The Final Choice

They traveled for three days through wilderness that grew increasingly strange. Trees here grew in spiral patterns, their bark covered in symbols that hurt to look at directly. Streams ran uphill. The sun rose in the east one day and the west the next, as if geography itself had become negotiable.
"We're approaching a thin place," the priest said, consulting his increasingly useless maps. "Where the boundary between worlds is permeable. Reality becomes... flexible."
"Why?" Haruto asked, though he suspected he already knew.
"Because the demon essence attracts disorder. Draws chaos like iron draws lightning." The priest folded his map with resignation. "The more of it we carry, the more we warp the space around us. We're becoming walking breaches in reality."
"That's comforting," Shinjiro muttered, his hand never leaving his sword hilt. The ronin had been increasingly tense since the greed trial, as if releasing certainty had left him without anchor.
Kiku walked between them, unusually quiet. The child-demon had been withdrawn since Ketsueki-no-Sato, processing what the bloodline monuments had shown. Her potential futures—so many ways to fail, so few ways to succeed.
"I've been thinking," she said suddenly, "about what the Serpent said. That the remaining sins hide in plain sight. That they wear the faces of legitimate desires." She looked up at Haruto. "What if we're already failing and don't know it?"
"What do you mean?"
"Envy is next. And I've been feeling it since the trial of Greed ended." Her voice was small, ashamed. "Watching you three. You have histories, relationships, lives that existed before all this. I was just... born. Created from demon essence with no past, no family, nothing but what I've experienced in these few weeks."
"That's not envy," Ayame said gently. "That's loneliness."
"Is there a difference? I want what you have. Want depth of experience, want connections that go back years instead of days. Want to not be the demon-child that everyone is carefully watching, waiting to see if I'll become a monster." Kiku's eyes were glowing faintly—the essence inside her responding to her emotion. "How is that not envy?"
The question hung in the air, unanswered.
They made camp that evening in a clearing that seemed normal enough—flat ground, access to water, defensible position. But as darkness fell, the strangeness became apparent.
The stars were wrong.
Not arranged incorrectly, but actually wrong—constellations that didn't exist, colors that shouldn't be possible, patterns that seemed to spell words in languages no human had ever spoken.
"We're definitely in a thin place," the priest said, staring upward with a mixture of awe and terror. "The barriers are so weak here that we're seeing through to other realities. Other worlds where stars followed different paths, where physics obeyed different rules."
"Is it dangerous?" Shinjiro asked.
"Everything is dangerous. But this specifically?" The priest shrugged. "Depends on whether anything from those other worlds can see us back."
As if in answer, something moved in the darkness beyond their fire.
Not the Crimson Lilim—Haruto had learned to recognize their presence, the way they made the air taste like copper and flowers. This was different. More fundamental. Like reality itself was watching them.
"Hello?" Kiku called out. "Is someone there?"
A figure stepped into the firelight, and Haruto's breath caught.
It was him.
Or rather, a version of him. Same face, same build, same guardian's sword. But this Haruto was different—cleaner, healthier, unmarked by the trials they'd endured. His eyes were clear, unclouded by demon essence or stolen despair or the weight of impossible choices.
"Hello," the other Haruto said. "I'm sorry to intrude, but I felt the boundary weakening and thought I should investigate."
"Who—what are you?" Haruto managed.
"I'm you. Or what you would be if you'd made different choices. If you'd refused the demon essence. If you'd let Tsukiko die and the seal remain intact. If you'd chosen duty over mercy." The other Haruto smiled, and it was a smile without shadows. "I'm the version of you that isn't carrying demon essence. That doesn't wake up every morning wondering if today is the day he loses control."
More figures emerged from the darkness.
Another Shinjiro—but this one was older, grayer, bearing scars from battles that hadn't happened yet. "I'm the version who died fifteen years ago and stayed dead," he said. "Never came back. Never had to live this half-life existence. Just... ended. Clean. Final."
A different priest appeared, decades younger, without the weight of guilt in his eyes. "I'm the one who refused when they asked me to raise my granddaughter for sacrifice. Who walked away from the shrine, from duty, from everything. Who chose family over responsibility."
And finally, a figure that made them all stare—Ayame, but not corrupted. Human, young, radiant with the kind of beauty that came from never having made a terrible bargain. "I'm the version who accepted her province's death. Who watched her people die rather than seek demon power. Who remained human at the cost of thousands of lives."
"We're possibilities," the clean Haruto explained. "Roads not taken. Choices not made. We exist in the thin places, in the spaces between what is and what might have been."
"Why are you here?" Haruto asked, though part of him already knew.
"Because the trial of Envy is beginning," the possibilities said in unison. "And we are what you envy. What you covet. What you wish you could be instead of what you are."
The Serpent of Eight Sins materialized among them, its eight heads studying both groups—the real travelers and their possibility-selves.
*"THE FIFTH TRIAL BEGINS,"* it spoke. *"THE SIN OF ENVY. YOU WHO CARRY BURDENS WILL NOW FACE VERSIONS OF YOURSELVES UNBURDENED. YOU WHO MADE HARD CHOICES WILL MEET THOSE WHO CHOSE DIFFERENTLY. AND YOU WILL CONFRONT THE QUESTION: DO YOU COVET THEIR EASE? DO YOU WISH YOU WERE THEM INSTEAD OF YOU?"*
The envy-head spoke alone, its silver eyes gleaming with cold assessment: *"ENVY IS THE SIN OF COMPARISON. OF LOOKING AT ANOTHER'S LIFE AND FINDING YOUR OWN WANTING. OF BELIEVING YOU DESERVE WHAT THEY HAVE, THAT THEIR SUCCESS IS SOMEHOW YOUR FAILURE."*
"But these aren't other people," Ayame protested. "These are just... versions of us. Alternative timelines."
*"WHICH MAKES THE ENVY WORSE. EASIER TO ACCEPT ANOTHER'S ADVANTAGES WHEN THEY ARE DIFFERENT FROM YOU. HARDER WHEN THEY ARE EXACTLY YOU—JUST LUCKIER, WISER, BETTER."*
The clean Haruto stepped closer to his burdened counterpart. "Don't you wish you were me? Living without demon essence poisoning your soul? Sleeping without nightmares? Existing without constant fear that you'll become a monster?"
"Of course I do," Haruto admitted. "Who wouldn't?"
"Then take it. Take my life. We're the same person—just a different branch of possibility. Step into my timeline, let me take your place. I'll carry the demon essence, face the remaining trials. You can rest."
"That's not how it works. I can't just—"
"CAN'T YOU?" The Serpent's envy-head moved closer. "IN THIS THIN PLACE, BOUNDARIES ARE WEAK. REALITIES BLUR. IF YOU TRULY ENVY YOUR OTHER SELF ENOUGH, IF YOU WANT HIS LIFE BADLY ENOUGH, YOU COULD SIMPLY... TAKE IT. TRADE PLACES. LET HIM BEAR WHAT YOU NO LONGER WISH TO CARRY."
It was tempting. Devastatingly tempting. To step into a life without demon essence, without trials, without the constant weight of impossible responsibility. To just... stop. Let someone else—even another version of himself—take over.
Beside him, Shinjiro was facing his dead self. "You look peaceful," the living ronin said. "No scar burning on your chest. No half-life existence. Just... done. Complete."
"I am," the dead Shinjiro agreed. "My story ended. No loose threads, no unfinished business. While you—you're a footnote that stretched into a chapter. An ending that refused to conclude."
"Would you take my place? Live this borrowed time?"
"Would you take mine? Finally rest?"
The priest and his younger self stood in silence, neither speaking. But Haruto could feel the envy radiating between them—the old man coveting the young man's unburdened conscience, the young man perhaps envying the old man's decades of experience.
And Ayame—she was crying as she faced her human self. The version who'd never transformed, never caused centuries of suffering, never became a demon queen.
"You're so clean," demon-touched Ayame whispered. "Uncorrupted. Pure."
"I watched thousands die," human Ayame replied. "Did nothing to stop it. Preserved my own humanity at the cost of everyone I loved. Is that really better?"
"At least you never became a monster."
"Didn't I? Choosing to do nothing while people die—that's monstrous too. Just a different kind."
Kiku was the only one without a possibility-self. She stood alone, watching the others confront their alternate lives.
"Where's mine?" she asked the Serpent. "Why don't I have another version?"
*"BECAUSE YOU ARE SINGULAR. BORN FROM A SPECIFIC MOMENT, A UNIQUE CIRCUMSTANCE. THERE IS NO TIMELINE WHERE YOU EXIST DIFFERENTLY. YOU ARE EXACTLY WHAT YOU ARE—NO ALTERNATIVES, NO MIGHT-HAVE-BEENS."*
"So I can't envy a version of myself that doesn't exist?"
*"NO. BUT YOU CAN ENVY THEM."* The Serpent's envy-head gestured to the possibility-selves. *"YOU CAN COVET THEIR DEPTH OF HISTORY. THEIR MULTIPLE TIMELINES. THEIR RICHNESS OF EXPERIENCE. YOU WERE BORN WEEKS AGO—THEY HAVE LIVED YEARS. YOU ARE A FRAGMENT MADE SOLID—THEY ARE COMPLETE SOULS. DO YOU NOT ENVY THAT?"*
"Yes," Kiku admitted. "But what good does envy do? I can't change what I am."
*"EXACTLY. THAT IS THE LESSON. ENVY CHANGES NOTHING. IT ONLY POISONS WHAT YOU HAVE BY FIXATING ON WHAT OTHERS POSSESS."*
The Serpent's eight heads swayed, studying them all. *"THE TRIAL IS SIMPLE: WILL YOU TRADE PLACES? WILL YOU TAKE THE EASIER LIVES YOUR POSSIBILITY-SELVES OFFER? OR WILL YOU ACCEPT THAT YOU ARE PRECISELY WHO YOU NEED TO BE—HOWEVER DIFFICULT THAT MIGHT BE?"*
Haruto looked at his clean self. At the life without demon essence, without trials, without constant fear. It would be so easy to say yes. To step sideways into a reality where he wasn't burdened.
But.
He thought about Kiku, newly real, needing guidance. About Ayame, struggling to maintain humanity while teaching them to control demon essence. About the priest and Shinjiro, both carrying their own impossible weights.
If he left, who would help them?
His clean self might be unburdened, but he was also incomplete. He'd never faced the trials, never learned what despair and pride and wrath truly cost. Never understood that sometimes mercy mattered more than duty.
"No," Haruto said. "I don't want to trade."
"You're lying," his clean self said. "I can feel it. You want this life. Want it desperately."
"Wanting and choosing aren't the same thing. Yes, I want an easier life. Want to wake up without demon essence whispering in my mind. But I choose to stay who I am. To carry what I carry. Because this burden has taught me things your easier life never could."
His clean self flickered, becoming translucent. "You're sure?"
"I'm sure."
The possibility-Haruto smiled—and for a moment it looked sad, almost wistful. "Good answer." Then he dissolved, returning to whatever space held unrealized possibilities.
Shinjiro was still facing his dead self, their eyes locked.
"I envy you," the living ronin said. "Envy your completion. Your peace. Your certainty that your story is finished."
"And I envy you," the dead ronin replied. "Envy your continued experience. Your growth. Your chance to discover what comes next."
"We both envy what the other has?"
"Yes. That's the nature of envy—it poisons both sides. You envy my peace, I envy your possibility. Neither of us can be content with what we actually possess."
"Then I choose contentment," Shinjiro said firmly. "Choose to accept that I'm alive—however improbably. That this borrowed time is mine to use, not waste coveting your ending."
The dead Shinjiro nodded approvingly and faded away.
The priest and his younger self stood for a long moment, then simultaneously said: "I forgive you."
Both smiled—the same sad, understanding smile—and the younger version dissolved.
Ayame was the last to decide. She stood facing her human self, her uncorrupted self, the version who'd made the opposite choice four hundred years ago.
"I could be you," she said. "Could step into your timeline. Live without guilt, without the weight of centuries of suffering caused."
"And leave me to carry the demon essence?" her human self asked. "Leave me to face the remaining trials, manage the corruption, become what you were?"
"Would that be wrong?"
"It would be envy. Coveting what I have—my clean conscience, my unburdened soul—without accepting that it came at a cost. That my province died because I did nothing." The human Ayame stepped closer. "We are the same soul. Just different choices. Neither superior. Neither inferior. Just different."
"But you never became a monster."
"I became a different kind of monster. The kind who watches and does nothing. Who preserves their own purity by letting others suffer." Human Ayame placed her hand over demon-touched Ayame's heart. "Your choice was harder. Cost you more. Made you suffer in ways I never will. But it also made you fight. Made you try. Made you seek redemption instead of simply accepting powerlessness."
"You don't blame me?"
"For taking power when I refused it? For becoming demon when I stayed human?" Human Ayame smiled. "How can I blame you for being brave enough to act when I was too afraid?"
"I'm not brave. I'm just—"
"Willing to try. Willing to risk. Willing to become a monster if it meant saving people. That's courage, even if the outcome was terrible." The human Ayame began to fade. "Don't envy me. I envy you. Your struggle has meaning. My purity is just... absence."
Then she was gone, and demon-touched Ayame stood alone, tears streaming down her face.
The Serpent studied them all with its multiple-colored eyes.
*"THE TRIAL OF ENVY IS COMPLETE. YOU HAVE FACED YOUR OWN POSSIBILITY-SELVES AND CHOSEN NOT TO COVET THEIR ADVANTAGES. HAVE ACCEPTED THAT YOUR DIFFICULT PATHS HAVE VALUE PRECISELY BECAUSE THEY ARE DIFFICULT."*
*"THIS IS MORE THAN ADEQUATE. THIS IS WISDOM."*
The envy-head spoke alone: *"MANY FAIL THIS TRIAL. CHOOSE TO TRADE PLACES, SEEKING EASIER LIVES. BUT EASE IS NOT THE SAME AS GOOD. YOUR BURDENS HAVE SHAPED YOU INTO SOMETHING YOUR POSSIBILITY-SELVES COULD NEVER BE. YOU HAVE EARNED YOUR DIFFICULTY. AND THAT EARNING MATTERS."*
*"THREE TRIALS REMAIN. WE WILL RETURN IN SIX DAYS FOR THE TRIAL OF SLOTH. PREPARE YOURSELVES. THAT ONE WILL TEST WHETHER YOU CONTINUE TO ACT OR SURRENDER TO THE COMFORT OF INACTION."*
The Serpent began to fade, but before it disappeared completely, all eight heads spoke in unison:
*"YOU HAVE PASSED THE MAJORITY. FIVE OF EIGHT SINS CONFRONTED AND SURVIVED. BUT DO NOT BECOME COMPLACENT. THE FINAL TRIALS ARE NOT HARDER IN INTENSITY BUT IN SUBTLETY. SLOTH DISGUISES ITSELF AS REASONABLE REST. LUST AS LEGITIMATE DESIRE. GLUTTONY AS HEALTHY APPETITE. THE FAILURES COME NOT FROM DRAMATIC SURRENDERS BUT FROM SMALL ACCEPTANCES THAT COMPOUND OVER TIME."*
*"REMAIN VIGILANT. REMAIN AWARE. AND REMEMBER: THE HARVEST IS NEVER COMPLETE UNTIL THE FINAL SEED IS GATHERED."*
Then it vanished, leaving them alone in the thin place with its wrong stars and flexible reality.
Kiku was shivering, though the night wasn't particularly cold. "I envied you all," she admitted. "Envied your histories, your depths, your possibilities. But the Serpent was right—envy changes nothing. I am what I am."
"A child-demon born from love," Ayame said, pulling Kiku into an embrace. "Unique in all the worlds. No possibility-selves because you are precisely who you need to be. That's not less than us. That's different. Valuable."
"Do you really believe that?"
"I'm learning to."
They made camp in the thin place, knowing that morning would bring them back to normal reality. The wrong stars wheeled overhead, and in their alien light, Haruto felt something shift inside him.
The demon essence was quieter tonight. Not gone, never gone, but... settled. As if witnessing the trial of Envy had taught it something about acceptance. About being content with what it was instead of constantly striving to become more, to escape, to consume.
"Five down, three to go," Shinjiro said, settling into his watch position. "We're actually going to do this. Actually going to pass all eight trials."
"Maybe," the priest said. "Or maybe we'll fail the next one. We released certainty, remember? Can't guarantee outcomes."
"But we can hope for them. There's a difference."
"Yes. There is."
As Haruto drifted toward sleep, he thought about his clean self. The version unburdened by demon essence, unweighted by impossible choices. That Haruto was easier, simpler, lighter.
But he wasn't better.
Just different.
And tonight, in this thin place where realities blurred and possibilities were visible, Haruto chose to be content with who he actually was.
Burden and all.
Three trials remained.
But tonight, that was enough.
The stars wheeled overhead in patterns that didn't exist, spelling words in languages no one could read.
And in the spaces between worlds, the Shinigami Wraith watched with patient red eyes.
Waiting.
Always waiting.
For the harvest that would eventually come due.
But not tonight.
Tonight, they rested.
And tomorrow, they would continue.
Because that was the choice they'd made.
And choices mattered more than outcomes.
Even in a thin place.
Even with three trials remaining.
Even when the harvest waited.
They had chosen their burden.
And burden chosen was burden bearable.
For now.