Akitsu Shouga opened his eyes to the sharp sting of rain. Cold droplets hammered his face, steady and rhythmic, soaking his hair and dripping down his neck. He lay sprawled across damp wooden planks, the scent of wet bark and moss thick in the air. Lanterns flickered overhead, casting trembling shadows that danced across the bridges of the Canopy Village.

  “…I’m alive,” he muttered, voice hoarse.

  Slowly, he pushed himself upright, limbs stiff, muscles trembling from pain and exhaustion. The bridges stretched before him, familiar yet… wrong. The air felt heavier, quieter—like the village itself was holding its breath.

  “Kael?” Akitsu called out, his voice carrying across the rain-slick planks.

  No reply. Only the steady patter of rain, and the distant creak of wood settling.

  His fingers tightened around the hilt of his katana, grip firm despite the lingering dizziness. He rose, listening.

  Footsteps—soft. Deliberate.

  Akitsu’s head snapped toward the sound, just in time to see a shadow detach itself from a tree trunk.

  “Who’s there?” he demanded, voice low but firm.

  The figure lunged.

  Akitsu drew his katana in a flash. Steel met steel, a sharp scream of metal slicing the air. Sparks flew, lighting the rainy gloom for a heartbeat.

  “So… you can fight,” hissed the attacker, young, unfamiliar, voice trembling with excitement.

  Akitsu twisted sharply, slashing across the attacker’s chest. Leaf-woven armor split, blood darkening the green. The figure stumbled back, coughing.

  “You’re not from the swamp,” the attacker snarled. “Good.”

  Another presence—too late.

  A cold blade pierced his side, slipping between ribs. Pain exploded. Akitsu gasped, knees giving way.

  “…So that’s how it is,” he whispered, voice tight with strain.

  The attackers didn’t hesitate. A final strike landed, and darkness swallowed him whole.

  Red light.

  Akitsu stood once more on the small crimson island. The cherry blossom tree above shed another glowing petal, now drifting with countless others across the black water.

  The devil lounged nearby, grinning as always.

  Akitsu didn’t even glance at him. He waded forward through the shallow black water, choosing a door at random.

  He awoke to warmth.

  Firelight danced across wooden walls, flickering shadows stretching across the room. He sat up abruptly, hand on his katana. This was… the chief’s house. Voices murmured outside.

  “…He’s important,” one whispered.

  “Then kill him before the banquet,” another replied, voice low but resolute.

  Akitsu’s eyes narrowed. He slid the door open silently, stepping into the shadows. Two villagers stood nearby, faces painted, knives hidden beneath layered cloaks of leaves.

  Villagers. Not outsiders.

  He stepped forward cautiously. “Looking for me?”

  The two froze, eyes widening.

  “Now!” one shouted, rushing him.

  Akitsu moved first. His katana sang through the air, biting deep into flesh. One fell instantly.

  The second lunged, slashing low. Akitsu blocked, countered, disarmed. Steel rang sharply in the night.

  “Why?” he demanded, pressing the blade to the man’s throat. “What did I do?”

  The villager coughed weakly, lips curving into a strained smile. “You came.”

  “You… what?”

  “You exist,” the man wheezed. “That’s enough.”

  A dart struck Akitsu’s neck.

  He staggered, vision blurring. Poison. Darkness crept in. He fell beside the dying villager, the firelight around them fading to red shadows.

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  Black water. Another petal drifted across the endless void.

  The devil clapped slowly. “You’re getting warmer.”

  Akitsu ignored him and opened another door.

  This time, he awoke mid-step.

  His foot slipped on a wet plank. He fell, hands grasping instinctively. Villagers pulled him upright, steadying him.

  “There you go,” one said kindly. “Careful, traveler.”

  Akitsu blinked, disoriented. “Thanks.”

  Something felt… different. The village seemed friendlier. Smiles, laughter, warmth.

  He walked with them toward the banquet hall. Drums echoed, mingling with the rich aroma of roasted meats and herbs.

  Kael stood ahead. “Akitsu!” he waved. Relief flooded Akitsu’s chest.

  They sat together at a long table. Tarek Vahru raised a cup. “To our guests!”

  Cheers erupted. Akitsu lifted his cup—then paused. The tea smelled… wrong.

  He leaned toward Kael. “Don’t drink.”

  Kael frowned. “Why—”

  The chief drank first. Then collapsed. Screams erupted. Chaos exploded. Villagers scattered, some drawing knives and spears.

  Akitsu drew his katana. “It’s poisoned!” he shouted.

  “You!” a woman yelled, pointing at him. “It’s him!”

  “They planned this!” Akitsu barked, gesturing at the fallen chief. But no one listened.

  They rushed him.

  Akitsu fought desperately, katana flashing, cutting down attackers, shouting for reason—but numbers overwhelmed him. A spear pierced his back. Another his chest.

  He fell beneath the lanterns, blood mixing with spilled tea.

  Petals. More doors.

  No words exchanged this time.

  He awoke at the edge of the village. Fog pressed close. Rain fell harder, cold and unrelenting.

  Seraphine stood beside him, tense. “Something is wrong.”

  Ayaka nodded. “We shouldn’t be here.”

  Akitsu finally spoke aloud, voice heavy. “It’s them.”

  Seraphine’s eyes narrowed. “Who?”

  “The villagers,” Akitsu said grimly. “They’re trying to kill me.”

  As if summoned, arrows whistled from the trees. Ayaka screamed.

  Akitsu raised his katana, deflecting one, then another. “Run!”

  They sprinted across the slick bridges, masked villagers emerging, faces hidden beneath carved wooden masks.

  “Why are you doing this?!” Kael shouted.

  A masked figure’s voice cut coldly through the rain. “The Canopy does not allow anomalies.”

  Akitsu stopped abruptly. “…I’m the anomaly.”

  He turned to face them. “Go,” he told the others. “Now.”

  They hesitated.

  “Go!”

  They ran.

  Alone, Akitsu fought. Three, four attackers fell before him. His arms burned, lungs screamed.

  A blade found his neck. Again.

  Void. More petals.

  The devil tilted his head. “Still not listening?”

  Akitsu opened another door.

  He awoke kneeling. Hands bound. Villagers formed a tight circle, chanting softly. The chief stood before him—alive.

  “You’ve died before,” Tarek said calmly.

  Akitsu laughed weakly. “More than you know.”

  “You disrupt the balance,” the chief continued. “You shouldn’t exist here.”

  Akitsu lifted his head, defiance sparking in his eyes. “Then why invite me?”

  “So we could be sure,” Tarek replied. “Now we are.”

  A blade rose.

  Akitsu met the chief’s eyes. “I’ll keep coming back.”

  The blade fell. Darkness.

  When Akitsu stood again on the red island, the petals crowded the black water densely now.

  He ignored the devil completely and stepped toward another door.

  Before opening it, he whispered to himself:

  “So it’s you… all of you.”

  And the door opened.