Shinji didn't move. Okami's sword pressed against his neck just enough to draw drops of blood.
"Don't make a move," Okami said in a firm tone, tightly gripping the handle of her sword.
But her voice was calm. Too calm given her demeanor and the threat she now posed.
"Do you think I let you in here for no reason? Do you think someone like you deserves a place among us?"
Shinji felt his breathing quicken. That look… it reminded him of the butcher in the alley, the cold and dampness that lingered there.
"This refuge didn't take you in because you earned it. You haven't suffered. You don't know what it's like to lose your freedom, to lose those you care about."
Okami said, looking Shinji straight in the eyes before murmuring to herself:
"Why, Kades… Why are you so loyal to him?"
Shinji wanted to defend himself, to spill everything he'd been through—or at least what he could remember—but what was the point? Okami didn't see him, and no one truly saw him. They saw an image of him. An image shaped by their own experiences, and he was merely the vessel of their nightmares.
She pressed the blade slightly against his skin. A few more drops of blood fell onto the dusty floor of the room.
"There's only one reason I let you pass through these walls. And it's not your battered face… or your lost look."
Shinji swallowed hard.
"Then why?" he whispered.
Okami remained silent for a few seconds before lowering her sword. However, Shinji didn't try to back away or counterattack; he stood frozen in the middle of the room.
"Because someone brought you here."
She took a step back, her gaze still locked on him.
"An old friend."
She spoke those words as if they were a burden.
Shinji opened his mouth to ask a question, but she cut him off with a sharp tone before turning her gaze from Shinji to the blade.
Shinji, as if under Okami's spell, followed her gaze and found himself staring at the blade as well.
"But this… this, I don't understand… You."
She paused. Then her gaze hardened.
"Why… you?"
She didn't elaborate. But that "you" carried the full weight of doubt. Of mistrust. Of fear.
Shinji had no answer. He himself didn't understand anything about this blade. What it represented. He didn't know what it meant to the butcher, the Zephyrs, or even Okami.
He lowered his eyes.
"I don't know."
Okami stood still for a moment, then sheathed her sword.
"Go back and rest. You'd better not give me a reason to regret this. When everything is settled here, I'll take you to Tartara."
"Tartara?" Shinji murmured, but before he could regain his composure, he saw that Okami was already leaving the room.
"And don't forget: this refuge has given you a chance. Prove to me that you deserve it."
Okami replied before disappearing into the shadows of the hallway.
Shinji remained alone in the room, the blade that had followed him after death still there, resting on the table.
Shinji stared at it for a long time but ultimately left it on the table. It had only brought him trouble. It had made him the reflection of the nightmares of everyone he'd met so far.
As he left the room, he saw his reflection in the steel… it was blurrier than ever.
He headed back to the room where he had woken up earlier. The silence weighed on him far more than he let on.
On his way back to the room, he didn't even try to seek out the gazes of those who had comforted him earlier with the idea of finally finding a home in this world.
When he reached the room, he lay down and closed his eyes little by little after catching a glimpse of Neko, who had been waiting for him without moving since earlier. But he was lying to himself. He couldn't sleep, and night eventually fell.
The refuge, despite its dilapidated state, was still bathed in a heavy silence. The same creaking of wood, the same sigh of the wind against the windows. Even the sky didn't seem to have changed since his arrival at the refuge. No, since his arrival in this world.
And yet, Shinji hadn't managed to find sleep all this time.
Lying in a bed that didn't belong to him, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, he felt a heaviness in his chest, where he had noticed the presence of an unknown scar.
What he felt wasn't physical pain. It was a dull, creeping anxiety. One that even sleep couldn't extinguish.
Neko, curled up in a corner of the room, seemed peaceful. But his eyes gleamed in the shadows, fixed on him. As if he were keeping watch.
Shinji turned his head.
"I should sleep," he murmured. "But I can't. Not after… what happened earlier."
He sat up slowly, careful not to make too much noise.
Even if this place had taken him in… even if they had healed him, fed him, listened to him… after what happened with Okami, he couldn't feel safe here.
He quietly slipped on the vest Haruka had given him earlier, opened his room's door silently, and slipped into the hallway.
The refuge's walls were as if frozen in the darkness. He walked aimlessly, guided by a tension he couldn't name.
Then he stopped when he saw a large, slightly open window in the distance, letting in a breeze of fresh air. It overlooked the refuge's inner courtyard. Shinji approached and placed his hands on the ledge.
As he sought only to breathe, to somehow expel his fear of being alone in this world again, he saw them. Two silhouettes, illuminated by the flickering light of a lantern hanging on a rusty hook.
He recognized them quickly. That sword he saw was the one that had been pressed against his neck, and those purple hairs. Though he only saw them from behind, he was certain. It was Okami and Daichi.
Their posture was tense. But it wasn't an argument. It was… something else.
Shinji crouched slightly to listen better without being seen as Daichi began to speak, his voice restrained.
"You shouldn't insist on saving her again. It's far too risky for the refuge."
Okami slammed her fist against a nearby wall, her gaze fixed on the ground.
"Do you really think we should let them do this? Do you think a girl like her can handle everything that comes with it?"
"Why did she run away? What did you make her endure, Kades?" Okami murmured before fixing Daichi with an icy intensity.
"We have to save her. It's not about safety. It never was. She must be saved, like all those held captive in Qualyoth."
A silence followed, then Daichi let out a bitter sigh:
"She's not like you, Okami. She's not a reincarnated."
Shinji felt his heart stop.
"A reincarnated?" Shinji whispered.
Daichi continued:
"You, you have too big a heart. You've forgotten what this world is. What it took from you. What it forced you to become."
Okami retorted:
"That's exactly why we can't give in," Okami said in a deeper voice, clenching her fists.
"You still don't understand that this world won't change as long as we settle for surviving. That's what they want—destroy us from within to secure their reign over those to whom these lands rightfully belong."
They stared at each other for a few seconds, then Daichi broke the silence:
"It's not that simple. We can't risk our safety for it, it's—"
Before he could finish, Okami cut him off with a gesture of her hand, adding more quietly after calming down:
"Even you, Daichi. Even if you're not a reincarnated… I accepted you into this refuge."
Okami turned her head, as if she had sensed something.
Shinji stepped back, his breath short.
His mind was buzzing.
Reincarnated…
He moved away from the window, pressed his back against the wall, and slid to the ground.
"This refuge… is a sanctuary for people like me?"
A shiver ran through him.
He looked at his hands, his arms, his legs. They were those of a dead man. He had been certain of it since waking up in the alley, and yet he felt very much alive.
But now, he understood he wasn't alone, that this refuge… despite everything, was meant for people like him.
Shinji, after standing up, began to move away from the window.
His legs trembled slightly. What he had heard… he wasn't sure he understood it all, but he was certain of one thing: he wasn't alone.
He crept along the hallway walls like a shadow, then heard louder-than-usual creaking coming from the end of the corridor, where he had seen stairs earlier.
"I need to hurry," Shinji murmured.
He reached his room, pushing the door open silently.
He quietly closed the bedroom door behind him.
The night had fully enveloped the refuge. Only the pale moonlight, filtering through the same gray clouds that never seemed to disperse, cast a silvery glow on the floor.
Neko was still there, where Shinji had left him. He raised his head as soon as Shinji entered.
Still curled up in that corner of the room, peaceful, loyal. His eyes gleamed in the dimness, calm and silent. He was waiting. As if he had always known Shinji would return.
Shinji approached slowly and sat on the bed without a sound.
Neko immediately jumped onto his lap, and the light weight of the cat against his chest was enough to lower his guard. He closed his eyes.
He wanted to believe this place was safe.
That these people, even broken, could offer him a semblance of peace.
But in that darkness… something cracked.