Private A World of Their Own .:. [Req. Ryuu Rei]

[Shiro]

Shiro paused on the final stretch of the trail, the gravel beneath his feet shifting as he surveyed the breathtaking panorama of Kumogakure’s mountain ring. The village lay far below, cloaked in mist and shadows. Around it, the peaks rose like silent guardians, each one a fortress of stone. At the summit where he stood, the mountain soared higher than all the others, a single gemstone perched atop a grand, unbroken crown. The sky above him glowed with the first threads of daylight, streaks of orange and purple that painted color into the grey pre-dawn world. He inhaled deeply, letting the cold air fill his lungs, and felt a pang of recognition he could not fully place. It was as if the wind carried the faint echo of voices he had once known. Even though he stood here alone, he sensed the echo of another, a presence he remembered from a life he was not supposed to have lived. This place was important.

The memory of that other life pressed against his thoughts, half-formed and elusive. He recalled the feeling of a hand resting in his, the soft murmur of shared laughter, and a promise made in hushed tones beneath the clearest sky. His chest ached as he thought of this place's significance, lowering himself to sit on a familiar flat rock near the edge of the summit. The clouds, all well below the summit, formed a rolling sea of white, and the unimpeded sun overhead drew gilded outlines around them. "It was right here..." He recalled a hint of that life, a core memory that wouldn't fade even when all else had washed away with the tide. That moment that had changed everything. His eyes flickered to the path behind him, as if expecting someone to appear at any moment, but no one came. This was not that same time, not that same day. Shirokouu's longing felt heavy, and he closed his eyes, trying to steady his heart. "It's not time for nostalgia," he told himself, though the usually-stoic Santaru knew the memories were more than just fantasy. They were echoes of a timeline that only he remembered.

He reached down to rest a hand on the Ryuu dagger at his side. The metal pulsed with a faint rhythm, almost like a second heartbeat. That oily slick of taint was still there, but there was something else present as well. Something about this summit seemed to have magnified the weapon’s resonance, turning its almost imperceptible hum into a steady vibration that traveled up his arm. It felt alive in a way that transcended steel and craftsmanship. It almost felt... nervous? Like the blade held the same anxiety, fear, and hope that the Time Walker himself did. Shiro exhaled, recognizing the pull for what it was: an attraction to its counterpart, the one that dwelled within Rei. He could not think of either blade without recalling the woman bound to it, his magnetic counterpart. “You're pulled too, aren't you?” The stormcalller asked aloud, his voice carrying a hint of resignation. The weapon offered no response, but the phantom vibration intensified for a few seconds before settling into a quieter hum. He thought about how the two blades, separated by realms, were magnetized toward one another. It mirrored the bond he shared with Rei, an inexplicable thread that linked them across timelines and possibilities.

He stood again, taking slow steps across the summit’s uneven stones. A small gust of wind ruffled his hair, and he pressed a hand to his chest, recalling how different the air had felt on the day he was trying so hard not to name. "I remember laughter… I remember sunlight so bright that it made me squint. I remember a warmth that had nothing to do with the weather." He pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting off an overwhelming sense of loss. “Memories real only to me... Why can’t I just let it go?” he asked the open sky. His voice trembled slightly, an unsteadiness he could not conceal. Shiro had lived a life colored by duty, sacrifice and tragedy living where emotions and relationships make their home in other, more fortunate souls. His father, the Grey Man, had never prepared him for this, for a life that was about more than the requirements of being shinobi. The silence that followed felt both comforting and cruel. "I can’t let it go because it was worth holding onto. A good life. A life that mattered..." His grip on the hilt of the dagger tightened, as though he feared losing another memory to the inexorable drift of time.

The light in the sky continued to wax, and the stars began to disappear as the light of the rising sun washed them away. Shiro cast a long look over the ring of mountains. From this vantage point, it truly felt as though he stood upon a precious jewel set at the center of a massive ring. He could see the outlines of each peak, forming a protective circle around the hidden village below. The vision was beautiful, but it also reminded him of just how small and fleeting his life felt in comparison. Yet here, at this very summit, he found an odd sense of belonging, like a puzzle piece fitting exactly where it was meant to be. This place was significant for them both, he thought, stepping toward the ledge. "It still is." Though the memory of what happened here was fractured, the emotional weight remained clear. He could sense that it involved hope. Hope and promise.

He found the resolve he needed in that lingering sense of purpose. He slid the dagger from its sheath, holding it before him as it shimmered in the starlight. The blade’s thrumming grew louder, stirring the air around it. “No more waiting,” he murmured, setting his stance. “It's time.” The wind fell silent, as if holding its breath. For a moment, all he heard was his own heartbeat, along with the insistent pulse of the Ryuu weapon. For the first time since his meeting with the Ryuu elders, he felt uncertain. He remembered so much, so many cherished moments, but he didn't remember this. All that remained in his tattered memory was a feeling that it wasn't easy, that it was a true trial. "I will not let this moment pass in fear." He raised the dagger, bracing for the feeling he knew would follow, the sensation of parting the veil between worlds.

He drove the blade forward into the empty space in front of him. A tremor rippled through the summit, and the very air seemed to fracture. A faint light appeared where steel met nothingness, flickering at first, then shining in a burst of color and swirling shapes. The boundary of reality split open, forming a ragged doorway of brilliant, shifting hues. Shiro’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at the tear in the world. The energy on the other side beckoned to him in silent invitation. He felt a sudden rush of conflicting emotions. Fear, exhilaration, yearning collided in his chest with such force that he nearly stepped back. Instead, he stood firm. "This is our chance," he told himself.

The portal shimmered like a living thing, an opaque barrier that pulsed in rhythm with the dagger still in his grip. He glanced over his shoulder one last time, letting his eyes roam across the summit. It still wore the fading twilight like a gentle cloak, silent and grand in its solitary watch over Kumogakure. He wondered if he would ever see this view the same way again. "I don’t even know what I’m stepping into," he thought, swallowing hard. "But I do know who I’m stepping toward." A faint sense of certainty began to grow within him, guiding him forward. “I’m coming Rei,” he said under his breath, the words softer than the breeze but as sure as steel. With that, he stepped through the tear, letting the light envelop him completely. The world behind him blurred into obscurity, and the last thing he felt was the dagger’s insistent pulse echoing the silent pull of another weapon, and another soul, awaiting him on the other side.


[MFT .:. 1372 Words]

 

[Cloud Seer]

Shiro would be met with nothing but an inky black darkness at first. As he stepped through the portal it would grab at his ankles, and attempt to drag the Time Walker into something, but as to what would never be known. The moment the inky cold black fluid reached the ancient weapon on his hip, it burst into a flock of black butterflies. As the fluttering insects cleared from Shriokuu’s vision he would be met by a garish sight of colors. A forest resembling the Ancient Woods of Kumogakure loomed all around, with trees that seemed to bend down the further up the trunk one looked, and then bend back upwards when he looked away; as if the trees were watching. Each leaf was a different color too - red, blue, green, even purple. Light shined from above and illuminated the woods around him, but it still felt strangely dark. The forest floor became nothing but looming shadow after twenty feet in any direction, and as he moved forward he would note that the path behind was eaten by this same shadow.

There was no path or road, just multicolored trees. It quickly became obvious why no one had managed to find Rei in this self-made realm of techicolor, and at the sound of a crunch under his feet, the skeleton of someone who had tried laid before him. What Shiro had that others had not was that dagger. Before long, the Time Walker’s steps would eventually echo up into his ears along with a whisper.
Left.

Right. ​

Turn around. ​

Walk in a circle.
Each command came with a soft hum at his side from the ancient weapon hanging off his belt. Once he began to walk in a circle the arbiter of weather would find themselves walking down a staircase that lead underneath the trees. Gentle wisps of blue fire would light his way every few steps, illuminating a cavern where he could see the tips of the illusionary roots stretching not into earth, but a black emptiness.

Down the path continued for what felt like at least an hour of continuous movement until the final step was upon water. Ripples shimmered out from beneath his foot, causing waves to quickly rise up and crash against a castle hiding deep inside of the pit. Those rising waves rose from the ebb of his heart, and the seeking of that lifetime. He would see images of the memories contained within his mind painted onto the waves before they crashed against the rocky shore of the castle; the dagger humming was now continuous with a strange feeling of fear echoing up from it. A cold wind blew right as Shiro stepped off of the staircase and towards the castle, pushing those waves and memories back at him. They would attempt to engulf the hero, swallow him up as whatever lived within the castle was rejecting his presence…and with each step forward in defiance, a quiet sob whispered into his ears.

At about half-way, Shiro’s foot landed not on the water’s surface, but a hard wooden floor. The darkness was replaced with a laboratory, and a young girl weeping in front of a desk. Her grey-blue hair was pulled back into a bun, with glasses that had slid down to the tip of her nose from tears. Before the girl was a single sheet of paper declaring her chakra coil was insufficient to aid Kumogakure, and that her work was best focused right where it was in weapon development. As Shiro neared the sobbing teenager, he would catch her face fully to find it was Rei. A girl still stuck in the past with her regrets. She gasped at his presence, turned to look up, and was gone.

Back into the black pit.

Continuing forward evermore would bring the Time Walker to another sight. Now he was standing on a cold street somewhere in Kumogakure where the slums had been once located. The stink of death and illness wafted up to asaile his senses from directly beneath him, and looking down he would see Rei again. This time she was pale, sickly, and impossibly thin. Where she wasn’t the shade of snow her flesh was taught and red, with green puss oozing from the wounds of her own self-surgery as she attempted to augment herself with machines. Her eyes looked dead, but with the silence of the world around him, he would still be able to hear the soft pant of someone trying to combat death. As he reached down to help her, another hand reached Rei first and it was Kitsune’s; a worried look of losing someone precious marring her normal beauty.

The scene shattered again.

With his second return to the pit a wave that stood six-feet higher than him loomed, but didn’t crash. Reflected on it was the same peak he had looked over before entering this realm, and with him was the woman he sought. Her arms gently caressing Shiro with her head tucked into his neck. The image began to stretch as the black wave raised higher and higher, before finally crashing down on him with a fury. Within the roils of water came flashes of the Sennin’s life. Becoming a cybernetic secret weapon for Kumogakure so that she could help her fellow soldier. Struggling to maintain herself and the army during the Tenouzan Holy War as the death of each Cloud Shinobi weighed heavier on her heart than what was allowed on her face. The painful transformation of humanity taking stock back into the woman as she faced a mysterious voice in the darkness calling for her pledge to protect the future. The Sennin’s overwhelming power that came with that promise and her struggle to not only control it, but use it properly. The struggles against the the rebels and the awful virus they had unleashed upon her country. They poured into the young man seeking peace for both of them, and all lead up to a single memory of them ascending the mountain together.

It was closed off suddenly by the sight of a Lycan’s jaws snapping shut on his eyes.

The feeling of roiling in an ocean was replaced by simple gravity, and he was on his feet again. Now he stood at the shores those waves kept crashing against. A staircase was carving itself slowly before Shiro, and continued if he walked up. It lead all towards a grand double door made from stained glass with the images of Kumogakure’s legends painted upon it….and beyond, a bleak castle devoid of all colors until he stepped inside. An explosion of the awe-inspiring forest returned, and though it was now surrounded by the onyx walls of castle, it appeared to be the exact same trees he walked through originally.

Only now a giggle haunted his steps as he continued his mission…

 

[Shiro]

Shiro’s first sensation upon stepping through the rift was one of cold, liquid darkness that clung to his ankles. It felt less like water and more like living ink, creeping up his legs in a suffocating embrace. He sucked in a sharp breath, grimacing at the chill, and braced himself for whatever unknown force might lurk in this realm. The inky fluid tugged, twisting around his calves with eerie intent, but his hand instinctively dropped to the Ryuu dagger at his hip. Almost at once, the black substance reacted, scattering into a flock of dark butterflies, each flap of their wings leaving a faint, obsidian shimmer in the air. He raised his arm to shield his eyes from the sudden fluttering, and when he lowered it again, the dank void had receded to reveal a kaleidoscope of color.

A forest loomed around him, reminiscent of the Ancient Woods of Kumogakure, yet impossible in its vividness. Each branch was an explosion of reds, blues, purples, and greens, and the trunks of the twisted trees seemed to crane downward whenever he looked at them. There was no visible sky overhead. Just shifting light that gave everything a strange, luminous quality. The ground squished under his feet, and a chill wind stirred the strangely pliant trunks. He hesitated, trying to steady himself. Though he had been the one to part the veil between worlds to enter this sanctuary, he remained acutely aware that this place, whatever it was, belonged to Rei. He turned to give one last look behind. Only then did he realize, the path behind him had already vanished into shadow.

The Time Walker heard a childlike voice echo somewhere in the vibrant trees, a breathless laugh tinged with curiosity. Its presence tugged at him. “Rei?” he called aloud, less sure than he wished he was. Shiro didn't remember this part, though. Her world was hidden from those unlived memories. But he did have fragments, tiny slivers that remained in the dark corners of his mind... He knew that there was struggle, and pain, and a breaking, then finally light. The forest responded with a flutter of shifting hues but no reply, at least not from Rei. He suspected the real her was elsewhere, hidden somewhere far deeper within this labyrinth. Then there was the silent hum at his side, the steady pulse of the Ryuu dagger. It reminded him that he was not only trespassing into a pocket of her creation, he was following a call. And so was it. Its instinctual pull mirrored the bond the stormcaller held within, a bond that spanned timelines no one else that walked this world could remember.

He walked forward, drawn on by both his own and the dagger’s magnetic attraction. As he pressed deeper into the colored foliage, the trail behind him vanished into a swirling haze. A faint whisper formed in his mind, "Left... Right... Turn around... Walk in a circle." The thoughts tugged at his mind like a set of instructions, the blade drawn just as he was. And he followed, descending down the impossible staircase. He found himself in a strange cavern of monstrous trees that bent inward, leaves rustling with ominous purpose. Then he rounded a corner to see a faintly glowing arch, its surface rippling like water. When he stepped through, the air cooled, and he emerged in what seemed to be a darkened living room. An oil lamp flickered on a table. The walls were lined with thick books, and he heard a muffled cough from behind a half-open door.

Curiosity propelled him closer, and his heart twisted when he recognized the figure of a small girl hunched over an open medical text. Even from behind, even in a form that Shiro didn't know, the Santaru felt he knew this girl. She shifted on her cushion, mumbling in a weary voice. As if sensing him, the child turned, revealing oversized glasses sliding to the tip of her nose. Shirokouu's steel blue eyes widened in recognition. The girl gave a startled gasp when she caught sight of him. Then she vanished along with the rest of the scene, leaving him once more in the bizarre forest. Shiro exhaled, pressing a hand to his racing heart. He remembered how, in that other life, Rei had once told him that she locked herself away after she was freed from her childhood frailty. She had taken advantage of her newfound health not by socializing, but by devouring every piece of knowledge she could. The image he had just witnessed captured that lonely resolve in heartbreaking detail.

He took a single step forward and nearly stumbled over a skeletal form half-buried in the leaves. Shiro grimaced, recoiling from the empty eye sockets that stared up at him. "Someone else tried..." He thought, torn between pity and revulsion. The dagger at his side pulsed again, guiding him away from the grizzly sight. He glanced down at it as he steeled himself, cleansing his mind of the doubt the poor soul had briefly invoked. The Santaru wondered if it felt as determined as he did, personifying the dagger the way his late father did his blade. The weapon’s resonance thrummed like an unspoken answer.

His next steps led him onto a shifting pathway of stone, each slab appearing under his feet just as he stepped forward. Vines of rainbow hue crept along the edges of the path. A sudden swirl of darkness formed in the air just ahead, coalescing into a tunnel. He approached with caution, half expecting another nightmarish vision. Stepping into the tunnel, he found himself in a metallic corridor lit by eerie fluorescent lighting. The walls were lined with schematics and half-constructed weaponry, some recognizable to him, others entirely alien. At the far end stood a window, behind which a teenage Rei hammered away at metal limbs and puppet parts. She wore goggles that magnified her eyes, and her mechanical leg creaked as she leaned forward. In the flickering glass reflection, he could see the fierce determination on her face, mixed with a haunting emptiness. When she glanced up and seemed to notice him, the vision shattered, leaving only the metallic corridor, now cold and silent.

Shiro clenched his fists. She didn't bring it up, but he remembered that other Rei told him a story of how she had forcibly replaced parts of herself with mechanical augmentations. He recalled the sincere empathy and pain he felt when she told him that she had endured such deep mental and physical suffering. The woman he had loved once told him those days were the darkest of her life. Though he had listened, he never truly grasped the extent of her pain. At least until now, standing there, confronted with not just hearing about, but seeing these living memories. A swirl of color enveloped him, and the corridor dissolved. He stood once more in the rainbow forest, the trees stretching high above, leaves rustling as if whispering her secrets to him.

“Rei,” he muttered under his breath. “You came so far to help Kumogakure. You suffered so much just to stand beside the others as an equal.” He felt the weight of her dedication like a crushing presence, recalling that she had once achieved the rank of Sennin, forging her body and mind into weapons for her village. A pang of sorrow surfaced in him as he remembered how different this timeline already was. He had glimpsed the differences firsthand a few months ago in Port Cirrus when he went searching for a particular trinket that should have existed if his memories had aligned with this reality. But it hadn’t been there, and that realization had fueled his growing fear that nothing from that other life, from that other timeline was guaranteed. Now, as each moment of her history flickered before him, Shirokouu dreaded what that might mean.

He moved on, the ground underfoot shifting from forest floor to the rippling surface of an inky lagoon. Blue flames danced along the edges, revealing more shattered images of Rei’s life: the creation of a puppet line that was eventually scrapped, the secret missions that had left her mutilated, the unstoppable drive to serve her country despite her own fragile body. He flinched as he caught a glimpse of her in a hospital bed, sedated to the point of catatonia, arms pinned with tubes and wires. Even in that wretched state, a single spark of intelligence glowed in her eyes, as though she was always searching for a way out. "That's you..." Shiro thought. The thin line his taut lips were pressed into upturned into the hint of a smile, despite his trepidation. "You never gave up on moving forward, no matter how hopeless it seemed."

The lagoon rippled, and another wave of darkness rose, showing him an older Rei. She stood taller, her physique powerful yet patched with mechanical scars, the amethyst crystal at her nape glinting in a dim light. This Rei’s expression was one of steady focus, as though she were struggling to control a tremendous inner power. She lifted her hand, and for the briefest instant, reality itself seemed to fracture around her. Shiro’s heart pounded with alarm. He knew she had gained fearsome new abilities after nearly sacrificing herself for the Academy during the war. The illusions flickered, and once again he was left in the swirling, prismatic realm. The dagger at his side pulsed with urgency, almost as if it sensed that the final confrontation lay just beyond the next bend.

He pressed on, boots leaving faint ripples in the watery ground. The shadows twisted again, and another wave rose in front of him, towering over his head. Within it, he saw one of his most cherished memories: him and Rei on the summit of Kumogakure, wrapped in each other’s arms, bathed in the warmth of a sunlit sky. He felt a rush of profound love, a longing so intense that he stepped forward without thinking. “I remember this,” he murmured, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. The wave that mirrored his emotions threatened to break, to spill that tender image into his arms, but a pair of monstrous jaws snapped into view, the vision tearing apart in front of him. A horrifying snarl reverberated through the water as it shattered that moment of peace. The snow-haired shinobi sucked a breath in, eyes shocked wide by the brutality of the intrusion.

Gulping down the rush of anxiety, Shiro moved beyond the destroyed wave and ascended a set of stone steps that appeared to form beneath his feet. At the top loomed a fortress-like structure with walls of colorless stone. Through a grand pair of stained-glass doors, he could see the same haunted forest within, branches shifting with restless energy. The hum of the dagger was relentless, urging him to go inside. A soft giggle echoed behind the doors, equal parts childish and menacing, and he tensed. “So you’re here,” he said under his breath, summoning a calm he barely felt. He could sense the raw power that emanated from within the fortress walls, the culmination of everything he had learned about Rei’s life. Her brilliance, her Madness, her relentless will, and the monstrous strength that had become a part of her blood. He realized that he was preparing for a confrontation with a version of Rei who might be profoundly changed, both physically and mentally. Yet no matter how changed she was, she was still Rei.

So Shiro pushed open the doors, stepping into the forest within the castle. The colors flared brighter, and shadows stretched across the ground like hungry beasts. He tightened his grip on the dagger and set his shoulders. This was the realm Rei had built, populated by illusions, memories, and her deepest truths. A part of him was terrified to see what she had become. Yet he drew on the flame of determination in his heart, fueled by every timeline they had shared. If there had to be a fight, he would fight. If they had to clash mythical blade against mythical blade, he would do it. He would not abandon her to the darkness of her own power, of her clan's blessing and its curse.

He took a single step forward, the giggle morphing into a low growl that filled the space. The final test of will was coming, but he did not falter. Instead, he whispered the vow he had made countless times before, in lives both remembered and lost. “I’m here, Rei. And I'll face whatever you've become. We'll face it..." The greatest stakes, the things in life we value most, are what we most fear to lose. And Shirokouu valued this outcome more than anything he'd invested in. More than any of the rigorous structure he'd devoted so much time to in his youth, more than the duty he'd swore to as a shinobi, more than hunting his father's murderers, more even than digging himself out of time. So not without fear, but despite that fear of loss, Shiro's voice found resolve. "I'll find you again. No matter how many times it takes.” With that final promise, Shiro advanced, guided by the dagger’s unwavering pull, and more importantly the calling deep within himself. He was ready to confront the battles that now lay before them both.

 

[Cloud Seer]

“You’ve come a long way, stranger,” said a voice followed by another errant snicker of mirth that boiled over into full on laughter. It was mocking in tone, as if whatever howled the joy from their lungs did so in full contempt. A pale hand with long blue fingernails gently caressed Shiro’s face from behind. They felt soft and light, almost like cotton. The index finger traced along the man’s jawline to his ear where a harsh whisper sank into it,

“You should never have come.”

The hand exploded into millions of tiny gnats, surrounding the shinobi for a moment as vines reached up to wrap around his ankles. The trees within the castle began to creak and moan as their branches reached down to pull at the Time Walker’s arms and clothes. Their bark scratched at his flesh as the woods themselves attempted to tear the man apart. The insistent hum from the blade at his side changed suddenly as the vines twisted up to grab the hilt. The soft vibrations of the dagger suddenly changed into a full chorus. A masculine voice sang out from the weapon in full baritone, the sound strangely comforting to the Time Walker but like acid to the forest around him. The brambles, vines, and trees exploded away from him and turned to black ash for as far as the sound carried; a path appeared before him. Unlike the forest above, the cave below, this was simply a red carpet with golden filigree trim. Earth brown tassels lined the edges while a pattern of azure blue in the shape of the Ryuu Dragon was weaved in repeat throughout it. It lead straight forward into a darkness that peeled away as he turned his eyes upward to see where it would lead.

Some twenty feet away a silver throne made from the twisted roots of trees loomed over him at the top of a large pedestal. Slumped into it was the woman he sought to free. The silver vines of the chair had wrapped around her wrists, ankles, and throat, with thorns that tore into her flesh. Her clothing had all but been worn away by time, her hair cascading down past the seat of the throne and spilling onto the stone steps of the pedestal. Rei’s eyes were closed, but behind them her eyes moved as if she were suffering from an unbreakable nightmare. As Shiro neared the thorns dug deeper and a soft, pained, moan escaped Rei’s lips. A tear fell from her left eye towards her lips that mouthed ‘save me, someone.’ Her own power, uncontrollable, had trapped her here and it was unsure just how long she had actually suffered. It had only been a few years on the outside, but who was to say how time worked in this world? Years outside could be decades within. As the warrior attempted to move in a way to find Rei’s freedom that voice returned.

“Oy, what’cha think yer doin’ there? You really believe you can save ‘er? Pish-posh. No one can free her, because I own her..” The maniacal giggle return as another woman appeared behind Shiro, her hands gliding over his shoulders and chest as she neared his ear with her mouth, clearly floating above him as no weight came from her limbs.
“I rule this world darling…the sea within, the forest above…they all answer. To. Me!” the long blue nails turned to scratch into his abdomen but was thwarted once more by the song of the Ryuu’s dagger. The woman screeched, “Bloody nuisance! Know yer place, lowly relic!” …but the fae creature relented. Despite her proclamation of control, it was clear that the blade Shiro held disturbed her.

When the man pulled away enough to turn and face the creature trapping Rei, he would find….Rei. Shimmering blue butterfly wings and a clingy thin sheet for a dress. She fluttered over him, floating up towards the tops of the trees where she landed on a branch. Unlike the woman he sought from another life, though, this creature clearly wore the guise of the Sennin as a mask. For her eyes, unlike the beautiful rubies that gleamed in the real Rei, were stained a piss yellow with cat slits for pupils. Her mouth that she tried to cover poorly revealed needle-like fangs and the blue fingernails were more claws than nails. The image of the fairy vanished into the tops of the trees before the mocking voice came again,

“Oh, lil’ prince…come to save ‘is love without a clue. She wanted this, don’t you know? Tired and tied, always haunted by her tragic life~
“Didin ya know? She was with child? Made love to the men of the Leaf af’er makin love to the wine of the Leaf. Who was the father? She didin know. Oh, but a moot point! The child wouldn’t take, the curse of wolf too strong that it became a bloody mess instead.” Another string of laughter, mocking at the frailty of mortals echoed throughout the castle walls as the roots of the trees began to slowly encroach back towards Shiro.
“She also gave shelter to a wee girl once. A child of the clan, helpless and adopted by a family so carin’ until the Curse descended upon the lass…and ‘er parents turned to kill the child! Oh, Rei swooped in, and tried to save ‘er too but what happened? The child ran away! Leavin’ ‘er to wallow in misery and nightmares!” The fae creature had appeared, materializing from the shadow behind the throne to slide its claws over the real Rei’s tattered clothing before digging her nails into the Sennin’s flesh to draw more blood.
“En’ what are you? A man she respected, a hope she pined for, only to be left alone again! You can’t save her, Shiro of the Ages! You’re nothin’! Nothin’ more than another regret in ‘er long life of regret! Leave this place! Let her sleep…for in those dreams only I, can comfort those regrets…”

Tears flowed down the real woman’s cheeks more freely now. Pain, or sadness…it was impossible to tell, but her lips continued to beg for a savior. Yet, between the menacing fae and her silver brambles, every step he tried to take towards her while time moved only furthered her agony. The weapon at Shiro’s side, though, only seemed to grow louder in the tune it sang which caused the face of the creature to scrunch up as if listening to nails on a chalkboard.

“Won’t ya shut that damn thing up!?”

 

[Shiro]

Shiro froze in place, body tense and breath shallow, the moment his gaze fell upon the woman bound by brambles of pale silver. He had glimpsed many versions of her across the tangle of his fractured memories, yet never quite like this. In the place of the tall, muscle-bound figure he had seen when he'd first arrived out of time, the warrior woman he'd once fought alongside in a hidden mountain pass and carried down in his arms, he saw someone altogether more delicate. She looked almost frail, with slender arms pinned harshly by the vines, and the tears staining her cheeks made his heart ache. Though he had no right to even recognize this version of her, a version he'd never met in this life, there was not even the slightest moment that lacked recognition. This was the Rei that Shiro had cherished in that alternate life, the one he'd spent decades with, the one he had carried in his heart now.

He felt his chest tighten with hope at first, then guilt. This version of her had been denied the supportive presence of the strong, unwavering partner he had vowed to be in that other world. Whether by destiny or the machinations of cursed power, she ended up alone, suffering in the confines of this realm. A haunting hush wrapped around them, as though the illusions themselves were holding their breath. Flickers of color danced at the edges of his vision, half-formed shapes that might be roots or the shadows of illusions. Yet Shiro could not tear his eyes from her face. She felt close enough to touch, and that proximity sent a bolt of longing through him.

Before he could act, the air rippled with an unsettling presence. A laugh, high and sardonic, echoed through the warped forest. The thick aroma of malicious amusement curled around him, accompanied by a sense of sneering delight. He jerked his head to the side and spotted the fey entity perched atop a twisting branch. She wore Rei’s countenance like a cruel mask, yet her form shifted with a slight shimmer, revealing that she was a grotesque parody, a twisted imitation. Those cat-like pupils fixed on him, mocking. He swallowed, bracing himself for the verbal knives he suspected would soon follow, aware that the entity had used them before to probe for his weaknesses.

When she spoke, her tone dripped with vindictive mirth, each syllable crafted to tear open wounds hidden in Shiro’s soul. She hurled accusations, painting him as a pathetic figure who abandoned Rei to her fate while he lived a different life. She dragged out painful memories of her heartbreak, of how she had suffered unthinkable losses in the years he was gone, and how he had remained an outsider to those sorrows that were far deeper and more impactful than anything they'd shared in this reality. Each sentence felt like a barb hooking into his mind, stirring guilt and shame he had long since buried.

He swallowed hard, remembering the flood of emotion that came the other time he'd faced these truths. First there had been confusion, an inability to reconcile the woman he'd met with the one that she became after he disappeared. Then came a flash of jealousy, embarrassing and petty and immature, but real, and thankfully fleeting. It gave way to regret, a pure guilt for not being there when she needed someone the most, for being lost in some alternate reality while her world continued to spin. He felt that bitter pang in his chest as the fey’s voice echoed around him, weaving mockery through every syllable.

Shiro exhaled slowly, letting the swirl of negative feelings wash over him, acknowledging them one by one. The experiences that had once cut him to the core no longer held the same power. He had grown beyond those immediate wounds, had over months and years forged empathy and understanding where once there was only raw pain. Shiro recognized that yes, he had missed entire chapters of Rei's life, that he had not earned a single thing from her in this existence. Yet he had learned the lesson well: the important facets of love aren't all about the joy and happiness, the kisses and flowers. No, the parts that mattered most were pain, and patience, and sacrifice, those steep prices we willingly pay to support the ones we love. What he hadn't earned in this past, he resolved that he would in this future. With that acceptance came a calm anchor that the snow-haired shinobi clung to amid the fey’s storm of words.

A choked sound tore him away from his introspection, drawing his eyes back to the real Rei bound by silver vines. Each time the illusions around them shifted, those thorny coils tightened incrementally, digging their barbs deeper into her wrists and ankles. He saw her wince, lips parting in an agonized breath. The slightest movement towards her seemed to make the vines constrict further, as though punishing her for daring to exist, and punishing him for daring to try. The Santaru's heart pounded as he realized in horror that he had unwittingly caused her pain simply by stepping closer.

Shiro pressed a hand to his chest, mind racing for a solution. His childhood mentor’s voice echoed in memory, reminding him that illusions often changed with the vantage point of the observer. He wondered if remaining still would at least prevent further pain. Yet he could not stand idle while she suffered. Then, as if a spark of insight flared in his mind, the picture became clear: He couldn't give her the time. As the Time Walker halted the flow, the world around him seemed to freeze. If the illusory thorns had needed motion to dig in, perhaps he could keep them at bay. But there was no permanent solution in that. While it somehow prevented her from hurting Rei, it didn't change the fact that this was her realm, unbeholden to the laws of physics, space, and time. Even as he stopped one assault, freezing the clock to give him time to act where Rei wouldn't be harmed, the fey would still find ways to twist her domain once he began to act.

He clenched his fist around the dagger’s hilt, recalling the weight of Ryuu elders’ words that had been spoken to him so long ago. "Stab it into her heart or coax her back," they had once cautioned. In that memory, the statement held multiple layers of meaning, yet here and now, it crystallized into a single dire choice. Shiro’s knuckles whitened around the handle as he considered the possibility that coaxing her back might not be enough. Even if he succeeded in that approach, the Rei that would return would not be the one he had grown to know and love. He closed his eyes, swallowing the lump in his throat at the thought of the alternative.

He lifted his gaze to the warped version of Rei that grinned at him from atop her perch. She floated down, talons outstretched, looking every bit like a predator ready to tear through his convictions. He steeled himself, summoning the crackle of lightning that resided deep in his veins. He had not come this far to cower. “I will free her,” he declared, voice resolute despite the tremor in his chest. In response, the fey spread her arms wide, beckoning him forward as though welcoming a challenge. Tendrils of color wove around her form, warping the environment into a swirling tapestry of vibrant chaos. Shiro inhaled once, then exhaled slowly, a faint hum of electric energy drifting around him. His plan was reckless, but the only real lead he had. If the twisted simulacrum was the direct manifestation of the realm’s darkest illusions, then he would need to strike at her heart. He felt certain now that this was the meaning behind the older prophecy: that if he had to pick a version of Rei to pierce, it should be the abomination causing her unending torment.

He let out a sure and preparatory breath. “Hold on,” Shiro whispered, though he was unsure if he spoke to the real Rei or to the memory of her in his mind. “Just a little longer...” The fey’s laughter chimed in again, a vile serenade that insinuated how little he truly understood. Shiro shoved the words aside and forced himself to focus on the silver vines, on the battered throne, on the real Rei’s labored breathing. If he hesitated much longer, the illusions might destroy her outright.

He tensed, body alive with the hum of his Santaru birthright. Tiny sparks arced between his fingertips, and he leaped forward in a rush of air and raw power. The fey’s mocking eyes narrowed, and she responded by twisting the terrain beneath him. The ground erupted in twisting roots that surged upward, forcing him to pivot. He rolled across the uneven floor, ignoring the sting of bark scraping his arms. In a heartbeat, he was on his feet again, blade at the ready, bridging the short distance between them. A savage grin curled the fey’s lips as she conjured a swirl of kaleidoscopic shards that spun around her like a storm of broken glass. Shiro recognized them as illusions that could solidify with lethal intent, so he braced himself. With a deft flick of his wrist, he sent a spear of lightning slicing through the air, scattering the shards in a brilliant cascade of sparks. He dashed through the opening, aiming the dagger for her chest, determined to drive it home.

The tip of the blade hovered mere inches from her sternum before she vanished in a ripple of color. He stumbled forward, disoriented, and heard laughter ring out behind him. He spun, heart thudding, only to find her perched again on one of the surreal branches that extended from what appeared to be the underside of a floating rock. Fury surged through him. He had come so close, but the realm’s manipulations had favored her. He grit his teeth and sprang forward once more, unrelenting.

This time, his body blurred with the speed he had honed over countless missions. Storm-charged reflexes guided him up the trunk of a leaning tree, across a rope of twisting vines, and onto the same rock that served as the fey’s perch. The distance was covered in the blink of an eye, and he lunged with the blade, channeling an electric jolt to stun her if she tried to slip away again. He expected illusions, perhaps a swirl of shimmering rainbow patterns or a sudden displacement of space. Instead, she answered with a savage counterattack, her own claws raking across his forearm as her body split down the middle. Half of the creature's body dodged to the left as the other half leapt to the right, leaving a gaping maw of dark fluttering butterfly wings down the massive chasm where her body was torn asunder, before the two halves snapped back together sickeningly. Shiro hissed in pain, feeling warm blood drip down his elbow, but he pressed on. He thought he had her pinned. He stabbed again, leading with a quick feint. This time the result was worse. She had seen through his every movement, her long claws gutting him as he tried to make that final thrust connect.

“Too slow,” her voice taunted from the air itself. The echoes ricocheted in mind-numbing waves as Shiro looked down at the blood flowing from his stomach and grimaced. She reappeared on the far side of the clearing, arms folded, grinning that razor-sharp grin. The mocking visage still bore the shape of Rei’s lips, though contorted by cruel glee.

Shiro let out a frustrated breath, anger mixing with concern as he noticed the shifting illusions in the background. Each of his movements seemed to provoke new waves of distortion around the real Rei’s throne. The brambles that bound her twitched, as though feeding off the energy of their duel. His chest tightened with fear that she might be harmed by the intense interplay of illusions. He had to be more precise, more sudden, to ensure that final, decisive strike did not shake the entire realm. "Again."

The thought was a command, and time rewound. Shiro's wounds closed, but his fatigue remained. Nevertheless, he prepared for another assault. Summoning a swirling sphere of condensed lightning chakra in his off-hand, he charged again. He flung the bolt at her with a flick of his wrist, then dashed in behind it, blade at the ready. She raised one arm, absorbing his crackling projectile with a flicker of swirling color, and he used that instant to step inside her guard. The dagger inched toward her torso. Relief surged in his chest. Finally, he would land a clean blow.

In the next heartbeat, the world inverted. Down became up, the sky flickered beneath his feet, and the ground arched over his head. He tumbled uncontrollably, disoriented as gravity seemed to reverse itself. The fey hung upside down, giggling while she swiped at him with elongated nails. One scratch caught his ribs, drawing a pained yelp from his throat. Blood blossomed under his shredded clothing as he struggled to regain control. His mind spun, panic rising as he realized she meant to crush him in the swirl of reversed gravity. He had no stable surface to stand on, no vantage to escape from.

“Stop,” he whispered, forcing chakra into a near-instant time manipulation. The swirling illusions froze for a split second, the fey’s vile grin trapped in midair. Shiro twisted his body, reversing gravity again in a fractional bubble of twisted time. The precarious second gave him an opening to push himself free, ignoring the mind-numbing wrongness of the realm. Then he released the hold on time, letting the illusions snap back in place. He landed painfully on a twisted stump, breath ragged, the singing Dagger clutched in a white-knuckled grip. Another attempt foiled. "Again."

As Shiro reappeared seconds prior, his wounds not fully healed this time, the faerie's face contorted in a mix of delight and disgust, evidently as thrilled by the mayhem as she was repelled by the influence of the blade that the shinobi wielded. “Don't ya see?” she crowed, voice reverberating with a honeyed cruelty. “You cannot defeat me 'ere. Yer intrudin' on 'er World, on my World. You do not belong!” Shiro's lips curled into a scowl, but he said nothing, focusing instead on the real Rei’s trembling figure in the distance. After all, the words, spoken not by woman but by weapon, were meant as much for the blade at his side as they were for Shiro. However the truth remained: Though time was malleable for him, the absolute control over reality that this being commanded meant that his advantage in raw speed meant little. He swore under his breath, resolving to strike with more cunning.

A wave of fresh illusions rose like a tsunami of shimmering light. He had no choice but to meet them head-on. Channeling his storm nature, he molded arcs of blue-white energy around his arms and used them to slice through ephemeral beasts that manifested from the luminous waves. Roaring apparitions, both colorful and black as the void at once, charged him from multiple angles, dagger-like claws bared and ready. He pivoted, weaving between them, loosing a shock of lightning that scattered half a dozen into vapor. Still, their presence slowed his pursuit of the fey, giving her time to shift the environment again.

He dove, rolled, and slashed at the swirling illusions, focusing on economy of motion. The real battle was with the fey, but these specters were formidable enough to drain his stamina if he did not dispatch them quickly. Two leaps, a series of lightning-laced handseals, and he sent a storm-lash of crackling power through the mass, vaporizing more illusions. Yet behind him, he sensed a silent approach. He whirled just in time to see the fey fling a whirling disc of prismatic energy at his head. He ducked, the disc buzzing over his scalp so closely that it singed black the tips of his snow-white hair. Sparks danced in his peripheral vision, setting him on edge.

Tightening his grip on the dagger, he sprang up, intending to close the gap in a single bounding leap. His foot pressed against the trunk of a twisted tree, using it as a launchpad. As he soared toward her, she blurred away, leaving him to crash onto a broken ledge. The stinging pain in his arms, head, and side compounded, and Shirokouu groaned softly, forcing himself to stand. Blood trickled down his temple, clouding one eye as he leveled his gaze at his enemy once again.

He steadied his breathing, ignoring the bitter taste of copper on his tongue. Something else gnawed at him, a memory of the elders’ words. The blade can unravel these illusions, can bring her back, but only if it reaches what it is meant to reach. The manifestations were endless, and the fey might only be an echo of a deeper power that the weapon truly held. Could it be that he had misinterpreted the message from the start? Perhaps the “her” he was meant to stab had never referred to the fey at all. A nauseating twist churned in his stomach at that notion. He recalled the half-lost shattered shard of a recollection, a droplet of the monsoon that he'd been unable to contain when he first touched the Dagger. The recollection was fuzzy, but the sense of finality it carried was not.

“No,” he whispered, forcing that memory aside. He refused to consider that possibility. "Not yet." Giving Shiro no time, the fey hissed at him, launching another barrage of illusions shaped like sizzling bolts of black fire. Shiro deflected them with a swirling shield of wind-charged lightning, staggering under the effort. A stray ember brushed his left shoulder, scorching his skin and eliciting a gasp of pain. He let his now-burnt haori fall away, revealing the toned and leanly muscular upper body of a lifelong shinobi, and pressed forward, forging a path through the chaotic illusions. His speed flared, and for a miraculous instant, he found himself directly behind the fey, her back unguarded.

He lunged, dagger aimed at her heart, calling upon a final burst of time dilation to guarantee his success. The realm slowed, colors smearing into elongated streaks of luminescence. He saw her expression begin to shift as she sensed him, but she was too slow. His blade plunged forward, unstoppable. He was millimeters, tiny fractions of a second away from driving the blade home into this twisted imitation of the woman he sought to save.

Then a sudden quake rocked the entire realm. The space around them convulsed, spinning him off target. Instead of burying the dagger in her core, he grazed her side. The fey unleashed a shriek that split the air. Then Shiro felt a crunch, as if a colossal force had slammed him from above. His vision flared with white-hot agony. He lost hold of his consciousness for an agonizing second, his body shattered and broken.

Before the realm sealed his fate, he felt the dagger’s resonance stir. A swirl of intangible force wrapped around him, and the last thing he heard was a sick backwards version of his own ragged scream. Then time leapt backward, reforging fragmented bones, sewing sinew, snapping him to the moment before he had struck. He stood upright again, heart still pounding, but the injuries undone. He reeled in shock, nearly dropping the blade as he barely avoided the massive tree trunk that slammed down in that previous iteration. So that was how it felt to be saved at the brink of certain death. It left him breathless, half-panicked. The fey hovered a few yards away, wearing the same smug grin, oblivious to the horrifying near miss he had just rewound.

Shiro released a shaky breath, sweat dripping down his brow. This was the first time in the entire confrontation that time had forcibly rewound. He realized with dawning horror that it meant the dagger had intervened on his behalf only when his defeat was absolute. He had no memory of how many times it might save him, but he suspected there was a limit. If he persisted in these repeated attempts, he might find that limit or be undone by the mental toll alone.

Nevertheless, he tried again. Fueled by the desperate belief that success might be only one flawless strike away, he hurled himself into the fray. Another swirl of illusions battered him, and he watched the fey twist reality to evade him. She laughed every time, mocking his struggles with an air of regal amusement. He varied his approach: illusions of his own ninjutsu to distract her, time stops to set up a perfect angle, feints to lure her into a false sense of security, raw speed to overpower her ability to react. Each attempt met a new, horrifying variation of her domain, where the ground split open or the sky rained molten shards. He was burned, impaled, crushed, and each time he perished, he felt the dagger tug him back to the moment prior, leaving him dizzy, battered in spirit if not in flesh.

The process repeated until he lost track of how many times he had tried. Could it be dozens? Hundreds? Thousands? The illusions fused into a kaleidoscopic blur in his mind. His heart pounded with exhaustion, and though the blade rewound time to spare him from permanent injury, he felt a phantom pain from every inflicted wound, and the chakra he had expended had not fully returned. His spirit cracked under the weight of constant failure. Still, he refused to stop, driven by the knowledge that saving Rei outweighed his personal agony.

At some point, he caught himself in the middle of yet another charge, noticing how mechanical his movements had become. His body slid into a preordained pattern, mapped out from a thousand attempts. He recognized every swirl of illusions that preceded the fey’s attack, every flick of her nails, every ripple in the air that signaled a sudden shift in gravity. Yet no matter how well he predicted these moves, the realm adapted. She had an infinite deck of illusions to draw from, or so it seemed.

Another time loop ended with him skewered by crystalline spires. He blinked, found himself back at the start, chest heaving. He wondered if he was losing his grip on sanity. The blade in his hand felt heavier, and the shifting forest seemed to crowd around him like a ring of silent spectators. The cycle felt endless. A creeping dread took root in the corners of his mind, whispering that he might die forever if he tried this route again.

Then came the final blow to his optimism. On what he assumed was the thousandth loop, he managed a clean strike straight at the fey’s chest. The illusions parted, and the environment stabilized just enough for him to see her expression shift to one of astonishment. But as his blade neared her heart, a flare of twisted energy erupted at the point of impact, shooting right back at him. She vanished once more, leaving him to crash to the ground in a wave of color. His body caved under the backlash, and a fatal spike of illusions impaled him. The dagger rewound time again, yet the realization sank into him like poison: even if he landed the perfect blow on that monstrous simulacrum, her realm refused to let her fall. This place bent to her will, preventing him from achieving a final, lethal strike.

Blood pounded in his ears. He crumpled to his knees, arms hanging limp at his sides. The replay of illusions ended, leaving him panting in the same position before the throne, neither injured nor triumphant. A sense of helplessness overwhelmed him. He cast his eyes toward the real Rei, vines still biting into her limbs, tears decorating her cheeks. As the tainted copy of her cackled tauntingly, Shiro asked himself if it was truly worth continuing to smash his head against an unbreakable wall. Then he remembered the vow that had carried him here, the vow that was forged across timelines: that he would save her, no matter the cost, no matter the number of attempts.

Shiro struggled to his feet, but the thought of repeating the same impossible duel again made him feel hollow. His gaze flicked to her face. She stirred, eyes fluttering, and a soft whimper of pain slipped past her lips. That sound cracked something inside him. He could not keep letting her suffer. Abruptly, the puzzle pieces of the elders’ warning snapped together. "Stab it into her heart or coax her back." The Ryuu elder's words echoed once more within his mind. The illusions had prevented any lasting harm to the twisted simulacrum, but the real Rei remained vulnerable. Perhaps the horrifying truth was that the dagger was meant for the true woman, not the abomination.

He felt a surge of nausea. He did not want to betray her. How could he justify plunging a blade into the heart of someone he had once cradled gently in the morning light of that other life? Yet the realm’s illusions provided a cruel clarity. The only bond that mattered here was the one linking her entire being to the cursed power that manifested as the fey. Time and again, illusions were undone by the dagger when it cut to the source. If the genuine soul of Rei was the source, then only by slicing into that cursed knot of her existence could he end this nightmarish cycle.

Exhausted beyond measure, he lifted the blade and stared at its edge. Tiny arcs of lightning licked across the metal, reflecting the swirl of his storm-bound nature. His arms trembled. He could feel tears slipping down his cheeks, unbidden. “I'm so sorry, Rei,” he whispered, voice quavering. “I wanted to avoid this... wanted to shield you from any more pain.” The fey’s laughter flickered in the background, urging him to try yet another fruitless assault, but he closed his ears to her scorn.

He inhaled, steeling himself for one last act. By now, he had memorized countless permutations of the fey’s attacks, and if he had enough chakra left for a single unstoppable rush, he might outrun her illusions entirely. So many tries had given him glimpses of patterns that repeated in her movements, the subtle tilt of her head, the angle of her claws when she summoned illusions, even the ephemeral swirl of color that preceded a reality warp. He could exploit these patterns, especially combined with a partial stop of time, if it gave him the chance to reach the real Rei.

Summoning the last vestiges of his strength, he gathered crackling lightning around his legs, forging a powerful charge. He visualized the path through illusions as a narrow corridor, lined with booby traps that he had painstakingly memorized. He knew exactly where the ground would shake, when the fey would vanish, how the swirling illusions might try to yank him away. It was all etched into his mind by repeated deaths. This time, he promised himself, it would be different.

He launched forward, body blazing with electric speed. The environment blurred around him. He saw the fey lunge to intercept, illusions blooming around her like a grotesque flower. He flicked his wrist, halting time for a split second. In that frozen instant, color and light hung motionless. The fey’s face was twisted in a snarl, arms outstretched, illusions half-formed. He was already gone, a streak of shimmering air racing across the battlefield.

He released his hold on time just as he approached the throne. The realm caught up, illusions flaring behind him in frustrated whorls of color. Shiro put everything into that last dash, ignoring the searing pain in his muscles. He soared across the final stretch, and for a breath, it felt like he was riding the crest of a stormcloud, unstoppable. The fey shrieked from the far side, her illusions sprouting hideous spines that reached to snare him, but this one time, on this one attempt, he was out of their grasp. His gaze fixed on the real Rei, pale skin streaked with tears, red eyes half-lidded in agony.

Lightning crackled around him in a halo, reflecting in her crimson irises. He clenched his jaw, heart hammering so violently he thought it might burst. The final step took him to her, face to face. The illusions bristled behind him, but for once, they were too late. He skidded to a halt, the realm seeming to recoil at his proximity. Her face tilted slightly toward him, tears brimming at the corners of her eyes. He reached out, pressing his palm to the back of her neck in a gentle, quivering gesture.

In that breathless instant, that sliver of a second, everything fell silent. He pulled her forehead against his, feeling the warmth of her skin. A tremor passed through both of them, and he sensed her eyes flutter shut in a fleeting moment of relief, as though she recognized him despite all the illusions. His own eyes slid shut, tears escaping down his cheeks. He felt the dagger in his grip, ready to execute the unthinkable, pulling like a magnet towards her. Every fiber of his being rebelled against it, yet he knew there was no other way. He tightened his hold on her neck, softly guiding her closer, bracing her so she would not slump forward. In a voice choked by sorrow, he murmured, “I love you, Rei. Forgive me.” There was no time for a response, no chance for her to speak. Before doubt could tear him apart, he plunged the blade into her heart with a single, deliberate motion. He felt resistance, then a hot surge of crimson on his hand. She tensed, her face etched with shock, and his entire spirit shattered in anguish.

In that same instant, everything ignited in a blinding white light that consumed the realm from every angle. Shiro’s breath caught in his throat as he felt the illusions disintegrating, the entire dimension shuddering under the force of that final act. For a fraction of an eternity, he clung to her, tears slipping freely down his cheeks. The brilliance overwhelmed all senses, erasing color, sound, and thought. He felt only the hush of her final breath mingling with his own, saw only the faint shape of her closing eyes.

Time seemed to halt, not by his own doing, but by some cosmic hush that enveloped them both. The roar of illusions disintegrating thundered in the background, but within this singular moment, it felt as though they were suspended in a silent cosmos. White light flared in scorching waves, washing away every remnant of the fey’s domain. He felt the brambles vanish, the twisted trees dissolve, the entire architecture of nightmares cede to an avalanche of purifying radiance.

He did not know what would happen next. Whether they would emerge in another world, or if they would both be lost in the dissolution of illusions. Yet he never released his grip, nor did he open his eyes. He prayed, desperately and silently, that this sacrifice would not be in vain. Perhaps they would awaken back in Kumogakure, or maybe in some liminal space between worlds. Either way, whatever happened, he held faith that by facing this final horror, by plunging the blade into her heart, he had shattered the chains that bound her and ended the fey’s twisted reign. That she could finally be free of the suffering that held her so tightly.

Seconds, minutes, or centuries might have passed. The searing brilliance persisted, leaving no room for shadows or shapes, no cracks in its boundless purity. Shiro’s thoughts dimmed, overwhelmed by the endless glow. All that remained was the soft trembling of the woman in his arms, the last echo of her presence anchoring him. Then, in a single explosive flash, the light reached its climax, obliterating every residue of color. An unbroken white enveloped them, final and absolute.

Silence. Emptiness. Peace. He felt his consciousness slip into that void, uncertain if it was the threshold of oblivion or a gateway to new beginnings. No illusions remained to torment them, no fey laughter mocked his resolve. Only the intimate hush of finality. In that culminating instant, Shiro allowed himself a last, flickering thought of hope. He remembered the life they once shared in that other timeline, the simple joys, the triumphant battles fought side by side, the quiet nights spent in laughter and gentle conversation, the warmth of a lover's embrace. As the realm dissolved, he carried that memory like a lantern. Whether it illuminated a path back to the living world or guided him into an afterlife, he held tight to the knowledge that he had done everything in his power to save her. If fate showed mercy, they might still carve out a future together. If not, at least he had kept his promise, no matter how harsh the cost, no matter how many times it took.

And so the light swallowed them, all-encompassing, unrelenting, leaving nothing behind but the silent testament of a dagger’s final thrust and the fragile hope that through destruction, they might yet find rebirth.

[MFT .:. 5590]

 

[Ryuu Rei]

Cold steel thrust into her bosom was one hell of a way to wake up. Rei’s ruby eyes shook as her heavy lids opened for the first time in years. The sight granted to her was one from a nightmare and everything inside of her refused to believe it was real. Yet Shirokuu’s blue eyes, the tears falling down his tired face, the battered body and clothing made everything too real to ignore. She had watched the man fight off against the sword, battling his way against the beast over, and over, and over again. Dying countless times to terrible injuries only to be reset back to a starting point. That dream had ended with him plunging the blade into her chest, piercing her heart, and she had thought that’s where the dream had ended. Turned out, she hadn’t been dreaming for once.

The pain in her chest echoed throughout her entire body, a pulse thrumming from her chest out to her limbs that were quickly becoming numb. Blood flowed from the wound, and a bit caught in her throat as she tried to breath. Coughing it onto Shiro’s face, tears welled in her eyes. Not from a feeling of betrayal. Not from a fear of death, but from overwhelming joy to be free from her self inflicted curse. It had only taken Rei a single year to bend to the Kami’s Delight. Three-hundred and sixty-five days of tormenting nightmares. Friends dying at her own hand. Rejection from those she trusted. Dying over, and over, and over again to her own hand as she tried to escape the loop. The Ryuu believed that no one could save her, that the only person even capable had already vanished back into the ether. Yet here he was, again, rescuing her from a fate worse than death itself.

The silver bonds that held her down to the chair began to melt away, allowing her to move her hand for the first time in what felt like centuries. With a shakiness belying the weakness her body was already feeling, it raised up to caress Shiro’s cheek, with a small thumb wiping a way a single tear. He was warm, so warm. It was a comfort compared to the cold stone she had been laying against all this time. She knew he was in pain, and that the pain would only continue for the length it would take her to die; something he didn’t deserve.

The hand fell gently from his face to the hand holding the Ryuu Weapon against her heart. She gripped it as hard as she could and with all of her remaining strength, pulled it out. Blood flowed out freely now, and darkness had already began to cloud her vision. It would only be seconds. There was so many things she wanted to say to him. So many things he needed to know before her death but, they would only cause that much more pain for the man already lost to time. So, she had only one last thing to say with a weak smile as her eyes fell half-lidded,
“Thank…you…”

Her skin turned pale and with a last shuddering breath, Ryuu Rei died.

The world of the Fae exploded into white centered around her. It all absorbed itself back into the onyx throne, tearing apart as the false reality became nothing but blinding light instead of shadow. The red blood that spilled down her front and pooled at the base of the seat was a stark crimson compared to the rest of the shattered world. The smells, lilacs, rot, and bark, all faded. The cold was replaced with neutral. The screams of the fae creature that had tormented Shirokuu faded just as fast as the rest of the world, and within the ex-sennin’s flowing blood, the sword itself came out. A tiny, golden needle like object. It clanged against the stone floor and landed into the white void where there was no up or down, but remained floating there with Rei’s blood as if there were.

As Shirokuu fell into a blissful unconsciousness hoping for the impossible, the creature that inhabited the sword broke free of its prison for the first time in tens of thousands of years. It was a small creature, a literal fairy, with eight wings humming to keep it aloft. Clothed in a leaf-made dress it cried for the loss. Not of the person who had freed it from its prison in the first place, but for the insurmountable endlessness that was about to come for them. Breaking apart a world in this created realm meant floating along through time/space for infinity with no way out. It had gone from one prison, into another. The deep baritone that had tormented it in the fight against the Time Walker spoke into the void,

“They, can still be freed.”

The fairy looked up from its wet palms, blue skin sparkling against the sheer white backdrop to see standing before it a tall man. Seven feet in height, tan skin, golden hair with a bushy beard. A deep scar ran down across a single eye closing it shut, while the other shined with holy light obscuring its natural colors. He wore armor of ancient shinobi, colored green with brown light leather padding beneath all protecting what appeared to be a robe-like clothing. At his hip was the dagger Shiro had used to shatter the illusion. His arms were crossed as he seemed to float in judgment of the fae creature, and without knowing, they knew this man had once been a progenitor of the Ryuu Clan. Most likely the first human to have the wisdom to start collecting the weapons of the Kami War and hiding them away.

“How? She’s…dead, 'n he will be too after the reality crumbles 'n can no longer maintain their forms…we’ll exist 'ere for eons, with nothing to do…” it sobbed.
“You can rewrite reality. You, can rewrite death,” he reminded the creature.
“Bu' that-”
“Will kill you instead? Yes. But what would you rather have? Peace? Or an endless eternity of nothing? In the cave my clan buried you originally, you at least could watch the flowers grow.”
“I…I can’t! I don’t have the strength left, I needed 'er energy just to hold the realm together! And I don’t want to die!”
“And neither, did she,” he reminded the creature who had tormented the Sennin into submission. It looked past the large man to see Shriokuu gently sobbing in bleak unconsciousness while holding his beloved close to his chest. He had sacrificed everything, willing to die and be scattered to particles all for the chance, to save Rei. Something inside of the Kami moved, its heart skipping a beat. Had this been the feeling the rest of her kind felt when they looked upon the people this world had accidentally created? To see the love and sacrifice they were willing to take just to ensure those they cared for continued on? With gut wrenching pain, the fairy realized the wrong it had wrought upon the Ryuu who had simply wanted to save her people.
“Will…will you help me?”
“For my clan, I would do anything - including becoming one of the weapons I despised. Twenty-thousand years ago I saw this future, and saw the end of my people but also, saw a chance for them to continue. This is the only other branch in that timeline, it either ends here, or it continues,” he reached out a giant calloused hand to the creature that could fit into his palm, “and this, is that moment I’ve waited so long for. Take it all, Shimizia. Take all of my lifeforce and bring her back to life. Take them back home.”

Hearing its name for the first time in millenia made the little creature bawl freely as it floated down and landed in his palm. It touched hands with full tears flowing to the comparable giant’s, and the two Ryuu Weapons collided into a single force. It created a god-like faceless entity twenty feet in height. It slammed a hand made of stars into the white void to break through into the Other Side. That hand reached into the Underworld itself, and found Rei’s soul still slowly drifting down the River Styx as it headed for the end. It grabbed her by the collar of her robe, and dragged the woman back upwards much to the anger of the ferryman who shook a fist at the creatures he had no way of fighting against. This wasn’t the first, nor the last time, someone would snatch a soul from his boat; but it still upset the infinite creature just trying to do his job.

The soul was dragged back into the white void, and gently placed back into Rei’s body. The wound from the dagger mended without a single scar, the last bit of temporal power it had borrowed from the Time Walker used to reverse the wound that had slain the woman. Her skin remained deathly pale, but her heart began to beat again, and the blood flowed through her veins once more. The sky cracked, and the void shattered.

Ryuu Rei sat up suddenly, taking in a deep gulp of fresh mountain air and coughing from the thinness before finally catching it fully. Her hands were buried in snow, as she overlooked Kumogakure again, her clothing still tattered and worn, her hair still impossibly long from years of sleep. She shuddered, cold, with red eyes shaking. Was this another nightmare? So many of them had started exactly like this, and the torment of living a full day of her usual life before being ripped back into the Fae World had broken her once before. She raised her shaking hands up to her eyes, and stared at them. Recognized the scars on her wrists from the silver brambles that had held her prisoner. Her eyes grew wide in shock as she looked around.

Two different things set those dreams apart from the reality she was trying to grip. The first was Shirokuu, laying next to her. Worn, beaten and exhausted but, alive. With a tentative hand she reached out and pushed his shoulder to make sure he was real, and then started crying freely before outright tackling the man as her arms hugged him close. He had saved her again. Risked life, limb, and soul just for the chance to bring her back for no reason she could understand at that moment; but she was overwhelmed with joy that he had. An emotion all but lost to the Ryuu after everything she had tumbled through.

“I’m never letting you go, ever again,” she whispered meekly into his neck.

The second, gone unnoticed by Rei entirely, was a few feet away. The dagger and the golden sword were buried in the snow, and both began to disintegrate. The Ryuu Elder who had trapped himself in a dagger eons ago to save his clan was finally freed from his prison to move on to the afterlife. As his spirit rose into the sky he smiled sadly at Rei knowing of the trials that were yet to come for both her, and the Time Walker; but their union now was stronger than it had ever been before. The fairy’s shimmering from lifted from the golden blade as it crumbled into nothing, hands in prayer to her own as he rose into the sky and vanished.

“Ah…tha’s all I needed…some sleep…thank you Rei. Thank you Shirokuu…I…'ad no idea…”

 

[Shiro]

“Thank... you..." Shiro’s world spun the instant he felt Rei's last breath slip away under his hand, the second he heard her two final words, when she had done what he no longer had the power to and removed the blade from her own chest. The pounding of his own heartbeat could not drown out the final exhalation that left her lips, nor the dreadful slackness in her limbs. He wanted to call her name, but his throat felt paralyzed, sealed shut by the enormity of what he had done. Despite fully believing that this was the only way to break her curse, he could not stop the wave of wrenching guilt and despair. The dagger still felt warm in his grip, but not as warm as the flow of crimson staining his hands.

A hollow ache spread through him. "She’s gone..." The unspoken words hammered at his mind, each syllable a fresh stab as deep as the one he'd just inflicted. He pressed his forehead against hers, tears slipping down his face, unable to accept the stillness in her body. No illusions flared. No monstrous shapes howled in retaliation. Even the fey’s laughter had vanished, drowned in a sudden hush. He realized with a jolt of disbelief that he would have traded his own life if it meant saving hers. But he had not been given the choice.

A shuddering breath tore free of him in an unwilling sob, and the strength bled from his limbs. In one trembling motion, he tried to cradle Rei against him, to hold her upright, but the world around him blurred in white light. The realm wavered, cracked, and disintegrated. He slumped under the strain. “Please… please,” he whispered, not even sure whom he was imploring. His vision tunneled, and all he could see was her limp form, the color draining from her cheeks. He could not hold on, neither to her nor to consciousness. Darkness overtook him, and he toppled backward, the last thought ripping through his mind. "I failed..."

The man was left with nothing but that final hopeless murmur as his consciousness fell into slumber. Thank the gods he was wrong.

---

A hand, pressing against his shoulder to confirm his tangibility stirred Shiro from his unconscious state, his eyelids fluttering as he tried to make sense of the pale morning light flooding his vision. As the weapons began to dissolve away in the distance, the man never got to see the true face of the enemy he had overcome. He didn't even have the chance to adjust his vision to the snow-blindness before, in a rush, his beloved surged towards him, her endlessly long teal green hair flowing like a river in the mountain winds. Rei's cold hands tightened into fists around his torn clothing, and she all but tackled him, burying her face against his chest before coming to rest in the crook of his neck. Shiro let out a hushed grunt of surprise. He was battered from head to toe, muscles groaning in protest, but the sudden warmth of her closeness banished the residual numbness of unconsciousness. For the briefest of moments he blinked rapidly, swallowing hard, uncertain how to process the immediate and overwhelming surprise and joy at the sight of her safe and free, but then the familiar feeling of her arms wrapped around him erased any need to question.

Rei was here. Alive.

“I’m never letting you go, ever again,” she whispered, her breath hitching as she wrapped her arms around his neck in a fierce embrace. He could feel the rapid beat of her heart, impossibly strong for someone who had so recently looked lifeless. Emotions poured through him too quickly to name. In the space of a few pounding heartbeats, he cycled from disbelief, to relief, to an almost painful surge of love. A breathless rasp escaped his lips, and he slid his arms around her, palm settling carefully against her back to avoid aggravating the wounds he still felt across his own body. Despite the cuts and bruises that left him trembling with fatigue, he managed to curl a protective hand around her back, as though anchoring them both to the solid ground beneath.

"You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear those words. And how terrified I was that I might never get the chance. Rei... I'm not going anywhere." Shiro's eyes remained closed as he craned his upper body up beneath her, his lips brushing against Rei's hair as he added, "Not without you."

Shiro's softly glowing blues opened once more to the light of the Kumogakure sky, but it wasn't the sunrise that caught his attention. It wasn't the endless sea of clouds either, though they expanded hundreds of feet beneath their feet, like a fluffy blanket of white laid over the world. No, it was a fading image of his other companion through this journey, of Rei's other savior. The one whose face perhaps only he would remember. The bearded man's sad smile burned into Shiro's memory as he faded away, and with a nod of acknowledgement, Shiro pulled Rei into himself one more time, tightening their embrace. The Santaru's eyes glowed straight past white and shone as radiant gold, even more brightly than they did the first day he walked into Kumogakure those decades ago, the day that he'd brought the tempest that would seal him away and lead to his trials with time. Back then, the storm that had come with that glow had been strong enough to entrap him in an icy prison of his own making for years. Today, however, it was a different manifestation entirely.

Sitting up with a soft grunt, Rei still half-atop him, they'd see the sheet of boundless clouds begin to shift. They swirled around the pair, climbing the mountain and ascending above it in a cylinder that reached up thousands of feet into the heavens. Then, with a muted sonic boom, a ring formed around that peak, spreading out from the mountaintop like a shockwave, burning away every cloud within miles, pushing away the veil that gave Kumogakure its name, and leaving nothing but clear air and a view of the whole of Lightning Country. This was different. Shirokouu didn't remember this moment from that other life. And while that would have absolutely terrified him when Rei's life was on the line, now it brought a sense of tranquil relief and gratitude. No, this was not the same life he'd led within the Dagger's visions. No, this was not the same version of Rei he'd married then. This was a whole new life, one that the two of them could travel and experience together. And Shirokouu saw that for what it was: The greatest blessing he could've been given.

At last, Shiro mustered the will to gently untangle himself from her arms. He rose on shaky legs, offering a stabilizing hand for her to do the same and stand next to him, overlooking the whole of the land they both loved. “Listen,” he started, voice still husky with emotion. “I know… none of this makes sense. But that's okay. We can talk about it when you’re ready," he added, voice steadier now. There was a surety to his gaze, one that told her he was there to be leaned on, there to carry her when she needed him to. “There’s time. We’ll make sure you have all the time you need to figure things out.” Shiro said, not burdening Rei with explanations that wouldn't make sense to her, and that weren't nearly as important as the fact that she was safe.

"But for now... Let's go home." The words flowed so naturally from the Time Walker's lips that he didn't even realize how odd they might sound to the woman in his arms, who knew him as a foreigner whose home was certainly not in this place. Hell, it wasn't even in this time. Nevertheless, the sentiment remained: There would be time for explanations later. And if Shiro had learned anything about this journey, it's that when something matters enough to you, it's always worth the Time.

[Topic Left with Rei]