The festival had ended, and the village was quiet once more. The lanterns still flickered in the cold night, their warm glow dancing across the snow-covered ground. Most of the villagers had returned to their homes, their laughter and music fading into peaceful silence.
Kaizen stood at the edge of the village, gazing at the sky. The stars stretched endlessly above him, untouched by the struggles of mortals. A part of him envied them—their eternal stillness, their distance from the burdens of life.
Soft footsteps crunched in the snow behind him.
"You always disappear when things start to feel warm," Aoi's voice came gently.
Kaizen didn't turn. "I'm not used to it."
Aoi stepped beside him, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the cold. "It's strange, isn't it? Being surrounded by people who care, who laugh, who share moments like this... after everything we've been through."
Kaizen exhaled, his breath turning to mist. "It feels... fragile."
Aoi glanced at him. "What do you mean?"
Kaizen's voice was low. "Peace like this never lasts. I've seen it too many times—brief moments of warmth, only to be ripped away by war, betrayal, or death. I don't want to get used to it."
Aoi studied him for a moment before sighing. "That's a sad way to live."
Kaizen smirked faintly. "It's how I've survived."
Silence settled between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. The two stood side by side, watching the distant horizon. The wind howled softly, carrying with it the scent of the lingering festival—a mix of roasted meat, sweet rice, and burning firewood.
"You know," Aoi began, "I think Sakura changed you."
Kaizen turned to her slightly. "What do you mean?"
Aoi smiled, her gaze soft. "I see it in the way you talk to her. The way you look after her. You care, Kaizen, even if you don't want to admit it."
Kaizen looked away. "She reminds me of something I lost."
Aoi's expression grew sad, but she didn't push further. Instead, she took a deep breath, as if gathering her courage.
"Kaizen..." she hesitated. "I—"
She stopped herself, her hands clenching slightly.
Kaizen finally turned to face her. "What is it?"
Aoi exhaled, her breath shaky. "I just... I want you to know that I see you. I see the man behind the warrior, behind the pain. And I—"
She stopped again, then suddenly shook her head, laughing softly. "Forget it. It's foolish."
Kaizen frowned. "Aoi—"
Before he could say more, Aoi suddenly stepped closer. The space between them disappeared, and before Kaizen could react, she reached up and pressed her lips softly against his.
For a moment, the world fell silent. The cold, the wind, the worries of the past—all of it faded.
Kaizen didn't move, didn't push her away. He was frozen, not because he didn't want it, but because he had never allowed himself to want something like this.
After a few seconds, Aoi pulled away, her face tinged with warmth despite the cold. She looked at him, searching for a reaction.
Kaizen remained still, his golden eyes unreadable.
Aoi gave a small, almost sad smile. "You don't have to say anything."
Kaizen finally spoke, his voice quiet. "Aoi..."
She shook her head. "I know you're not ready. And that's okay."
She took a step back, offering him space. "But I won't lie about how I feel. I don't expect you to return it, not yet. But I just... I wanted you to know."
Kaizen stared at her, his mind a whirlwind of emotions he wasn't ready to face.
Aoi smiled again, softer this time. "Come inside when you're ready. It's too cold to be out here all night."
And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving Kaizen standing alone in the snow, staring after her.
For the first time in years, he felt something unfamiliar inside him—something dangerous, something fragile.
Hope.