Chapter 13 : One soul, split in shadows and light

Sakura slipped quietly into the training hall, her footsteps echoing faintly across the polished wooden floor. The warmth of the setting sun had faded, casting long shadows that stretched across the walls like reaching memories. She moved silently to the rack of wooden staffs and picked one up, its worn grip familiar in her hands. She began running through simple drills—not out of need, but to keep her mind from spiraling. Her heart was still racing, tangled in the weight of the day’s events, and the words she hadn’t found the courage to say.

The door creaked.

“Sakura?”

She froze mid-movement, turning slowly. Shin stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his expression unreadable—calm, but not indifferent.

“You’re still training?” he asked as he stepped inside, voice low and steady. “You should rest. It’s been a long day.”

Sakura gave a small, nervous laugh and wiped the back of her hand across her brow. “Just needed to move a little. I’m almost done.”

Shin took a few more steps forward, then paused, studying her. His gaze didn’t waver.

“You’ve been quiet today. Different.”

She looked away, heart stuttering. “Different how?”

He tilted his head slightly. “You’re hiding something.”

The words struck like a spark in dry grass.

Sakura tried to smile, but her lips trembled. “What makes you think that?”

He sighed softly and closed the space between them. “Because I know you. And I can see it in your eyes—you’re carrying something heavy. You don’t have to.”

She gripped the staff tighter, her knuckles paling. The air between them felt too thick, like it might crush her if she stood silent any longer.

As he turned slightly to leave, her voice cracked through the stillness.

“Wait.”

Shin looked back, his brows raised slightly.

Her eyes shimmered, voice barely a whisper. “I… I do have something to tell you. But you have to promise you won’t hate me.”

He blinked, surprised. “Hate you? Sakura—no. Never.”

She hesitated, breathing unsteady. “I went outside the capital again.”

There was a long pause.

Then, without a word, Shin stepped forward and pulled her into a firm, protective hug.

Sakura’s breath hitched as her face pressed against his shoulder. “I-I didn’t mean to worry you. I just… I had to go. I needed answers.”

Shin let out a quiet, resigned laugh, his arms still around her. “You reckless, stubborn girl… Of course you did.”

He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “I’m angry you didn’t tell me. But more than that… I’m just glad you’re back. Safe.”

She nodded shakily, warmth and guilt warring in her chest.

“Where did you go? What did you see?”

Before she could answer, a knock interrupted them.

A maid peeked through the door. “Forgive me, Lord Shin. Lord Haruki is asking for you.”

Shin exhaled, reluctant. “Tell him I’ll be there shortly.”

The maid nodded and disappeared.

Turning back to Sakura, Shin placed a hand gently on her head and offered a crooked smile. “We’re not done talking. Promise me you’ll wait.”

“I will,” she whispered.

And then he was gone, leaving her standing alone with the ghosts of her decision.

---

Elsewhere, far from the capital, the silver moon hung over the rooftops of a sleeping village. A breeze stirred the trees. The old mansion creaked faintly in the silence of the night.

Inside, warmth gathered in the flicker of firelight. Emi fluffed a blanket in the hallway, while Haru rested beside her with eyes half-closed. Hana hummed softly as she wove little wildflowers into a delicate crown. Ren organized scattered supplies, his movements quiet and meticulous. Ryo leaned against the far wall, tossing a pebble into the air over and over.

Kai stood apart at the window, arms folded tightly across his chest. His gaze was locked on the night beyond, where stars blinked in distant sorrow. The glass reflected the quiet storm behind his eyes. He hadn’t spoken in a while.

Emi glanced at him and approached gently, her tone careful but kind. “Still thinking about them?”

He didn’t respond at first. His jaw tensed, shoulders taut like bowstrings.

“…I can’t stop,” he finally murmured. “It’s too quiet. And when it’s quiet… they’re all I hear.”

Emi reached out and rested a hand on his arm. “We are here for you. So, don't worry. Okay? .”

His lips parted slightly, a breath caught between pain and memory.

She smiled gently. “We’ll protect each other, you know. That includes you.”

He turned slowly to look at her. For a fleeting moment, the storm calmed, and he managed a small, sincere smile.

“Thanks, Emi.”

“Anytime.”

Then—thwump—a pillow smacked Kai in the back of the head.

“BATTLE TIME!” Ryo yelled, grinning like a maniac.

Kai blinked. “…You little—”

He spun around, hurling the pillow back at Ryo, who yelped and dove behind Hana.

“Oh, it’s on now!” Kai said, his voice lifting with laughter for the first time in days.

“Let’s GO!” Hana cheered, hurling another pillow into the air like a war cry.

“I shall guard the rations,” Ren announced stoically—just before Ryo tackled him into a heap of blankets.

Emi giggled and chucked a cushion at Kai. “That’s for being a brooding shadow at the window.”

Haru lifted a pillow like a shield and shrieked as chaos consumed the room. “Nooo! I refuse to die like this!”

Laughter exploded from every corner. Pillows flew like meteors, feathers filled the air, and for a few minutes, the walls echoed with nothing but joy.

Eventually, breathless and tangled in blankets, they collapsed together in a mess of limbs and smiles.

Kai leaned back against the wall, panting lightly, eyes gleaming. “Alright… alright. You win.”

Ryo raised a pillow like a sword. “Victory belongs to the mighty!”

Emi rolled her eyes, still smiling, as she helped Ren untangle his leg from a curtain. Hana collapsed next to Haru, crown of wildflowers slightly askew.

The fire crackled in the hearth, warm and soft.

Outside, the wind rustled quietly through the trees.

And as they each curled into their blankets, heads heavy with laughter and hearts a little lighter, the night held them gently—

—still and silent—

—as if cradling them for the storm that waited just beyond the horizon.

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