The world was quiet. Too quiet.

Night had fallen over the valley like a heavy blanket of mist, swallowing the stars. The forest around the cabin whispered faintly — branches creaking, leaves trembling in the soft wind. The scent of rain lingered in the air, mixing with the smell of burned crystal from Kijotsu’s last battle.

He sat alone on the old wooden steps outside, his gray eyes half-open, staring at nothing. His body was wrapped in white bandages, and faint blue light leaked from beneath them — unstable energy that refused to rest.

Each breath burned.

Each heartbeat felt like an explosion.

Kijotsu tilted his head slightly, gazing at his trembling hands. “Still shaking… after all this time.”

He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms.

He wasn’t just exhausted — he was empty.

For the first time since the fight with Maksuki and Benma, silence was louder than chaos. The screams, the steel, the smell of blood — all of it replayed endlessly in his head.

> “You’ve seen enough death for one lifetime,” a soft, feminine voice whispered inside his mind.

Kijotsu froze. His pulse quickened.

It was her again — the spirit that lived within the Diamond.

“You again…” he muttered under his breath.

> “You’re afraid, aren’t you?” she asked gently.

“Afraid that if you close your eyes, you’ll see their faces again.”

He stayed silent for a moment, then whispered, “I don’t need reminders.”

> “Then stop hiding from them,” she said. “Power is born from pain. You can’t carry both unless you learn to control them.”

He laughed weakly, his voice breaking.

“Control? You mean that same control that almost killed me last time?”

The spirit went silent — not from anger, but from understanding.

Kijotsu looked up at the moon. Its light reflected off his white messy hair, partially covering his scarred face. His gray eyes shimmered faintly — cold, yet fragile.

He thought of his sister again. Her laugh. Her warmth. The promise he made to her under the crimson sky — “I’ll always protect you.”

And yet, she was gone.

He pressed his forehead against his hands, whispering through his teeth, “I couldn’t even protect her… and now I’m supposed to protect the world?”

> “You can’t change the past,” the spirit said softly, “but you can shape what remains.”

Kijotsu didn’t answer.

From inside the cabin came faint laughter — Kinata’s voice, light and playful, echoing down the hall. For a second, it felt warm, almost peaceful. Then, Leenka’s voice joined in — deeper, calm, teasing her about something.

Kijotsu listened from afar, his heart tightening.

He wanted to join them.

He wanted to smile.

But he couldn’t.

Not when the same hands that once saved people were now stained with blood he couldn’t wash away.

The cabin door creaked open behind him. Leenka stepped out, tall and calm as ever. His long white cape swayed in the night wind, and his golden hair shimmered faintly in the moonlight. He rested his huge white blade against his shoulder, eyes calm but watchful.

“You’re not sleeping again,” Leenka said.

Kijotsu didn’t turn. “Couldn’t. The silence is too loud.”

Leenka chuckled softly. “That’s what happens when you fight monsters, Kijotsu. You start hearing their echoes.”

He sat beside him on the steps, placing the blade across his knees. For a moment, neither spoke. The only sound was the wind and the faint crackling of the fire inside.

“You know,” Leenka said finally, “when I was your age, I used to stare at the sky and wonder if the stars were watching me back.”

Kijotsu raised an eyebrow. “That sounds stupid.”

Leenka smiled. “It was. But it made me realize something. The stars don’t care about your pain. They just keep shining, no matter how dark the world gets. Maybe we’re supposed to be like that.”

Kijotsu sighed. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re not cursed with something that eats you from the inside.”

Leenka’s eyes softened. “You think I don’t know what it’s like to lose control?” He pointed to the faint scars running across his right arm. “This blade wasn’t given to me. It chose me — after I almost destroyed everything I loved trying to master it.”

Kijotsu looked at him, surprised.

Leenka continued, voice lower now. “You think pain makes you weak. It doesn’t. It just reminds you that you’re still alive.”

Kijotsu stared at the ground, his voice barely a whisper. “Then why does it hurt so much?”

Leenka smiled sadly. “Because you still care.”

For a moment, the two sat in silence again, listening to the wind. Then Kijotsu’s hand started glowing faintly blue — his Diamond reacting.

He looked down, alarmed. “It’s… doing it again.”

The spirit’s voice returned, stronger this time.

> “Let it flow. Don’t fight it.”

Kijotsu’s eyes flickered between gray and faint blue as the air trembled around him. Dust lifted from the ground, tiny crystals forming in the air like fragments of glass.

Leenka stood, stepping back slightly.

“Breathe, Kijotsu. Don’t resist it.”

Kijotsu gritted his teeth. The pressure built inside him — unbearable, wild, and pure. He screamed softly, forcing the energy out — and suddenly, a burst of light shot from his body, fading just as quickly.

He fell forward, panting, the glow disappearing.

Leenka crouched beside him, steadying him. “That’s progress.”

Kijotsu laughed weakly. “That almost killed me.”

Leenka grinned. “Progress always hurts.”

The older warrior stood, resting his hand on Kijotsu’s shoulder. “You’ll master it one day. Maybe not now, maybe not soon… but when that time comes, even gods will fear you.”

Kijotsu looked up at him, exhausted but grateful. “And if I lose control before then?”

Leenka’s gaze turned sharp. “Then I’ll stop you — even if it kills me.”

Kijotsu managed a small smile. “You’d really die for me?”

Leenka smirked. “Nah. I’d just knock you out.”

The two laughed quietly — the first true laugh Kijotsu had in weeks.

As Leenka walked back toward the cabin, the spirit whispered once more inside Kijotsu’s mind:

> “He’s right, you know. But your path won’t be peaceful. Every time you awaken, something inside you fades away.”

Kijotsu’s smile faded. His eyes grew distant again.

He looked at his hand, the faint blue glow pulsing like a heartbeat.

“Then I’ll fade with it,” he whispered. “As long as I can protect them.”

He looked at the moon one last time, its pale light reflecting in his scarred eyes.

The wind picked up, carrying the faint scent of blood — a warning. Somewhere far away, darkness was stirring again.

And Kijotsu knew — this peace wouldn’t last.