Chapter 90: The cry in the storm

As Sally, broken by Bakuzan's revelations, watched the horror unfold before her eyes,

her tears flowed endlessly.

The howling souls of the Swif tore themselves from their inert bodies, snatched up by the purplish sphere in Bakuzan's hand.

She trembled. With dread. With sorrow. With incomprehension.

She murmured, her voice barely carried by the night wind:

— Bakuzan... I'm sorry. Really sorry for everything you had to endure…

But he remained silent, stoic, his gaze fixed on the sphere that swirled like a vortex of agony.

Sally gritted her teeth, her voice breaking:

— But you must understand… This path you are taking… it is that of a being who will suffer endlessly.

A being who, sooner or later, will collapse under the weight of what he has done.

She squeezed her own arm, as if to restrain herself.

— You think you will heal by destroying, but I know that you are already destroying yourself.

It's not too late, Bakuzan. You can still—

— Stop.

His voice, deep and weary, cut her short.

— Don't waste your breath, Sally. I know exactly what I'm doing… I know this path. I have accepted it.

The last soul was absorbed. The sphere slowly went out, like a black sun folding in on itself.

In the deathly silence that followed, Bakuzan approached.

Sally was kneeling, head bowed, her shoulders shaken by her sobs.

He knelt before her. Gently, he slid two fingers under her chin and lifted her tear-soaked face.

He looked at her for a long time, without hostility.

— Don't cry, Sally. If there is one person who has been able to see beyond our name, it's you.

You defended us when no one else did.

You didn't treat my family like monsters.

He paused, a hint of tenderness in his deep voice.

— That's why… I consider you one of us. Almost… like a sister.

Sally, her voice still trembling, looked up:

— Don't you think… that others could have acted like me?

That there could have been others… who would have learned to know you, if they had had the opportunity?

A silence. Then Bakuzan slowly nodded.

— Those who do as you do… will not be my enemies.

He stood up. His back straight, his shadow immense.

— I have to go.

— Wait…

Sally reached out a hand towards him, uncertain.

Then she lowered her eyes, helpless.

— I have so many things I would still like to tell you…

Bakuzan stopped, without turning around.

— By the way, Sally…

He turned his head slightly, a strange light crossing his mask.

— That creature inside you. I have always seen it.

Sally's eyes widened.

— W… what?

— It is deeply linked to you. If I removed it now, you would die with it.

A dark breath rose around him, a mist of black mana swirling like cursed flames.

— Hold on. Survive. When I have the strength… I will make it disappear, without hurting you.

— But… how can you see it?

He answered in a low, almost distant voice:

— Because I know what it's like… to harbor something that gnaws at your heart.

He then surrounded himself with a cyclone of black energy, and in a breath, disappeared into the night.

The silence settled. Heavy. Cruel. More glacial than death.

Sally remained frozen. Then she clenched her fists.

Her face twisted with pain.

She screamed, a heartbreaking cry that split the night like a silent flash of lightning:

— NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!!

But even her cry was swallowed by the darkness.

As if the world refused to leave her this last echo.

The next day – Satsujin Otoko Domain, 10:08 AM

The day promised to be peaceful.

Leaning against a tree, Sakolomé watched Salomé and Bakuran train a little further away. Their movements betrayed a form of silent complicity, forged by habit. The cool morning wind caressed the foliage, and nothing seemed to disturb this morning.

But, without warning, Sakolomé looked away, fixed his gaze on the sky, looking worried.

— I wonder where Bakuzan has gone...

He straightened up, patted his clothes a little to brush off the dust, then walked away in the direction of the family home.

When he entered, he saw his mother, Amu, standing in the kitchen. She was holding a stack of plates in her arms, her gaze fixed on the magic newspaper suspended in the air. A bluish light floated around the moving letters.

Curious, Sakolomé approached to read what was monopolizing her attention so much.

Newspaper:

"In the village of Swif, no life has been detected this morning. All the inhabitants were found dead. Their bodies are completely blackened, as if impregnated with a supernatural poison."

Sakolomé's eyes widened. He slowly turned his head towards his mother. She was crying, silently, her tears pearling without a word.

— No... she murmured. No... I hope it wasn't Bakuzan who did this...

The shiver that ran down Sakolomé's back was glacial. He plunged his eyes back into the suspended newspaper.

Newspaper:

"We still do not know the exact origin of this massacre. But investigators confirm: the Swif clan has been completely annihilated. Zero survivors. The entire registered population has been declared dead."

A brutal cracking broke the silence: the plates slipped from Amu's hands and exploded on the floor. She collapsed to her knees.

Outside, Salomé and Bakuran rushed over immediately, alerted by the noise. Crossing the door, they discovered the scene: Amu on the ground, distraught, and Sakolomé trying to lift her up.

— Mother, maybe it's not him... Nothing proves it yet... It could very well be a mutant, or another clan!

Carefully, Sakolomé helped Amu to her feet and guided her to the sofa, avoiding the shards of porcelain on the floor. She let herself fall there, panting, her gaze empty.

— What's going on? asked Salomé, visibly worried.

Amu murmured, almost inaudibly:

— I hope it's not Bakuzan's doing...

— What are you talking about? asked Bakuran, who was already frowning.

Sakolomé took a difficult breath.

— The Swif clan has been completely decimated... And since some of them attacked mother yesterday... and Bakuzan disappeared shortly after...

Bakuran's eyes widened, shocked. A glimmer of understanding, then of dread, crossed his face.

Could he have done that to take revenge? he thought. But... would Bakuzan really be capable of killing hundreds of people?

The atmosphere in the house grew heavy. Doubt settled in, insidious.

A few minutes later

Sakolomé went out to get some air. In front of the door, he saw Sally. She was standing straight, but everything in her face showed fatigue: her dark circles, her pale complexion, her drooping shoulders.

— Hi, Sakolomé...

Her voice was weak, almost stifled.

— Sally? You look... exhausted. Didn't you sleep?

She turned away slightly, lowering her eyes.

— I need to talk to you about something serious. I won't be long. My father punished me... Anyway, it's not important. He thinks I'm still in my room. I put pillows under the covers. That should fool him for at least three hours.

Sakolomé gave a slight smile, amused despite himself.

— You really have a knack for twisted tricks...

Sally tried to smile, but it was a sad, almost absent smile.

— Come on... Let's talk in the meadow.

She turned on her heels and walked away, followed by Sakolomé.

Behind them, Salomé, intrigued, watched them from the window. She narrowed her eyes.

— Where are they going?... I have to follow them.

The meadow stretched as far as the eye could see, peaceful in appearance, but charged with an invisible heaviness. The grass rippled slowly in the wind, and the clouds, a menacing gray, gradually darkened the sky. A fine rain began to fall, almost timid at first.

Sakolomé walked alongside Sally, hands in pockets, eyes fixed on the horizon.

— Shit… was it supposed to rain today? he said, groaning.

Behind them, hidden among the bushes, Salomé followed them discreetly, short of breath. She hid under her cloak, her eyes fixed on the two figures in front of her, tense, curious… and worried.

Sally stopped. She turned slowly towards Sakolomé, her face grave, the drops sliding down her cheeks as if they were already announcing what was going to fall, much heavier than the rain.

— It's not important, she murmured. You need to know… that…

She looked away. Silence fell between them like a leaden blanket, heavy, charged with tension. She inhaled, her lips trembling.

— I don't know if you've seen the news… but the one who massacred the Swif clan…

She paused, then looked up at him.

— …it was Bakuzan.

Sakolomé stopped short. His pupils dilated, and his lips parted without a word coming out.

In the bushes, Salomé placed her hands on her mouth. Her eyes widened, her tears rose immediately.

— What…? she murmured, stifled by disbelief.

Sally continued, her voice more hoarse, more wounded.

— Yesterday, I was there… I saw everything, Sakolomé.

— No… that's not true, he spat, stepping back. Bakuzan? My brother? Are you telling me he killed people? That he… decimated an entire clan? And you, you did nothing? Why didn't you stop him?!

Sally clenched her fists. Her gaze suddenly blazed.

— YOU THINK I DIDN'T TRY?!

The cry cracked in the air like lightning. Sakolomé stepped back again, his face paling, as if slapped by the violence of the words. The rain intensified, beating the earth and drowning the silence.

Sally resumed, lower this time. Her voice was trembling, tired, worn out.

— You think I didn't try…? I tried everything. I didn't even want to believe it was him at first. I hoped I was wrong… until the last second. But the truth was there. It was him. It was indeed him…

In the bushes, Salomé cried. The words broke her. She felt them sink into her like shards of glass. She wanted to scream, but she didn't have the strength.

Sally, too, was crying. The tears mingled with the rain, inseparable.

— Listen to me, Sakolomé… Bakuzan… he's not the same anymore. He has changed. He destroys everything that could threaten his family, even if it means becoming a monster… He is ready to damn himself to protect you…

She sobbed, her arms hanging limply, helpless, vulnerable.

— He suffers. Much more than all of you. Since your father's death… he has carried something that none of you have seen. A pain that he refused to let burst. He retreated. He locked himself up. He swore that no one would die again… ever again. Even if for that, he had to become the devil.

Sakolomé lowered his eyes. The rain streamed down his face, but it wasn't the rain that made his gaze so empty. He was trying to assemble the pieces of what he believed to be true. And everything escaped him.

— Sakolomé! Sally yelled.

He suddenly looked up. She was staring at him with an almost unbearable distress.

— Why… why didn't you see it? He's your brother! Didn't you see that his smile was fake? That his laughter was just masks? He sank a little further into the darkness every day, and you didn't see anything!

She approached a step, her voice broken.

— He was suffering. He was drowning in loneliness. And you… you, what did you do to reach out to him? Tell me, Sakolomé! What did you do to stop him from sinking?

She was trembling, soaked to the bone, her gaze burning. In the bushes, Salomé had placed her hands on her heart, breathless, ravaged by the truth.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.