Aki stood before the ancient mirror at the center of the Hidden Shrine, deep within the forest where the veil between realms thinned. The air shimmered with unseen energy, and even Hoshikiri was silent, her expression guarded.
"This is the Mirror of What Was," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "It doesn't just show the past—it shows what might have been."
The mirror was cracked, veins of silver spidering across its surface. Still, Aki saw his own reflection—older, wearier, standing alone in a desolate version of the world. The sky behind that reflection was dark and starless.
"This is the world where you never answered the call," Hoshikiri continued. "Where the Star Maiden never found you. Where your heart chose silence."
Aki stepped closer. The reflection did not mimic him. It watched him. Judged him.
Then it spoke.
"You think you've escaped fate, but you've only changed the shape of your cage."
Aki's fists clenched. "I've made my choices. I've fought for them."
"And yet you still doubt," the reflection hissed. "You fear what you are becoming."
The mirror rippled. Images flashed across its surface—Aki as a god, distant and unreachable. Aki on a throne of stars, alone. Aki standing against the gods themselves, his hands stained with divine blood.
He turned away.
"I'm not that person. Not yet. And maybe not ever."
The mirror cracked further. The image flickered, then shattered into light.
Hoshikiri came to his side. "The trial was never about truth. It was about choice."
He looked at her. "And I still choose my own path."
She nodded. "Then come. The gods won't wait forever."
As they left the shrine behind, the shards of the mirror remained, glowing faintly like fallen stars. In the Celestial Court, the gods stirred—some anxious, some intrigued. And Tsukihikari-no-Kami whispered to himself:
"He has seen the cost of freedom. And still he walks forward."
—To be continued—