Kuro chuckled. Broken. Blood spilling out with each word, staining his teeth, pooling at the corners of a smile Shiro had never seen before. Soft. Gentle. The kind of smile that had no business being on a dying man’s face, and absolutely no business being on Kuro’s.

"You were right, little brother." Another broken laugh. Weaker this time. "I won’t be able to hold them."

Shiro’s eyes wandered, hoping someone—anyone—would help.

No one came.

His gaze moved toward his father, who reached down, picked up his own severed head, and placed it back onto his neck like he was adjusting a hat that had fallen off in the wind.

’Of course. Why wouldn’t that work. Why would anything about tonight make sense.’

The captains all came back. Every single one of them, charging in together, blades drawn, attacking the monster from all sides.

Yet he wasn’t fighting back. Just stood there as every blade bounced right off his skin like they were hitting him with pool noodles instead of swords. He didn’t even look at them. Just stood there. Admiring himself. Flexing his hands. Rolling his shoulders. Taking inventory of whatever the hell he’d just become.

Because the man standing in front of them looked nothing like his fake father.

The beast was gone. The fur had been plucked clean off, along with the old skin underneath, shed like a snake leaving behind everything it used to be. What stood in its place was something else entirely. Younger. Bulkier. Muscle layered on top of muscle on top of more muscle, like his body had decided one set wasn’t enough and ordered seconds. His facial hair was gone. His jaw was sharper. His features cleaner. No longer a beast, but a man. Short hair. Calm eyes.

He looked reborn.

And that was terrifying.

His eyes drifted back down to Kuro.

The words wouldn’t come. Even though they were right there, sitting at the top of his tongue, they just wouldn’t leave. Like his voice had looked at what was happening and decided it wanted no part of it.

His vision began to go watery. Everything in the distance going blurry. Wavy.

Kuro reached for Shiro’s arm. His blood-warm hand gripped his palm, fingers slipping, barely holding on.

"I’m sorry, Shiro." His voice was fading. Each word costing him something he couldn’t afford to spend. "That’s all I got to offer you. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to protect you when we were younger." A small pause. The kind that came from a pair of lungs that were slowly forgetting how to work. "And I probably don’t have the right to ask you any kind of favor."

"Shut up," Shiro whispered. "Don’t talk."

"Please look after—"

His mouth kept moving. But no more words came out. They just stopped at his throat this time, piling up behind each other like a traffic jam made of everything he’d never get to say. Just air. Just the ghost of a word that never got to exist.

His hand went limp in Shiro’s palm.

His eyes closed.

And that stupid, impossible, never-before-seen smile stayed on his face.

Shiro tried to speak. His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Just sound. No words. Like his voice had finally broken in a way that couldn’t be fixed.

’Why is this happening again.’

He shook Kuro’s lifeless body. Gently at first. Then harder.

’Wake up, you bastard. You know I didn’t mean it like that. You better wake up and hold your damn kids, and name them, or else.’

Nothing.

’Why the hell are you still smiling, you smug bastard? If you don’t wake up right now, I’m going to bash my fist into your perfect blind face.’

Nothing.

The smile didn’t move. The chest didn’t rise. The blood kept pooling underneath them—warm and dark—soaking into Shiro’s knees like the ground itself was trying to swallow what was left of his brother.

’Why does this hurt so much?’ His thoughts came slower now. Quieter. Like even his own mind was running out of fight. ’I barely knew the guy. Yet it feels like my heart is being busted open. Like it’s being torn apart from the inside.’

He stared at his hands. Covered in blood. Kuro’s blood. The same blood that ran through his own veins.

’Why am I experiencing this again.’

A hand settled on his shoulder. Warm. Steady. Gentle in a way that made everything worse, because gentleness was the last thing he could handle right now.

He turned his head.

Nora.

Her eyes were red. Her lips were trembling. But she was there. Standing right behind him like she’d never left. And underneath the tears, underneath the grief, she wore a look of relief that he was okay.

He looked at her. And for the first time in his life, his smile was gone. The wall of sarcasm he’d built was destroyed. The stupidity he hid behind, gone. There was nothing left. No jokes. No deflections. No clever one-liners to make the pain smaller than it was.

Just a boy holding his brother’s body with bloody hands and no idea how to make it stop hurting.

"I think I should have stayed dead."

The words came out quiet.

She held him. Pulled him close for just a second before dragging him away. Kuro’s body hit the ground behind them, and seeing it—seeing him just lying there, lifeless, still wearing that stupid smile—only made everything worse.

"Shiro, we have to leave." Her voice was shaking but firm. "My father said to get out of here while they keep him busy."

She pulled him by his arm. "Let’s go, Shiro."

In the distance, Boris and Noris ran toward them. Boris was carrying Kuro’s blindfold in his massive hands, holding it gently, like it was made of glass.

"Brother Shiro," Boris said, looking down at the blindfold, then back up at him with the confused, broken expression of a child who’d just watched something he didn’t understand. "Kuro turned into mud."

His body came to a halt, feet rooted to the ground. Nora was still pulling his arm.

"Let go of me, Nora." It came out almost like an order. Cold.

"Shiro, please," she begged. Her grip on his arm tightened.

"Nora."

Just her name in a tone she had never heard from him before.

Her grip loosened.

"Please, Shiro," her voice came lower than a whisper.

He turned his gaze toward Boris and Noris.

"Listen, you two. Take Kuro and get out of this island."

The brutes shook their heads. "No. We help kill father."

"Remember what I said?" Shiro’s voice was quiet but steady. "If you don’t listen to me, I won’t give you a cute pet." He smiled. Small. Tired. The kind of smile that does all the heavy lifting. "Please. Do as you’re told."

They hesitated. Then nodded. Slowly.

Then he turned to Nora. And forced a smile—the one she was used to, the kind meant to make this moment as least painful as possible.

"You too."

Her eyes widened. Her mouth opened to protest—

But before efore a single word could leave her lips, Shiro drove his fist into her gut. Just enough force. Just enough to shut her body down before her stubbornness could take over.

She crumpled forward onto his shoulder. And he held her there. Longer than he needed to, because some quiet, terrible part of him whispered that this might be the last time he would get to do this.

"I’m sorry, Nora."

"Take her and go," he said softly.

’No more. Nobody else dies for me tonight.’

Then he turned toward the battlefield.

"Illuminate Nocturne."

The blade answered.

One slash. That was all it took.

It tore through the battlefield like the world itself was being unzipped. The ground split open in its wake, dirt and stone erupting outward in a violent spray. The captains moved, but the sheer force of it sent them flying—like leaves caught in a hurricane that had just decided to get personal.

His father tried to block it with his club.

The slash cut through it like it wasn’t there. Through the club. Through him. Through the entire hillside behind him, carving a path straight through rock and earth and everything else that had the misfortune of being in the way.

When the dust settled, there was nothing left but a clear, open road leading straight to the mountain.

They all turned to him, faces twisted somewhere between outrage and shock. He walked toward them, and not a single one of them took a step forward.

"You worthless vermin." His expression darkened. "Next time I won’t spare your worthless lives if you get in my way."

"What the hell is wrong with you, brat?" one muttered.

"Right now, you’re all a problem. So let’s fix this small issue," he said as he fired a massive arrow into the sky.

"We’re trying to help you, damn brat!" one snapped.

"Yeah, you can help me," Shiro said. A smile tugged at his lips. Wild. "By becoming fertilizer."

The arrow exploded. And from the blast, dozens more began to rain down, screaming toward the ground like the sky itself had picked a side. And this time it picked his.

At the same time, he pulled dirt and stone from below, feeding it into every falling arrow mid-flight, making each one larger, denser, more devastating than the last.

"This kid is insane," one muttered before leaving the battlefield. Smart man.

Richard gave him one last look. The kind that closely resembled worried but knew better than to put it into words. Then he left as well.

Good. Less people to worry about.