They didn’t take the main roads.

The moment they left the bar district, the route changed, cutting through narrow service corridors and dimly lit back streets where lanterns burned lower and fewer people lingered. The guards moved with purpose, guiding rather than escorting, ensuring that no wandering eyes caught sight of the king’s daughter being brought back like this. Ryuji stayed close to Aiko’s side, not touching her, not speaking, his posture rigid, every step controlled as he played the role he had claimed in front of Darius. Aiko said nothing. Her cheek still burned from the strike, her jaw tight, her gaze fixed ahead as if looking anywhere else would crack something she was barely holding together.

The closer they got to the palace, the quieter everything became.

The outer streets gave way to stone paths, the scattered noise of the city replaced by the controlled silence of the royal grounds. Guards at the gates straightened as the king approached, their heads lowering immediately, their eyes never lifting high enough to question what they were seeing. No one spoke. No one asked.

They passed through side entrances, not the grand doors meant for display, but the ones meant for discretion, the ones that swallowed moments like this so they could pretend they never happened. The air inside felt colder, heavier, as if the walls themselves knew better than to carry sound.

Aiko’s steps slowed slightly as they entered the deeper halls of the palace, but the grip in her hair tightened immediately.

Darius didn’t look at her.

He didn’t need to.

“Move.”

She stumbled forward, catching herself just enough to stay upright, though the strain pulled at her scalp sharply. Ryuji’s hand twitched at his side, a small, involuntary motion, but he forced it still before it could become something else.

They moved through corridor after corridor, each one more silent than the last, until they reached her door.

Darius didn’t pause.

He pushed it open and dragged her inside.

The moment they crossed the threshold, he let go.

Not gently.

Not carelessly.

Intentionally.

His hand released her hair with a sharp motion that sent her forward, her body hitting the floor hard enough to knock the breath from her chest as she slid across the polished stone. The impact echoed faintly in the room before settling into silence.

Ryuji stopped at the doorway.

He didn’t step in.

He couldn’t.

Aiko stayed where she fell, one hand braced weakly against the floor as she forced air back into her lungs, her vision swimming for a moment before slowly steadying. Strands of her purple hair fell across her face, partially shielding her expression, though it didn’t hide the faint tremor running through her shoulders.

Darius stepped further into the room, his presence filling the space without effort, his gaze settling on her with that same cold detachment.

“This is what you choose,” he said, his voice low, controlled, every word deliberate. “Filth. Disobedience. Disgrace.”

Aiko didn’t respond.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t look at him.

That seemed to irritate him more than anything she could have said.

“You run from your responsibilities,” he continued, stepping closer, his boots echoing softly against the floor. “You reject your place. You embarrass this family in front of those who matter.”

Still nothing.

Aiko’s fingers curled slightly against the floor.

“You think you are different,” Darius said, his tone sharpening just slightly. “That you are above what is expected of you.”

Aiko’s jaw tightened.

“You are not,” he said. “You are a failure of discipline. A reminder of weakness that should have been buried with your mother.”

That landed.

Not outwardly.

But it hit.

Aiko’s breath hitched just slightly before she forced it steady again, her head lowering just a fraction as if the weight of his words pressed down on her physically.

Darius watched her for a moment longer, as if expecting something, a reaction, a break, anything that would confirm control.

He didn’t get it.

His expression hardened.

“Stay here,” he said finally. “You will not leave this room without permission.”

He turned.

Didn’t wait for acknowledgement.

Didn’t look back.

The door shut behind him with a heavy, final sound.

Ryuji was gone with him.

And just like that Aiko was alone.

The silence settled slowly at first, then all at once, filling every corner of the room, pressing in around her in a way the noise of the outside world never could. For a long moment, she didn’t move. She stayed where she had been thrown, her hand still braced against the ground, her breathing uneven, shallow at first, then gradually steadying as she forced control back into her body.

Then, slowly, she pushed herself up.

Not all the way.

Just enough to sit.

Her knees drew in slightly, her arms wrapping around them without thought, pulling herself inward as if making herself smaller would somehow make everything feel less heavy. Her hair fell forward around her face again, hiding her expression, though there was no one there to see it.

Her cheek still throbbed.

Her scalp burned faintly where he had grabbed her.

But that wasn’t what hurt the most.

She stayed like that for a while.

Curled in on herself.

Quiet.

Still.

Trying.

Trying not to let it show.

Trying not to let it break through.

Her breathing hitched once, sharply, before she caught it again, her grip tightening around her arms.

“No,” she whispered under her breath, the word barely audible even to herself. “Not here.”

Her eyes lifted.

Slowly.

Reluctantly.

Across the room.

To the wall.

The painting hung exactly where it always had.

Untouched.

Unmoved.

A woman with long, flowing purple hair, softer features, eyes that held warmth even through paint and time. Her expression was gentle, calm in a way the rest of the palace never was.

Her mother.

Aiko stared at it.

And something inside her shifted.

The tightness in her chest didn’t loosen.

It deepened.

Her vision blurred slightly, though she blinked hard, once, twice, forcing it back, refusing to let anything fall.

“…I’m fine,” she said quietly, though her voice didn’t quite match the words.

The painting didn’t answer.

It never did.

But she kept looking at it anyway.

Because it was the only thing in that room that didn’t feel like it belonged to him.

The tension didn’t leave her all at once.

It lingered in her shoulders, in the tightness of her chest, in the way her fingers still curled faintly against her arms as if bracing for something that had already passed. She stayed sitting there for a long time, eyes fixed on the painting, breathing slow and controlled, holding everything in place by sheer force.

Eventually, that control began to slip, not in a sudden break, not in anything dramatic, but in something quieter.

Her body started to give in where her mind refused to.

The adrenaline faded first, leaving behind a dull exhaustion that settled deep into her bones. The ache in her cheek dulled into a distant throb. The sting in her scalp softened. Even the weight pressing down on her thoughts began to blur at the edges, not disappearing, just… losing its sharpness.

Her head lowered slightly.

Her grip around her arms loosened.

She shifted just enough to lean back against the side of her bed, her body folding in on itself as if it had nowhere else to go. The room remained silent, unchanged, but it felt further away now, like she was already drifting somewhere else without meaning to.

Her eyes stayed on the painting for as long as she could keep them open.

Then they didn’t.

Sleep didn’t come gently.

It pulled her under.

The palace wasn’t cold.

The walls weren’t heavy.

The air didn’t press down on her chest.

Light filled the space in a way it never did in the present, warm and soft, spilling through open windows that let the outside in without restraint. The sound of wind moved through curtains that weren’t tied back, carrying with it the faint scent of flowers that didn’t feel artificial.

Aiko was smaller.

Younger.

Her feet barely touched the ground as she sat on a wide stone ledge near the window, her legs swinging idly, her laughter light and unguarded in a way it hadn’t been for years.

“Again,” she said, her voice bright.

Behind her, a woman laughed softly.

Her mother.

She moved across the room with ease, her long purple hair catching the sunlight as it fell over her shoulders, her presence warm in a way that filled the space without effort. There was no tension in her movements, no careful calculation, just a quiet, natural grace that made everything feel safe.

“You’ll fall if you keep leaning that far,” her mother said gently.

“I won’t,” Aiko replied immediately, though she shifted back just a little anyway.

Her mother smiled at that, coming closer, resting a hand lightly against the wall beside her. “You always say that.”

“And I’m always right.”

“Of course you are.”

Aiko grinned.

There was no hesitation in it.

No weight behind it.

Just simple, easy happiness.

Her mother reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “What were you asking for again?”

Aiko tilted her head slightly, thinking, then perked up again. “The story,” she said. “The one about the stars.”

Her mother’s expression softened. “That one again?”

“It’s my favorite.”

“You say that about all of them.”

Aiko shook her head quickly. “No, this one’s different.”

Her mother studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Alright,” she said. “One more time.”

Aiko leaned in slightly, her attention immediate, her excitement quiet but obvious as she waited.

Her mother turned her gaze toward the open window, toward the sky beyond, where the light stretched endlessly above the kingdom.

“They say the stars remember everything,” she began, her voice calm, steady, carrying a warmth that wrapped around every word. “Every moment. Every feeling. Every choice. Nothing is ever truly lost, because it all becomes part of something greater.”

Aiko listened closely, her eyes wide.

“So even when something disappears,” her mother continued, “it’s not really gone. It’s just… somewhere else. Still there. Still shining.”

Aiko frowned slightly, trying to understand. “So if someone leaves…”

Her mother glanced at her, her smile softening. “Then you can still find them,” she said. “Not always in the way you want. But they’re never completely gone.”

Aiko thought about that.

Then nodded, satisfied.

“Okay,” she said.

Her mother laughed quietly, reaching out and pulling her gently away from the ledge, guiding her down onto the floor. “You don’t question things very much, do you?”

“I do,” Aiko said.

“Not when you like the answer.”

“…That’s true.”

They both laughed.

The sound filled the room.

Light.

Warm.

Real.

The memory held for a while.

Long enough for Aiko to feel it.

To exist in it.

To be that version of herself again, even if only for a moment.

Then, slowly it began to fade.

Not all at once.

Just enough that the warmth started to slip, the light dimming at the edges as something colder waited beneath it.

And somewhere between that warmth and the silence waiting on the other side Aiko remained.

Sleep didn’t last long.

The door burst open with a violent crack, slamming against the wall hard enough to shake the frame, and the sound tore Aiko out of her dream before she even had time to understand where she was. The warmth vanished instantly, replaced by cold stone, dim light, and the sharp reality of her room. She barely had a second to lift her head before a force drove into her stomach, a brutal kick that knocked the air from her lungs and folded her in on herself as pain exploded through her core.

She gasped, choking on the sudden lack of breath as her body curled instinctively, her vision blurring for a split second before snapping back into focus.

Her sisters stood over her.

Perfect. Composed. Untouched by anything that had happened.

Their black hair was styled neatly, their dresses untouched by dust or struggle, their expressions calm in a way that made what they had just done feel even worse.

“Pathetic,” one of them said, her voice sharp with disgust as she looked down at Aiko like she was something dragged in from the streets.

Aiko forced herself up onto one arm, coughing once as she dragged air back into her lungs, her other hand pressing weakly against her stomach. The pain hadn’t settled yet, but her eyes had already hardened, the softness from moments ago completely gone.

“You’re late,” she said, her voice hoarse but steady. “I thought you’d be here sooner.”

That earned a reaction.

A faint tightening around one of their mouths, a flicker of irritation breaking through their otherwise controlled expressions.

“You really don’t know when to stop talking,” the other said, stepping closer.

Aiko pushed herself up a little more, refusing to stay on the ground in front of them, even as her body protested. “You really don’t know how to hit hard enough,” she shot back.

That did it.

The first sister moved without hesitation, her foot slamming into Aiko’s side this time, sending her crashing back against the floor as the impact drove another sharp breath from her chest. Pain flared again, sharper now, but Aiko clenched her teeth through it, refusing to let any sound escape.

“Still acting like you’re above this,” one of them said, crouching slightly as she reached down and grabbed a fistful of Aiko’s hair, yanking her head back just enough to force eye contact. “You don’t even understand where you stand.”

Aiko winced, her hands gripping weakly at the floor, but her gaze didn’t waver. “Better than standing next to you.”

The grip in her hair tightened, pulling harder this time, but instead of striking again, the sister leaned in closer, her expression shifting into something more deliberate.

“Do you know why father can’t stand looking at you?” she asked.

Aiko didn’t answer.

Not because she didn’t have something to say.

Because she knew better.

The second sister stepped in now, folding her arms as she looked down at her with a faint, almost amused expression. “It’s not just your attitude,” she added. “It’s what you remind him of.”

Aiko’s jaw tightened.

“That woman,” the first sister continued, her voice dropping slightly, just enough to make the words feel more pointed. “Your mother.”

Aiko’s fingers curled against the floor.

“Don’t,” she said quietly.

But they didn’t stop.

They never did.

“She wasn’t anything special,” the second sister said, her tone almost casual. “Just some trash he picked up and kept around.”

Aiko’s eyes flickered.

“She wasn’t royalty,” the first added. “Wasn’t even respectable.”

“She was a mistake,” the second finished.

Aiko’s breathing changed.

Just slightly.

“Stop,” she said again, louder this time, her voice edged with something sharper.

But they smiled.

Because they could see it.

“You shouldn’t even be here,” one of them said. “You’re not like us. You never were.”

“She was nothing more than a whore father entertained,” the other added, watching Aiko’s reaction closely. “And you’re just proof of it.”

Something snapped.

Not visibly.

Not yet.

But it shifted.

“You’re lying,” Aiko said, her voice shaking now, not with fear but with anger pushing up too fast to contain.

“Are we?” one of them replied, tilting her head slightly. “Or do you just not want to believe it?”

Aiko struggled against the grip in her hair, her body trying to move despite the pain, her chest rising faster now. “She wasn’t-”

“She was weak,” the second sister cut in. “Just like you.”

“And she paid for it,” the first added.

That made Aiko freeze.

“…What?” she said, the word barely forming.

The two of them exchanged a glance.

Then one of them smiled.

“We had her killed,” she said.

The room went still.

For a split second, everything stopped.

Aiko’s mind didn’t process it.

It rejected it.

Because it wasn’t true.

But the way they said it-

The way they looked at her-

It didn’t matter if it was true.

It was enough.

“Liar,” Aiko said, her voice breaking now, her body shaking as she tried to pull free. “You’re lying!”

“Believe whatever you want,” one of them said coldly. “It doesn’t change anything.”

That was when they moved again.

This time without pause.

The first blow came fast, then another, then another, their attacks no longer controlled or measured but deliberate, overwhelming, meant to break her down completely. Aiko tried to fight back, tried to push, to swing, to resist, but she was smaller, weaker, outmatched in both strength and number.

They didn’t hold back.

They didn’t need to.

Her body hit the floor again, and this time they didn’t give her space to recover. Kicks landed against her side, her back, her arms as she tried to shield herself, the force of each impact sending sharp bursts of pain through her already weakened body. Blood began to gather slowly, first in small streaks, then pooling faintly against the stone beneath her.

Still she didn’t beg.

Didn’t cry.

Didn’t give them what they wanted.

That only made it worse.

One of them grabbed her again, this time hauling her up by her hair, forcing her to her knees before shifting her grip to Aiko’s throat, fingers tightening around it as she lifted her slightly off the ground.

Aiko’s hands shot up instinctively, gripping at the wrist, trying to pull it away, her breathing immediately cut off as pressure closed around her neck.

“Look at you,” the sister holding her said, her voice low, almost amused. “Struggling like this.”

The other turned away from them, her attention shifting to the wall.

To the painting.

Aiko’s eyes widened.

“No-”

The word barely made it out.

The sister reached up without hesitation and tore it from the wall.

The frame cracked as it hit the ground.

The canvas bent.

And then it broke.

Aiko’s body jerked forward instinctively, a sound forcing its way past her throat despite the pressure, something raw and uncontained as she struggled harder, her grip tightening, her movements frantic now.

“Stop!”

But they didn’t.

The second sister crouched, dragging a blade from her side with a slow, deliberate motion before standing again.

Aiko’s vision blurred.

Not from tears.

From lack of air.

From pain.

From everything hitting at once.

The first sister tightened her grip around Aiko’s throat, lifting her just slightly higher as she leaned in closer. “This is what happens,” she said quietly, “when you forget your place.”

Aiko’s hands weakened.

Her strength slipping.

Her body failing her.

The blade moved.

Aiko felt it before she fully understood it, the sharp pull as her long purple hair was seized, then the cold drag of steel as it cut through it in uneven, careless strokes. Strands fell around her, scattering across the floor in broken pieces of something that had always been hers.

Her vision dimmed.

Her body sagged.

The room tilted slightly as the edges of her sight began to close in.

And just before everything went dark-

The door opened again.

Not violently this time.

But fast.

Ryuji stood in the doorway, and for the first time since he had sworn himself to the crown, he hesitated.

Everything he had been taught pressed down on him at once, every lesson, every expectation, every future that had been laid out in front of him since the moment he chose the path of a knight, and he could see it clearly even now as he looked at the scene before him, the version of his life where he stayed in place, where he said nothing, where he allowed this to continue because it was not his role to interfere, because one day he would rise higher, stand closer to the throne, maybe even become something greater, something powerful, something worthy of ruling.

And then there was the other side.

A twelve-year-old girl on the ground, blood staining the stone beneath her, her breath barely holding, her hair cut and scattered like something worthless, her mother’s image shattered beside her.

The choice didn’t feel balanced.

It felt like a lie that had been taught to him his entire life.

His hands tightened at his sides, his breath catching just slightly as something inside him shifted.

He stepped forward.

Her sisters noticed immediately, their attention snapping toward him, their expressions twisting into something sharp and warning.

“Stay where you are,” one of them said coldly, her voice cutting through the room. “You’re a knight, not a participant.”

“Know your place,” the other added, her tone even harsher, her gaze narrowing as if daring him to move another step.

Ryuji didn’t answer.

Didn’t step back.

Didn’t look away.

And then Aiko moved.

It wasn’t clean.

It wasn’t controlled.

But it was fast.

She forced herself up from the ground with what little strength she had left, her body trembling, her breathing uneven, her eyes burning with something that hadn’t been there before, something wild and unrestrained as spiritual energy flared around her, raw and unstable, flickering like a flame that didn’t know how to contain itself yet.

Her hand found the broken remains of the painting, fingers closing around a jagged shard of glass without hesitation.

Then she lunged.

The movement was sudden, desperate, driven entirely by instinct as she threw herself forward, aiming for the nearest sister with everything she had left. The shard connected, driving deep into flesh as a sharp scream tore through the room, the sound echoing violently off the walls as her sister recoiled, shock breaking through her composure for the first time.

Aiko didn’t stop.

She couldn’t.

But she didn’t get the chance.

The other sister reacted instantly, her hand snapping across Aiko’s face with brutal force, the impact sending her crashing back to the ground once more, her grip loosening as the shard fell from her hand, clattering against the stone.

Aiko hit hard.

Her body didn’t rise this time.

For a second, it looked like she might not move at all.

Her sisters recovered quickly, their shock replaced by something darker, something far more dangerous as their attention turned fully toward her now, their expressions no longer controlled, no longer measured.

Now they were angry.

“Enough,” one of them said, her voice low, shaking with fury as she stepped forward.

The other followed.

“This ends now.”

Aiko’s fingers twitched against the floor.

Her breath came shallow.

Her vision blurred at the edges.

But something inside her refused to go out.

The moment stretched.

Then broke.

She vanished.

Not fast.

Not like movement.

She was there and then she wasn’t.

Both sisters froze.

Confusion replaced anger for a fraction of a second as their eyes snapped to where she had been, the empty space on the floor where her body had just collapsed.

“What-”

Aiko appeared behind them.

Her body barely holding together through the movement as she stumbled forward behind them, another shard of glass already in her hand.

This time something changed.

Her spiritual energy surged, not flickering now but pouring outward, raw and overwhelming, wrapping around the shard unconsciously, feeding into it, sharpening it beyond what it should have been.

She didn’t think.

She didn’t hesitate.

She struck.

The shard drove into her other sister, deeper this time, the force behind it amplified by something far beyond her physical strength as another cry rang out, louder, more panicked, more real.

Both sisters staggered.

Both of them realized at the same time.

“She’s using spiritual energy-”

“But how-”

Their own energy flared in response, instinct kicking in as they tried to match her, to push back, to regain control of the situation, but the difference was immediate.

Aiko’s energy was wild.

Unrefined.

But overwhelming.

It poured out of her in waves, far greater than either of them expected, far greater than it should have been for someone her age, something inherited, something deeper, something tied to a lineage they had just mocked without understanding.

They didn’t understand how she had moved.

Didn’t understand how she had appeared behind them.

Didn’t understand her at all.

“…She’s a freak,” one of them muttered, her voice breaking slightly, not in fear but in something close to it.

Aiko’s breathing was ragged, her body barely holding together as she stood there, the shard still in her hand, her energy burning around her in unstable bursts that threatened to collapse at any moment.

The room was on the edge of something worse.

Something irreversible.

And that was when Ryuji moved.

He didn’t hesitate this time.

He closed the distance in a single motion, stepping in behind Aiko as he wrapped an arm around her waist, lifting her before she could react, before her sisters could recover, before the moment could spiral further out of control.

“Aiko,” he said sharply, his voice cutting through the chaos as he turned.

Then he ran.

Not toward the door she had come from.

Not toward the front halls.

But away.

Down the corridors.

Out of reach.

Behind him, voices rose, anger breaking into full force now as her sisters shouted, as guards began to move, as the palace itself reacted to what had just happened.

But Ryuji didn’t slow.

Didn’t look back.

Because the choice had already been made.

Not in that moment.

Not when he grabbed her.

But the second he stepped forward in that doorway.

The future he had imagined for himself-

The crown.

The path.

The life he had built toward-

He left it behind without turning around.

And as he ran through the halls of the palace, carrying the girl who had just burned everything down-

Ryuji knew.

From this moment on-

He would follow Aiko Hanabi to the end.

Ryuji didn’t remember the path he took.

He only remembered running.

The palace corridors blurred past him, turns made without thought, his body moving on instinct rather than memory as he held Aiko against him, her weight lighter than it should have been, her body slack in a way that made something twist violently in his chest. Her blood stained his arms, warm at first, then cooling as the night air hit them the moment they broke free from the palace’s inner walls.

He didn’t stop.

He didn’t slow.

Every second mattered now, and he knew it. The moment he had made his choice, the moment he had lifted her and turned away from everything he had been taught to protect, there had been no going back. The palace was already moving behind them, guards mobilizing, orders being given, the king’s presence pushing outward like a storm that would not be contained.

So he ran harder.

The streets of Troff passed in fragments, lantern light flickering across his path, shadows stretching long and uneven as he cut through the quieter districts, avoiding open roads, slipping through narrow alleys where only those who knew the city well would think to go. Aiko’s head rested against his shoulder, her breathing shallow, uneven, each faint rise of her chest barely enough to reassure him that she was still there.

“Stay with me,” he muttered under his breath, though he didn’t know if she could hear him. “Just… stay.”

Her hand twitched once.

Then went still again.

By the time the familiar alley came into view, Ryuji’s breathing was ragged, his legs burning from the pace he had forced himself to keep. The bar sat where it always had, quiet on the outside, unaware of what was about to crash into it.

He didn’t slow when he reached the door.

He shoved it open.

“Tom!”

The sound tore through the room, sharp and desperate, shattering whatever calm had been there moments before. Conversations died instantly, chairs scraping as people turned, and Tom was already moving before he fully saw what Ryuji was carrying.

“…What happened?” Tom’s voice dropped as he stepped around the counter, his eyes locking onto Aiko’s condition in an instant.

“Help her,” Ryuji said, his voice breaking despite himself. “Please-just-help her!”

Tom didn’t waste time.

“Table,” he said sharply, already clearing space as he pulled a cloth aside. “Lay her down.”

Ryuji moved immediately, setting Aiko down as carefully as he could manage despite the urgency, his hands shaking slightly as he pulled back just enough for Tom to work.

“Med kit,” Tom called, not raising his voice but cutting through the room all the same.

Someone moved.

Aiko lay there, her body still, her breathing faint, her clothes torn, blood smeared across her skin and pooling in small, uneven patches beneath her hands where the glass had cut deep. Her hair, what was left of it fell unevenly around her face, strands jagged and shortened, the sight alone enough to make Ryuji’s chest tighten further.

Tom leaned over her, his movements precise, controlled, his hands steady as he reached for the kit the moment it was placed beside him. He lit a small lantern and angled it closer, the light falling across Aiko’s injuries, illuminating everything clearly.

Ryuji couldn’t look away.

“…What happened?” Tom asked again, his tone quieter now, but no less firm.

Ryuji swallowed hard, his breath uneven. “She… she fought them,” he said, the words coming out in pieces. “Her sisters, they-she-”

“Focus,” Tom said, not looking up as he worked, carefully examining the wounds along her arms first, then her side. “Tell me clearly.”

Ryuji forced himself to steady, his hands clenching at his sides. “They attacked her,” he said. “It got worse. She fought back. She used… something. I don’t even know what it was. They were going to kill her.”

Tom’s hands paused for just a fraction of a second.

Then continued.

“…Of course they were,” he muttered under his breath.

Ryuji’s voice broke then, the weight of everything catching up to him all at once. “I didn’t know what to do,” he said. “I couldn’t just stand there-I couldn’t-”

“Enough.”

The word wasn’t harsh.

But it stopped him.

Tom finally looked up at him, his expression steady, grounded, cutting through the panic. “Crying doesn’t help her,” he said. “She’s alive. That’s what matters right now.”

Ryuji’s breathing stuttered.

“She needs you steady,” Tom continued, returning to his work. “Not falling apart.”

Ryuji clenched his jaw, forcing himself to swallow everything down, forcing his breathing to even out as best as he could. “…She’s going to be okay?”

Tom didn’t answer immediately.

He checked her pulse.

Her breathing.

The depth of the wounds along her hands.

The bruising along her ribs.

Then he nodded once.

“She’ll live,” he said.

Relief hit Ryuji hard enough that his legs nearly gave out, but he caught himself, gripping the edge of the table instead.

“She’s tough,” Tom added quietly. “Always has been.”

The room stayed tense, the air thick with something unspoken, something everyone present could feel but no one wanted to say.

Until the door opened again.

Not violently.

But urgently.

One of Tom’s regulars stepped inside quickly, his face pale, his breathing quick as he looked toward Tom.

“…They’re coming.”

The room stilled.

“Royal guard,” he added. “And the King.”

Ryuji’s stomach dropped.

Tom didn’t react immediately.

He finished tying off a bandage around Aiko’s hand, his movements slowing just slightly as the reality of the situation settled fully into place.

There was no hiding this.

No delaying it.

No talking their way out of it.

Darius wasn’t coming to retrieve.

He was coming to end something.

Tom straightened slowly, his gaze lingering on Aiko for a moment longer before shifting to Ryuji.

“…You understand what this means,” he said.

Ryuji didn’t hesitate.

“…Yeah.”

“They won’t stop,” Tom continued. “Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not ever. As long as she’s in this kingdom, she’s theirs.”

Ryuji’s grip tightened again.

Aiko stirred slightly on the table, a faint movement, barely there, but enough to draw both of their attention.

Tom exhaled quietly.

“…Then she doesn’t stay,” he said.

The words settled heavily in the room.

Final.

Ryuji looked at him. “…You’re saying-”

“I’m saying she leaves,” Tom said. “Tonight. Now. And she doesn’t come back.”

Aiko’s eyes fluttered faintly, not fully awake, but enough to hear.

“…Tom…” her voice was barely a whisper.

Tom stepped closer immediately, his expression softening in a way it hadn’t for anyone else. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Easy.”

Her gaze found him, unfocused but there, her breathing uneven. “…I don’t… want to go…”

That hit harder than anything else.

Tom’s jaw tightened just slightly, but his voice stayed calm. “I know.”

“…I can’t…”

“You can,” he said. “You have to.”

Her fingers shifted weakly against the table. “…You’re coming with me…”

Tom smiled.

Small.

Sad.

“No,” he said gently.

Aiko’s eyes widened just slightly, panic trying to push through the exhaustion. “…No-”

Tom placed a hand lightly against her shoulder, steadying her. “Listen to me,” he said, his tone quiet but firm. “You don’t belong here anymore.”

Her breathing hitched.

“They’re not going to stop,” he continued. “And I’m not going to let them take you back.”

“…Tom…”

He shook his head once, cutting her off before she could say anything else.

“You’re going to leave,” he said. “And you’re going to keep going. You don’t stop. You don’t turn around. You don’t come back. Not for me. Not for anything.”

Her eyes filled, though she barely had the strength to react.

Tom leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough that it felt like the rest of the world had fallen away.

“You remember what I told you?” he asked.

Aiko blinked slowly.

“…About choosing…”

He nodded. “This is that moment.”

Her grip tightened weakly.

“…I don’t want this choice…”

“I know,” he said. “But it’s yours anyway.”

The sound of boots approached outside.

Closer.

Louder.

Ryuji’s head snapped toward the door.

Tom stepped back, his expression shifting again, the softness fading into something resolved.

He reached behind the counter and pulled out an axe.

He tested the weight of it once in his hand, then looked back at Ryuji.

“Take her,” he said.

Ryuji didn’t hesitate.

He stepped forward, lifting Aiko carefully despite her condition, holding her securely as her head fell against his shoulder again.

“Go,” Tom said.

Ryuji nodded once.

Then turned.

He didn’t look back.

He ran.

The back door opened into the alley, and he disappeared into the night with her in his arms, his pace just as relentless as before.

Behind him the front door opened.

Darius stepped inside.

Tom stood there waiting.

Aiko’s eyes opened just enough as Ryuji ran, her vision blurring in and out, the world passing in streaks of shadow and light.

“…Tom…” she whispered weakly.

Ryuji didn’t slow.

But she turned her head.

Just enough.

Just in time.

Through the alley’s opening, through the dim light spilling from the bar-

She saw it.

Tom standing there.

The King in front of him.

Steel flashing.

And then Tom fell.

The moment burned into her vision, sharp and permanent, the image searing itself into her memory as something inside her finally broke free.

Aiko screamed.

The sound tore out of her, raw and unrestrained, echoing into the night as Ryuji ran harder, his own vision blurring now, tears falling freely as he pushed himself forward with everything he had left.

He didn’t stop.

He didn’t look back.

Because if he did he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep going.

And so he ran.

With Aiko in his arms.

With everything behind them burning.

With no path forward except away.