The White Shroud’s Scent

"The scent of death is not always bitter; sometimes, it is the quiet perfume of forgotten vows."

— Letter from Hotaru no Yakusha

---

Deep within the forest where night weaves its secrets, the wind carried the scent of something ancient—

The white shroud's scent, not merely death, but the broken oaths left behind, and betrayals never forgotten.

Shindō Motsura moved cautiously among the gnarled trees that twisted like ghosts around him,

The silence of the forest heavy, yet not empty—filled with whispers only those who have lost everything can hear, echoes of their own fractured souls calling out from the dark.

---

The scent grew stronger with every step, mingling with distant smoke and the faint hiss of unseen blades,

As if the forest itself was telling a tale of a vengeance soon to be born.

Motsura recalled Yuuki's words:

"Not all death is an end. Some deaths are the birth of a new covenant."

---

This was no ordinary journey.

It was a search for truth in the heart of darkness—where sins dissolve and new bonds are forged.

In the forest's depths, they found a carving on an ancient tree—

A black seal in the shape of a firefly larva, the emblem of the cult they hunted.

---

At that moment, Shindō realized the scent was more than death—it was a warning.

The enemy was near.

And the time to run had long passed.