Akitsu Shouga opened his eyes to rain.

  Cold droplets struck his face, steady and rhythmic. He lay on damp wooden planks, the scent of wet bark and moss filling his lungs. Lantern light flickered above him.

  “…I’m alive,” he muttered.

  He pushed himself up slowly. The bridges of the Canopy Village stretched ahead—familiar, yet wrong in a way he couldn’t place. The air felt heavier. Quieter.

  “Kael?” Akitsu called out.

  No answer.

  His fingers tightened around the katana at his side. He stood, listening.

  Footsteps.

  Soft. Careful.

  Akitsu turned just in time to see a shadow detach itself from a tree trunk.

  “Who’s there?” he demanded.

  The figure lunged.

  Akitsu drew his katana in a flash, steel screaming as it met a short blade. Sparks flew.

  “So you can fight,” a voice hissed—young, unfamiliar.

  Akitsu twisted, slashing across the attacker’s chest. The figure staggered back, blood darkening leaf-woven armor.

  “You’re not from the swamp,” the attacker snarled. “Good.”

  Another presence behind him.

  Too late.

  A blade pierced his side, slipping between ribs. Akitsu gasped, knees buckling.

  “…So that’s how it is,” he whispered.

  The attackers didn’t hesitate. A final strike ended it.

  Darkness swallowed him whole.

  Red light.

  Akitsu stood once more on the small crimson island. The cherry blossom tree shed another petal—now more crowded upon the black water.

  The devil stood nearby, grinning as always.

  Akitsu didn’t even look at him.

  He waded forward, choosing a door at random.

  He awoke to warmth.

  Firelight danced across wooden walls. He sat upright abruptly, hand on his sword.

  A room. The chief’s house.

  Voices outside.

  “…He’s important,” someone whispered.

  “Then kill him before the banquet,” another replied.

  Akitsu’s eyes narrowed.

  He slid the door open silently and stepped into the shadows. Two villagers stood nearby—faces painted, knives hidden beneath cloaks of layered leaves.

  Villagers, Akitsu thought. Not outsiders.

  He stepped forward. “Looking for me?”

  They froze.

  “Now,” one shouted.

  They rushed him.

  Akitsu moved first. The katana sang as it cut through air, biting deep into flesh. One fell instantly.

  The second villager dodged, slashing low. Akitsu blocked, countered, and disarmed him.

  “Why?” Akitsu demanded, pressing the blade to the man’s throat. “What did I do?”

  The villager laughed weakly. “You came.”

  “What?”

  “You exist,” the man wheezed. “That’s enough.”

  A dart struck Akitsu’s neck.

  He staggered, vision blurring.

  Poison.

  He fell beside the dying villager, breath slowing, firelight fading.

  Black water.

  Another petal drifted.

  The devil clapped slowly. “You’re getting warmer.”

  Akitsu ignored him again and opened another door.

  This time, he awoke mid-step.

  His foot slipped on a wet plank.

  He fell.

  Hands grabbed him—villagers pulling him up onto the bridge.

  “There you go,” one said kindly. “Careful, traveler.”

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  Akitsu blinked. “Thanks.”

  Something felt… different. The village seemed friendlier. More smiles. More laughter.

  He walked with them toward the banquet hall. Drums echoed. Food scents filled the air.

  Kael stood ahead.

  “Akitsu!” Kael waved. “There you are.”

  Relief washed over him.

  They sat together at a long table. Tarek Vahru raised a cup.

  “To our guests!”

  Cheers erupted.

  Akitsu lifted his cup—then paused.

  The tea smelled wrong.

  He leaned toward Kael. “Don’t drink.”

  Kael frowned. “Why—”

  The chief drank first.

  Then collapsed.

  Screams erupted.

  Akitsu stood. “It’s poisoned!”

  Chaos exploded. Villagers scattered. Some drew weapons.

  Akitsu drew his katana.

  “You,” a woman shouted, pointing at him. “It’s him!”

  “They planned this,” Akitsu yelled. “Look at the chief!”

  But no one listened.

  They rushed him.

  Akitsu fought desperately, cutting down attackers, shouting for reason—but numbers overwhelmed him.

  A spear pierced his back.

  Another through his chest.

  He fell beneath the banquet lanterns, blood mixing with spilled tea.

  Petals.

  More doors.

  No words exchanged this time.

  He awoke at the edge of the village.

  Fog pressed close. Rain heavier.

  Seraphine stood beside him, tense. “Something is wrong.”

  Ayaka nodded. “We shouldn’t be here.”

  Akitsu finally spoke it aloud. “It’s them.”

  Seraphine turned. “Who?”

  “The villagers,” Akitsu said. “They’re trying to kill me.”

  As if summoned, arrows flew from the trees.

  Ayaka screamed.

  Akitsu raised his katana, deflecting one, then another. “Run!”

  They ran across the bridges as masked villagers emerged, faces hidden beneath carved wooden masks.

  “Why are you doing this?!” Kael shouted.

  A masked figure replied coldly, “The Canopy does not allow anomalies.”

  Akitsu stopped abruptly. “I’m the anomaly.”

  He turned to face them.

  “Go,” he told the others. “Now.”

  They hesitated.

  “Go!”

  They ran.

  Akitsu stood alone.

  The fight was brutal. He cut down three, four—his arms burned, lungs screamed.

  A blade found his neck.

  Again.

  Void.

  More petals.

  The devil tilted his head. “Still not listening?”

  Akitsu opened another door.

  He awoke kneeling.

  Hands bound.

  Villagers surrounded him in a circle, chanting softly. The chief stood before him—alive.

  “You’ve died before,” Tarek said calmly.

  Akitsu laughed weakly. “More than you know.”

  “You disrupt the balance,” the chief continued. “You shouldn’t exist here.”

  Akitsu lifted his head. “Then why invite me?”

  “So we could be sure,” Tarek replied. “Now we are.”

  A blade was raised.

  Akitsu met the chief’s eyes. “I’ll keep coming back.”

  The blade fell.

  Darkness.

  When Akitsu stood again on the red island, petals crowded the black water densely now.

  He ignored the devil completely and stepped toward another door.

  Before opening it, he whispered to himself—

  “So it’s you,” he said. “All of you.”

  And the door opened.