The ethereal realm did not change.

  The little red island still floated upon the endless black water, isolated and unmoving, as if the universe itself had forgotten it. At its center, the cherry blossom tree stood in quiet defiance of time, its bark cracked and dark, its branches frozen between bloom and decay. Red petals drifted endlessly across the water’s surface—too many now to count at a glance.

  Each petal was a death.

  Each death a failure.

  Each failure a reminder that Akitsu Shouga was still not finished.

  He stood ankle-deep in the black water, ripples spreading outward from his legs before vanishing into nothing. His katana hung loosely at his side, the blade no longer trembling in his grip. His breathing had steadied. Pain no longer screamed—it lingered, dull and familiar, like an old scar that refused to fade.

  Behind him, the humanoid demon hovered, arms folded. Its grin was thinner now, stretched tight with something closer to irritation than amusement.

  “Forty doors,” the demon said lazily. “Forty attempts. Forty endings. Don’t you think that’s enough?”

  Akitsu didn’t turn.

  “There is no end to this,” the demon continued, voice smooth and patient. “No victory. No escape. You’re running in circles, boy. Give up.”

  Akitsu stepped forward. The black water rippled around his legs.

  The demon sighed. “You don’t even know what you’re looking for anymore.”

  Red doors floated everywhere—near and far, overlapping in impossible perspective, drifting slowly like leaves on a dead river. Each one looked identical. Each one promised something different. Each one delivered suffering all the same.

  Akitsu walked.

  One step. Then another.

  The silence pressed against his skull. At first it was only emptiness—but then something changed. Faint echoes crept in. Emotions brushed against his mind, not his own.

  Fear.

  Grief.

  Longing.

  The ethereal realm began to feel.

  Akitsu slowed, frowning. “So you’re showing me this now,” he muttered. “Is that supposed to stop me?”

  The water felt heavier with every step. The doors seemed farther apart—or perhaps he was simply tired.

  “You can’t brute-force meaning,” the demon said behind him. “There is no ‘odd door.’ No miracle waiting for you.”

  Akitsu clenched his jaw and kept moving.

  Minutes passed. Or hours. Time had no shape here.

  The emotions intensified. Regret clawed at his chest—memories that weren’t quite memories. Faces blurred together. Screams overlapped. The sensation of hands slipping from his grasp, again and again and again.

  “Shut up,” he whispered, though no one was speaking.

  He walked faster.

  Then faster still.

  Soon he was running, splashing through the black water, breath sharp, eyes snapping from door to door.

  “Which one?” he growled. “Which one is wrong? Which one doesn’t belong?!”

  Red doors drifted past in a blur.

  For a moment, he thought about dying again—letting Aurora end it, returning here with another petal added to the count. But the thought rang hollow. Death no longer promised reset.

  Only repetition.

  “There’s no escape,” he said aloud, voice cracking. “So why am I still moving?”

  He ran until his legs burned.

  He ran until his vision blurred.

  He ran until his foot caught on nothing at all—and he collapsed forward, slamming into the black water.

  His katana slipped from his hand, sinking slightly before floating beside him.

  Akitsu lay there, chest heaving, face inches from the dark surface. For the first time since this began, he didn’t try to stand.

  “…I’m tired,” he whispered.

  A hand reached out.

  Warm.

  Real.

  Akitsu froze.

  Slowly, he lifted his head.

  A woman knelt at the edge of the water, expression gentle and aching all at once. Black hair tied neatly back. Familiar eyes filled with worry and love.

  “M… Mom?” Akitsu croaked.

  Behind her stood a smaller figure, half-hidden, clutching her sleeve.

  “Big brother?” the girl said softly.

  Aki Akitsu.

  His little sister.

  Akitsu’s breath hitched violently. “No… no, this isn’t—”

  His mother smiled sadly. “You’ve been walking for a long time, Shouga.”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  His hands trembled as he reached out. His fingers brushed hers.

  She felt real.

  He grabbed her hand desperately. “Don’t disappear. Please. Just—just stay.”

  She pulled him to his feet with surprising strength. For a moment, he stood between them, warmth on both sides, the ethereal realm fading into the background.

  “I can’t,” Kisuragi Akitsu said gently.

  Aki tightened her grip on their mother’s sleeve. “You promised you’d come home,” she whispered.

  Akitsu’s vision blurred. “I’m trying. I swear I am. I just—everything keeps going wrong.”

  His mother’s eyes softened. “You’re still standing. That’s not nothing.”

  Their forms began to fade at the edges, light passing through them like mist.

  “Wait!” Akitsu shouted, panic surging. “Don’t go! I need you—”

  “I’m sorry,” his mother said. “You have to finish what you started.”

  Aki smiled—small, brave. “Don’t lose again, big brother.”

  And then they were gone.

  The black water fell silent.

  Akitsu stood alone, shaking, teeth clenched hard enough to ache. He wiped his face with the back of his sleeve and drew a long, unsteady breath.

  “…Alright,” he said hoarsely. “I’ll finish it.”

  He turned and opened the nearest red door.

  The world fell into silence.

  When he opened his eyes, wind brushed against his face.

  Grass.

  Real grass.

  Akitsu blinked and slowly pushed himself upright. He stood atop a wide hill overlooking a massive kingdom. Towering stone walls stretched endlessly in both directions, banners snapping in the breeze. Beyond them, the city sprawled—vast, layered, alive.

  “…Fiester?” he murmured.

  It was too big.

  Too grand.

  A hand clapped down on his shoulder.

  “There you are,” a voice said cheerfully. “I was wondering if you’d fallen asleep standing up.”

  Akitsu spun.

  A young man stood behind him—orange hair tied loosely back, sharp yellow eyes glinting with amusement. His clothes were travel-worn, his posture relaxed, familiar.

  “…Who are you?” Akitsu asked.

  The man blinked—then laughed. “Very funny. You hit your head or something?”

  “I asked who you are.”

  “Rhen Calder,” he replied, crossing his arms. “Your friend. Or did you forget that too?”

  Akitsu stared. “…Friend.”

  “Yeah. That’s usually how it works.”

  “Where are we?”

  Rhen raised an eyebrow. “Outside the Kingdom of Fiester. Where else?”

  Akitsu shook his head slowly. “No. This—this isn’t Fiester. It’s not this big.”

  Rhen studied him more carefully now. “You alright, Shouga?”

  Hearing his name spoken so casually sent a strange warmth through Akitsu’s chest. He exhaled and sat back down on the grass.

  “…A lot has happened,” he said quietly.

  Rhen didn’t press. “Alright. Sun’s about to set. Let’s head back before the gates get annoying.”

  Akitsu nodded. “Yeah… okay.”

  They walked toward the gates together. As they approached, guards straightened.

  “Evening,” one said. “You’re cutting it close.”

  “Sorry,” Rhen replied easily. “Got distracted.”

  They were waved through without question.

  Akitsu frowned. “They know me.”

  “Well, yeah. You live here.”

  “…Right.”

  The streets were alive—vendors closing stalls, children laughing, lanterns being lit. It felt normal.

  Too normal.

  “Where do I live?” Akitsu asked.

  Rhen glanced at him. “Garyen District. You’re my neighbor, remember?”

  “…I forget things sometimes,” Akitsu said.

  Rhen hummed, unconvinced, but let it go.

  When they reached the house, Akitsu hesitated.

  Inside, voices spoke.

  A woman’s voice—familiar.

  “Shouga, wash your hands,” she called. “Dinner’s ready.”

  His chest tightened.

  He stepped inside.

  Warmth. Light. Lived-in walls.

  His mother stood by the table. Aki swung her legs from her chair.

  “You’re late,” Aki pouted.

  “Sorry,” Akitsu replied automatically, his mind screaming.

  They ate together.

  Afterward, Akitsu lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

  “This isn’t Fiester,” he whispered.

  But for now…

  It was quiet.

  And for the first time in countless deaths—

  Akitsu Shouga slept.