The trio stared at the woman before them, her face veiled by a mass of sakura blossoms, pale petals drifting like snow around her. Her eerie smile seemed to carry an air of foreboding, and despite their exhaustion and injuries, they couldn't help but be drawn to her presence.
Hiroshi, always skeptical, narrowed his eyes.
"Who are you? Or are you lost like us?"
The woman's voice was soft but chilling, as though it carried whispers from another realm.
"The time is near, and I have the answer you seek. Follow me for tea."
Her smile grew, unsettling in its calmness.
Without speaking, the trio stood, their weariness forgotten for the moment as they crossed the old wooden bridge toward the torii gate she stood beneath.
Sachiko looked at the woman, her voice breaking the heavy silence.
"Where are we?"
The woman's gaze drifted to the horizon before she answered cryptically.
"A place where those who have lost their way come to find their purpose."
Hiroshi's brows furrowed, impatience bubbling up.
"What are those creatures?"
The woman tilted her head, her face still hidden behind the flowers.
"Those are creatures who care for lost souls, guiding them."
Hiroshi, frustrated, shouted, "They were trying to murder us!"
Kibo placed a hand on Hiroshi's shoulder, silencing him before he could say more. Hiroshi shot Kibo an irritated glance but quieted down. Kibo turned to the woman, his voice calm but sharp.
"What are you doing here? Who are you?"
The woman let out a soft sigh, her eyes reflecting a deep sadness.
"I don't even know anymore. Just searching for hope… and faith in people."
As they walked further down the path, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks grew louder, and they soon found themselves standing before a beach. In the distance, a torii gate stood on a large rock in the middle of the ocean. There, a small table was set for four, with a simple teapot at the center.
Sachiko asked, her tone uneasy,
"What is this place?"
The flower-masked woman, without missing a beat, responded in the same cryptic tone.
"They suffered. They fought hard. They proved themselves. Now… have some tea and rest."
Hiroshi crossed his arms, his frustration evident.
"So, you sent those creatures after us?"
The woman's smile was gentle but almost sad.
"They were protecting themselves. You killed them to survive. No one is at fault. Now, sit."
Despite the tension in the air, the trio reluctantly sat around the table. The woman's gaze lingered on them, as if weighing something deeply. Then, in a voice almost too soft to hear, she asked,
"Do you wish to know why you're here?"
The scene suddenly cut.
Yuki opened her eyes to a lavish room. The floor was polished wood, the windows wide and stretching across the walls. Outside, she saw rows of feudal Japanese homes, and towering above them—a massive castle.
She had been taken from her old life into something beyond recognition.
Suddenly, servants entered and led her silently through the halls. They passed inner courtyards, scroll-covered chambers, and guarded gates until they arrived at a large, dimly-lit hall.
At the far end sat an elderly man, cloaked in robes with eyes like steel. The servants bowed and spoke.
"Bow to the Shogun."
Realizing who stood before her, Yuki dropped to her knees. The Shogun raised a hand.
"No need for formalities. Stand."
As she stood, he studied her closely, his eyes pausing at her neck.
"Where is the two-beaded necklace?" he asked.
Yuki gasped slightly, suddenly reminded of Kibo.
"Where is he?" she asked. "Kibo—the boy who served our household—do you know where he is?"
The Shogun raised an eyebrow.
"The boy who served your family?"
He paused, then nodded.
"He will be fine."
"But the samurai—" she began.
The Shogun cut her off.
"I sent men to repair your home... after you caused the fire."
Yuki looked down, ashamed.
"I'm sorry."
The Shogun waved a hand.
"Don't worry about it. But... the old woman who raised you... she perished in the fire."
Yuki, expression hardening, responded coldly.
"I don't care about her."
The Shogun narrowed his eyes but said nothing of her cruelty.
"Do you still remember the dance she taught you?"
Yuki nodded.
"Yes."
Without another word, the Shogun turned and gestured for her to follow. They walked through quiet corridors until he opened a hidden passage leading out to a beach. The sea wind struck her face as they emerged.
In the distance—on a rock beneath a torii gate—the waves crashed gently.
"Dance," he said. "Let me see it."
Yuki stepped forward, her feet in the sand, the world quiet.
She began to dance—graceful, elegant, full of memory.
back with the trio in beach with flower masked women
The flower-masked woman poured tea slowly and looked at them with unreadable eyes.
"Do you want to know why you are here?"
Just as all three opened their mouths to say yes—
She raised a finger.
"Shhh... Do you hear it?" Her voice turned distant. "It's time."
She stood and walked to the shore. Her movements became rhythmic, her steps careful. Then, she began to dance—a traditional, almost ethereal performance that flowed like the sea.
The flower-masked woman continued her dance, each movement deliberate and poetic.
The trio watched in silence—until Kibo suddenly stood.
"What are you doing?" he asked, a sudden fear in his voice.
He turned to Hiroshi and Sachiko—but both had slumped over, unconscious.
Kibo staggered forward, confused, his vision blurring—
—and collapsed.
As the sun dimmed, the two dancers moved in perfect harmony—Yuki and the flower-masked woman, their motions mirroring one another.
Two souls.
Two worlds.
One fate.
Darkness fell.
As the trio collapsed beside the torii gate, tea left untouched, the world shifted.
Rain. Thunder. Night- Hiroshi's memory
A tiny wooden home trembled under the weight of the storm. Rain slapped the roof like a warning. Inside, a candle flickered beside a modest meal of steaming white rice.
Hiroshi's father stood near the wall, drenched and shaking. Tears streamed silently down his cheeks as he looked at his sleeping children — Hiroshi and his little sister.
Behind him, Hiroshi's mother sobbed softly as she stirred something into the rice.
"There must be another way…" she whispered.
"What other way?" the father snapped. Not with anger, but despair. "Let them starve to death? Freeze under that roof? Be hunted like dogs?"
He dropped to his knees beside his wife.
"This is the most we can do for them. One last meal. Not bugs or scraps. Something warm. Something real. Please… just this one mercy."
His voice cracked. The mother hesitated, then nodded with trembling hands.
They woke the children gently.
Hiroshi smiled sleepily, rubbing his eyes. His sister blinked at the rice.
"We get white rice today?" she said with innocent joy.
Their mother smiled as tears slipped down her face.
"Eat up," she said.
Outside, thunder roared like a final drumbeat. As the camera pulled away from the small home, we saw it swallowed in blackness — a place where mercy had become the quietest kind of horror.
Scene Shift — Sachiko's Memory
Somewhere else, another vision surfaced.
Sachiko, motionless in her trance, stood under the heavy weight of memory.
A voice echoed faintly:
"They killed the monk who raised her… on suspicion that he had relation with her they cut his head off."
We see a solemn temple.
Then — screams.
Blood.
Every monk, slaughtered. A decapitated head rolled to the center of the altar.
The man who raised her. Gone. Sachiko fell back to her rage and anger
Sachiko walked alone through a burning village. The air was thick with smoke and blood. Her eyes were empty. Her hands trembled with rage, her feet unsteady.
Bodies lined the streets. Men, women, warriors — anyone who tried to stop her.
She stumbled, exhausted, knees giving out, soaked in blood. Her breath came in rasps.
And when morning came...
She awoke tied to a wooden post, her body battered.
A circle of samurai surrounded her. One of them stood taller than the rest—the son of the samurai lord who had once desired her.
He sneered.
"You killed half a town. You'll be executed… unless you take my offer."
Sachiko's lip curled in rage.
"Go to hell."
The boy laughed.
"Don't worry. I'll send you there."
He raised his hand.
The blade came down.
As we see a burning fire and suddenly blood splatter every where they cut her head off just like the monk.
Scene Shift — Kibo's memory
Flames engulfed the noble house.
Kibo lay face-down in a pool of blood, gasping.
The heat pressed down on him as smoke choked his lungs. He lifted his head — through the blur, he saw Yuki being dragged away by two samurai.
He reached out.
"Yuki…!"
His body screamed in pain, but he stood, stumbling forward.
One of the samurai turned and punched him hard in the chest, knocking the breath from his lungs.
Kibo collapsed, gasping. His hands clawed at the floor.
And then—
He stopped moving.
Scene Shift — The Aftermath
Kibo gasped, waking with a jolt in a muddy forest under rising sunlight.
Nearby, Hiroshi and Sachiko lay on the ground, barely conscious.
Their faces were pale. Their eyes with no reason yo live.
The three of them had finally remembered.
Their deaths.
Their sins.
Their losses.
And now…
None of them had the will to stand.