The morning sunlight spilled gently across the floorboards of the manor, weaving through sheer curtains and painting long, golden slashes on the walls. The scent of dew and distant lilacs crept in through the slightly ajar windows, carried by a lazy summer breeze. Somewhere down the hallway, someone yawned. Floorboards creaked. Life was stirring once again inside the quiet, breathing shell of the manor.
Utsuki stood silently by her window, a cup of still-warm tea resting between her hands. The porcelain was painted with pale blue cranes, their wings outstretched in mid-flight. Her white robe clung to her body with the sleepy grace of early hours, and strands of her silver hair fell loose over her shoulder. Her pink eyes—soft and reflective—gazed through the window, where the trees in the distance swayed gently like figures whispering secrets.
It was peaceful.
Too peaceful.
She narrowed her eyes slightly. The training yard was empty.
"Strange…" she murmured under her breath.
Normally by this hour, the rhythmic sound of Toki's training echoed through the courtyard—blade against air, feet striking dirt, breath like a mantra of focus. He was always out there before the sun even rose properly, every morning without fail. She had come to associate that persistent rhythm with the start of her own days.
But now, it was gone.
She set the tea down on the windowsill. A faint unease stirred in her chest, small but persistent, like a string being tugged gently by invisible fingers.
Maybe he's sleeping in, she thought. He did push himself hard yesterday… He was bleeding again. Stubborn idiot never knows when to stop.
Still, her feet were already moving.
She padded softly through the hallway, robes swishing with each step, passing by quiet rooms and sleepy murmurs. She poked her head into the dining hall—empty. The kitchen smelled of fresh bread and fruit, but Toki wasn't there either. The library was quiet as always, and the training grounds, still bare.
"Have you seen Toki?" she asked Leonard.
The man shook his head. "Not this morning, my lady."
Utsuki's frown deepened. She moved with more purpose now, quickening her pace as she searched the halls. She even checked the meditation room, the bathhouse, and the roof where he sometimes climbed just to get a better view of the stars.
Nothing.
Where are you?
She stopped in the hallway, hands clenched slightly at her sides. Her breath came out slowly.
Maybe… he's just in his room. Sleeping.
It was possible. Probable, even. After all, he had fought hard. The image of his slumped figure covered in bruises and sweat flashed in her mind. His body had limits, even if his will didn't.
Still, something in her gut twisted tighter.
She made her way to his room. The door was closed, as it always was. She knocked gently.
"...Toki?" she called, her voice quiet but insistent.
Silence.
She knocked again, this time a little harder.
"Toki, are you awake?"
No answer. No movement. Not even the sound of shifting sheets.
A quiet breath escaped her lips, and she pushed the door open.
The room was… undisturbed. His bed was neatly made. The window left slightly open. His boots were gone. His sword—gone. A soft breeze rustled the curtains. It felt like entering the echo of someone who had already left hours ago.
And then she saw it.
A single sheet of parchment, folded once, resting on the desk by the bed. Her name was written on the front in his handwriting. A coldness settled into her spine as she stepped forward and picked it up.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she opened it.
"Don't follow me. Don't come into the forest. This is something I have to face alone. I'm sorry."
She read it twice. Then a third time. Her breath caught in her throat.
"…You idiot," she whispered.
Her hand curled into a fist around the letter, crumpling it slightly. Her mind raced with questions, her heartbeat now audible in her ears.
Why the forest? Why now? What could possibly—
She sat down slowly on the edge of his bed, clutching the note to her chest.
Why didn't you tell me?
Her thoughts spiraled in silence.
Could it be the strange questions he had been asking me lately?Some memory she didn't share? Had he seen something coming that he hadn't told them?
"I thought we promised," she whispered aloud, to no one. "No more secrets…"
Her voice cracked slightly. She ran her fingers over the desk, half-hoping to find another note, another clue—but there was nothing. Just his absence.
Memories flickered behind her eyes. His laughter. His half-smile when he made a dry joke. The way he always pretended to be stronger than he was, and the way his hand trembled ever so slightly after every fight. The sound of his voice when he called her by name.
And now he was gone.
Utsuki stood abruptly, her robe swirling behind her as she moved. She stormed out of the room, steps echoing in the hallway. Her face was calm, but her eyes burned with worry.
She passed Tora in the hallway, who had just finished tightening her gauntlets.
"Oi, Utsuki. What's wrong? You look like someone set the manor on fire."
"Toki's gone."
Tora's brows furrowed. "Gone?"
She nodded. "He left before dawn. Went into the forest. He left a note."
"…The forest?" Tora repeated, voice darkening. "Why the hell would he go there?
"He told us not to follow."
"That's the most Toki thing I've ever heard," Tora muttered, scowling.
Utsuki stopped walking. "Tora… I think something's wrong. Really wrong."
They looked at each other in silence. The hall suddenly felt colder.
"Do you think it's a trap?" Tora asked.
"I don't know," Utsuki said. "But I do know he's out there. Alone. With something he thinks he has to face."
She looked down at the crumpled note again. Her hand gripped it tightly, as if trying to feel the warmth of his words.
"I should have noticed earlier," she whispered. "His silence… the way he's been drifting."
Tora placed a hand on her shoulder.
"We'll find him. Together. But let's be smart about it. If he's in the forest, we go prepared."
Utsuki nodded, slowly.
But inside her chest, something stirred and twisted. A whisper she couldn't silence.
What if we're already too late?.....
Toki had been in the forest for hours.
The sun no longer reached him—not truly. Even at midday, the light barely filtered through the canopy above, twisted and tangled with age. The leaves were dark, and the air itself felt thick, damp, almost gelatinous against his skin. Vines brushed his arms as he passed, and thorns tugged at his coat like hands that didn't want him to leave.
His breath came in shallow pulls. His legs ached. His shirt was torn in four places, and blood—mostly dry—streaked down one side of his face.
He barely noticed anymore.
Dozens of bites marked his skin: sharp fangs, barbed pincers, needle-thin stingers. Some had drawn blood, others had tried to inject poison. It didn't matter. Every time they struck, his body fought back—not by will, but by nature.
The unstable mana inside him responded like a wounded animal. It hissed and surged beneath his flesh, reacting to any threat with violent, involuntary release. Creatures that bit him staggered back, twitching violently, then fell dead moments later—eyes glassy, frothing at the mouth.
Behind him lay a trail of corpses. Pale snakes coiled in death, twisted rodents with blackened veins, foxes with burns seared across their mouths, and wolves whose fur still smoked.
He had spared none.
He couldn't.
"I can't let them follow me back," Toki muttered under his breath. His voice was hoarse, more like the scraping of bark than speech.
He limped forward, pushing through another curtain of thorny brambles. They tore into his arms and legs, but he didn't flinch. Pain had become background noise.
"They'd spread it. The poison, the curse. The kids in the manor… Utsuki… Tora…" He paused, swallowing hard. "They wouldn't survive it."
A low growl echoed nearby.
Toki turned slowly. A great boar stood between the trees. Its tusks were long and stained dark, its eyes milky white. There was something wrong about its presence—something warped. Its breath steamed like acid on the moss below.
Corrupted.
Toki didn't wait.
He extended his hand, and with a grimace of effort, allowed a sliver of his mana to leak out from his palm like smoke.
The boar lunged.
The moment it touched him—bit into his arm—its body spasmed violently, back arching. Foam burst from its mouth, legs trembling, heart seizing. It hit the ground in a brutal crash, dead within seconds.
Toki let out a slow breath, panting now. "Arași was right," he muttered, voice low. "It's deeper than we thought. The corruption is spreading. Everything it touches—twisted. Driven mad."
He turned his face skyward, though he could no longer see the sun.
And it's reacting to me. To my mana. Just like that day—
A flicker of memory clawed through him. Fire. Screams. A child's voice calling out from somewhere beneath a collapsing roof. His hands stained with blood that wasn't his.
He squeezed his eyes shut and buried the thought.
Not now. Focus.
He reached into the satchel at his side and pulled out gauze and a strip of cloth. One of the wolf bites had reopened on his thigh. He pressed the gauze down hard, gritting his teeth.
You don't get to complain about pain, he told himself. You chose this. You made the decision to come here alone.
Tying off the bandage, he rose again. His legs wobbled, but held.
He walked on.
Every step forward, the forest changed. It became denser, darker—not just in the light, but in the feeling of it. The trees no longer looked alive. Their bark was dry and flaking, but black fluid oozed in the cracks. The moss pulsed beneath his feet, and the air buzzed with an unnatural hum.
Something had broken the balance here.
Something was bleeding mana into the roots of the forest like a festering wound.
The manacor. One like the one who granted him his authority
And Toki was here to find it.
He paused near a crooked elm, placing one hand against the trunk. The bark was ice-cold. His mana reacted again—violently. He pulled his hand back and saw black burns crawling up his palm.
"Perfect," he muttered.
The manacore must be near. That level of instability could only mean he was close to the eye of the storm.
He took a shaky breath and looked around.
"Let's end this. Quickly."
But even as he said the words, something inside him twisted—an ache that had nothing to do with his wounds.
He thought of the manor.
Of Utsuki's quiet laughter when she watched the fireflies.
Of Tora sneaking extra bread and pretending she didn't care.
Of the way the halls felt warm, even when the night outside was cold and cruel.
Of safety. Of home.
They didn't know he was here. He'd made sure of it.
They can't know, he told himself again. This burden is mine. Not theirs.
If they saw him like this—limping, bloody, eyes sunken from lack of sleep—he knew what they would say. Utsuki would call him reckless. Tora would call him an idiot. Both would try to follow him. Help him.
But he couldn't let them.
Not this time.
Not after what he'd seen.
Not after how many times he'd failed them in other timelines.
I've watched them die. I've watched them scream. I've held their bodies after it was already too late.
He clenched his fists.
Not again.
"I'll finish this," he said aloud, voice steady despite the storm in his chest. "Alone. Even if it kills me."
Because if they smiled again—even once—if they could laugh without fear for just one more day…
Then it was worth it.
The sun was beginning to fall behind the distant mountains, casting long, blood-orange shadows across the courtyard stones. The sky blushed with fading light, the colors stretching like old wounds across the horizon. And still… no sign of him.
Utsuki stood at the window, her hands tightening around the edge of her sleeves. Her robes were slightly wrinkled, untouched since morning. She hadn't eaten. She hadn't trained. She hadn't even sat down.
Toki was still gone.
Her reflection in the glass barely looked like her. The crease between her brows had deepened. Her eyes—normally alight with quiet fire—now flickered with anxious stormclouds.
Where are you, Toki? she thought. What are you doing out there all alone?
She turned away from the window with sudden determination and strode toward the main hallway, the soft sound of her slippers echoing along the polished floors.
She entered the dining hall, where a quiet stillness lingered. No clinking of cutlery. No voices. Just silence, and the ever-present piano in the corner, untouched since the night before.
With a slow breath, Utsuki walked over to the piano and pressed a single key.
A soft, resonant note echoed—gentle, almost questioning.
There was a pause, then:
"Don't you know better than to disturb an artist in hibernation?" came a playful voice.
Arași emerged in a shimmer of mana, his ears twitching and his little jacket buttoned all the way to the top. His violet eyes sparkled with mischief—but something about the twitch in his nose gave him away.
He knew why she was here.
"I need to ask you something," Utsuki said firmly. "About Toki. Did you talk to him yesterday?"
Arași scratched his ear with a paw. "Talk is such a… strong word. More like… exchanged expressive silences with occasional nodding."
"Don't play games." Her voice was calm, but ice edged her tone. "You know something."
He adjusted his tiny lapels. "I may know many things. It's what makes me lovable."
"Arași." She leaned closer, her voice dropping. "Where is he?"
The rabbit's ears wilted slightly.
He looked away.
"He made me promise…" Arași muttered.
Utsuki didn't blink. "And I'm asking you to break it."
Silence fell between them.
Arași twitched his nose again. Then sighed.
"He went into the forest," he admitted quietly. "Before sunrise. Said he had to fix the defense barrier. Something's wrong with the m crystals.
Utsuki inhaled sharply. "That's why the animals are becoming hostile…"
Arași nodded. "Exactly. And if one of them bites someone here—if they get close enough—none of your manas are strong enough to neutralize the venom. Toki's unstable energy is the only thing that kills it."
"But he's just one person," she snapped. "And he's not invincible."
Arași looked her dead in the eyes. "He's the only one who can walk through that forest and poison the poison."
"That doesn't mean he should do it alone!" Utsuki's voice rose.
Her fists trembled.
"I can't just stay here," she whispered, more to herself. "Not while he's risking everything for us. I can't just—sit and wait."
Arași looked at her long and hard.
Then he hopped forward and placed a paw against her leg.
"I'll come with you," he said gently. "I may not be a fighter, but I know how to track his mana. He left a clear trail."
She bent down and scooped him into her arms. "Then let's move."
Within minutes, Utsuki gathered the others.
Tora, sitting with arms crossed in the hallway, narrowed her eyes. "He what?"
Yuki's fork dropped to her plate with a loud clink. "That hopeless idiot!"
Suzume blinked, visibly shaken. "The forest's cursed now… and he went in alone?"
Leonard, ever calm, set down his book and stood. "This is not something we should rush into blindly."
"He's already in there blindly," Yuki growled. "Or bleeding. Or worse!"
Utsuki stood before them all, her arms firm around Arași, her voice clear.
"Toki didn't want us to follow. But we're not going to honor that wish."
Tora stood slowly, the old fire flickering in her eyes. "Good."
"I'm forming a rescue team," Utsuki continued. "We leave now. Yuki, Suzume, Tora—you're with me. Arași will guide us."
Leonard stepped forward. "Then I'll remain here with Haru, Natsu, and Aki. We'll prepare the manor's inner sanctum in case the barrier completely collapses."
"I want to come too," Aki protested.
"You're still to young," Leonard said firmly. "We need someone here to protect the others if things go wrong."
There was a silent moment. Then Natsu nodded. "We'll hold the line."
With that, Utsuki turned to her chosen four. "Get your gear. We leave in five."
The forest greeted them like a throat closing in.
By the time they reached the edge, the sun had fallen below the treetops, painting the trunks with molten shadow. Cold air brushed their skin.
Arași perched on Utsuki's shoulder, eyes glowing faintly. "His trail is fresh. Just follow the rot."
They moved quickly—at first.
But soon the scent of blood began to hang in the air.
Then came the first corpse: a snake, bloated and black, mouth frozen in a last scream of agony.
Then another—fox, then a rat, then a wolf with seared fur.
The path was marked in death.
"Toki…" Tora whispered, her voice dry. "He fought through all this?"
"Alone," Suzume murmured, her hands trembling .
Yuki's lips pressed into a hard line. "He's an idiot. A self-sacrificing idiot."
They kept moving. Faster now.
The deeper they went, the worse it got. The trees bled dark sap. The moss hissed when touched. The air buzzed with mana so dense it made their bones ache.
Utsuki clenched her fists. Her heart burned with fury, guilt, and fear.
How much has he endured already? How far has he gone for us—again?
Then her voice broke the silence.
"This time," she said, eyes narrowing, "I won't let you fight alone."