Ashy snow dropped from the heavens as Izumi dragged Miharu beyond the edge of the village, her struggling vain against his relentless hold.
"Let me go, damn it!" she cried, struggling.
He didn't. Not until they reached the crest of the rocky ridge overlooking the valley, then, with no ado, he let her go.
Miharu fell hard, wheezing with cold. Her friends, already assembled, sprinted over with blankets and curses.
"What the hell, Miharu?!"
"You could have died!"
"She's cold!"
Izumi did not glance back. His stride was unhurried, deliberate, until he stood at the small cliffside clearing. There, as always, sat Ichiro — steam curling two cups beside a low fire, eyes drifting into the white horizon.
Izumi sat facing him in silence.
"I never told you I was coming, Hiro" he complained, crossing his arms.
Ichiro smiled. "No need to. Haruki always dragged you back with that same scowling face."
Izumi stared at the tea. The reflection bothered.
"This. was your ritual, wasn't it?"
Ichiro nodded slowly. "Every week. Same location. Same cups. We started it during the war. After every battle, we'd sit down, brew tea. pretend the world wasn't ending."
Izumi let his eyes fall. "Was it his favorite?"
"No," Ichiro answered with a quick laugh. "He hated tea. Said it tasted like boiled grass. But he drank it anyway. Because it was important. Said it t was his favirote because you liked it."
"I hate tea," Izumi growled.
Both of them were silent for quite a while.
I can't remember the sound of his voice," he at last managed to say. "Not even his smile. Just. empty spaces where they once were."
Ichiro's face fell. "What happened?"
"Nymrathis," Izumi said, frozen. "He told me that he took away my memories in order to quench his everlasting hunger. Every moment"
Ichiro shifted back in his chair, the weight of that revelation drifting down around them like snow.
"He took your memories," Ichiro whispered. "So that he wouldn't be empty any longer.".
But it didn't work," Izumi said. "He's still starving. Still shallow. Like ice."
The fire spat and crackled between them.
Ichiro leaned in, his voice softer now. "You know what Haruki used to say about you?"
Izumi shook his head.
"He said you'd never be the strongest. Not the way the world wanted. But you'd be the one standing when all the others fell. Because your strength came from who you fought for, not why.".
Izumi's face did not change. "I wish I remembered him saying so."
Ichiro smiled sadly. "Then let me remember for both of us."
Footsteps trod through the snow. Miharu appeared before them, panting, swathed in a thick scarf.
"So." she began, "you meant it? The whole journey to take out the Monarchs Of Sin?"
Izumi nodded once.
Ichiro's eyebrow went up. "What, no old man tag-along?"
"You're too old," Izumi replied matter-of-factly. "Rest.".
Ichiro laughed. "You sound just like him. Fine. You take the carriage. I used magic on it — drives itself."
Miharu blinked. "Seriously?"
"Say it's my last favor," Ichiro winked.
Miharu weakly smiled and set off along the carriage path. Izumi stood, brushing snow off his shoulders, and followed after her.
When they boarded the carriage, Miharu frowned. "You're not driving?"
Izumi boarded behind her. "Hiro said it drives like a robot."
Miharu stared. "It's a horse, dumbass, he was being sarcastic—"
The carriage jerked forward.
"Oh."
As they rode through the snowfall, Miharu questioned, "Where are we even going?"
"Kingdom Of Raethelia," Izumi stated.
"Why?" She bit out.
"Because the Monarch of Envy was born there," Izumi stated, unruffled. "That's where he'll return."
She frowned. "How do you even know that? It's not like you had an education—"
"I did," he cut in. "Not just an education. A royal one."
"Your last name's Haruki—there's no noble house named that."
"It was my grandfather's name," Izumi said. "I'm a Virasat."
Miharu's eyes widened. "You're. that Virasat? The Curse of the Virasat?"
Izumi looked ahead, snowflakes dusting his lashes. "The son of the strongest man. And the strongest woman."