The morning came like a bruise — slow, blue, and aching.
Venshiro opened his eyes to the sound of quiet breathing. Rin was still asleep, mask tilted up just slightly, revealing only her lips. Even at rest, she seemed alert. Ready.
He sat up on the edge of the bed. The room was silent. Too silent.
He touched the Black Vein. Cold again. It hadn't spoken all night. Not a whisper. Not a twitch.
That silence made him more uneasy than the voices ever did.
Outside, the town was moving . Boots on stone. Carts cracking . A bell in the distance marking the hour. Normal sounds. Human sounds. But he couldn't stop the feeling that something was off — like the town was playing the role of normal.
Rin woke up and sat up without a word. She stretched her arms, her bones popping quietly.
"You didn't sleep," she said flatly.
"You did," he replied, surprised.
She stood and pulled her coat on and said
"Maybe.."
They left the motel with no real destination. Rin didn't speak about the Seer again. Not yet. She moved with purpose, but Venshiro could tell she was watching — reading the streets, the people, the sky. Waiting for something.
They passed traders and travelers. A group of children played in the dust, throwing stones and shouting made-up names for magic. One of them pointed at Venshiro, laughing.
"Cursed boy! Look at his eyes!"
The others joined in, but not cruelly — just curious, like he was a walking ghost story.
Venshiro said nothing but he felt inconvenience in his gut and he kept walking. Rin didn't interrupt them .
By noon, they found themselves at the edge of the town near a crumbling shrine overgrown with moss and forgotten prayers. A stone fox statue sat at its center, its eyes worn smooth by time.
Rin stopped.
"Here," she said.
Venshiro looked around. "Why here , what is this place?"
She didn't answer. Just knelt before the shrine and placed something small on the stone — a folded paper charm.
He sat beside her. "You believe in this stuff?"
"I believe in what's old," she said. "Old things remember what people forget."
They sat in silence a while.
"Why do you always wear that mask?" he asked finally.
Rin was quiet. Then: "Because names are dangerous. Faces are worse."
"That's not an answer." Venshiro said.
Rin with cold tone:
"It's the only one I'll give."
He leaned back, staring at the sky. "Do you ever think about how all this started? I was just… some kid. And now—"
"You were never just anything," she said, standing again. "The sword found you. That's not a coincidence."
"But why me?"
"That's the question. And that's why we're going west. But not yet."
Venshiro stood too. "Why not?"
"Because we're being followed."
He froze. "The figures from last night?"
"No," she said. "Something else. Quieter. More patient."
He felt a chill move down his spine. The Black Vein still didn't respond. As if it too was listening.
Rin turned toward the path out of town. "There's a ruin not far from here. Ancient. Half-buried. People don't go near it. That's where we'll wait."
"For what?"
"For whatever's coming."
They moved out of the town with the sun behind them. The buildings grew smaller, the trees taller. Birds circled high above — watching, or warning. It was hard to tell.
As they reached the treeline, Venshiro turned once, looking back at the village. Smoke from cooking fires rose calmly. Children still played.
And yet the feeling never left.
He whispered to himself.
"Something's changing."
Rin heard him.
"No," she said. "Something's waking up."