The Crystal's Whisper and The Wind's Embrace

Chapter 60: The Fractured Hope

The rain came down like a hush across the world.

Not a storm—just a steady, mournful rhythm, like the sky itself was grieving alongside her.

Tsukiyo sat motionless beneath the overhang of her estate's veranda, knees tucked tightly to her chest. Her hair was damp from walking in the drizzle, her crystal blade resting beside her—still stained with blood.

She hadn't spoken since returning.

Not to the Kakushi. Not to the medics. Not even to Mitsuri, who had quietly placed a warm towel beside her and left with tears in her eyes.

She simply sat in silence, as if moving would undo the fragile thread keeping her upright.

Her heart felt... empty. Not broken, just hollow.

Like Hiroshi had taken part of her with him when he died in her arms.

The door behind her slid open, slow and careful.

Sanemi didn't speak. He never did when words might fail.

Instead, he walked barefoot through the rain and sat beside her, the cold seeping into his skin unnoticed.

For a while, the only sound between them was the fall of rain on wooden planks.

Tsukiyo didn't look at him.

But her voice finally came—cracked and faint.

"...It doesn't feel real."

Sanemi looked down at the ground, jaw tight. "...I know."

"I... killed him." Her hands were trembling. "He was already slipping, but I still believed. I thought I could reach him."

"You did everything you could."

"I wasn't enough."

Sanemi's chest tightened.

"I told him he mattered to me. That I loved him like a brother. And still..." Her voice broke. "...I chose to protect you instead."

She turned to him, tears slipping silently down her cheeks.

"What does that make me?"

Sanemi looked at her—really looked—and he saw not weakness, but the unbearable weight of love and loss sitting on her shoulders.

"It makes you human," he said, voice low. "It makes you someone who never stopped loving."

Her lips trembled. "I feel like I betrayed him."

"You saved me," he whispered.

"But I have never wanted to hurt him."

"I know," he said, softer now. "That's what makes it worse."

He inhaled shakily.

"I know what it's like to make that kind of choice."

Her brows furrowed gently. He didn't look at her.

"The first demon I killed," Sanemi said, his voice hollow, "was my mother."

Tsukiyo froze.

"I came home one day... and she had already killed my siblings. My little brothers. The ones who looked up to me. And I—" his voice faltered, "—I didn't even hesitate. I cut her down."

She reached out slowly, placing her trembling hand on his.

"But the village thought I'd gone mad. They said I murdered my own family. Genya saw the aftermath—he found me covered in blood, holding a sword."

Sanemi closed his eyes.

"He thought I was the monster."

Tears pricked Tsukiyo's lashes. "You were just a boy..."

"I didn't want him to grow up with what I had inside me," Sanemi murmured. "So I pushed him away. Made him hate me. Told myself it was for his good."

He turned to her now—his voice raw.

"And then I met you."

Her breath caught.

"And you... you walked straight through every wall I built like they were paper. You made me care again. You made me hope."

He reached up, thumb brushing gently across her cheek. "And then I saw that look in your eyes when Hiroshi died, and I realised... I never wanted you to feel what I did."

Tsukiyo crumbled.

Her face twisted as a sob ripped from her chest, and she buried herself against him, fists curled into his haori like he was the only thing keeping her from breaking apart completely.

"I didn't want to lose him," she cried. "But I didn't want to lose you either."

"You didn't," he whispered, holding her tightly, his chin resting atop her head. "You didn't lose me."

She leaned forward and rested her head on his shoulder, her fingers still laced with his.

His arm moved around her slowly, then fully. He held her like something precious. Like something breakable.

For a man who had lost everything, he now held onto her as if letting go might be the end of him.

And for the first time in a long time—Tsukiyo let herself cry.

Not from heartbreak. But from healing.

They stayed like that—curled together in the quiet storm, the grief and healing bleeding into each other.

Later, inside the estate, he helped her change her bandages in silence. His hands were rough but careful. The wound on her side still burned, but it was the emptiness inside that hurt more.

He sat beside her after, the silence warm this time.

"I want to make things right," Sanemi said suddenly. "With Genya."

She turned to him, eyes rimmed red, but soft. "You should."

He looked nervous, like a boy again. "Will you come with me?"

She gave a broken smile. "You really have to ask?"

He exhaled—and it almost sounded like a laugh.

They sat quietly again, and Tsukiyo reached for his hand without hesitation this time.

And for the first time in both their lives— they felt a kind of hope neither had ever thought they'd earn.

Not despite the pain.

But because of it.