"Amon, are you alright!?" Kana asked, nearly dropping her bowl.
Amon didn't answer. Why did I go back here...?
He slammed his palm on the table so hard the plates rattled.
His shoulders were shaking, and his eyes weren't focused on anything in front of him.
He looked like he was choking, not on food, but on something heavy he couldn't spit out.
Then, before either of them could reach for him, he gritted his teeth and punched himself in the side of the head.
"Oi—!" Zai Ren grabbed his arm. "What the hell are you doing!?"
"Amon, stop!" Kana stood up. "What's going on!? What did you see!?"
He couldn't answer.
He was breathing too hard. His chest rose and fell like he'd been running, and his hands were still clenched into fists, shaking like he was holding onto something that wanted to escape.
Zai Ren and Kana exchanged glances. Neither said anything.
Then Zai Ren pulled Amon to his feet and slung his arm around his shoulder.
"Come on. You're not staying here like this."
They left the restaurant.
They didn't say a word as they walked through the lower district, then out the eastern gate where the guards knew them and didn't ask questions.
They walked until the houses thinned out and the stone road gave way to dirt.
There was a tree not far from the cliffside, a lone one that overlooked the river bend.
They sat there, under the wide branches.
Zai Ren finally broke the silence. "What happened, Amon?"
"You were fine earlier," Kana said. "And then suddenly… that. Was it a vision?"
Amon shook his head slowly. "Don't worry about it."
"That's not an answer," Zai Ren said, frowning.
"I said don't," Amon snapped, then took a breath. "Just... don't go back to the Sect."
That made both of them quiet. Kana leaned forward. "Why not? Is something going to happen?"
Amon didn't speak. His eyes were locked on the horizon, even though there was nothing there. Just wind, stars, and the sound of crickets.
He felt tired.
Not physically. Not even mentally.
It was something else—like a tiredness that lived in his bones, like he was carrying the weight of a hundred lives that hadn't gone right.
I should've saved her. I shouldn't have run. I should've fought harder. I should've told her everything. I should've—
His thoughts spiraled until something snapped. He clenched his jaw and muttered under his breath.
"I have to save them."
Zai Ren raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"I have to save her," Amon repeated, louder this time. "I have to fix this. Airi... Kana... everyone. I can't keep watching people die. I can't let the future turn out like that again."
Kana frowned. "What did you just say?"
He didn't explain.
He just stood, slowly, like every movement cost him effort. The weight in his chest hadn't gone away, but now he knew what to do with it.
He had responsibilities.
And if he didn't hold onto them, then no one would.
Zai Ren stood as well. "You're really not going to tell us?"
"No," Amon said. "But please... just trust me."
Kana nodded, though she looked unsure.
"Alright. But if you're keeping something that might kill us later—"
"I'll carry it," Amon said. "You two just need to live."
They stood under that tree a while longer, not saying much.
Eventually, they walked back toward the city, toward the Sect.
As they reached the gates of the Sect, the torches lining the path flickered against the dark. Zai Ren and Kana were still shaken from earlier, but Amon's pace was steady. Then, right at the entrance, he stopped and raised a hand.
"Wait," he said. "Don't follow me in."
Zai Ren frowned. "Why—?"
But Amon had already walked forward. He stepped inside the Sect's courtyard, quiet and empty—or at least, it looked that way.
Then he turned his head slightly.
"Behind me," he said softly.
Steel scraped.
A blade shot from the shadows.
Amon spun and caught the strike with his own blade, sparks flying between their clash.
The attacker fell back, face half-covered by a veil, but Amon recognized her immediately.
"Airi Ayame," he said. "From the Ayame Clan. Your father was killed by the Twin-Headed Flame Sect, right?"
She froze.
"…How do you know that?"
Zai Ren and Kana rushed in then, seeing the end of the clash, their weapons ready.
"Wait, wait—Amon, what's going on?"
"Who is she?"
"She just attacked you!"
Amon ignored them for a moment. He calmly stepped forward, reached out, and plucked the weapon from Airi's shaking grip.
Then, without warning, he tossed it to the side and grabbed her by the arm—not with violence, but with enough force to hold her steady.
"Stand up."
"What—?"
"Change your path," he said, firmer this time. "Join this Sect instead."
She looked lost. Tears were already forming in her eyes. Her breathing hitched, and she didn't seem to understand what was happening. But she didn't resist.
Zai Ren took a step forward. "Amon, seriously—"
"Help Grandpa Shigure," Amon said, pointing behind them. "He's unconscious near the eastern hall."
Kana blinked. "Wait, how did you—?"
"Just go," Amon said again, his voice sharp.
Zai Ren and Kana exchanged glances, then nodded and ran off. The courtyard was quiet again.
Airi stood there, looking like she might fall apart at any second.
She opened her mouth, but the words couldn't come out. Her face was flushed, not with rage this time, but something softer.
Her eyes—those sharp hunter eyes—were just filled with confusion and sorrow.
"I'll protect you," Amon said softly.
"…What?"
"Did you know me… or, how did you know all that?"
Amon stared into her eyes, and for a moment, he almost said it.
That this wasn't the first time. That he'd seen her live, die, follow him through blood and fire, and still smile like he was worth it.
That in another life, she was nothing more than a supporting role, a tool made by the system. But she'd cried for him.
And she deserved better.
"Maybe," Amon said. "Maybe I met you once before. And when I saw you just now, something in me said—I'm going to protect this girl, no matter what."
Airi's legs gave out, and she dropped to her knees. She covered her face, and the sobs came quietly, one after another.
He knelt down beside her. He wrapped his arms around her and let her cry.
That's right, Amon thought. You and Guinevere… you reminded me I was human. When everything else tried to take that away.
He held her tighter.
You weren't just a character forced into my life. You were real.And this time, I'll make sure no one takes it from you.
"I've got you," he whispered. "You're not alone."
Morning sunlight poured over the mountain ridges.
Inside the Sect's central hall, a tense meeting unfolded.
Shigure was alive, still pale but breathing fine. The Elders stood around him, some with suspicion, others with curiosity.
And in front of them all stood Karou, the Sect Leader, arms crossed, gaze fixed on Amon.
"So," Karou said slowly, "she attacked our Sect… and you want her to be part of us, Amon?"
Amon didn't flinch. He lowered his head.
"Yes,"
"Please, let her stay."
"Why?"
"She's lost everything. Her clan's gone. She was used by someone else to strike at us, but that doesn't mean she's our enemy. Please…"
Karou's eyes narrowed. "You think I'm stupid?"
"No. I think you're merciful."
The room fell silent. Amon stepped forward and knelt.
"I take full responsibility," he said. "If she ever tries to attack us again, if she betrays this Sect—I'll accept execution. Both of us will."
Airi, who had been silent behind him, froze. She looked at Amon, her lips parting slightly, eyes wide.
Karou stared at him for a long moment. Then he sighed.
"…Fine."
Amon blinked.
Karou looked down at the two of them. "But if she crosses us again, even once… you'll both die. Understood?"
"Yes," Amon said. He bowed, pressing his forehead to the ground.
Then, without warning, he reached out and gently pushed Airi's head down too. She hadn't even realized she was standing there frozen.
She looked at him in disbelief, then down, and finally, the tears came. She didn't say anything, but the silence around her said enough.
Later, outside the Sect walls, the air was still crisp and cool.
Amon sat on a rock under one of the old training trees.
Airi approached slowly, arms folded across her chest. She stopped just a few steps away.
"…Why did you do that?" she asked. "Why would you beg for me?"
Amon didn't look at her. He just smiled slightly and held out the scroll.
"You asked me what I did that," he said. "This is part of it."
She looked at the parchment. "What is that?"
"A sword style technique I created. I call it Path of the Idle Edge."
Airi blinked. "…Idle Edge? That sounds lazy."
"It's not about being lazy," he said with a small laugh. "It's about stillness. About waiting until the exact right moment to strike. About not wasting energy, not rushing."
She crouched beside him and looked at the scroll. Her eyes widened at the diagrams, the annotations.
It was complex—fluid footwork, reactive posture, precise momentum flow—but written in such clean, minimal lines.
"Did you create this recently?"
"No," he said, shaking his head. "I created it… before."
"Before?"
He paused.
"I had a lot of time. I worked on this every day until I could memorize it."
She didn't understand, but she could see the conviction in his face.
"You made it… just for you?"
"No," he said. "For anyone who needs it. For anyone who's weak, outnumbered, or pushed to the edge. For people who can't afford to move first."
Airi was quiet.
"Can you teach it to me?"
"Only if you're serious. It's not flashy. It's not about showing off. It's about surviving when you shouldn't."
She nodded. "I want to learn."
"Good," he said.
Then he smiled.
"Lesson one: don't move unless you have to."
"That's it?"
"That's step 1."
He handed her the scroll, and for a moment, she just stared at the weight of it in her hands.
A martial art built across lives.
Something meant to be passed on—no matter the body, no matter the timeline.
And Amon just looked out at the hills. He wasn't there to become strong. He was there to be ready when the world fell apart again.