"Mugyiwara Shotaro."
A shudder coursed down his spine as his crimson eyes flew open, startled by the stark familiarity of that voice. He awoke, submerged in a chilling, viscous liquid, his weary gaze laden with exhaustion, his mind clouded with an aching fatigue. As he endeavored to collect his scattered thoughts, myriad crimson eyes blinked into existence within the void that surrounded him, each one observing his being at its most fundamental level.
"I have been here before," he murmured, his voice measured and composed. His gaze fastened upon a throne, wherein sat a familiar feminine entity, enrobed in a mantle of deepest black. She possessed neither eyes nor discernible features—merely an eerie crimson smile stretching across her faceless visage.
"Alakshmi," Shotaro uttered, his countenance solemn as he advanced towards her with deliberate ease. Halting before the throne, he inclined his head. "You summoned me?"
"You have learned well," the faceless entity intoned.
Shotaro reached a hand to the back of his head, rubbing it absently. "Indeed… It has been but three days since our journey started."
"And in that time, every Rakshasa in existence has sought to put an end to us—due entirely to your presence," he added, irritation creeping into his voice.
"Oh, I do beg your pardon," replied the soul of his blade, her words dripping with mockery.
Shotaro exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. "Pray, tell me why you have called upon me so suddenly." A smirk danced upon his lips. "Dare I suppose you have missed me?"
Alakshmi remained motionless, her smile unchanging. "What an utter fool I have been bound to."
"Come now," Shotaro scoffed, feigning offense. "I shall have you know that I fared quite well before you came along."
"Well, indeed," she retorted dryly. "Had I not intervened, you would have met your end as a mere feast for wolves."
Shotaro stilled before sighing in resignation. "A fair point, I grant you." He chuckled, lowering himself to the ground. "Now, might you explain why you are in a perpetual state of displeasure?"
The red smile on her featureless face twisted into a severe frown.
"I am among the true ones, you wretched child."
"And yet here you sit, trading barbs with me," Shotaro quipped, his smirk unwavering.
Her tone darkened. "Mugyiwara, you try my patience."
"I am well aware." His expression grew serious in an instant. "Calm your tits, the one without nipples."
He reached forth, intending to steady her, only to be cast backward into the inky abyss by an unseen force.
"You do not shrink from touching me," she mused.
"Not as yet." He rose once more, shaking the viscous liquid from his form. "I have saved more times than I can recall. Yet in this realm? Even the very grass might slay me should I let my guard down."
Alakshmi stepped forward. "Remove your garment."
Shotaro arched a brow. "Might we at least wait until matrimony?"
An unseen force sent him sprawling once more.
"For pity's sake! You possess no fondness for jest, do you?" He grumbled as he rose, unfastening his shirt. The moment he did, his breath caught at the sight of a great gaping void in his chest—the size of a handball.
"What the fuck! Am I becoming Portgas D. Ace?" He clutched at the chasm, as though his hands might mend it.
"That, Mugyiwara Shotaro, is your chakra," Alakshmi explained, drawing near. "Unlike others, your being is bereft of the conventional chakra system. Instead, you bear a singular, vast reservoir of magic. A crude vessel, yet one capable of unleashing unbridled power."
"And when I wield you," Shotaro murmured, realisation dawning, "I purge all magic in the process… thus, I am unable to invoke spells whilst employing you."
"Indeed," she affirmed. "You must devise a method to wield both my magic and your own in unison. A rather perplexing dilemma for my wielder."
Shotaro sighed. "Why is it my fate to be burdened with katanas that require endless riddles to master? My last blade was a simple matter of 'swing and triumph.'"
Alakshmi's smile widened. "Ah… your last katana. The Virtue Blade, was it not?"
Shotaro grinned. "The Mugyiwara family heirloom. Only those embodying all cardinal virtues might unsheathe it."
"You toted it as though it were a mere toy," she said, her voice tinged with something akin to bitterness. "Your parents were rendered speechless when you claimed it at the tender age of three."
"I had fought the Naraka Lords with it by five," he added smugly.
"The Naraka Lords are no more," Alakshmi reminded him. "You laid them to rest with your own hand."
Shotaro's mirth faded. "That is another tale. And I should rather not speak of my past world."
"Why so?" she asked mockingly. "Does it remind you of all that you have lost?"
His fists clenched. The weight of his ruined world bore down upon him like a crashing wave. Without thought, he lashed out, his fist colliding with Alakshmi's formless visage.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP."
The void quivered. Alakshmi remained impassive. Instead, a monstrous claw emerged from the darkness, seizing Shotaro and dragging him into the abyss.
—
"Shotaro! Shotaro! Shotaro!"
He awoke with a start, gasping for breath. The familiar countenance of Paliv greeted him, her eyes alight with excitement.
"Look! I have caught a fish!" she exclaimed, pointing.
A colossal golden catfish—easily the size of a carriage—lay floundering upon the riverbank.
Shotaro blinked. "What the fuck?" Shotaro said calmly, "How does one pull a shit this big out? I mean, I mean I can but you're small"."
"I employed the lever-trap system you instructed me in!" Paliv beamed with pride. "I constructed a catapult, bound a rope to the riverbed, covered it with moss, and when the fish took the bait—BOOM! It was flung straight out!"
Shotaro chuckled. "As Archimedes once said—'Give me a place to stand, and I shall move the earth.'"
Paliv inclined her head. "This Archimedes fellow sounds rather clever."
"Indeed, he was," Shotaro replied, drawing his dagger to commence scaling the fish.
"You speak as though you knew him."
"Well, he perished centuries before my birth." Shotaro wiped the blood from his hands. "Yet, I did have the pleasure of meeting him once."
Paliv's eyes widened. "How is that possible?! I thought immortality was uncommon in your world."
Shotaro smirked. "It is a complicated matter. Legend Sphere. But I daresay you would not comprehend."
"Legend what?" Paliv pressed.
"Another tale for another time." He returned his attention to the task at hand, leaving her to gaze at him in astonishment.
Shotaro meticulously removed the meat from the fish bones, his hands working with practiced ease. He glanced at Paliv, who had been eagerly watching, before gesturing toward the remains. "Burn these to ash," he instructed, his voice calm yet firm. "We don't want any unwanted visitors sniffing around."
Paliv nodded, gathering the remains and preparing a fire, the flickering flames casting long shadows across the riverbank. As she worked, Shotaro settled down with his portion of the meal, absently running a finger over an old scar on his palm, a quiet reminder of past struggles.
"Ni Gah," he asked suddenly, his voice breaking the silence, "have you heard anything about her from Nyrebo?"
Paliv, mid-bite into a crispy chunk of fish, swallowed before answering. "Yeah," she replied, licking her fingers. "She's learning to come out of her trauma."
Shotaro's expression darkened slightly. "Trauma you caused," he pointed out before giving her a light smack on the head, the same way he always did when reprimanding her.
"Ow!" she yelped, clutching her head. "That hurts, you know! But… yeah, maybe I deserve it."
"You do," Shotaro affirmed, his tone gentler now. "But the fact that you're willingly trying to fix it—that means something. Maybe you can't be forgiven entirely, but you can be better. You can make sure you never do something like that again."
Paliv huffed, puffing out her cheeks. "Hey! Choose one mood already."
Shotaro chuckled, shaking his head. "I have chosen one. It's called 'being Shotaro Mugyiwara.'" He pushed the remaining portion of fish toward her. "Eat up to your heart's content. I'll manage with the leftovers."
Paliv's gaze flickered to his hand, her eyes lingering on the scar that had long since healed but remained visible—a quiet testament to the fact they both are siblings now. A realization settled over her, heavier than before.
"You know," she said after a moment, her voice quieter now, more contemplative, "you lied when you said you were 'forced' to save people. Given the choice, you would always choose others over yourself. Maybe it's not the world that forces you to be a hero, Shotaro. Maybe it's you forcing yourself."
Shotaro fell silent, her words hitting deeper than he expected. He stared at the flickering flames, contemplating the weight of his own hypocrisy. Was she right? He had spent years telling himself that saving others was a duty, a responsibility thrust upon him—but was it really? Or had he always known, deep down, that he would never walk away from those in need, even if given the chance?
He exhaled slowly, leaning back against the cool earth. "Maybe I can't stop saving people," he admitted at last.
Paliv grinned, taking another bite of fish. "What a cool big brother I have," she said with playful admiration. "And the greatest cook, too."
"Oh, stop overcomplimenting me," Shotaro said, rubbing the back of his head, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. "My apartment was always overrun by freeloaders, so I had all the time in the world to become… a household miracle worker."
Paliv snickered. "Maybe you're a mom."
Shotaro sighed. "Not the first time I've been called that," he admitted, rolling his eyes.
His gaze drifted downward, and he noticed a fresh red scratch on her foot. Without thinking, he reached out and grasped her ankle lightly. A faint warmth spread from his fingertips, and within moments, the wound was gone, as if it had never existed.
Paliv's eyes widened in shock. "What?! You know healing magic?"
Shotaro let go of her foot, shaking his head. "No. It's… not magic. It's something I've always been able to do, even in my past life. If only my memories had been restored by Lattrem sooner… how many more people could I have saved?"
His voice grew quieter, trailing off as an old grief resurfaced—the memory of Madonna, of those he couldn't protect. His shoulders tensed, but before the melancholy could take hold, he glanced at Paliv, the weight of the present grounding him.
He ruffled her hair. "Go to sleep," he murmured, tucking her into the makeshift bed. "I'll keep watch for a while."
As she drifted off, Shotaro turned his gaze upward, staring at the endless sky. The stars twinkled above him, distant yet unwavering.
"Maybe I am a hypocrite," he whispered to himself. And for the first time in a long while, he wasn't sure if he minded.