The wind whispered across the rooftop, tugging at their robes and stirring the folds of the night. Moonlight bathed the tiles in silver, casting long shadows between the beams.
Kaen stood with her back to him, arms crossed, the hem of her coat fluttering with the breeze.
Akira exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck as he took a step forward.
"I can explain," he said at last, his voice quiet but strained—caught somewhere between guilt and defiance.
Kaen didn't move. Not at first. The silence stretched between them, taut as a drawn bowstring.
"You were healing her." Her voice was calm, but flat—dangerously unreadable. "She was hurt," he said quietly, voice catching. "I couldn't just stand there when I could feel how much it hurts…"
Kaen turned slowly, her eyes like blades catching moonlight. "So you snuck into her room? At night? Just like that?"
Her voice cut through the space between them—calm on the surface, but cracking with restrained fury. "Akira, just tell me what's going on in that head of yours." Her tone deepened. "Why are you here again? And for what? Are you really planning to bring disaster down on all of us?"
His lips parted, but no sound came. The weight of her words hit harder than he expected. "It's not like that," he said at last, voice low and uneven.
Kaen's expression didn't change. But something in her eyes flickered disappointment, or something colder. She turned away, looking out toward the stars beyond the rooftop edge. Her arms folded tight across her chest, like she was bracing for something.
Akira's voice came again, low and rough. "I came here because of you."
Kaen went still. For a moment, even the wind seemed to hold its breath, as if the rooftop itself had paused. Akira took a careful step forward, though he didn't dare reach for her. "I came here for my sister this time," he said quietly. "It's your birthday… I just wanted to—"
"Then go back," she cut in, her voice sharp and flat. She didn't turn. Her shoulders were tense, unyielding. "I'm not your elder sister anymore, Akira. Not in the way you remember. You shouldn't be here—especially not to heal wounds that were never yours to touch, in a place that was never meant to welcome you back."
Akira let out a bitter breath, a humorless smile tugging at his lips.
"I expected you to be angry," he said. "But I didn't expect you to forget that I was once part of this place too."
Kaen didn't answer. The silence between them stretched cold, brittle. "You're right… those wounds aren't mine to touch." He tilted his head slightly, eyes still shut. "But the pain?" His fingers curled at his sides. "The pain is mine. It always has been."
"It's the curse you have to bear," she said. "The price for what you chose."
Akira gave a soft, breathless laugh—but there was no humor in it. "Maybe. But you talk like I ever had a choice."
That struck her.
He took a step closer, still not daring to touch her. "You all hate me, don't you?" His voice dropped, rough and low then, with a bitter laugh, "Maybe I deserve it. Maybe that's easier to carry than the hope someone still doesn't."
Kaen's breath caught.
Akira stood still for a long moment, shoulders tense, then murmured, "I thought I'd be stronger by now… strong enough to protect everyone." He swallowed hard, the words tearing out of him. "I thought I'd forget by now… that I'm the one from whom everyone should be protected."
Kaen didn't speak. Couldn't. The silence between them thickened, heavy with the weight of unsaid things.
Wind stirred the air on the rooftop again soft, whispering through the eaves and loose strands of her hair. Still, she said nothing.
But then—
"I will fix it," Akira said suddenly, more firmly this time. "Just trust me, Kaen. I'll fix everything."
Her head turned sharply. Her eyes locked onto him, narrowed and gleaming in the moonlight—sharp enough to cut. "You can't fix anything," she said, voice low and fierce. "Not until you accept the truth." She took a step forward now, facing him fully. "You will never find the path to break this curse until you stop running from what you are."
"I'm not running," he said quietly.
Kaen's brow arched, disbelief flickering in her gaze. But before she could speak, Akira's voice cut through the still air soft, yet weighted with something final.
"I already found a way to break the curse."
Kaen froze, her breath catching. Her expression shifted instantly eyes narrowing, voice rising with restrained urgency. "What way?! How can you possibly get rid of this curse?"
Akira tilted his head slightly… and gave a faint, almost tired smile. Without a word, he reached into his sleeve and pulled out a small, round mirror its surface catching the moonlight. Kaen blinked, thrown for a moment, unsure what she was looking at. He stepped forward and held it out. She took it cautiously, frowning. "What… is this?"
"I spent years searching for a way," Akira said quietly. "Studying scriptures, tracing cursed bloodlines, chasing ancient seals and forgotten spells. And yet… the answer was simpler than I ever imagined."
He lifted his gaze not to her, but to her reflection in the mirror resting between them.
"This curse… it turns anything I look at—anything alive into ash within seconds," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "But only… when I see them directly."
Kaen's grip on the mirror tightened.
"I tested it," he said, the words slow and deliberate. "Again and again. No fire. No ash. Not even a flicker… as long as I see them through a reflection." He exhaled, a breath full of years he hadn't let himself take. "It took me thirteen years to understand," he murmured. "Thirteen years to realize—I just need to look through this."
Kaen stared at him, completely still.
And then her lips parted.
"…Akira," she said slowly, voice trembling—not with awe, but disbelief. "You must be joking."
Her eyes locked onto his, sharp and unrelenting. "This? This is what you've been chasing all this time?"
He didn't speak.
"I thought you'd found something real. Something true." Her voice cracked. "You think a shard of glass can break a curse cast by the Supreme?"
Akira gave a small, broken smile. "I don't need to break it anymore," he whispered. "I just need… a way to live with it."
For a moment, silence held them both in place. Then, with a sudden movement, Kaen flung the mirror to the ground. It shattered, splintering across the rooftop in jagged shards."You think survival through fragments is the same as healing?" she said coldly, her voice shaking now not with fury, but pain. "Those pieces—do you know what they look like to me?"
He said nothing.
"They look like you," she hissed. "Sharp. Broken. And always cutting the ones who try to hold you."
Kaen's voice dropped, quiet but razor-sharp.
"You don't live in a world made of mirrors, Akira. You live in this one. The real one." She took a breath, her voice steadying as she looked down at the shattered glass between them.
"A mirror only shows you a version. A reversal. Never the truth. Never you. It hides the cracks behind a pretty image. But the real world…" she exhaled, "it doesn't hide the blood when you bleed." Her gaze hardened.
"And when your little world shatters into pieces like this—" she motioned toward the shards on the floor, "—you can't fix it. You can't fix a broken mirror, Akira. No matter how carefully you try."
Akira dropped to his knees beside the shattered mirror.
His eyes slowly opened, unblinking—as he stared at the scattered fragments glinting in the moonlight.
Dozens of reflections stared back at him distorted, fractured. His face in pieces. Her face… trembling in the shards. He reached out.
"Akira—!"