeth grit, and he reaches out a hand towards me. "No," he hisses, eyes wide on mine.

I stand, turn, and leave him bleeding in the snow.


The series of trains I take to get to Hanging Neck Island are clunky, slow, and give me time to consider.

I am given a wide berth. I've since rinsed the blood from my face, but humans seem to sense that I'm not to be trusted. That I do not belong. No one sits beside me, and most times, the seats in front and behind me are empty.

An abandoned newspaper tells me that it's 2010. I can't remember much about the new millennium. I'd been human then, and I'm sure that we had celebrated its new arrival—but it feels as if the world is entirely new. I don't recognize the music I can hear through other people's headphones. Everyone appears glued to their phones.

I do not belong to this world. Perhaps I never did.

I think back to the dream—or perhaps it was a hallucination—I'd had after Karasu had knocked me out. The first portion was familiar—it was the night that Kuronue had returned to Human World, in a new body. But I had never gone off with him that night, to speak alone, to reorient myself in this new world, in my new life.

Because when I returned, I had returned to a new life. I'd just… tried to box it up and pretend I was still the old version of myself.

The difference between who I am now and who I used to be is stark.

The old Reina would've thrown herself in front of Kurama's wrath today. Not turn on him and try to kill him.

The old Reina would have been honest with him from the beginning. Found a way to work with him instead of hide from him.

The old Reina would've realized that her son was an imposter long before Karasu had revealed himself. She would've known, because she would've loved him with all her being.

I try to recall fond memories from Garasuke's childhood and draw a blank. I cannot remember because I had paid him no attention.

What did I hope to prove now, by defending his shell?

My grip on the vinyl seat cushion is a touch too hard; my nails puncture the material with a faint pop, and an older couple turns in their seat across the aisle to look me up and down. It only takes a few moments of unblinking eye contact for them to turn away, the woman hunching her shoulders as if bracing herself against a sudden chill. I focus on each knotted muscle in my shoulders, arms, and neck, relaxing them and leaning back into the seat. The lumpy cushion smells of B.O. and inadequate deodorant, echoes of its prior inhabitants. My head swims from all the scents, and I close my eyes against the coming headache.

The moment Ryo took my memories… I'd changed. Fundamentally. Sure, I remembered every detail of my old life. But I was never myself again.

No, I correct myself. It wasn't that I'd lost sight of who I was. I'd just refused to accept change. I'd done precisely what I'd accused Kurama of. I'd done it so well; I'd even fooled myself.

The uncertainty that looms before me now makes my fingers curl into tight balls. I loosen each finger, one by one.

Is the real me capable of killing my own child?

What did life look like for her, after all of this?

Nothing for her here, I say inwardly, turning a wry grin. I have no future in the Human World, and not even with any of the people I'd ever known.

I wonder, abruptly, how my life might be different if Yomi had never taken me hostage.

Speculation, some part of my mind warns, but the rest is buzzing with possibilities. This thought is what preoccupies me till the next stop. By the time I reach the boat launch—my last stop before I reach the island—my mind is set.

My plans for the future will, at least, keep me busy.

"The island," I say brusquely, passing the fisherman as I board his small boat.

"Uh… ma'am, no one goes there," he replies feebly. Brave, despite the tremor in his voice. I turn and give him an appraising look, and he shrinks back a bit under my stare. I can hear his heart hammering under his sternum as he notices my scars.

"You do today."


The dock where he drops me off is half submerged, a byproduct of both high tide and its disrepair. It creaks and sways ominously as I make my way to the beach, waves crashing against the planks and dampening my pants all the way up to the knees. The fisherman wastes no time in getting away from the island, and I know not to count on him to return. If I am to make a return trip, it will be an unpleasant, cold swim.

The sand almost feels like snow, and the sky above is still dark, although the sun has risen hours ago. I hadn't slept at all during the journey here, but I am not tired. It's a perk of demonhood. I glance up at the dark, roiling clouds—they threaten more snow—and turn my collar up against the bitter cold.

I'm here. Where it should've ended, all those years ago.

I don't feel suicidal necessarily, but some part of me—a large part—wishes I'd been cut down in my prime. When I'd been good, and brave, and life had been simple. When my legacy would've been an honorable one.

If Karasu had been just a bit faster, I would've died young, before I'd so completely alienated my friends and family.

But now…

As I walk towards the ruins of the stadium—the older, smaller one where every battle but the final match had happened—I realize with sudden clarity that I cannot undo what has been done. This won't fix anything. It will not bring Keiko or Genkai back.

But it will bring an end, hopefully, to my litany of mistakes. After I do this, I can completely cut myself loose from my old life. After I have made them safe again, I can finally leave my family—for good.

All I have to do is kill my only child.

I sidestep rusted metal and crumbled concrete as I make my way into the arena. There is no ring—only scattered rubble is strewn in the center of the stadium.

And he's there, waiting for me.

Garasuke—Karasu—is certainly aware of my presence the moment I step through the gates, but doesn't turn to greet me. His head is cocked to the side as he studies the piles of concrete surrounding him, his brown hair fluttering in the low wind the stadium's high walls can't keep out. The clouds are clearing now, scuttling across the sky as if jockeying for position. The sunlight brings out the red in his hair.

My pace quickens as he makes no move to greet me. If I can kill him now, quickly—before I can see his face—maybe I'll be able to do it. I can feel my back arching, knees bending as I lope long and low towards him, pulling the image of a predator over me like a disguise, like armor. My lips curl over my teeth, and I can feel a growl splintering like ice in my lungs.

When he turns, it is an unhurried, confident motion. His green eyes lock with mine, and he smiles gently, curiously.

"Mother?"


The line before me is thin, muted, dark.

What's beneath it is as dim as what's above. It's hard to tell which is one is the reflection. I close my eyes, but still see it. A navy-black abyss tossing with disgruntled froth. A low, rolling peal of thunder vibrates in my core, and a flash of light blinds me, even with my eyes closed. When I stretch my arms out, I can almost feel myself being turned and rattled by the surf.

My eyelids snap open as I fall to my knees at the shoreline, just a few yards short of walking into the ocean. As the sun sets, the waves churn higher and higher, masking the line of the horizon. The clouds, roiling in kind, stretch towards the sea. My fingers claw into the sand, burying themselves in the cold and wet. It does little to stabilize me. The wind buffets me, pushes me until I sway and fall on my left hip.

I am not alone.

His voice is lost on the wind, but the squall brings his scent to me. I make no move as he runs towards me, his feet sinking in the sand. The grains his feet release fly up into the air, further blurring the line between sky and earth. I turn my head and watch his approach.

"Reina—" Kurama says, and hesitates. His eyes flash over me, taking in my appearance. Alarm is written all over his face. His voice is sharp. "The blood."

I am caked with it. It's splattered on my face and clothes, matted in my hair. My arms are almost completely red, all the way up to my elbows. I glace down at myself, note the stench and appearance, and then lift my gaze slowly to meet his.

"None of it's mine," I assure him levelly. "Karasu didn't lay a finger on me. Far from it."

Kurama wants to know, but has the cognizance to allow me to explain on my own time. His eyes almost look black in the dying light.

"He wanted me to kill a defenseless child." I hold my gaze steady as awareness blooms on Kurama's face. "Our child."

He cannot continue to listen in silence. "We never had a child, Reina."

I ignore him. "I wish I could tell you that I hesitated."

He watches, and waits.

"I wish I could tell you that I stopped. That when he screamed and cried and begged for his mother to stop hurting him, I heard him. But I didn't." I avert my gaze, and stare unseeingly at my hands. I can feel the blood crusting and drying under my nails. "I can't even say that it was quick. Or clean."

"Reina," he says slowly, gently—and steps forward slowly, as if approaching a startled animal. Somehow, he realizes when he's almost too close, and sinks into a low crouch, elbows on knees, fingertips extended in my direction. His words almost sound like a plea. "We never had a son."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you." My voice is sharp, biting, and it stuns him into silence. I draw a deep breath, and decide that it's time.

"I used to be brave."

How he hears my words, I don't know. They're lost even to me on the wind. But he does. He looks up at me with his brow puckered slightly, wanting to deny but too curious to speak quite yet. I draw a breath.

"Kurama, we came to a fork in the road a very long time ago."

Understanding blooms on his face. "In Makai," he guesses. Some immutable sorrow flashes in his eyes. "After the mark."

I nod. "I chose wrong."

The new mark on his collarbone allows me a momentary glimpse into his mind—into the pain turning over in his chest. Wearily, I fight it down, try to ignore it.

"I shouldn't have gone with you. I shouldn't have gone with Kuronue. That day, I was supposed to find my own way, without using either of you has a crutch." I draw a shaking breath, and shrug to hide it. "You both deserved better than that."

I don't need the benefit of the mark to sense his surprise.

"We…" I hesitate, and continue in a rush: "We tried so hard to become to the people we used to be. I was too scared to make my own path, find happiness for myself. You and Kuronue—you were havens. One and the same. It was never about who I wanted more—at least, it shouldn't have been." I hunch my shoulders against the cold, fighting the urge to curl into a protective ball. Kurama remains quiet. "We manufactured a petty dispute where one didn't exist, to avoid the real issue at hand. Choosing between you two was never the problem. That was a safe choice. Choosing to embrace who I'd become… that was a choice I wasn't willing to make."

"None of us were," Kurama murmurs. My shoulders sag in relief. Somehow, he understands. It's not quite forgiveness, but I'll take it. I push myself standing, and stare at the whitecaps before me.

"Where will you go?"

A small smile, the first of its kind, it feel like, slips on my face. "Gandera. I don't know everything yet, but I know that Yomi already has much to answer for."

Surprise and concern color his tone in equal measure. "You intend to confront him?"

I turn towards him, and for the first time in a very long time, I love him. Perhaps not in the way I used to, and almost certainly not in the way he wanted. His worry no longer holds enough weight to drag me down. We have cut ourselves away from each other, and are free to drift towards one another once more, on our own terms.

"Something Karasu taught me," I say, perhaps a touch too lightly, "is the benefit of playing the long game. Stick around long enough, and you'll see. It may just happen in your lifetime."

A small smile graces his lips. "If I live that long, I imagine it'll bring a swift end to my life."

"You have a couple gray hairs," I note.

"We are virtually the same age," he retorts, not truly wounded but at least affronted.

My mood sobers. "Not for long."

Because one day, he will die. And I will continue to live long after he's gone.

When I'd asked Kuronue if he still believed in fate, some part of me must've realized what I meant. He was never my fate. Kurama wasn't, either. Learning to live with my own sins, by what little merit I still had… finding the will to continue on alone… that was my fate. To find the strength to live with myself.

And now, I have no choice but to do just that.


A few weeks later, I am received in Tourin with more hostility than I'd expected—and that's saying a lot.

The moment I'm within eyesight of Yusuke's sandstone abode, I am surrounded by scores of bald heads. Out of the mass of bristling guards, one I recognize emerges. His eyes widen slightly, and his already displeased frown deepens. Well over a decade, and he hasn't changed since the last time I saw him.

I fix him with a beatific smile. "Hokushin. Be a dear and let Yusuke know I've arrived."

"Lord Yusuke is not expecting you," he rumbles, eyeing me with great distrust. But after a few moments of tense silence, he curls his lip and pivots, motioning for me to follow and the rest of his men to flank me. We approach Yusuke's home at a mind-numbingly slow pace, but before we make it into the courtyard, a familiar aura flares ahead of us. Before the smile fully forms on my face, Yusuke appears just a few yards away.

The crowd of his monk-like guards parts, and I stride forward.

He shouldn't have, but he has changed. Logically, I know that he is just as immortal as any demon, but he does look older. There are no new lines in his face, but the past couple years have aged him. I know why.

I come to a stop a few feet away from him, and turn my attention to the child on his hip.

Reiko stares at me with a startlingly adult expression of fascination on her face. Her eyes are, I realize with a pang in my chest, Keiko's. Her face is a smaller, chubbier version of her mother's. But her hair—jet black, brushing her shoulders in an unruly tangle of wisps—is all Yusuke's. I smile at her, feeling strangely and inexplicably nervous all of a sudden, and flick my gaze up to Yusuke's once more.

"It's over," I tell him, without preamble.

We share a long look that says more than words ever could, and then he nods, mouth set. He doesn't seem surprised.

The child in his arms begins to fuss a bit, and with an indulgent sort of eye-roll, Yusuke bends and lets his squirming daughter find her own footing. She takes just enough time to balance herself before toddling directly to me.

I watch her approach, too stunned to do anything but—and am keenly aware of Hokushin's bristling hostility. But Reiko has no way to sense my hesitation or her many guardians' uncertainty, and marches towards me until she's a foot away, craning her little head back to stare directly into my eyes.

"Are you my aunt Reina?" Reiko asks in a high, curious tone. She stares up at me with the same unsettling expression of adult-like awareness fixed firmly on her little features, her wide brown eyes unmoving, studying my face curiously. I feel a startled smile pull at the corners of my lips, and slowly—keenly aware of Hokushin's eagle-like glare—I crouch down, sitting back on my ankles, to stare directly into her inquisitive face.

"I suppose I am," I say gently.

She frowns, and steps forward—I fight the urge to recoil—and a pudgy hand reaches towards my face, resting on my cheek. My mouth pops open as her eyes follow a prominent scar that bisects that side of my face, starting under my eye and ending on my jawbone. She finds another scar on my chin and pats it but remains silent, content to study me without commenting on the curiosity of my ravaged face. As she explores, I lift my eyes to Yusuke's.

"How old is she? Two?" I ask, surprise coloring my tone. She'd enunciated her words so clearly, and has a stunning amount of impulse control for a toddler.

Yusuke grins, the image of a proud father. "Yeah. She's… advanced."

My answering smile is smaller, and my voice is quiet. "She favors her mother in more ways than one, then."

Yusuke's eyes darken, but not entirely in grief. There's something there I cannot place. "She does."

Reiko catches my attention once more, and when our eyes meet, she smiles and holds her arms up. I'm baffled that she trusts me so quickly, but pick her up. She settles on my hip as if we'd practiced the maneuver, one arm resting on my shoulder, the other hanging loose near her knee. I can feel her studying my face even as I lift my gaze to Yusuke. He's watching us with a strange sort of half-smile. When he notices my stare, he coughs and rubs the bridge of his nose.

"Sorry… with everything, she hasn't been around family much." He nods, as if affirming something. "It's good to see her with you, that's all."

"I can't stay," I murmur.

The gentle expression on Yusuke's face gives way to surprise. "What? Why?"

"I have some things I need to take care of." I cut my gaze back down to Reiko, who's pulling at a loose thread on my shirt.

"I thought… you said it was over." There is an edge of uncertainty to his voice, and it almost sounds like a warning.

"That is," I affirm quickly, and quietly—to not alarm the child in my arms. "But there are other things. And I have to go at it alone." A wry smile pulls at my lips, and Reiko looks up swiftly, beaming up at me when she notices my smile, not understanding the meaning behind it.

"Well, if you ever need help… a place to stay, anything… you know where to go," Yusuke offers. When I glance back at him, he shoves his hands in his pockets, and shrugs. I'm both startled and unsurprised at his calm acceptance. I'd expected him to argue more.

He's changed, too.

"I'll be around," I promise swiftly, and with one last, long look at Reiko, I step towards Yusuke and hand her over.

Tourin's guards don't accompany me as I cross the desert. Sand swirls in eddies around and behind and before me, stinging against my skin, in my eyes and hair. I am completely and utterly alone in the howling abyss.

A slow, small smile spreads across my face, and I stride into the vast nothingness set before me.


This marks a likely end to my "tenure" on this website. Don't worry! I'm leaving the stories up. But… for me, this little corner of the Internet has served its purpose. It's time for me to buckle down and explore a fictional world of my own creation. One that's been knocking around in my head since I first started writing on this website. There's a chance I'll come back, write Cassie's story in Gravity, revisit Reina for a bit… but I've realized that in order to achieve my goal of publishing my own original novel, I need to let their voices have a rest, for now. There are other characters waiting for their stories to be told, and they've waited so long, they've started to get impatient. Lol.

For the first time ever, I'll be writing with Nanowrimo next month. The novel I'll be working on is basically halfway written already, but needs more organization. I'll be tweaking bits, rewriting pieces, and hopefully in a month, I'll have a finished draft. My username is the same as it is here, a nod to the time spent here and the many lessons learned—and if you're writing too, I'd love to connect with you over there. Come find me!