: Ashes of The Past

"The road ahead is uncertain, but the shadows they carry may burn brighter than the path before them."

The sun stretched lazily over the Hisakawa estate, casting amber rays across the mist-kissed fields. Birds called out in the distance as the scent of wet grass and fresh hay filled the air. In the stables, the low grumble of horses and the clink of bridles stirred up the quiet morning.

Nala stood beside Yoru, her black stallion, running a brush down his gleaming flank. The horse huffed and leaned into her touch, his presence commanding yet calm. His coat was like polished obsidian in the rising light, a creature of both beauty and raw strength.

Hikaru leaned against the stall door nearby, arms crossed. "That thing's a beast," he said, nodding toward Yoru.

Nala glanced sideways. "He doesn't like being called 'thing.'"

Hikaru held up his hands in mock surrender. "My apologies, Yoru-sama."

Across from them, Lena was already adjusting the reins on her own steed—a copper-toned Akhal-Teke mare named Tsuki. Sleek and fast, Tsuki shimmered in the morning sun with a metallic gleam, her mane braided neatly with beads of soft jade.

Lena clicked her tongue and the mare responded with a toss of her head. "She's got more attitude than I do," Lena said, grinning. "I think we're perfect for each other."

Nala gave a faint, approving nod. "She's fast. You'll need that."

"Where are we even going again?" Lena asked, swinging herself easily into the saddle.

Hikaru pulled a weathered parchment from his cloak and unfolded it, the creases forming a cross where it had been worn down from time. "There's a shrine," he said. "Hidden in the woods beyond the village of Kagawa. My brother told me about it before he—" He paused, tone tightening. "He said if anything ever happened, I should look for the 'burned petal.'"

Nala approached, her cloak shifting slightly in the breeze as she scanned the sketch. It showed a torii gate half-burned, and beneath it, the etching of a lotus flower—one petal missing.

"That's not something you forget," Hikaru added. "I think whatever happened to him... started there."

Lena leaned over to look at the image too, her voice quieter. "You think this shrine's still standing?"

"Standing?" Hikaru repeated. "Maybe. But something's still there. I know it."

Nala clicked her tongue at Yoru and swung into the saddle with fluid grace. "Then let's find out."

The sun crept higher as they moved away from the Hisakawa estate, the winding dirt trail ahead barely wide enough for the three horses riding in formation. Nala led the group atop Yoru, her powerful black stallion, who moved like a shadow stitched into the earth—steady, silent, and sleek. He obeyed her effortlessly, like he was carved from the same steel as her blades.

Behind her, Hikaru bounced a little uncomfortably on a borrowed grey mare who clearly had opinions of her own. Every so often, she'd veer toward a patch of wildflowers or let out a snort of annoyance. He muttered under his breath, trying to adjust his posture.

Lena trailed just slightly behind on her own mount, a copper-toned Akhal-Teke mare named Tsuki. Sleek and fast, Tsuki shimmered in the morning sun with a metallic gleam, her mane braided neatly with beads of soft jade. She looked far more at ease, hair tied up messily, half-covered by the hood of her traveling cloak.

"So..." Lena said after a stretch of quiet, her tone casual and a little sly. "You ride like someone who's either lying about their experience—or used to falling off."

Hikaru scowled. "For your information, I've ridden plenty of times. This one just has an attitude."

"She has taste," Nala said over her shoulder, not even looking back.

Lena chuckled. "Fair. But real question, Hikaru—do you even know how to fight? Or are you just good at looking cool with that cloak and sword?"

Hikaru scoffed. "You asking because you're worried or because you're hoping to be impressed?"

"Little of both," Lena grinned.

He smirked, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Let's just say I've had training."

Nala didn't comment, but Hikaru could feel her eyes flick toward him briefly before turning back ahead.

His mind wandered again.

To a dusty courtyard somewhere south.

Blood on stone.

The sound of breathing that didn't belong to him.

A voice from memory—soft, hoarse, familiar:

"Burned petals mark the edge of truth. If you ever see it again... run."

He blinked it away. This wasn't the time.

"I had someone who taught me a long time ago," he added more quietly. "Wasn't formal. Wasn't easy. But I'm still here, so I guess it worked."

"Cryptic much?" Lena nudged her horse closer with a grin. "You've got 'tragic backstory' written all over you."

"That's because I travel with people who won't mind their business," he shot back.

"Touché."

Yoru's hooves crunched over the path ahead with quiet command, his black mane rippling like dark silk in the wind. Hikaru's eyes wandered—again—to Nala. The way she rode with sharp, effortless control, like the world bent slightly to make room for her. Her back was straight, her shoulders proud, and the curve of her cloak in the wind made her look like something out of a forgotten legend.

"You stare a lot," she said flatly, not even looking at him.

Hikaru jolted, caught. "I wasn't."

"You were."

"I was observing."

"Staring."

"Studying," he corrected with a smug tilt of his head. "There's a difference."

"Oh, forgive me," she said dryly. "I didn't realize you were writing a thesis on how to be annoying."

He gave her a sideways glance. "Not my fault you ride like some dramatic war general from a romance novel."

"Better than riding like a lost farmer."

Lena burst into laughter behind them, nearly dropping her reins. "Please, keep going!"

Hikaru smirked, eyes still on Nala. "Careful, princess. You keep talking like that, I might actually start liking you."

She glanced at him over her shoulder, unamused. "That sounds like a you problem."

He chuckled low in his throat. "Guess I've always had bad taste."

"Clearly."

The silence that followed crackled with something unspoken—irritation, amusement, curiosity. Maybe all three. Hikaru tried to look away, but somehow his gaze kept drifting back to her.

She noticed. Of course she did.

"You're doing it again."

"Force of habit," he muttered.

"Break it."

He didn't respond. But the smirk lingered.

Lena snorted. "She's got a point. If your eyes were swords, she'd be sliced to ribbons by now."

"Unbelievable," Hikaru mumbled, tugging his hood a little lower.

They rounded a bend, and the trail opened into a crumbling clearing. Jagged stone pillars jutted out from the earth like broken teeth. Moss covered most of them, and part of an old wooden gate still clung to rusted hinges. Time had nearly buried it—but the air here felt different. Heavier.

"There it is," Nala murmured, slowing Yoru to a stop.

The abandoned shrine.

And the start of answers.

The air grew heavier as the trio approached the shrine.

The path narrowed as they reached the edge of the forest clearing. Surrounded by silent trees, the shrine emerged—worn, tilting with age, and long forgotten. Moss crept up the old stone lanterns, and the torii gate leaned like it was too tired to stand.

Yoru snorted and stomped once.

"Looks abandoned for years," Lena muttered, sliding off her horse. "Creepy, but in a pretty way."

Nala dismounted, eyes scanning the faded characters above the torii. "This place is old... maybe even pre-Meiji."

Hikaru dropped to the ground and exhaled. "Lotus has a habit of hiding things in plain sight. Places like this make for perfect cover."

Lena hesitated. "Aren't shrines sacred, though? You think they'd really defile something holy?"

Nala glanced back at her. "This shrine isn't sacred to us."

Lena blinked. "But it's a shrine."

Nala's tone remained calm, steady. "It's a part of the culture here. But my family doesn't worship at shrines or temples. We believe in Christ."

Lena looked at Hikaru, expecting a reaction.

He nodded in agreement. "Same. Tradition and reverence doesn't have to mean worship. Doesn't mean I'm blind to what happens in places like this."

There was a long pause before Nala added, "We're here to investigate. Nothing more."

They stepped through the worn threshold, boots crunching over cracked stone and scattered leaves. The shrine interior was simple—long stripped of color and life. An altar stood at the far end, blackened by old fire.

Nala's gaze settled on the side wall. "There."

A faint carving beneath the char. The lotus.

Hikaru moved closer, brushing ash and dirt away. The edges of the carving were half-burned—deliberately. As if someone had tried to erase it.

The moment his fingertips touched the stone, something shifted inside him.

A memory.

A dim room. Blood on the floor. A whisper. A name. Fire.

He staggered back slightly. Nala caught the motion.

"You know this place."

He hesitated.

"It's not the same place. But it feels like one I was taken to," he admitted. "When I was a kid. I didn't know what the Lotus was then. But the symbol was there. On everything."

"Why were you taken?" Lena asked.

Hikaru clenched his jaw. "They wanted to mold us. Turn us into tools. Or worse."

Nala didn't press further. Not yet. But her eyes never left him.

She stepped closer to the carving. "It's not just ritual with them. It's brainwashing. Using tradition and fear to manipulate."

"You've seen it?" Hikaru asked.

She nodded once. "In the West Indies too—different names, same spirit. My grandfather always said, just because it's old doesn't mean it's true."

A gust of wind blew through the broken slats in the roof. Leaves rustled.

Lena shivered. "I don't like it here."

Hikaru pulled away from the altar. "We've seen enough."

Just as they turned to leave, something fluttered at Hikaru's feet.

He knelt—brushing aside dirt and ash to reveal a torn piece of red fabric. Frayed, with faint embroidery.

He lifted it slowly, frowning.

Same cloth as the sash the bandit wore.

But it was something else that caught his eye—stitched into the edge, barely visible.

An initial.

His chest tightened.

"Is that a clue?" Lena asked.

He didn't answer.

Because he remembered.

A voice from long ago. A mentor, or maybe his brother—he couldn't remember which anymore—saying:

"When you're lost, follow what's been burned but not destroyed. That's where they hide."

He was already walking before he realized it, eyes locked on the scorched carving. His whisper came out low, almost unintentional.

"They were here."

Nala looked at him. "What did you say?"

He blinked, snapped out of the haze. "Nothing. Just... something someone once told me."

But Nala didn't buy it.

She watched him carefully, like she saw the weight he carried and chose—for now—not to dig deeper.

As they begin to walk away from the shrine, the silence hangs heavy behind them.

Yoru snorts once, uneasy. Even Lena's horse paws the ground, unsettled.

Nala glances back at the shrine one last time. "Feels like something was left unfinished here."

Hikaru's gaze sharpens. "Wait."

He turns and walks back to the altar they were examining earlier. The others follow, slower.

There—barely visible beneath a fallen stone—is something tucked into a crack in the wall. A small cloth bag, tied with black twine.

Hikaru kneels and opens it carefully.

Inside is a folded scrap of paper and a single bronze pendant, carved in the shape of a lotus... but this one has a deep, deliberate scratch across it.

Nala frowns. "A warning?"

He reads the paper. His jaw tightens.

"What does it say?" Lena asks.

He doesn't answer at first.

Then finally, voice low:

"They know I'm alive."

He crushes the paper in his fist. "And they know I'm with you."

Nala exchanges a glance with him. "That pendant... it's a mark."

He nods grimly. "The Lotus doesn't haunt. They send messages."

Lena looks between them. "So now what?"

Nala steps forward, her voice steady. "Now we prepare."

As they turn to leave, the pendant slips from Hikaru's hand, catching the last bit of sunlight.

It lands with a quiet thud in the dirt—half-buried, just like the past he thought he'd escaped.

They walk in silence for a while, the last rays of light painting the trees in streaks of orange and gold.

Nala rides ahead, her back straight, her silhouette unwavering.

Hikaru lingers behind with Lena until she gallops forward to scout ahead. For a moment, it's just him and Nala, the sounds of the forest keeping rhythm with their horses' steps.

"You didn't have to come," she says suddenly, not looking at him.

He blinks. "What?"

"To this place. To any of this. You could've kept running."

Hikaru exhales, his gaze flicking to the path ahead. "Maybe I'm tired of running."

Nala looks at him now, eyes unreadable, but not cold. "That doesn't mean I trust you."

"I know," he says quietly. "But maybe trust isn't the point. Maybe it's just... fighting the same enemy."

She studies him a second longer, then turns back toward the road.

The trees open to the fading sky, and in the wind between them, something shifts. Not quite friendship. Not yet something more.

But something.