The battle ended—
But not with victory.
The Rift-Beast lay scattered across the snow, its unstable form dissolving into fragments of black distortion before fading completely.
Silence returned to the forest.
Heavy.
Unsettling.
Karin exhaled sharply, lowering her chains as the last remnants of heat faded from them.
"…That thing was annoying," she muttered, though her voice lacked its usual edge.
Raizen stood still for a moment longer, his spear planted firmly into the ground as his gaze lingered on where the Beast had disappeared.
Then—
He turned.
Toward Haruki.
Haruki hadn't moved.
Still lying in the snow.
Still staring upward.
His chest rose and fell unevenly.
"…Haruki."
Raizen's voice was calm.
Too calm.
Slowly—
Haruki sat up.
His movements felt heavier than they should have.
Not physically.
Mentally.
"…I messed up," he said quietly.
Karin took a step forward.
"You're not dead, so relax," she replied, trying to lighten the mood.
But Haruki didn't react.
"…I couldn't see anything," he continued.
His hands tightened slightly.
"No visions. No warnings. Nothing."
Raizen approached him.
Snow crunched softly beneath his steps.
"And what did you do?" Raizen asked.
Haruki hesitated.
"…Nothing," he admitted.
The word hung in the air.
Heavy.
"I waited," he said. "I kept waiting for it to come back… for something to show me what to do."
Karin frowned slightly.
"…Yeah. I noticed."
Haruki let out a small, bitter laugh.
"Of course you did."
Raizen stopped a few steps away from him.
"…Good," he said.
Haruki blinked.
"…Good?" he repeated.
Raizen's expression didn't change.
"Yes."
Karin tilted her head slightly.
"You're not serious, right?"
Raizen ignored her.
His gaze remained fixed on Haruki.
"That failure," he said, "was necessary."
Haruki's eyes narrowed slightly.
"…How?"
Raizen didn't answer immediately.
Instead—
He knelt slightly, bringing himself closer to Haruki's level.
"Tell me," he said, "why did your visions disappear?"
Haruki looked away.
"…I tried to stop them."
"Why?"
"They were too much," Haruki replied, his voice tightening slightly. "I couldn't think. I couldn't focus. It felt like I was losing myself."
Raizen nodded once.
"And so you chose silence."
Haruki didn't respond.
Raizen's voice lowered slightly.
"And what did that silence give you?"
Haruki's jaw clenched.
"…Nothing."
"No," Raizen said.
"It gave you weakness."
The words hit harder than expected.
Haruki's eyes snapped back toward him.
"…What?"
"You didn't lose your visions," Raizen continued.
"You rejected them."
Silence.
Haruki frowned.
"…That's not the same thing."
"It is," Raizen said.
Karin crossed her arms slightly, watching the exchange.
"…Explain," she said.
Raizen stood again, his posture straight and unshaken.
"The Eyes are not a tool," he began.
"They are not something you can turn on and off when it suits you."
Haruki listened.
Carefully.
"They are part of you," Raizen continued.
"Your perception. Your awareness. Your existence."
A pause.
"When you try to suppress them," he said, "you are not controlling your power."
"You are rejecting your own mind."
Haruki's breathing slowed slightly.
"…So what?" he said. "I'm just supposed to let them overwhelm me?"
Raizen shook his head.
"No."
Another pause.
"You are supposed to endure them."
The word settled heavily.
Haruki frowned.
"…That's it?"
"Yes."
Karin let out a small sigh.
"That's not exactly helpful," she said.
Raizen glanced at her briefly.
"Did you control your Eyes when you first awakened them?"
Karin paused.
"…No."
"Did you try to suppress them?"
She hesitated.
"…Yeah."
"And what happened?"
Karin looked away slightly.
"…They got worse."
Raizen nodded.
"That is the nature of the Eyes," he said.
"The more you resist them—"
"They push back."
Haruki's grip tightened slightly.
"…So I made it worse."
"Yes."
No hesitation.
No softness.
Just truth.
Haruki looked down at the snow beneath him.
"…That explains why they disappeared," he murmured.
Raizen's gaze sharpened slightly.
"No."
Haruki blinked.
"…What?"
"They didn't disappear," Raizen said.
"They withdrew."
A chill ran down Haruki's spine.
"Withdrew…?"
Raizen nodded.
"Your mind rejected them," he said.
"So they stopped responding."
Silence.
Haruki's thoughts slowed.
Then—
Shifted.
"…So that wasn't control," he said.
"No."
"…It was the opposite."
"Yes."
Haruki exhaled slowly.
"…Great."
Karin smirked slightly.
"Told you it wasn't normal."
Haruki didn't respond.
Instead—
He focused inward.
On that same silence.
That empty stillness.
"…Can I bring them back?" he asked quietly.
Raizen studied him for a moment.
"…Yes."
Haruki looked up.
"How?"
Raizen didn't answer immediately.
Instead—
He stepped back slightly.
"Stand up," he said.
Haruki blinked.
"…What?"
"Stand."
There was no room for argument.
Haruki pushed himself to his feet.
His body protested slightly.
But he ignored it.
Raizen picked up his spear.
"…Show me," he said.
Haruki frowned.
"…Show you what?"
Raizen raised the spear slightly.
"How you fight without them."
Karin's eyes widened slightly.
"…You're serious?"
Raizen didn't respond.
That was answer enough.
Haruki exhaled slowly.
"…Fine."
He drew his katana.
The blade gleamed faintly in the dim light.
His stance settled.
Unsteady.
But ready.
Raizen moved first.
A simple thrust.
Fast.
Haruki reacted—
Barely.
He deflected the strike—
But the force pushed him back.
"…Again," Raizen said.
Another strike.
This time—
Faster.
Haruki moved—
Late.
The spear grazed his shoulder.
"Tch—!"
Pain flared slightly.
"Again."
No pause.
No rest.
Strike after strike.
Haruki blocked some.
Dodged others.
Missed many.
His breathing grew heavier.
His movements—
Slower.
"…Why… are we doing this…?" he muttered.
Raizen didn't stop.
"Because this is your reality," he said.
Another strike—
Haruki barely avoided it.
"You relied on your visions," Raizen continued.
Strike—
Block—
Stagger—
"And when they disappeared—"
Strike—
Miss—
Impact—
"You became useless."
Haruki gritted his teeth.
"…I get it!"
"No," Raizen said.
"You don't."
He stepped forward—
Faster.
Sharper.
"If your strength depends on your Eyes—"
Strike—
Haruki failed to react—
The spear stopped inches from his throat.
"Then you are not strong."
Silence.
Haruki's breathing stopped.
For a moment—
Everything froze.
"…Then what am I supposed to do?" Haruki asked quietly.
Raizen lowered the spear.
"Accept them."
The answer came instantly.
Haruki frowned.
"…That's not a real answer."
"It is."
Raizen turned slightly.
"You are trying to control something that cannot be controlled," he said.
"The Eyes do not exist to obey you."
"They exist to show you."
A pause.
"What you do with what they show—"
"Is your choice."
Haruki's mind slowed.
"…So I don't control the visions," he said.
"No."
"…I control what I do after."
Raizen nodded.
"Exactly."
Something shifted.
Not outside.
Inside.
That silence—
It wasn't gone.
But it wasn't as empty anymore.
"…Then how do I stop them from overwhelming me?" Haruki asked.
Raizen's gaze softened—just slightly.
"You don't."
Haruki blinked.
"…What?"
"You endure them," Raizen repeated.
"And you move anyway."
Karin stepped forward slightly.
"He's right," she said.
Haruki glanced at her.
"When my Eyes first awakened," she continued, "I thought I had to control them too."
She looked at her hands.
"I kept trying to shut them out."
Her grip tightened slightly.
"And every time I did—"
"They burned harder."
Haruki listened.
"So what changed?" he asked.
Karin smirked faintly.
"I got tired of losing."
A small pause.
"So I stopped fighting it."
Silence.
Haruki exhaled slowly.
"…That sounds simple."
"It's not," Karin said.
"It's the hardest thing you'll do."
Raizen turned away slightly.
"We move soon," he said.
"But before that—"
He glanced back at Haruki.
"Decide."
Haruki stood there.
Still.
Quiet.
The forest remained silent around them.
But inside—
Something stirred.
Faint.
Distant.
A flicker.
A fragment.
A glimpse—
Gone.
Haruki's eyes widened slightly.
"…I felt it," he whispered.
Karin smiled faintly.
"Good."
Raizen didn't react.
But he heard it.
And that was enough.
Haruki closed his eyes briefly.
The silence was still there.
But now—
It wasn't empty.
It was waiting.
And this time—
He wouldn't push it away.
He would face it.
No matter the cost.