An end I didn't mean, but one I accept

My ears rang when I awoke. The cottage ceiling loomed above me, cold boards pressing into my back. When I tried to move, my body protested—every muscle screaming like I'd been beaten senseless. Even breathing hurt.

But pain alone wouldn't stop me.

With some effort, I forced myself upright and took in the room. The chain lay beside me on the floor, no longer wrapped around my neck. Outside, the snowstorm still howled.

A groan made me turn.

Kairi was slumped in the armchair, unconscious.

This might've been my one chance to leave—but the storm beyond the walls was merciless. So depending on how cooperative Kairi felt when he woke up, we might end up clashing again.

Something I was ready to do as many times as it took.

He shifted. Then his eyes opened.

For a long moment, we just stared at each other. Neither of us blinked.

Finally, he cracked his neck and stood.

"I'm going to put the chain back on you. How hard do you intend to make this?"

I gave him a crooked grin. "Not just hard. Impossible."

"Don't blame me for what happens next."

The muscles in his arms tensed.

Then…

Nothing.

A silence that wasn't relief.

Like a pressure that had always been there had simply… stopped.

He went still. His gaze dropped to his own hands, face widening in confusion.

"What…?" he muttered.

He tried again—flexing, shifting, moving as if searching for a motion his body no longer remembered.

I could see it then—his body wasn't resisting him. It simply had nothing left to answer to.

Almost as if—

An image flared in my mind. The red spirit. My last act before blacking out. The severed connection. The phantom disappearing.

"D-did I actually…?" My breath hitched.

No way, right?

I shook my head. When I looked back at Kairi, his stare had hardened into something I'd never seen before.

Before I could speak, he stormed over and grabbed my collar.

"What did you do to me? Explain."

"I-I don't know. I just—"

"Undo it. Now!"

"I-I…"

This wasn't what I wanted.

Not for a second had I meant to do this.

To take his gift, as if I had the right.

My hands shook as I gathered magic and placed them on his shoulders. The sensation made me nauseous, like forcing a muscle already torn past its limit. Orange fur crept over the back of my hands. The same electrifying power as last time tore through me.

My request was simple: to undo what I'd done.

The magic vanished instead—draining away, leaving my hands human once more.

Like it was refusing to lie to me.

Like it knew, as well as me, that there was nothing left to restore.

Kairi searched my face, silently asking how it went.

My lips trembled open. "I-I'm sorry… I d-didn't mean—"

He shoved me back, breaking us apart. But he didn't advance again. His fists clenched at his side. I could hear his teeth grinding—an unnerving, scraping sound.

His breathing sped up, uneven, on the edge of breaking.

With a raw shout, he kicked the table leg. It slid instead of snapping. He hissed and clutched his side, over the bandages, then dragged the armchair aside and collapsed into it without another word, his back turned to me.

My feet stayed rooted in place. I didn't sit. I didn't speak.

Hours must've passed until—eventually—he stirred.

"Y…u …in," he murmured.

"S-sorry, come again?"

"You win."

A simple sentence.

Not bitter at all, just final.

It punched a hole in my chest.

Why?

Wasn't this what I wanted?

No. Not like this. Never like this.

"L-listen, Kairi, I swear I never meant for any of this. I promise I'll—"

"No."

"N-no? But I… maybe I can somehow fix—"

"Stop!" He lurched upright, the chair crashing behind him. His eyes were red-rimmed, his cheeks wet. "This is what you did. So no apologies or regrets. And for the love of all things, no pathetic attempts to rewind it."

A cough followed, pained.

I opened my mouth to argue—then stopped when I understood what he meant.

Intentions didn't matter. This was the result of my resolve. Of choosing my path and forcing it forward.

Going back now would turn everything I said into empty bravado. The kind of talk a naive brat makes without the strength to stand by it.

"Y-you're…" I cleared my throat. "You're right."

His stare lingered before he looked away, forcing a fragile smile.

"At least you can admit that sometimes."

My mouth tried to return the expression. My eyes wouldn't cooperate. "But there's one thing I disagree with."

He didn't respond.

"I'll still regret this." My voice was steadying. "But I won't wish it undone. This was a mistake made on my path. I won't let it change my course, but I will remember it, and carry it forward as a lesson."

"Yeah…" His voice was restrained. "You better. Don't you dare make this be in vain."

He stepped closer until we were face to face. "You may hate how this turned out, but your dream ended mine, forever."

There was no accusation in his voice—just fact.

"So make sure to see yours through to the end, no matter how hard it gets. Am I clear?"

"Yes. And I promise I won't let mine end."

We smiled at each other.

They were sad, hurt smiles.

But they were real.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Morning slips into the city without ceremony. Thawed snow slicks the streets. Lights blink off one by one, as if nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened. Life resumes out of habit, unaware of all that unfolded beneath the surface.

Atsunori watches from inside the stale cafe, his thoughts moving slowly through everything he's just heard.

The way Avery dealt with Kairi reminds him of what he once told her while explaining the nature of her Yokai—that Kuuko are said to wield nothingness itself, which allows them to nullify almost any magic.

"So, what do you think?" Avery leans forward, expectantly.

"You… you actually did it. Beat Kairi. Erased his threat."

"I didn't beat him, I just denied his dream." She fidgets a bit, tilting her head from side to side. "You're… not reacting how I expected."

"It's far too soon to celebrate." His gaze drops to his untouched black tea. "What did you do with him afterward?"

Her eyebrow lifts. "Did you forget the entire point of my arguments with him?"

There's no irony, just a puzzled tone.

"Alright, I won't press it." He brings the cup to his lips. "You've got something else you want to say, don't you?"

After a pause, she nods. "I need to show you something very important. But it requires… dodging some rules."

"Meaning?"

"Restricted Munakata ground."

A heavy exhale. "Why?"

Her eyes avoid his.

He'd rather postpone it, but he knows that would only turn it into an endless exercise in delay.

And even if it requires dodging rules—if nothing else, Avery has proven her concern for the Munakata is genuine.

"Fine, lead the way."