Purgatory of the Blue Flame: The Foundation of Wrath

The room was dead save for the harsh, low hum of the fluorescent lights overhead and the distant, muffled wails of street traffic bleeding in from the world outside. 

Ryuzuki Mochimaru lay motionless against the stiff, starch-white pillows of his hospital bed, his face pale and drawn from weeks of trauma and a high fever that had gripped him long before his initial meeting with Tatsuchi. 

White medical bandages wrapped tightly around his torso and broken arm, stark against his clammy skin. The heart monitor beside him continued its slow, steady rhythm, accompanied by the occasional soft beep of another machine somewhere farther down the ward. Beyond the closed door, nurses moved through the hallway with quiet urgency. Rubber soles squeaked against polished floors. A cart rolled past. Someone coughed behind another door. A television playing in the waiting area murmured through the walls, its broadcast barely audible beneath the constant mechanical hum of the hospital. Slowly, Ryuzuki’s fingers twitched against the coarse cotton sheets. His eyelids fluttered open, adjusting painfully to the harsh white lights above him. For a long moment, he simply stared at the sterile ceiling. He didn't move. He didn't speak. He just listened to the rhythm of the machines keeping pace beside him. His breathing was shallow, each breath carrying the uncomfortable weight of a body that had been pushed far beyond what it should have been capable of surviving. He turned his head slightly toward the window. 

Outside, the desert city was already awake. The pale morning suns reflected against the hospital windows and turned the asphalt below into a sheet of dull orange. Cars moved through the intersection beyond the parking lot. People walked along the sidewalks. Somewhere in the distance, a vendor shouted something at a passing customer. Life was continuing. Somehow, it always did.

The door clicked open. Tatsuchi Kuroainaru stepped into the room carrying a heavy looking briefcase in one hand. She looked almost as exhausted as he did. Her yellow poncho clung to her white linen hooded shirt, and the usual precision in her posture had been dulled by several sleepless nights. She stopped when she noticed his eyes were open. For the first time that morning, her expression softened. “You're awake.” Ryuzuki didn't answer. Tatsuchi closed the door behind her and walked toward the bed. Her shoes clicked quietly against the freshly cleaned floor. She glanced at the heart monitor before looking back at him. “How are you feeling? Don't try to sit up yet. The doctors specifically told me that your body needs time to recover, and considering what you looked like when they brought you in, I think we should probably listen to them.” Ryuzuki's eyes remained fixed on the window. Tatsuchi waited.

Nothing.

She stepped closer and reached instinctively toward the IV stand beside him, checking the line and the bag hanging from the metal hook. “Do you need water?” she asked. “I can get someone if your throat hurts. Or if you're feeling dizzy, I can call the doctor.”

“Where is my stuff?” His voice was barely above a rasp. Tatsuchi looked at him. “You've been awake for thirty seconds and that's your first question?”

“Where is it?” There was no anger in his voice. Just exhaustion. Tatsuchi glanced toward the chair beside the bed. “They kept most of it during intake. I have all of your belongings with me.” Ryuzuki slowly tried to push himself upright with his one arm. His body immediately protested. His shoulder shook. His breath caught. His face tightened as he forced himself higher, but before he could get far enough to sit properly, his strength gave out and he fell back against the pillows. Tatsuchi reached toward him.

“Easy. Don't make me call the nurses because you decided to prove something nobody asked you to prove.” Ryuzuki stared at the ceiling. Tatsuchi pulled a chair closer. “I guess the adrenaline really went to our heads when we fought Kaguya,” she said, trying to force some lightness into her voice. “You especially. I don't know what you were thinking, throwing yourself around like that.” Ryuzuki didn't laugh. Tatsuchi's smile faded. “Fine. Bad joke.” She sat down. For a few seconds, neither spoke. “How long?” Tatsuchi looked at him. “How long what?” Ryuzuki looked at her as if he'd asked something obvious. “How long was I out?” He asked, “You're the last one to wake up.”
“But for how long was I out for?”
“About a week.” Ryuzuki's eyes shifted slightly. “A week?” “Almost exactly.” Tatsuchi leaned back in the chair. “Everyone else had comparatively minor injuries. Some bruising, some fractures, some exhaustion. You, on the other hand, apparently decided your body was either disposable or indestructible.” Ryuzuki's expression didn't change.
“The doctors nearly fainted when they looked at you,” Tatsuchi continued. “They kept asking how you were still functioning after everything you'd already put yourself through before we even met you. Your body was practically operating on whatever was left in the tank. Don't get me started on how you were even able to use Kai.” Ryuzuki slowly turned his head toward her. “I had to.”

Tatsuchi didn't immediately answer. She knew what he meant. The town, the Skinwalkers, the people he had spent his entire life knowing. The ones he had been forced to kill after realizing they weren't really the people he remembered. Ryuzuki looked back toward the window. “I couldn't stop.” Tatsuchi lowered her eyes. “I know.”

“You don't.”

His voice remained quiet. “You weren't there in the beginning.” Tatsuchi didn't argue. Instead, she reached down and placed the small bag of belongings on the edge of the bed. “This is everything they gave me.” Ryuzuki looked at it. “Your personal things are in there. Whatever you had on you when they found us on the edge of that cliff. I also put some money in the front compartment. You probably won't have much use for it in the hospital, but you'll need it when you leave.” Ryuzuki stared at the bag for several seconds before slowly reaching for it. He pulled the bag toward himself with his one arm and opened it. The first thing he saw was a photograph. His fingers stopped. It was old. The edges were worn and slightly bent. His mother stood in the center. His little brother stood beside her. And his wife stood just behind them. For a moment, Ryuzuki didn't move. Tatsuchi noticed, but she didn't say anything.

He lifted another photograph, then another, then another. He stared at each one with the same blank expression, but something in his eyes had changed. “They were supposed to be here,” he whispered. Tatsuchi looked toward the window. “We were supposed to grow old.” His thumb moved across the edge of one photograph.

“My mother was supposed to complain about my kid brother never visiting. My brother was supposed to complain about her complaining. My wife was supposed to yell at both of them for making too much noise.” His voice cracked slightly. “They were supposed to keep living.” Tatsuchi remained silent.

A nurse passed the doorway outside, pushing a cart filled with fresh sheets. Somewhere farther down the corridor, a physical therapist encouraged another patient to take another step. A television in the waiting area suddenly grew louder as a commercial for played before somebody lowered the volume again.

Ryuzuki closed his eyes. “When I came home, they weren't there anymore. At least, not really.” Tatsuchi's fingers tightened around her thigh, trying to think of the right words to say. “I know.”

“No.”

His eyes opened. “You might know what happened, but that’s not the same thing.” Tatsuchi looked at him. Ryuzuki swallowed. “I knew they were gone. I knew the people walking around weren't them. I knew those things had taken their faces and their voices and everything that made them recognizable. I knew exactly what I was doing when I killed them. You went inside Prometheus, didn't you? You saw what I saw. That same tasteless fear.” His fingers tightened around the photograph. “But every time I looked at one of them, I remembered who they were supposed to be.” He lowered the photograph.

“My neighbor.”

“My mother.”

“My brother.”

“My wife.”

“My coworkers.”

“Every person I knew since I was a kid.” His voice became quieter. “Every single one.” Tatsuchi didn't interrupt him. Ryuzuki stared down at the photographs. “And now I don't even have their bodies.” The room became quiet again. Tatsuchi finally spoke.

“Can you get up?” Ryuzuki looked at her. He didn't answer. Tatsuchi waited. “Ryu?” He said nothing. “I'm asking you a question.” Still nothing. Her eyes narrowed. She had spent the past week dealing with injuries, paperwork, questions from the Ouya Katsuragi, reporting on the destruction of Kokohama, and the growing mystery surrounding the Revolutionary Army. She had barely slept. She was exhausted, frustrated, and carrying far more responsibility than she was willing to admit. Her patience was starting to snap. “What are you planning to do?” Ryuzuki looked away. Tatsuchi leaned forward. “You're awake, you're alive, the fighting is over, Kokohama is behind us, so what happens now?” Silence enveloped the room like a big presence. “You can't stay here forever.” Ryuzuki didn't respond. Tatsuchi exhaled sharply. “If you don't have anywhere to go, why don't you join the Gate Guards.” That finally got his attention. Tatsuchi continued before he could respond. “You've already survived things that would have killed most trained soldiers. You have combat experience. You understand the Revolutionaries better than most people in this country. You could be useful.”
Ryuzuki stared at her. “You're serious.” Tatsuchi looked slightly confused for a moment, “Yes.”
“You want me to join the Gate Guard.”

“If you need somewhere to go, yes.” Ryuzuki looked down at the photographs again. Tatsuchi's voice hardened. “What did you think everything you did meant if you're just going to lie here and let yourself rot?” Ryuzuki's expression changed. It was subtle at first. His jaw tightened. His fingers curled into the sheets. Tatsuchi noticed the shift. “Ryuzuki.” He slowly lifted his head.

“Don't.”

“I'm trying to help you.”

“No.”

His voice was quiet. “You're trying to fix something you don't understand.” Tatsuchi stood. “You're not the only person who lost something.” That was the wrong thing to say. And it wasn't even true. The air in the room changed. Ryuzuki's fingers dug into the mattress. A faint pale blue glow began gathering around his body. The heart monitor immediately began beeping faster. Tatsuchi froze. “Ryuzuki, listen-” she got cut off as his breathing became heavier. The Zyn around him thickened. “Don't tell me what I've lost.” His voice shook. “I know what happened.” Tatsuchi’s voice snapped a little, “Then listen to me.”

“No.”

Ryuzuki violently pushed himself higher against the pillows, ignoring the pain shooting through his injured body and slightly broken arm. Tatsuchi began to drop her friendly mask. “I said listen to me. Nothing you think you're fighting for is even there to go back to. You have nothing left. Think about your future from here, what do you consider everything right now?” The door behind Tatsuchi opened. Asumi Yamikumei stood there with Ouya Katsuragi beside her. Both stopped immediately. The pressure filling the room made Asumi's expression change. Ryuzuki's eyes were violent, and he laughed.

And it wasn't amusement. It was the sound of someone who had finally run out of places to hide his wrath. “You want to know what I considered everything?” The pale-blue Zyn around him flickered against the walls. “My entire life was built inside that town.” His voice rose. “My home was there. My family was there. My work was there. Every street I knew was there.” He pointed toward the window with his good hand. “And now look at it, you can't!” 
Ryuzuki's breathing shook. “The Revolutionaries took away my wife. They're probably the ones who released the skinwalkers in the first place. They took away my mother. They took away my brother. And after all of that, I still had to keep moving.” His fingers trembled. His voice cracked. “And even then, I couldn't stomach the pain.” Asumi stood silently in the doorway. Ryuzuki continued.

“Every face those Skinwalkers took was someone I knew, every single one, were people I saw walking on my way to work every morning, people I watched grow up, people I talked to in the street, people who knew me when I was a kid.” His eyes lowered. “Every day I cut grass. Every night I came home. Every morning I woke up.” He swallowed.

“They were there.” The Zyn surrounding him pulsed once. “And I had to kill their imitations.” The room went still. “So do you really want to know what I considered everything?” He looked directly at Tatsuchi. “I don't even have enough left to bury them.” His voice became quieter. “Much less mourn them.” Tatsuchi's expression finally cracked, only slightly. Ryuzuki ignored her. "I have nothing better to do.” He looked down at the photographs. “I have no home to go back to.” His eyes hardened again. “So why shouldn't I listen to you?” Tatsuchi opened her mouth. Ryuzuki continued. “Your own people don't even seem to trust you completely.” Asumi's eyes shifted toward Tatsuchi. “So let's keep going on a wild goose chase,” Ryuzuki said. “Let's keep following the Revolutionary Army and look for your ghost of a brother until they hunt us all down. Maybe we'll find something, maybe we won't.” He laughed quietly. “I have nothing left to lose except for the time it takes to die.”

Tatsuchi stared at him. Ryuzuki looked directly into her eyes. “So lead the way, Captain." His voice was exhausted now. The silence afterward was worse than the shouting. His Zyn gradually faded. The heart monitor slowed. Tatsuchi stood completely still. For once, she had no answer.

Ryuzuki lowered himself back against the pillows and turned his body away from them. “Leave me alone.” Asumi looked toward Tatsuchi. Tatsuchi didn't move. Ryuzuki pulled the blanket over his shoulders and stared at the wall. Tatsuchi's grip tightened around the briefcase. She stared at his back for several seconds. Then she threw it.
The heavy case struck him between the shoulder blades and dropped onto the mattress before falling to the floor with a dull metallic crash. Ryuzuki looked over his shoulder. Tatsuchi's face was unreadable again.

“Then take it.” Ryuzuki stared at her. “What's inside?” “My personal information, money, and your dagger.” His eyes moved toward the briefcase. “You're giving me this?” “You said you have nothing.” Tatsuchi stepped toward the door. “Now you have something.” Ryuzuki didn't answer. Tatsuchi stopped at the doorway. “You don't have to join the Gate Guards.” Ryuzuki looked at her. “You don't have to trust me either.” She glanced toward the window. “But if you're going to keep walking, at least decide where you're going before it ends.” Then, just like that, she left. Asumi remained in the doorway for another moment. 

She looked at Ryuzuki, then at the briefcase. “She's terrible at this.” Ryuzuki stared at the wall. Asumi's mouth twitched. She turned and followed Tatsuchi into the hallway. The door closed. For several seconds, Ryuzuki remained motionless. Then he slowly reached down and pulled the briefcase onto the bed. He didn't open it.
Outside, the hospital continued moving. Doctors hurried between rooms. Nurses spoke quietly at the station. A patient in a wheelchair was pushed toward physical therapy while another sat in the lobby watching television with the volume turned low. Life continued. Ryuzuki stared at the briefcase. Then at the photographs. He didn't know what came next. But for the first time since Kokohama, he had something that belonged to the future. Whether that future was worth reaching was another question.
                         

                               ...

Another week passed. The hospital became its own strange little world. Morning brought the same pale desert, trinity sunlight through the fullglass windows. Afternoon brought the smell of disinfectant and overheated pavement drifting through the vents. At night, the halls became quieter, but never silent. There was always some machine beeping somewhere. Some nurse talking behind a door. Some television playing in the lobby for patients who couldn't sleep.
Asumi spent most of her time finally learning how to move normally again. Her injured arm remained wrapped in a cast, and her eyepatch still felt unnatural against her face. She hated having to adjust it every few minutes, especially when she was trying to walk quickly. One afternoon, she stepped into the rehabilitation lounge and found Tatsuchi sitting across from Rui.
Neither of them were speaking. They were simply staring through the reinforced glass toward the parking lot. Rui looked exhausted. Tatsuchi looked worse. Asumi slowed as she approached. “You two look like you've been sentenced to community service.” Rui glanced at her before laying their head back down. Tatsuchi rubbed the bags beneath her eyes “I’m recovering.” Asumi cracked a smile, “From what, staring longingly into the sand out the window?” Tatsuchi didn't look away from the window. 

“Apparently.” Asumi sat down across from them. For a moment, she watched the cars moving outside. Then she looked toward Rui. “How's Zhenyu?” Rui slightly lifted their head, “He's recovering.” Rui raised an eyebrow as their cheeks turned slightly pink. “I mean, he's recovering well. That's what I meant.” Tatsuchi glanced at Asumi. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “You were about to.” Asumi smiled faintly. Tatsuchi's mouth twitched. “His condition is stable,” she said. “He's been sleeping more than usual. The doctors aren't concerned.” Asumi looked down at her hands. “Good.”

There was a short pause. “I was worried.” Tatsuchi looked at her for a moment. “I know, but can we not make this weird?” Asumi locked eyes with Tatsuchi. “You made it weird, I just asked how he was doing.” “You asked me and Rui twice.” Asumi shrugged. “I care about my Vice Captain.” Rui chuckled a bit. Asumi glared at them. “Don't.” The three sat quietly for another moment. Then Asumi reached into her wraparound bag. “By the way, i've got something for you.” She placed a red, wax-sealed envelope on the table.

Tatsuchi's eyes immediately dropped to it. The seal was familiar. The Pale Rose emblem of the Kuroainaru Clan. It was also her favorite flower. Brass also mentioned something about it. “Where did you get this?” Asumi leaned back and bitterly laughed “That's the weird part, I don't know.” Tatsuchi looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“I was outside last week after I heard loud bass playing in the parking lot. I was used my throwing knives to teleport to the front of the hoard of horny nurses.” Asumi thought about the encounter for a moment. “There was this guy in the parking lot. Huge guy, muscular, he caught one of my knives out of the air before it could hit the concrete.” Tatsuchi's eyes narrowed. “Caught it? With his hand. And you let him?” Asumi laughed, “I didn't exactly have time to stop him.” Asumi touched the side of her white eyepatch." He gave me this and left.” Tatsuchi pondered for a second. “Who was he?” Asumi shrugged again. “I don't know.” “You didn't ask?” “He never left his car and drove away. But I'm sure he's related to you.” Tatsuchi stared at the envelope. “How do you know he's a Kuroainaru?” Asumi thought for a moment as if it was obvious. “His purple eyes.” Tatsuchi's expression changed. “Purple?” Asumi nodded, “Exactly.” Asumi shrugged. “I figured that was enough.” Tatsuchi carefully picked up the envelope. The wax seal was still intact. She broke it with her thumb. The parchment inside was heavy and folded several times. She opened the first page and immediately recognized the writing.

Eikichi Kuroainaru. Her playboy, womanizing, gambler of a cousin.

Tatsuchi's eyes moved across the first few lines, then stopped. Asumi watched her. “What is it?” she asked. “It’s intelligence.” “About what though?” Tatsuchi continued reading. “It's mainly about the Revolutionary Army.” Rui leaned slightly closer. Tatsuchi flipped to the next page.

There were names.

Routes.

Encrypted movements.

A path that stretched farther than she expected. If this information is correct, then they would have to travel all the way across the entirety of Harpyra to reach the western Pleiades desert. It would take them roughly a little more than two months to get there on foot. Then one name appeared repeatedly. “Kairos Feuerhai.” Asumi frowned. 

“Who's that?" “Apparently, he's one of the Nineteen Warlords.” Rui looked confused. “The what?” Tatsuchi looked up. “The Nineteen Warlords.” She placed the paper flat on the table. “They're criminals who were pardoned by the World Government and the Ten Fate Church. In exchange, they're paid to stay out of worldly affairs.” Asumi frowned. “So they're criminals who aren't criminals anymore?” Tatsuchi nodded. “Officially.” Tatsuchi's eyes returned to the page. “In practice, they're people powerful enough that the government decided it was easier to buy their silence than fight them.” Rui leaned back. “That sounds reassuring.” Tatsuchi shook her head. “It isn't. At the end of the day, I still consider them scum. Lap dogs for the Church who gave up their strength because they're weak.” Tatsuchi continued reading the information from the letter.

“Once they accept the deal, most records surrounding them are erased or altered. They're effectively removed from public history.” Asumi looked toward the letter. “Then how does your cousin have this? Let alone his knowledge of what we're looking for.” Tatsuchi shut her eyes for a brief moment and signed. “I don't know.” Tatsuchi flipped another page. “There's information about Kairos' movements. Before he became a warlord, he was actually a high-ranking member of the Revolutionary Army. When he left, he remained in a close relationship with another high-ranking member.” She stopped. At the bottom of the page was a faded note. Tatsuchi stared at it.

“What?” Asumi leaned closer. Tatsuchi didn't answer. She flipped to the final sheet. A symbol had been stamped into a sticky note. A fractured sun piercing a crescent moon. Tatsuchi's eyes widened. Not with recognition, with the exact opposite. She had a base idea of what the Revolutionary Army symbol looked like. She had seen it in reports, on her own bounty, and old propaganda. This wasn't it. “This isn't their symbol.” Her voice was barely audible.

Asumi looked at her. “What?” Tatsuchi looked at her, “The Revolutionary Army has a symbol.” Tatsuchi placed the parchment flat against the table. “I've seen it before. I've seen their flags, their documents, their insignia.” Her finger hovered above the strange emblem. “This isn't the symbol they use.” Rui stared at the drawing. “Could it be an older version?” Tatsuchi shook her head again. “No.”
Tatsuchi answered immediately. “Symbols change over time. This isn't a variation.” She looked genuinely unsettled now. “This is something else.” Asumi's expression hardened. “Then why is it in a Revolutionary Army document?” Tatsuchi didn't answer. 

She couldn't.

For several seconds, she simply stared at the symbol. A fractured sun, a crescent moon. Something piercing the space between them. Something that felt wrong in a way she couldn't explain. Outside the window, a car pulled into the parking lot. A nurse walked past the lounge carrying a stack of paperwork. The television in the lobby announced the evening news. The world continued moving.
Tatsuchi folded the letter slowly. “We need to find Kairos.” Asumi nodded. “I figured you were going to say that.” Tatsuchi looked toward the darkening window. “And we need to figure out what this symbol means.” She placed the letter back into its envelope. “Because if the Revolutionary Army didn't make it…” Her eyes narrowed. “Someone else did.” 
                                  

                              …

Night eventually settled over the hospital. The three moons hung over the city of Jinko. The halls grew darker as the overhead lights switched off one section at a time. The last physical therapy patients had been wheeled back into their rooms. The waiting area television was still playing quietly for the few people who remained awake. Ryuzuki laid alone in his room. The briefcase sat beside him. He had opened it hours ago. Inside were Tatsuchi's personal documents, money, and his dagger. He stared at the dagger for a long time. Then at the photographs.

His mother.

His brother.

His wife.

He placed the photographs carefully back into the briefcase before he stood up. His body protested immediately but he ignored the pain. He was used to it.

One arm.

A broken body.

A bag that contained what little remained of his life. He packed everything he could carry into a worn duffel bag he had found earlier that afternoon. The medical monitor beside him continued its quiet rhythm. He looked toward the door.

Nothing.

No footsteps.

No voices.

Ryuzuki slowly removed the remaining medical equipment he could safely move without calling attention to himself and pulled his clothes back on. He stood in the center of the room. For a moment, he looked around.

The bed.

The chair.

The window.

The sterile walls.

This wasn't his home.

It never had been. He picked up the briefcase Tatsuchi had given him, then the duffel bag, and he walked toward the window. His hand rested against the latch. He stopped. For just a second, he looked back. There was no one there. No life waiting for him. Only an empty hospital room. Ryuzuki opened the window. Cool desert air rushed inside, cutting through the sterile warmth of the hospital. He climbed through the frame and disappeared into the darkness beyond. By the time the first nurse entered the room the following morning, his bed was empty, his room was empty, there was almost no trace of his existence.

And just like that, Ryuzuki Mochimaru was gone.