The Thorn of Memory

"Memory is a thorn—sharp, unyielding, and rooted deep in the soul."

— Letter from Hotaru no Yakusha

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The moon hung low, a pale witness over the twisted landscape where memories bled into the present like fresh wounds.

Shindō sat alone beneath a gnarled tree, its branches clawing at the night sky like desperate hands.

His fingers traced the jagged scar running down his forearm—a thorn embedded deep in flesh and memory.

Pain was no stranger; it was a companion, relentless and unforgiving.

Yet, it was in this pain that the past refused to stay buried.

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Visions flickered behind his eyes—faces lost to time, laughter turned to silence, and promises shattered beneath the weight of betrayal.

Each memory was a thorn piercing deeper, reminding him of all that was sacrificed, all that was lost.

Yet, in this garden of thorns, Shindō found something unexpected: resolve.

A bitter seed taking root amid the ruins.

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Yuuki's voice was a soft murmur in the night, a fragile thread connecting past and present.

"Memories may hurt, but they also teach.

They are the thorns that protect the heart, and the roots from which strength grows."

He looked up, meeting her steady gaze, seeing in her blindness a clarity that pierced the darkest night.

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The road ahead was lined with thorns—painful, sharp, and unavoidable.

But Shindō knew there was no turning back.

The thorn of memory was embedded deep, and he would carry it to the end.

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Beyond the shadows, the war raged on—

A storm gathering with every heartbeat, every breath.