The bell's echo faded into the night, swallowed by the thick hush that followed. No one spoke. Even the trees seemed to hold their breath.
Venshiro stood first, hand drifting toward the Black Vein's hilt. It responded with pulse — cold, alive. A warning.
Beside him, Rin scanned the treeline. Her stance was relaxed, but her fingers twitched near her blade. Hana clutched her brother, Surado, tightly. The boy stared into the dark, wide-eyed.
"Stay behind me," Rin whispered. Her voice was soft but firm.
That's when the shadows moved.
Figures emerged from the trees like ghosts — tall, cloaked in forest-dyed robes, their faces hidden behind masks of wood and vines. There was no sound to their approach, no footsteps, no rustling leaves.
"Midoriha Sentinels," Hana breathed, voice trembling.
Venshiro narrowed his eyes. "They followed us?"
"Maybe they followed the sword," Rin muttered. "Or… your blood."
One of the masked figures stepped forward, lifting a hand in peace. A strange sparkle appeared around him, like light bent slightly wrong.
"We seek the one who carries the Kurenai No Shinja vein," the figure said. The voice was neither male nor female — distorted, as if echoed through stone.
Venshiro felt his chest tighten. "K…Kurenai no Shinja?."
"You must come," the figure said. "The Elders have called. The Root is exciting."
Rin stepped forward. "He's not going anywhere without answers."
The Sentinel tilted its head. "Answers will be given. But the wind changes tonight. And if he remains, he brings ruin to this place."
Venshiro looked back at Hana and her brother. Surado was clutching her dress, his small hands white-knuckled.
"We'll return," Venshiro said. "I promise."
Hana gave a small nod, but her eyes were full of doubt.
With Rin at his side, Venshiro followed the Sentinels into the woods. The trees seemed to close around them, but a faint green glow lit the path — strange plants and moss that pulsed with life underfoot. It felt like the forest was breathing.
"How do they know?" Venshiro whispered. "About me?" , "Kurenai no Shinja?"
"They've always known," Rin replied. "The Midoriha don't forget. Their roots go deep."
After a time, the path widened into a grove.
At its center stood a tree — impossibly large with a living wave of green-glowing veins. Its branches reached beyond sight.
Beneath it stood a circle of figures in dark green robes. Their eyes shimmered with faint emerald light. These were the Elders.
"Welcome, Kurenai Bearer," one of them spoke.
Another stepped forward. "The Veins scramble . The balance is broken . And you… you are the center."
Venshiro stepped forward. "What does that mean? What am I?"
"You are what was sealed and what was forgotten," said a third Elder. "You are memory and blade."
Rin shifted uncomfortably. "You speak in riddles."
"No riddle," the first Elder said. "Just truth not yet matured."
One of the Sentinels approached and knelt, offering a bowl filled with glowing water. "Drink," they said.
Venshiro hesitated, but the sword pulsed again — not in warning, but something closer to anticipation.
He took the bowl and drank.
The taste was unlike anything — bitter and sweet, cold but burning. The world shifted.
Suddenly, Venshiro stood alone in the grove. The Elders were gone. Rin was gone. The great tree now loomed impossibly tall, and from its peel, faces stared at him — faces of warriors, of the dead.
Then — a voice.
Not from the tree, not from the wind. From within.
"You carry a wound that echoes. A cut not to the flesh, but the root of the world. The Kurenai Vein is not power. It is debt."
Venshiro staggered back. The Black Vein hummed, then screamed.
Flashes — images burned across his mind. A battlefield drowned in dead bodies . A masked man holding the same sword. A seal cracking open like a wound.
Then — silence.
He fell to one knee.
Hands touched his shoulders. Rin's voice called him back.
"Hey. Venshiro. Wake up."
He blinked. He was back in the grove. The Elders watched in silence.
"You've seen it," one said.
"I don't understand," Venshiro gasped. "What am I supposed to do?"
"You must choose," another Elder said. "The Veins call for a bearer. And you, Kurenai one, are the first in centuries to hear them."
Rin stepped beside him. "He's not your puppet."
The Elders didn't flinch. "He is not ours. But he is not wholly himself, either."
Venshiro stared at the Black Vein. The sword's whisper had returned — not words, but a pull. It felt… like someone familiar was calling him from far away.
"What happens if I keep walking this path?" he asked.
The oldest Elder stepped forward, their voice low. "Then the world will change. And blood will bloom where roots once grew."
The grove fell silent again.
The Elders turned and disappeared among the forest, leaving behind only the faint glow of the Great Tree.
Rin exhaled slowly. "Well… that was a nice little horror show."
Venshiro sat against the Great Tree, eyes heavy. "They didn't answer anything."
"They did," she said, sitting beside him. "Just not in the way you wanted."
He looked up at the tree. Its branches swayed without wind.
"I saw something," he whispered. "Another me. Another time. Maybe another life."
Rin watched him carefully. "You believe them now?"
"I don't know," he said. "But something's waking up. And I think it's already too late to stop it."
From the edge of the grove, a sound broke the stillness.
Hoofbeats.
horses.
Rin's eyes snapped toward the source. "We're not alone."
Venshiro rose, sword in hand…