The Weight of Shadows
"Shadows are not merely absence of light, but the weight of all things unseen."
— Letter from Hotaru no Yakusha
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The air was thick and heavy, as if the very atmosphere bore down with unseen hands.
Shindō moved through the forest, each step slow and deliberate, the crunch of dry leaves beneath his boots swallowed by the oppressive quiet.
The trees stood like silent sentinels, their branches tangled and blackened, casting twisted shadows that clung to his skin like cold chains.
Each shadow carried with it a memory—a flicker of fear, a whisper of regret, a burden of guilt.
They were not just darkness, but the weight of every choice made and every path forsaken.
---
Yuuki walked beside him, a ghostly presence in the dim light, her blind eyes reflecting a world seen through pain and resolve.
She spoke without turning, her voice a soft murmur blending with the rustling leaves.
"Shadows don't just follow us," she said, "they press upon us, weigh us down with truths we refuse to face.
To carry them is to carry the story of who we are."
---
Shindō closed his eyes briefly, feeling the crushing weight settle deeper within.
The war was not only against the cultists who spread ruin across the land,
but against the shadows that festered inside him—doubts that gnawed at his spirit, memories that haunted his dreams.
---
Ahead, the path twisted sharply, leading to the heart of the darkness—the lair where Hotaru no Yakusha's power pulsed like a malignant heartbeat.
Shindō knew that to confront the enemy was also to confront himself.
The weight of shadows was not something to cast off lightly—it was a burden to be borne, a crucible that would forge or break him.
---
As the forest grew darker, so did the resolve in Shindō's heart.
With every step, he prepared to face not only the cult's horrors,
but the shadows within that threatened to consume him whole.
---
The war had become a battle for the soul—
and in the weight of shadows, he would either find salvation or be lost forever.