Step. Step.
The echoes of footfalls, receding into the abyss of the Tombs of the Star Corridor, finally fell silent.
The massive subterranean gates groaned with the weight of ancient stone, sealing shut with a heavy, final thud.
Utsugi stood before those closed doors for a long time, unable to force his feet to turn away.
Within the lightless stairwell, only a thick, suffocating silence remained.
'Please... remember me.'
Those desperate, final words continued to spiral within his mind, carving deep into his heart.
He possessed the Six Eyes—the celestial sight that pierced the very principles of the world.
Yet, he had been unable to read the expression on the maiden's face as she vanished beyond the cold stone threshold.
Slowly, Utsugi turned his body away.
He felt heavy.
With every step he took, the weight of the world seemed to crush his legs.
The sorcerer who had slaughtered dozens of heinous curse users without so much as a blink was now gasping for breath as he climbed a mere handful of stairs.
Far above, at the summit of the ascent, the light of the surface world bled into the gloom.
Standing before the massive vermillion torii gate that barred the entrance to the Tombs of the Star Corridor was a gathering of shadows.
The elite sorcerers of the Jujutsu High Council and the elders of the Sugawara Clan stood in wait.
As Utsugi emerged from the torii, a wave of restless murmuring rippled through the crowd.
"He has appeared!"
"What of the Star Plasma Vessel!"
An aged elder of the Sugawara Clan hurried forward, his voice strained with urgency.
Utsugi looked down at the old man with vacant, hollow eyes.
The stench of the elder's Cursed Energy—stagnant, viscous, and foul—wafted toward him like a physical miasma.
It was nauseating.
"Utsugi! Do you not hear me?! Did the girl successfully enter the presence of Master Tengen!"
Despite the elder's barking command, Utsugi offered no reply.
He simply walked past him, his pace glacial and deliberate.
"Wh-Why, you arrogant brat!"
Infuriated by the silence, a sorcerer from the High Council reached out to seize Utsugi by the shoulder.
"Lay not a finger upon me."
Utsugi’s voice was like a blade forged from frost.
In that instant, an explosive surge of killing intent saturated the air, crushing the space around them. It was a weight that felt as if the sky itself had descended.
The sorcerer's hand froze in mid-air, ossified by primal fear, and the elder staggered backward, his face turning a sickly ashen gray.
Utsugi descended the mountain path without casting a single glance back at their terrified countenances.
In his hand, unnoticed until now, was the blindfold that Kiyo had untied with her own hands during the night of the festival.
The beautiful world had come to an end.
The only sanctuary that had ever granted him respite no longer existed anywhere in this realm.
Utsugi came to a halt. He took the blindfold and bound his eyes once more, pulling the fabric taut with a fierce, trembling resolve.
His vision plunged into darkness.
A boy stained in the blood of others walked alone beneath a sky of leaden gray.
He did not know where he was going.
By the time he regained his senses, Utsugi’s path had led him to the Fujiwara’s secret villa.
The garden, its barriers torn asunder, was a scene of carnage.
The corpses of the curse users he had cut down lay strewn about, their drying blood staining the verdant grass a deep, bruised crimson.
Above the stench of slaughter, cherry blossom petals continued to drift downward, falling like silent flakes of snow.
Utsugi stepped onto the engawa porch as if possessed.
Only hours ago, a maiden with a jade hairpin had sat here, offering him tea with a radiant, clear smile.
Utsugi carefully slid open the door to the room she had occupied.
The chamber, having lost its master, was chill and eerily quiet.
His gaze fixed upon a small vanity stand placed in the center of the room.
There, resting upon the wood, was a single white letter, meticulously folded.
With trembling hands, Utsugi took up the missive.
As he broke the seal, a small, withered flower fell from within the white paper.
A snow-white Deutzia—the Utsugi flower.
A delicate white blossom that bloomed from a tree known for its hollow heart.
Utsugi’s eyes moved to the elegant script written upon the page.
『Lord Utsugi, you are no hollow tree.』
It was a brief sentence.
Below it, there were faint traces where the ink had blurred—a ghost of a teardrop.
『Just as blossoms may grace even the hollowest wood, for me, you were the spring that bloomed with the greatest warmth.』
Utsugi collapsed to the floor, the letter clutched tightly in his fist.
'I... I made the right choice.'
Throughout the entirety of his walk here, he had rationalized his actions with cold, logical precision.
He had prevented the apocalypse.
He had saved countless innocent lives.
Above all, this had been Kiyo’s own resolve.
He had simply honored the pride of a maiden who chose death to protect the world.
It was a flawless justification, devoid of a single logical error.
And yet.
The moment his eyes fell upon that withered white flower, his petty logic was pulverized into dust.
"Ah..."
Beneath the thick fabric of his blindfold, scalding tears began to flow without cease.
The right choice?
The peace of the world?
Of what worth were such things?!
He felt as if his heart were being flayed open.
Those clear eyes that had smiled at him, the gentle warmth of her touch—none of it remained in this world.
If only he had never known.
If only he had never learned the staggering warmth of breathing as a human being at someone's side.
"Aaaaagh!"
Utsugi let out a primal, beast-like wail, his fist slamming into the tatami floor again and again.
He was no hero; he was an accomplice who had turned a blind eye and pushed her toward her grave.
He bit his lip until blood bloomed in his mouth.
He had to become stronger.
So that nothing else could ever be stolen from him again.
So that he would never have to endure this wretched, agonizing helplessness again.
Utsugi lowered his damp hand.
When he lifted his head once more, the tremors in his lips had vanished completely.
He tucked the withered white flower deep into his robes, shielding it against his skin.
Then, Utsugi reached up and tore away the blindfold.
Kiyo was gone.
He would no longer hide.
He would no longer seek the solace of peace.
Within the dim room, the Six Eyes ignited with a cold, sapphire radiance.
On that day.
The short, brilliant blue spring that had briefly dwelled within the boy’s chest died a final, absolute death.
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