Mysteries of Her Past

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the trees. It had been a restless night, but Haruto woke early, his mind still plagued by the image of Emi in that old photograph. He pushed those thoughts aside as he sat up. He glanced over at Asahi, who was still deep in sleep.

Haruto stood up quietly, not wanting to disturb the peaceful moment. Ren was still curled up in his blanket. Haruto stepped outside as the cool morning air brushed against his face, and looked over the village. The place felt calm and serene, but the tension in the air made Haruto uneasy.

It wasn’t long before Asahi stirred, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “Morning,” he muttered, still half-asleep.

“Morning,” Haruto replied. “We should get moving.”

Asahi nodded. “Yeah, we can’t afford to waste time. But what do you think about all this? Do you trust them?"

Haruto didn’t respond immediately. He was still processing everything – the oddity of the place, Yume’s strange behavior, and the suspicion gnawing at him. “We’ll see.”

After a quick breakfast, they prepared to go out for a walk. Yume was hesitant at first. But after a moment, she sighed and nodded.

“I don’t know what you expect to find here,” she said in a voice laced with doubt. “But I’ll allow it. Just, please… don’t cause any trouble.”

Ren stayed behind, sitting quietly in the corner. It wasn’t long before Haruto and Asahi stepped out into the village, leaving the house behind.

Haruto glanced at Asahi as they walked. “Something about Yume’s story just doesn’t sit right with me,” he said. “I’ve been watching her, and it feels like she’s hiding something… or maybe more like she’s lying to herself.”

Asahi raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? She’s just trying to move on, right? The whole situation’s complicated.”

Haruto shook his head. “No, I think there’s more. Her whole story’s full of holes. The way she talks about her past, about her husband, that just doesn’t add up.”

They walked through the village, trying to talk to the people but most of them just sneered or ignored them. A few muttered under their breath, “You only got in because of her. Don’t think we’re blind.”

The tension in the air was palpable. Haruto noticed how the villagers’ behavior had changed in comparison to the previous day.

“Whatever’s going on here,” Asahi murmured, “it’s definitely more than just a peaceful village.”

Haruto didn’t reply. His mind was still racing with thoughts of Yume’s past.

As they walked further, they noticed a small crowd gathered ahead. Haruto’s eyes narrowed as he approached.

Ren was standing in the center of the crowd, focused on a small child lying on the ground, barely breathing. The villagers around the child were frantic, but there was little they could do. Haruto exchanged a glance with Asahi before walking up to the group.

“What’s going on?” Asahi asked, trying to get someone to speak.

The mother looked at them with wild eyes filled with tears. “The sickness… he’s too far gone. There’s… there’s nothing we can do.”

Ren, as usual, said nothing. He knelt beside the child and closed his eyes. The tip of his brush glowed faintly with dark ink as he pressed it gently to the child’s chest.

At first, the mother tried to push him away, but Ren didn’t budge. He gently placed his hand on the child and spread the ink over the boy’s skin. The mother fought to pull him away, and ultimately succeeded. She walked up to him and began to beat him.

But the moment she started doing so, the child’s eyes fluttered open. The boy’s weak voice broke through the tension. “Mama?”

The mother was stunned and gasped. “What…?”

The crowd went silent for a moment before erupting into cheers of disbelief. The mother hugged her son tightly, crying in relief. The villagers who had previously mocked Ren now praised him, treating him like a God.

Haruto stood back, watching the interaction. “You did that,” he said that quietly.

Asahi was quieter than usual, still processing what had happened.

But it wasn’t the first miracle they’d seen Ren perform. So, while the villagers stared in awe, Haruto and Asahi only watched in quiet acceptance.

As they continued through the village, helping others and earning more trust, the trio began to feel a strange shift in the atmosphere. People stopped avoiding them, and some even offered them food and shelter for the night. But as the day went on, Haruto couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something wasn’t right.

They were getting closer to understanding Yume, piece-by-piece as the villagers had started to whisper small fragments of her true story.

One man, an old farmer with crooked back, muttered as he handed Asahi a bundle of herbs,

“That woman… she ran here after she betrayed someone. Ruined a good man’s life they say. Brought the Veil’s curse on herself, and now it follows her.”

Another woman, stirring a pot, whispered as they passed,

“I heard she was torn between two one. Loved one, needed the other. In the end, she lost them both.”

An elderly midwife, who seemed kinder than the others, spoke softly,

“Miss Yume… she wasn’t always so broken. But when you let someone else control your heart, you lose yourself. She carries that shame like a wound.”

A child, no older than ten, whispered to Asahi when no adults were looking,

“Mama says Miss Yume cried a lot at night. Something she said the name ‘Kurosawa’… and sometimes ‘Yukawa’. I asked who they were, but Mama told me not to speak of it.”

A middle-aged woman, tending to her garden murmured,

“Whatever sins she carries, she’s one of us. She gave us hope when the world forgot about us. We won’t let anyone take her away.”

The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the village as they walked back towards Yume’s house.

As they arrived, Yume stood at the doorway, waiting patiently for them.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked.

Haruto stared at her for a long moment. “Sort of. But I think we’d understand it better if you told the rest.”

Just then, he pulled out Emi’s photo from his back pocket and held it directly in front of her.

Yume stiffened. Her face was etched with pain and guilt. The answers were close. He could feel it.