Chapter Text
“A soul does not fall when it is broken.
It falls when it is judged unworthy of being held.”
— Fragmented Seraphel Doctrine, Archive VII
The heavens did not split apart when the last Seraphel died.
There was no divine chorus, no trumpet call or mercy.
There was only the plain white snow that never took on any color, which bore witness to the extincton of the Seraphel species.
(it forgot what color it was supposed to be holy reference haha)
Thin flakes drifted soundlessly through the ruined shrine as blood darkened the stone beneath Kurokai’s feet.
The last Seraphel knelt before him.
Her white robes were soaked crimson at the sleeves, trembling hands clutching the wound carved through her stomach. Golden fractures crawled beneath her skin like dying starlight. Behind her, ancient cedar trees bent beneath the winter wind.
Kurokai stood over her with his sword lowered at his side.
The blade pulsed faintly.
It was created from corrupted spirit twisted into steel.
His reflection warped along the blackened edge, gray eyes that look almost tired of this. (yes very slick description thanks)
The Seraphel kneeling looked impossibly small.
Nothing like the stories humans painted of angels.
She wasn't holy or divine.
She looked more human, one with determination. (haha undertale im just joking foreshadowing though maybe)
“You’ve already lost,” she whispered hoarsely.
Kurokai said nothing.
Snow gathered in his dark hair while the shadows stretching across the shrine slid softly behind him, alive with the countless souls he had devoured over centuries.
Still, his expression remained calm.
“You cannot force humanity into peace,” the Seraphel continued weakly. “They must choose it themselves.”
A bitter smile touched Kurokai’s lips.
“And how has that worked so far?”
The Seraphel fell silent because there was nothing to say.
War.
Starvation.
Cruelty.
Humans tearing each other apart over pride, greed, fear, loneliness.
Again and again.
Snow crunched beneath his sandals as Kurokai slowly approached her.
“When my sister died,” he said quietly, “people called it tragedy.”
His gaze lowered toward the shrine floor.
“But tragedy is just another word people use when they tend to sugarcoat the worst.”
The Seraphel’s breathing weakened even more as she spoke.
“You loved humans once,” she whispered. (prolly bc he WAS one oh snap)
Kurokai stopped before her.
For the first time in centuries, something flickered behind his eyes.
It wasn't hatred but rather grief.
“I still do.”
The sword is raised up high and delivers one clean strike.
Silence returned to the shrine as the Seraphel dissolved slowly into drifting fragments of pale light, scattering into the snowstorm like fireflies swallowed by winter.
A small wooden box falls beside her remains.
Kurokai stares at it.
Ancient cedar wood wrapped carefully in golden thread.
The seal of the Seraphel burned faintly across its surface.
The Soul Vessel.
At last, the centuries of fighting has paid off.
For the first time in hundreds of years, Kurokai’s composure cracked and his fingers trembled as he lifted the box carefully into his hands.
Inside rested enough power to reshape humanity itself.
No more meaningless suffering or injustice.
A perfect connected world where nobody would ever be abandoned again.
Slowly, Kurokai loosened the seal.
White light burst violently from the cracks.
The shrine shook and Kurokai’s eyes widened.
The box burned in his hands as the soul inside emitted a cry of agony. (these words make my brain hurt bro it's midnight)
The air split apart with blinding radiance as the vessel slipped from his grasp.
“No—”
The box shot skyward like a falling star in reverse.
Then vanished into the clouds. (lowkey think about team rockets little twinkle in the sky)
Kurokai stared upward as snow whipped violently around him.
And for the first time in centuries, he looked afraid.
Kyoran Academy’s music building has always cranked up the AC to be as cold as it can.
Music room cold is really something else. (no because I play violin and that damn room is always cold)
The kind that somehow seeped through your sleeves no matter how many layers you were wearing that day.
Shiori Ayuzawa sat near the back of the traditional ensemble room with her koto resting neatly in front of her.
Most students had split off into sectionals during break period. Somewhere down the hallway, brass instruments blared horribly out of tune while somebody aggressively failed at percussion.
(percussion student just another me like I remember doing percussion classes and being bad at them)
The windows rattled faintly as Shiori adjusted one of the movable bridges along the koto string carefully.
Still slightly flat and that's enough to bug Shiori a little.
She plucked the string again after adjusting.
The note resonated warmly through the empty space around her before fading into the distant noise of the school.
A small sense of satisfaction coaxed a little smile from her. (alright bro can I write first person again because I'm being very jolly describing everything)
Her shoulders always relaxed when she played.
Across the room, Yuna Hoshimi rested her viola beneath her chin, testing scales softly near the window. The lower, warmer tones blended gently beneath the sharper plucked resonance of Shiori’s koto.
Yuna paused mid-note.
“You fixed it?”
“Mhm.”
“You looked annoyed by the pitch earlier.”
Shiori nodded.
“It bothered me since I could hear it while playing and it was so obvious.”
“I don't even know how you play that thing."
Yuna resumed practicing.
The comfortable silence returns almost immediately.
That was normal for them.
Outside the music room windows, pale winter sunlight spilled across the academy courtyard below.
Shiori reached toward the next string-and paused.
Something white drifted past the window.
Her fingers stilled as she slowly looked up.
A small wooden box floated downward beyond the glass.
It wasn't falling, but floating like a feather suspended underwater. (yo i did NOT think of that, like I was discussing this story and a few friends started giving ideas and all)
Shiori blinked once in confusion.
The box disappeared below the frame of the window.
For several seconds, she remained perfectly still.
Maybe she was tired since midterms were coming up after all.
That was probably it.
Still, curiosity tugged at her faintly.
Shiori carefully set her pick beside the koto before standing.
Yuna glanced toward her. “Bathroom?”
Shiori pauses for a second.
If she tells Yuna what she saw, then she would tell her she's crazy.
Wouldn't Yuna be right though?
“Maybe.”
“That sounds suspicious.”
Shiori ignored her and slipped her coat back on before stepping into the hallway. (the room was warmer since the windows were open like it's a warm day today okay.)
The academy courtyard was peaceful during break.
Wind stirred softly through the trees lining the garden paths while students laughed somewhere below.
Shiori descended the outdoor staircase slowly.
Then froze.
The box rested near the edge of the courtyard garden, exactly where she had seen it fall.
A strange disappointment loosened slightly in her chest.
So she hadn’t imagined it after all.
She walks to the box and looks at it.
The wings she once saw are gone, no sign of them ever being there.
The wooden surface looks old.
Golden thread wrapped delicately around its edges.
Shiori crouches beside it carefully.
“No student ID…”
She turns it over in her hands.
It was strangely light.
The seal along the front had already loosened.
Shiori hesitated for a moment, then gently opened it.
White light spilled softly from inside.
A small orb floated within the center of the box.
Warm, almost as if it was alive with her.
Shiori stared silently at it.
For some reason, looking at the orb made her feel nostaglic towards it.
Like hearing a song she had forgotten years ago.
“…Lumi…”
The name slipped unconsciously from her lips.
Her eyes widened.
Why did she say that?
The orb flickered, then surged forward suddenly.
Shiori flinched as white light brushed against her fingertips.
And the world disappeared.
A little girl laughing.
White hair moving beneath sunlight.
Hands pressed against glass.
Loneliness so overwhelming that Shiori doesn't even realize that these memories don't belong to her.
Ringing echoed through her ears while somebody cried somewhere far away.
Shiori lets out a shaky breath.
A field of endless stars with a child sitting alone beneath them.
A child who isn't Shiori.
—
Shiori gasped sharply as the courtyard snapped back into focus.
Her breathing trembled as the box continue to rest openly in her hands.
It's empty though, the orb was gone.
All she could feel was confusion- about the whole thing.
For several seconds, she simply stared downward blankly.
Then footsteps echoed nearby.
Shiori immediately closed the box.
Her expression settled automatically back into calmness.
Truthfully, a large part of her was frightened with what had just happend.
She carefully slid the box beneath the nearby bench before quietly returning upstairs.
When Shiori slid the music room door open again, the soft resonance of instruments immediately greeted her.
Someone nearby practiced piano scales poorly.
A flute squeaked somewhere in the corner.
Yuna continued drawing smooth notes from her viola near the window.
The warm sound settled beneath the room naturally.
“You were gone awhile,” Yuna commented.
“…I saw something outside.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“It probably wasn’t anything.”
Probably. (keyword bc she knows damn well it was something???)
Shiori sat back beside her koto and adjusted the bridge slightly again.
The room settled into silence before Yuna resumed playing.
Shiori joined quietly a moment later.
The viola’s warmth folded beneath the sharper resonance of the koto beautifully, filling the empty spaces between notes instead of competing against them.
For a brief moment, the strange atmosphere of what had just happend before disappeared.
School ended earlier than usual due to faculty meetings.
The academy gates flooded with students beneath soft orange evening light. (homie you were STILL at school for some time because evening is diabolical)
Aoi Minazuki walked backwards in front of the group dramatically while complaining.
“No because explain to me WHY Moriyama thought bringing fireworks indoors was a smart idea.”
Daichi Moriyama pointed defensively. “Nobody told me the ceiling decorations were flammable.”
“Most people know that instinctively,” Yuna murmured.
“That sounds like a skill issue,” Sota added.
Daichi looked betrayed. “Whose side are you people on?”
“Not yours,” Hina Kurogane answered immediately. (bro why do we have the whole arigato squad with us)
“That’s unfortunate for us,” Kaito sighed.
Aoi laughed loudly while grabbing Shiori’s arm.
“Shi-chan, tell them I’m right!”
Shiori thought quietly for a moment.
“…You’re usually right-accidentally.” (the hell is that supposed to mean)
Aoi gasped dramatically.
Akira snorted softly beside them. (thats a dude)
“There’s no way that sentence was grammatically correct.”
“It was emotionally correct,” Aoi argued.
“That somehow made it worse,” Ren muttered from behind them.
The group dissolved into overlapping conversation again as they walked through Yokohama streets together.
Shiori stayed mostly quiet, listening more than speaking.
But every now and then, she found herself smiling at something someone said.
The sound felt warm.
And after whatever had happened earlier—
She realized she liked normal very much.
It wasn't the box she was afraid of, but rather the memories she had experienced.
Eventually the group slowly separated.
First Daichi near the arcade district.
Then Sota and Kaito near the station.
Akira left for the subway with Ren arguing beside him about chess rankings. (im so buns at chess guys)
Finally only Aoi, Yuna, and Shiori remained.
Then—
“See you tomorrow, Shi-chan!” Aoi called brightly before hurrying across the street.
Yuna gave a small wave before leaving in the opposite direction.
And suddenly, Shiori was alone. (she was surrounded with people the entire day guys it's not that sad bro she's techinally popular r we fr)
The streetlights flickered softly above the quiet sidewalk and wind rustled through nearby power lines.
Then everything went still as Shiori slowed down to look around.
Something felt wrong and the air had become colder.
From the alley ahead, shadows started to twist naturally against the walls.
Then they moved and her breath caught sharply.
Tall figures emerged slowly from the darkness.
Human-shaped but distorted.
Too many arms stretched from their bodies while human faces grew unevenly across their skin.
Some crying and others in anger or shock.
Dried blood stained the edges of their faces.
The faces didn't grow onto them, but they were attached. (Like wdym you ripped the faces off of your victims just for a shread of humanity)
Shiori stumbled backwards instinctively.
One tilted its head sharply toward her as her mind screamed at her to run .
The most ironic thing about it, is the fact that it lacks a real face.
Maybe by stealing other peoples faces, it thought it could become human too.
Then all of them turned toward her at once.
The Mourners lack eyes, so the only way they can sense people is through their souls.
The light buried inside Shiori pulsed brightly beneath her skin like a beacon.
The nearest Mourner instantly lunged.
Shiori threw herself backwards desperately, raising her arms instinctively—
A silver flash tore through the alley and the creature split apart instantly.
Black smoke erupted violently into the night air.
A girl landed between Shiori and the remaining Mourners.
Short black hair with a red scarf moving sharply in the wind.
A glowing sickle gripped tightly in her hand.
Her expression looked more irritated than afraid.
“You really had to cause trouble in Yokohama,” she muttered.
The remaining Mourners hissed violently before retreating into the darkness.
Silence returned as Shiori stared numbly.
The girl turned toward her.
Sharp amber eyes narrowed slightly.
“…You absorbed it, didn’t you?”
Shiori’s throat tightened.
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The girl sighed- exasperated.
“Yeah,” she muttered. “How would you even know?”