The ache of absence

Tomoe lunged at me, fists flying like she wanted me dead. She probably did—but I expected more restraint.

Too fast for a grandma. I barely managed to block her strikes, relying on the scraps of martial arts I'd picked up over the years.

Her wrist slipped into my grip, and I went for a throw—she countered instantly, gifting me an elbow to the nose for my trouble. Her barrage continued, so I got cheeky and sneaked a kick. To my surprise, it landed hard on her side. She didn't so much as blink: instead grabbed my foot, threw me off balance, and as I tumbled, kicked me forward for good measure.

Expecting her to pounce while I was down, I rolled back to get up fast—only to see her pause, watching me from a distance instead of attacking.

"When you've had enough, feel free to give up." With those ominous words, she snapped her fingers, and suddenly my nose and the spot on my belly where she'd kicked me throbbed like a swarm of bees had stung them.

The hag paced slowly to the side. "And it's only going to get worse as more curses pile on."

"Okay." I seized the moment to go on the offensive. Her reaction lagged—she hadn't expected me to shrug off her curses.

My surprise attack struck her face, though a slap cracked across mine not a second later. Offended, I slapped back, only for Tomoe, now ready, to block and drive four fingers into my gut in a single, smooth counter.

That one hurt enough to make me flinch, which earned me another kick that sent me stumbling backwards.

A snap echoed, and every recent ache in my body flared up again, adding to the ones already burning. Still, nothing compared to what it meant losing this duel. I threw Tomoe my best "That all you got?" grin.

Even through her mask-like stiff expression, I could see in her eyes that I was getting under her skin.

During the pause, I scrambled my brain for a magic trick of my own. Atsun's training never pushed limits, so I still had no clue what I was capable of. I could conjure another gun, sure—but she'd see through it unless weapons were secretly allowed. Honestly, I'm amazed the bluff worked last time, considering how many details my model butchered.

The illusion had to be practical, not just flashy. Body doubles would be amazing, though probably too complex for a newbie. And I had no idea how much magic I could waste on failures before my stamina tanked.

A simple but useful idea clicked, and I focused on visualizing it. Of course, that's exactly when Tomoe charged back in.

Just like at the start, I was back to defending against super-granny—and doing a poor job of it. Every few blocks she slipped a hit through, and while I wasn't soft about physical pain, I did have my limits. This was getting worrying.

But Tomoe moved nonstop like some ninja. It had to be tiring. Perhaps a war of attrition was the play. Then again, was I really banking on out-stubborning Sergeant Tight-Arse?

The moment she backed off, likely to activate another spell, I started casting mine. A pale mist curled up around me, quickly expanding. Not the smartest move when I'd be blinded too, but with her ink-black hair, she'd stand out a lot more in white.

"A waste of magic," she said, her voice dripping with arrogance. "Let's see you keep that smile after this."

Before the mist swallowed us, I saw her lift two fingers to her lips. A heartbeat later, the sound of her curse reverberated: not a snap this time, but a long, slow whistle.

My knees buckled.

First my legs went limp, then the feeling drained from my fingertips, creeping inward like frost spreading through glass.

The pain didn't fade—it evaporated, like it had never existed. In its place opened up a hollow so deep I felt like my bones were sinking into it. My arms, once tense and ready, hung useless at my sides. The urge to fight, to move, to even breathe… slipped away like it had been a borrowed feeling I no longer deserved.

My thoughts slowed, then withered, curling inward until there was nothing but the ache of absence. No anger toward Tomoe anymore. No fear of losing. Just a quiet certainty that winning didn't matter. That I didn't matter.

Images flickered in the dark behind my eyes—small reminders of just how little I was worth. The brave second son, shouldering all the responsibilities I ran from. The little sister, finishing every proud project she started, never quitting halfway.

And the selfless youngest… the one who proved just how crooked and selfish I truly was.

I was nothing like them.
I was nothing like anyone.
I was nothing at all…

Void.

…

Just like…

Kuurei.

In the endless silence, its words drifted back to me. First as faint echoes. Next as whispers. Finally…

"Thou seest now what thou are not—and what thou might yet be, if ever thou choose to stay."

No. Your hopes are misplaced. I could never live up to that. I'm not who you think I am. I never was…

"...thou might yet be…"

The words echoed again.

"...if ever thou choose to stay."

I want to stay… but it's impossible. I'm just not enough…

My eyelids squeezed tight, hoping that pressing hard enough might hurt, might remind me that there was still something left inside me that could feel.

"Close not thine eyes, lest darkness be all thou shalt ever see."

Without thinking—instinct taking over—I obeyed the guiding voice. Through the blur of my vision, among the endless blank that surrounded me, I saw something else.

Gray, latched to my chest, deformed, with eyes like an insect's.

Disgust, horror, something was set ablaze in me. That was the clue I needed.

Both my hands clamped onto the aberration. It burned to the touch. When I tried to pull, it felt like a million teeth sank into my flesh, anchoring it to me. But rather than make me stop, it gave me more strength. Each yank tore a puncture free, one after another. The creature shrieked.

It finally ripped off me, thrown aside, dissolving into the air like salt in water.

The mist cleared almost instantly. Tomoe stood before me. Her expression—the most alive I'd ever seen her—had eyes so wide the white showed, brows arched high, and her lips parted like she'd forgotten how to speak.

"Did you just break my curse?" she murmured.

"The ceremony is over," an Elder announced.

Time lagged—or maybe it was me.

The words didn't register at first, as if spoken in an unknown language. Then it hit me.

Oh.

I lost.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Atsunori is in the city, busy with the investigation, when a servant calls to inform him of the duel's outcome.

The result is no surprise—but disappointment still stings heavily. That tiny, unreasonable hope he buried that refused to die quietly.

He remembers Avery laughing off when talking about crippling injuries, treating pain like an annoying buzz rather than something meant to stop her. On someone like that, most of Tomoe's curses should have glanced right off.

But then he thinks of her other quirks—the constant chatter, how she could never sit still, that restless energy like she was always running… maybe all it took was one sorrow curse or two to shatter her bravado, even if Tomoe's magic is weaker in human form.

Enough with those thoughts. Mistress Tomoe was in the right, and Avery needed discipline.

"You were treating Renya like he belongs to you." Avery's words echo in his mind, but he forces them away.

Tomoe is correct. She has to be.

Still on the call, he keeps his voice steady and asks what choice Avery made—whether she will stay, or leave permanently.

"Actually, she hasn't given an answer yet. Elder Yorinobu granted her a full week to decide. A small favor, for some assistance she gave him a while ago."

"I see."

The call ends. For a full minute, he stands frozen in the middle of the street.

Then he breaks into a near-run toward the estate.

I need to talk to her. I don't know whether to scold her or apologize… perhaps both. But we have to clear things up.

Twenty minutes and he's there—just in time to hear she left moments ago. Barely missed her.

He takes out his phone, realizing he should have called sooner.

The rings drag on…

But she never answers.

He considers calling again, could be she didn't hear the phone, or—

"We need to talk." The voice is soft, yet lands in his mind with weight, pushing everything else aside.

All thoughts of Avery are discarded. His muscles stiffen, and he has to force himself to turn toward the source. Upon doing so, Tomoe's velvet-black gaze captures him.