I blinked at the ceiling.
Yukihana.
The blade had rejected me.
Twice.
And Calamitas had stopped me before I made it three.
"You're not ready," she'd said. Her voice still echoed in my head—not as mockery, but as warning.
I rolled onto my side, careful not to jostle anything.
[Recent experience categorized as: Critical Emotional Marker. Logged under long-term processing.]
"Thanks," I muttered.
[Would you like to review psychological trends from the last three days?]
"No."
A pause.
[Acknowledged. Passive monitoring resumed.]
I stayed still a little longer, then sat up slowly.
Power.
It wasn't just about holding a sword or awakening bloodline skills.
It was about cost.
And mine kept adding up.
I glanced at my hands, half-expecting to see blood or echoes clinging to my skin. Nothing. Just quiet fingers, steady and cold.
I didn't want to test the Chorus—not yet. But curiosity dug at me like splinters under the nails.
"Great Sage."
[Listening.]
"…If I wanted to try the Chorus, what would happen?"
[Notice: Activating "Unique Skill: The Chorus" in a non-attuned emotional state may trigger fragmented memory echoes or unstable ancestral projections. Initiating now may compromise mental cohesion.]
I stared at the window. The sky was clear. Too clear.
"Would it hurt?"
[Uncertain. Emotional thresholds vary by user and memory sequence. Pain is a potential side effect.]
I paused.
"…Can you show me one voice? Just one?"
[Affirmative. Activating Unique Skill: The Chorus…]
A hum filled the back of my skull. Not sound. Not memory. Just pressure. Then—
A flicker of breath.
A woman's voice, faint but firm: "I said I would protect them. I never said I'd survive doing it."
It vanished like wind over still water.
I let the silence reclaim the space.
"…That's enough," I whispered.
[Chorus deactivated. No psychological instability detected. Log filed under 'Controlled Glimpse – Category Green.']
I exhaled slowly.
Power came with voices.
And I wasn't sure how many more I could take. I preferred Great Sage's voice—it didn't lie, didn't carry disappointment, didn't echo with pain. Just facts. Cold. Comforting. And sometimes, that was enough.
A light knock interrupted the quiet.
"May I come in?"
It was Rei.
His voice was calm, but I could hear the edges of concern tucked beneath it. I sat up straighter in bed.
"Yeah," I said. "Door's open."
He entered slowly, hands behind his back, gaze sweeping the room like he was checking for lingering threats. He didn't sit right away. Just stood there, looking at me.
"You look better," he said finally.
"Still sore," I muttered. "But I'll live."
He nodded, then hesitated. His usual calm wasn't quite there—something in the way he stood felt unsure. Like he was trying to say something but didn't know how.
Instead of speaking, he walked over to the windowsill and leaned against it, arms folded. "I just wanted to check in," he said finally. "After everything... I figured you'd want space. But I didn't want to leave you alone, either."
His voice was even, but the undertone—Rei's quiet protectiveness—was there. Not pressing. Just present.
"Thanks," I said.
He just sat there, the familiar quiet between us saying more than questions ever could. It was Rei being Rei—steady, and patient.
Then, finally, he spoke. "You missed a lot while you were out."
I tilted my head, curious. "Like what?"
Rei glanced at the door as if double-checking that no one else was listening. "After the incident...the estate was locked down for two days. Calamitas made sure no one could enter or leave without her approval."
I frowned. "Figures."
"Political talks resumed like nothing happened, but everyone was tense. Si—I mean Lady Lelyah has been holding it together for now, but she's been keeping the conversations shallow. Just enough to keep things stable."
Rei leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. "There've also been whispers. Some of the attendants are starting to wonder what exactly happened that day. You collapsing. Lord Satoshi disappearing that day. And Calamitas… well, people don't forget her kind of entrance."
"They won't get answers," I muttered.
"Not unless you give them," Rei said quietly. He glanced toward the window before adding, "A lot's shifted since you were out. Calamitas left earlier today, but not before tightening the wards on every entrance. There's a heavier presence around the estate too—guards, wards, even mana triggers near the restricted archives."
I twitched.
Rei noticed but didn't comment. He paused, then met my gaze. "Your name came up more than once in the whispers. Not directly. But the weight of it—Calamitas' arrival, your collapse, the lockdown—it's all been circling you."
I didn't flinch. "Let them circle. They'll get tired."
Rei huffed a quiet laugh, but his eyes didn't soften. "You're not the only one they're watching now. I've had questions thrown my way too. About your health. Your magic. Even your bloodline."
My stomach turned.
He added more gently, "I kept it vague. Just like you would've. But you should know—it's not going away."
Then a knock.
"Still alive?"
Asmodeus.
I didn't have to look to know he was grinning from behind the door.
"Define alive," I muttered.
"Good enough." He waltzed in without waiting for an invitation, tossed a wrapped apple toward Rei (who caught it without flinching), and flopped onto the edge of my bed like he owned the estate.
"Personal space," Rei said mildly, adjusting the apple.
"Never heard of her." Asmodeus stretched like a cat, arms overhead. "You're the one who looks like a worried maid. Been hovering much?"
"Someone had to make sure she didn't vaporize her sheets in her sleep," Rei said calmly.
"I only did that once," I deadpanned.
They both paused.
Then, in perfect unison:
"Twice."
I glared at them both. "I hate you."
"You wound me," Asmodeus said, grinning.
"You exhaust me," Rei added.
"Yeah, well… you're both dramatic," I muttered.
"Guilty," Asmodeus said, smug. He nudged my pillow slightly, then leaned in a little closer. "But seriously. You good?"
I didn't answer right away.
But I didn't have to.
The way they looked at me—one serious, one smiling—it was enough.
Asmodeus got up from the bed and yawned. "You look less like a corpse today. Progress!"
"Charming," I said dryly.
"She's got more color," Rei added thoughtfully. "Still pale, but less 'near-death' and more 'just emotionally devastated.'"
I narrowed my eyes. "I'm literally right here."
"Which is why we're being gentle," Asmodeus said, gesturing between himself and Rei like that made it obvious. "This is the toned-down version."
I blinked. "This is toned down?"
Asmodeus smirked. "Trust me. You should've heard the speech I rehearsed. There was a dramatic reading and everything."
"I vetoed it," Rei said. "It involved glitter."
"Not real glitter," Asmodeus muttered, clearly still bitter. "Metaphorical glitter."
"You tried to enchant actual glitter into her pillowcase," Rei said flatly.
I stared. "Why."
"For morale!" Asmodeus exclaimed. "Imagine waking up after a trauma nap to sparkling inspiration!"
I blinked.
[Counterpoint: Sparkles do not enhance psychological stability.]
I nearly laughed—but smothered it.
"What?" Asmodeus asked.
"Nothing," I muttered, biting the inside of my cheek.
[Clarification: Humor noted. Emotional stabilization: Temporary.]
I rolled my eyes. Great Sage, queen of timing.
Asmodeus was still grinning. "You're lucky you didn't get glitter bombed. You needed the morale boost."
"More like mana poisoning," Rei muttered, just as Asmodeus struck a dramatic pose across the windowsill, mimicking a knight struck down in battle.
"If she collapses again, I want credit for saying 'I told you so,'" he added, puffing out his chest.
I rolled my eyes, then muttered under my breath, "At least Great Sage doesn't talk this much."
[Observation: Conversation volume exceeds comfort threshold. Shall I enable auditory dampening?]
No. This was fine.
Mostly.
Asmodeus smirked, arms folded behind his head. "C'mon, you know you'd miss me if I weren't here to keep you sharp."
That tone—half mockery, half challenge.
Something tugged at the back of my mind.
A flicker. A voice. A past.
A boy standing in a burning field, coat torn, eyes burning like a storm. "If you're not going to fight back, then get out of my way, Reg."
Lucian.
The air seemed to thin for a moment.
Asmodeus looked up at me, oblivious. "Hey, you good?"
I blinked the memory away.
"Yeah," I lied.
But my fingers curled just slightly beneath the blanket.
Asmodeus shifted slightly, stretching his arm out again as if just now noticing something different in the room.
"Huh," he muttered. "Your mana's steadier than I expected."
I blinked. "Yours too."
He raised an eyebrow. "Noticed, huh?"
"Yeah," I said slowly. "Your mana used to be all over the place. Now it's tighter. More precise. Controlled."
He grinned. "I've been doing extra training, y'know."
That caught my attention.
"Oh?"
"Yeah. Got picked for advanced drills. Some special instructor."
I frowned. "When?"
"Right after the last duel with another kid. Dad put in a word." He stretched, then added, "Figured if I'm gonna stand next to you one day, I might as well be able to keep up."
Rei glanced over. "You're more disciplined than you let on."
Asmodeus clutched his chest dramatically. "Ow. Right in the pride."
"Your pride's inflated. It could use a few bruises," I said, smirking.
Rei added, "She's not wrong. And you're the one who faceplanted into a training dummy last week."
"That dummy was enchanted!" Asmodeus shot back. "It cheated."
[Correction: Training dummy was non-enchanted. User tripped over own foot.]
I stifled a snort, keeping the response internal.
Asmodeus stretched once more, then stood with an exaggerated sigh. "Guess I should head out. Old man's probably waiting for me to report in before drills."
"Training again?" I asked.
"Yep. Instructor's brutal," he said, half-grinning. "But I asked for it. Figured if I'm going to walk beside you, I should probably survive the walk."
I blinked. "That's… weirdly considerate."
He winked. "Don't get used to it."
He gave Rei a casual salute, then headed for the door, pausing only once. "Try not to die while I'm gone. I like my sparring partners conscious."
"Charming," I muttered.
Then he was gone.
When the door clicked shut behind him, the silence didn't return.
Instead, it lingered—holding questions I didn't want to ask.
Would he still be training like that if he knew what legacy cost? Would he still look so proud of his progress?
I wasn't jealous. Not really.
But I was… tired.
"Great Sage," I murmured.
[Listening.]
"What's my mana at?"
[Current reserves: 52%. Recovery rate stable. Estimated time to full regeneration: 1.2 days at current rest rate.]
Better than before. But not ideal.
I turned to Rei, who was still seated nearby.
"Can you get me a blank book?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Planning to write your memoirs already?"
I rolled my eyes. "I just… want to keep notes. For training. For… me."
Rei didn't push further. "Alright. I'll find one."
He stood and turned toward the door.
But as he rose from his seat, something caught my eye.
A faint red spot.
Where he'd been sitting.
I blinked.
"Great Sage," I whispered.
[Understood. Scanning...]
[Biological trace detected: Blood. Origin: Menstrual.]
I inhaled slowly.
[Conclusion: Subject Reilan Gintama is biologically female.]
I frowned.
"No, he isn't," I muttered.
[Correction denied. Biological data exhibits all markers of female physiology.]
I stared at the spot, then at the door Rei had just passed through.
"…That doesn't make sense."
[Clarification: Subject Reilan Gintama's gender was never misclassified by this system. Visual and social identifiers may have been deliberately altered or withheld by the subject.]
"…How long has she been hiding it?"
[Unknown. Subject has exhibited consistent physiological patterns across all scans. No prior indication of gender ambiguity was logged due to lack of query.]
I rubbed my temple, exhaling slowly. I'd known Rei since I was a child. Since birth. There had never been a moment that suggested…
[Notice: Current emotional fluctuation suggests dissonance between perceived identity and confirmed biological reality. Recommend psychological processing.]
"Not now."
[Understood.]
Still staring at the door, I didn't know what I felt.
Only that I had more questions now than answers.
A couple minutes pass and another knock on my door—softer this time.
Before I could respond, the door creaked open.
"Chiori?"
Mom.
She stepped in slowly, dressed more formally than usual, but with her hair loosely pinned. There were faint lines beneath her eyes—ones I hadn't noticed before.
"You're awake," she said, voice quieter than I expected.
"I am," I replied, trying not to sound as tired as I felt.
Her eyes swept the room, pausing on the empty chair, the slightly rumpled blanket, the faint red stain I'd tried not to look at. She didn't ask.
Instead, she moved to sit on the edge of the bed, brushing a strand of hair from my face.
"You should've called for someone if you needed something."
"I didn't," I said. "Need anything."
Her gaze was unreadable, the way it always was when she was holding something back. "Still... I wanted to see you. Things have been… busy."
I nodded slowly. "Rei told me."
Her lips pressed into a line. "He's been good to you."
"He always is."
A pause stretched between us, soft and slow.
Then: "You've been through more than I wanted for you."
I blinked.
"I should've told you sooner," she said. "About your father. About the bloodline. About the risks."
"You didn't want to."
"I was afraid to," she corrected.
Another pause.
"I don't blame you," I said, surprising even myself.
Lelyah exhaled slowly, then reached into her coat and pulled out a folded cloth bundle. "This was yours. We kept it in case you wanted to write again."
She handed it over—an old leather-bound notebook and a fresh ink pen tucked neatly inside.
I stared at it, fingers curling around the edges.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
She stood after that. No long goodbyes. Just a brush of her hand against mine again.
"Oh," she added, turning just before reaching the door. "I meant to say—House Fontaine and House Albrecht will be visiting soon."
I looked up, blinking. "Why?"
"They're political allies. Old friends of the Tomaszewski line. Their heads are bringing their heirs."
I tilted my head. "Why bring the heirs?"
Lelyah gave me a small smile. "Because it's time you made some friends your own age. And… perhaps more than that. These are important relationships. I'd like to see you get along."
I said nothing.
She left it at that.
The door clicked shut again, and for the first time in hours, I was alone.
With too many thoughts.
And a blank book.