Chapter Text
The full moon lay high in the sky while the rest of the village was already asleep, except for a handful of night owls still wandering the streets. A cold breeze travelled through the alleys, twirling around grains of sand while the chill air crept into the cracks of every window and door.
It lingered longer in some places than others.
Down a quieter stretch of the village, where lanterns had already burned out and footsteps had long since faded, one house stood untouched by movement. No light spilled from its windows. No sound escaped its walls. And yet…
Something inside was awake.
The wind brushed against the frame of a half-shuttered window, slipping through just enough to disturb the stillness within. A faint flicker answered it. Not a steady lamp, but an uneven flame that came to life.
Shadows shifted across the walls, bending and stretching in an unnatural rhythm.
Another flame was lit, illuminating the room, and with the last torch ablaze, the circle was complete. At its heart, a shallow bowl of water lay still, untouched and waiting.
A hand entered the light, pale and unsteady.
It hovered above the bowl, fingers trembling just enough to disturb the calm from below. The reflection fractured at once, ripples forming before anything had even touched the surface.
A second hand followed, slower this time, forming a sequence of signs. Each movement seemed to demand more than it should, as though the body behind it struggled to keep pace.
The air shifted. The flames bent inward, drawn toward the centre. Shadows clung closer to the walls, no longer drifting but stretching toward the bowl as if pulled by the same unseen force.
A breath broke the silence, uneven and shallow.
One hand moved slowly toward a knife resting within reach. Fingers curled around its handle, tightening slightly before the blade was drawn across the skin of the other hand in a single, practiced motion.
She did not hesitate.
A bead of crimson welled at the tip of her finger, swelling for only a moment before it fell. It struck the surface of the water with a soft, hollow sound.
For a heartbeat, it was quiet. The flames held steadily. Even the wind beyond the window seemed to fall silent.
Her hands rose once more, forming the final sequence of signs.
A breath… then quietly…
“Tamashii Yobikake no Jutsu…”
The last sign locked into place.
Silence answered.
And for a moment, it seemed as though it might work. The surface of the water smoothed. The ripples faded, drawn inward until it lay perfectly still, reflecting nothing but the flickering ring of fire around it.
Then… it trembled. Not gently. Violently.
The reflection fractured at once, splintering into jagged shards of light. The water churned without reason as though something beneath it resisted being seen, refused to take shape.
Her breath hitched. The flames reacted next. They bent inward sharply, then lashed outward, flickering erratically as the air in the room twisted into motion. A sudden gust tore through the space, snapping the stillness apart.
She began to cough. A sharp choking sound that broke whatever fragile control she had been holding onto. Her hands faltered, collapsing as her body lurched forward.
The wind surged. Torches sputtered and then went out, one by one. The window slammed open with a crack, the cold night air rushing in, scattering sand and ash across the floor. The water convulsed.
Then… it quieted down. Abruptly and completely, as though nothing ever touched it.
The ritual had failed.
For a moment, there was only the sound of her breathing— ragged now, uneven, each inhale catching deep in her chest.
Then… footsteps, sharp and rushed. The door slid open with force, the wood striking against its frame. Light from the hallway spilled into the darkened room, cutting across the scattered sand.
“Good grief, Zora! What are you doing?!”
The voice was firm, edged with something between anger and fear.
Zora didn’t answer. She remained where she was, hunched slightly over the bowl, one hand braced against the floor, the other still trembling faintly from the strain. Black strands of hair clung to her temples, trenched in sweat. Her breath hitched again, followed by a quiet cough she couldn’t quite suppress.
Her aunt stepped inside, her gaze sweeping the room, taking in the circle, the water, the knife still lying where it had fallen. At that moment, her expression hardened.
“… You tried again.”
Not a question.
“That Jutsu,” she said, quieter now, but heavier. “Calling out to the dead like they can just… answer you.”
Zora didn’t respond.
Her aunt took another step forward, her voice tightening.
“You think if you pour enough of yourself into it, they’ll come back? That they’ll speak to you?”
Zora’s fingers curled slightly against the floor.
“It almost worked,” she muttered, her voice low, strained.
“No.” Her aunt’s tone cut through the room. “It didn’t”
Her eyes flickered toward the still surface of the bowl.
“That technique was never meant to be used so lightly,” she continued. “It doesn’t just reach into the other side… it opens something. And people who try…”
She hesitated. Just for a moment.
“… they don’t always come back the same. Especially when they don’t find what they were calling for…”
Silence lingered after that. Her gaze toughened again, though something uneasy remained beneath it.
“Furthermore, you don’t get to force the dead to answer you,” she said. “If there is anything at all… it chooses whether to answer.”
Her eyes flicked over Zora, taking in the unsteady breath, the strain she could no longer hide.
“… and in your condition, it’s reckless to even try.”
Silence stretched between them.
Zora pushed herself upright, unsteady at first, but refusing help before it could even be offered. Her eyes glanced briefly toward the bowl— the still, empty surface— before she looked away.
“I don’t have time to wait,” she said quietly.
Her aunt’s expression faltered for a moment, before firming again.
“You don’t have time because you keep doing this to yourself,” She shot back. “Burning what little strength you have left on something you can’t control.”
Zora’s jaw tightened.
“I will control it.”
“You won’t,” her aunt snapped back, stepping closer now. “Not like this. Not when your body is already failing you.”
The words landed, but Zora didn’t back down.
“Then I’ll find another way.”
Her aunt exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “There is no ‘other way’.”
She gestured vaguely toward the room, toward everything Zora had set up, and the mess of it all.
“Besides… we’re leaving.”
Zora froze.
“… What?”
“This village… this place… everything here,” her aunt said, more firmly now. “We’re done with it. We leave at first light.”
Zora shook her head in disbelief.
“No.”
“It’s not up for debate.”
“But…no! Everything my parents worked for is still here.” Her voice sharpened, something raw breaking through. “Everything they left behind—”
“And it won’t save you,” Her aunt cut in. “Just like it didn’t save them.”
A heavy silence set in and Zora’s eyes darkened.
“Don’t do this…. I still have to… go after him…”
“You’re chasing something that already cost you everything,” her aunt said. “That boy—”
The word alone was enough to ignite something.
“… don’t call him that.”
“He is a monster,” her aunt pressed on. “And you are not the one who’s going to bring him down.”
Zora’s hands clenched at her sides.
“What he did,” her aunt continued. “Your parents… trained, experienced combat medics… they didn’t stand a chance. And you think you will?”
Each word struck deeper.
“He has never even been injured,” she added, the final blow. “Not once.”
The room fell silent again. But this time, it wasn’t empty. It was burning.
“… Then I’ll be the first,” Zora said, her voice low, unwavering.
Her aunt stared at her, something unreadable passing through her expression.
“Zora—”
But she was already moving past her. Out of the room.
The night air rushed through the open window, carrying grains of sand across the floor as her footsteps faded into the distance.
Her aunt remained where she stood, the silence closing in around her once more.
At the centre of the room, the water lay still, untouched and unanswered.