“Where am I?”

Smoke filled Yushia's nose, reminding him of the campfires back at CM-22. Strange, he thought, sitting up on a block of stone. All he could remember was his mother dressing him in the usual Jiuli clothing; she said she didn’t want him ruining any more dresses.

He slid off the stone and took in the room. The smoke he smelled earlier came from the ashes scattering the dirt floor.

"Suzaku?" He turned back to the stone and found Suzaku's face and body planted in the ground. As he approached her feet and bent down to nudge her back, he thought it strange and out of character for her. A being like Suzaku would never dirty herself in such a way. "Wake up."

She didn’t move. Yushia’s nudging turned into pushes as his curiosity turned into worry. He stopped to look around, hoping to find some kind of evidence that could explain why she wasn’t waking up. Before his eyes set back down to Suzaku, he saw it.

Hiding within a shadow was a dark puddle of slime splattered against the floor and walls. Within that puddle, a dry, sour face scrunched itself with its mouth gaped, lips trembling. It groaned and smiled upon seeing its son.

Like an arrow, memories of the past four days pierced Yushia’s skull and opened his mind. He dropped to his knees and his mouth opened to scream, but only a high-pitched wail left his throat. “Mama...?”

It couldn’t have been his mother! The thing before him was surely a demon, much like the one back at CM-22. Everything that happened the past few days were as vivid as stream water: the agony of fingers being cut off, his bloodletting and limbs sawed. It was all too much to take in at once, similar to when the Smapede burrowed themselves inside his brain. His fingers clawed at the dirt as he closed his eyes and smashed his head into the ground. He became dizzy momentarily before smashing his head in again.

“Mama...? Mama...? Mama...?”

Tears squeezed through his puffy eyes, mixing with the blood leaking down from his forehead. He opened them and looked down at his body, rolling up his sleeves. His arms were still intact, and so were his fingers.

What about the Taipede?

He slid his hands across every inch of his body. The craters of meat the Smapede had torn from him were nowhere to be found.

A new memory emerged. Yushia’s stomach turned when he realized the hill of children he’d seen a few days ago were the same kids who were sick in the village.

I ate their Shijin Orbs, Yushia said to himself. He spotted a bloody scalpel on the floor and picked it up before pointing it to his neck. I ate those children. I did nothing and let those kids die, and then I ate them.

“Ack!” the demon coughed.

Startled by the sudden sound, Yushia jumped and pointed the scalpel at it. His hands shook, nearly dropping the slicing device

A long, skinny tendril left the demon’s hanging mouth, trailing along the floor. It approached Suzaku and squeezed itself under her face.

Get away from her! Yushia dropped the scalpel and took hold of Suzaku’s ankles, dragging her away from the tendril. When he looked back up at the demon, its eyes in the black puddle peered into his.

Yushia screamed, tears falling from his ducts like a waterfall. His instincts took over as he dragged Suzaku with one hand and climbed up the ladder with the other. He nearly dropped her several times, but eventually, the manhole was lifted.

Water flooded into the hole, almost causing Yushia to slip off the ladder. It was storming. The coldness of the rain woke him up, fueling the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

It was dangerous to run in the slippery mud, but running was all Yushia’s racing mind could think of. He held Suzaku in his arms before dashing through the muddy clearing of the forest. His feet pressed for several meters until the ground beneath him suddenly collapsed. Taipedes filled his mind, a reminder of the horrors done to his body while lying in one of the pits. As he fell, he threw Suzaku ahead and gripped the perimeter of the hole, holding on to dear life.

The mud could barely hold onto Yushia’s weight as he climbed back up, nearly falling to his demise. He picked up Suzaku again and escaped the clearing with success.

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It felt like hours of pushing of running. Behind a tall bush and through its leaves, Yushia barely made out the small opening of a hollow tree. Growing exhausted, he laid Suzaku down in the mud and sat across from her, keeping his distance.

A moment of peace. As his adrenaline fell, he was finally able to think, though barely.

“I’m so sorry, Suzaku,” Yushia wept. He buried his face in his hands and lowered his gaze to the ground. All he could think of was the pain and all the horrific deeds he had partaken in.

Suzaku’s baggy eyes fluttered half open. Everything was a blur, but within that blur was the idiot her greatness had intended to save, in a state so sorrowful she couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. She wanted to rest, but her intrigue made her lips move. “Why... are you acting like... that...?” She was met with silence; her wielder didn’t dare face her. “You remind my greatness of her last wielder—”

Yushia’s mind settled and he uttered quietly. “Don’t say that... I don’t deserve it...”

“Pardon?” Suzaku said, struggling as she sat up. She rubbed her eyes and combed the mud out of her long crimson twin tails. Yuck!

“I’m no hero like Siru Secant. I can’t... I can’t be your wielder. Not after what I’ve done.”

“You believe you are unfit?” Suzaku asked, a nervous smile forming on her lips.

Yushia shook his head up and down. He clenched his clothes, ready for Suzaku to hit him with the hard truth—her fist too, maybe.

Suzaku, instead of hurling a barrage of harsh words, sighed after remembering what she’d seen happen to her wielder firsthand. “What makes you unfit to wield my greatness?”

A gulp came out of Yushia. “I don’t want to say it...”

“My greatness does not understand,” Suzaku said, raising an eyebrow. “You spew senseless claims about being unworthy of wielding my blade, and yet, you are unable to state such evidence. Confess now.”

“I can’t—”

“Tell my greatness!” she demanded, rising to her feet. Her voice fought against the booming thunder. “What is it that you did?”

Whimpering and sniffling, Yushia contemplated whether or not to tell her. He knew it was wrong and what he did was unforgivable. “The kids in the village... I ate them...”

“You did what?”

“Their Shijin Orbs, Suzaku! I ate their Shijin orbs! That demon took the Shijin Orbs and put it into a drink and... and...” Guilt overwhelmed Yushia, his nails clawed deep into his face. “...I didn’t do anything to save them. I let them die, and then I ate them!”

The thunder roared, but the silence between the two was louder. Hearing what her wielder had said, Suzaku didn’t know what to think. During moments like these, words of encouragement were best, but was what Yushia did truly forgivable?

“What you did is despicable,” Suzaku said bluntly.

“I know,” Yushia replied.

She stretched her hand out, the ring etched in her palm glowing. “You had no choice in the matter, correct? You are not alone. My greatness is just as despicable for allowing such atrocities to happen to her wielder.”

Yushia’s tearful eyes looked up at Suzaku’s determined face, and then her pale hand. Don’t say that... I know you won’t forgive me.

“Stand, my wielder!” She shouted, the ring on her palm emanating a fiercer light. “In the face of weakness, will you fall against yourself, or will you rise for redemption?!”

“What...?” Yushia uttered. Her encouraging words made him anxious. Words like these only appeared in fairy tales.

“You are not Siru, you are nobody,” Suzaku admitted. “You are sitting in front of my greatness with your tail tucked between your legs, like a coward too afraid of the dangers that lie ahead. Where is your anger? Where is the frustration that guides the young boy to wreak havoc on the one who tarnished his body and mind?!”

“Just stop—”

“You are nothing, like clay along the riverbed. You can still reshape yourself into something new, something far from just clay. Take my greatness’ hand. Together, we will slay that demon and take back your dignity.”

How are you so sure? Yushia thought. The past few days had been one of the most arduous things to happen to his whole, and yet she still wanted him to fight. Was she insane?

The rain and thunder were nearly mute now as Yushia considered her offer. If he were to die now, his hopes of seeing Shiashia and changing the image of his people would disappear; the things he loved, gone. Those things would be true if he chose to fight, but there was no reality that existed in which he could imagine himself winning.

“What will it be, my wielder?” Suzaku asked.

Yushia stared into Suzaku’s passionate eyes that told him to hearken to her words, to take her hand and to rise again. Those must have been illusions, however. He knew well that if he were to lose now, his life would be lost, and he’d be unable to change a thing. “Just go, Suzaku... Leave me.”

Baffled by his response, Suzaku’s red eyes widened, and her teeth gritted. Her hand that reached out turned into a clenched fist, retreating to her side. “You wish to live among dirt?” She waited, but there was no response. Her wielder looked away from her, avoiding her judging gaze. She turned her back to him and stepped out into the pouring rain, staring up at the gray sky. Regret filled her mind, but if he wasn’t going to finish the job, the only person who could was herself. One step forward, away from the tree and the boy.

“You truly are unfit to wield my greatness.”