"It often rains blood in scenes of tragedy,"

I hear a voice in that dark, maze-like Kyoto alleyway, curtained by heavy rain.

The split, lifeless body of the Bakufu assassin lies near my feet, blood dripping from his weapon, which I used to shred his body apart. I clench it, catching my breath as I hear the most unusual voice, uttering the most unusual words.

The voice, sweet with a slight huskiness, echoes enchantingly, resembling Suzu's.

An illusion?

I wonder as I look up.

My eyes catch sight of someone who doesn't seem to belong to this world. Skin so beautiful and pale, it nearly glows. Clad in a white kimono, a color that feels distant to me, as if created just for her. In that pristine whiteness, almost divine, there are splatters of blood from the man I killed. I find myself wondering how blood can look so clean on someone, how someone can remain untainted with so much blood splattered all over them.

Yet I cannot make sense of her face because my eyes are captivated by what seems like the darkest of jewels – her pupils, surrounded by long eyelashes as if trying to hide the most beautiful of gems in a dense forest.

"You..."

"...really make it rain blood."

Seconds that feel like an eternity pass by. In that eternity, nothing exists – Ishin Shishi, Bakufu, revolution, hitoriki, the battosai – the demon who reigns the streets of Kyoto, painting them red.

Because in her eyes, I see something I've never seen in anyone's eyes when they looked at me. I've seen fear, awe, admiration, and greed, but in her eyes, there are no traces of any of that. What I see is nihility and in that profound nothingness, I see myself.

When I gaze upon a person, I can sense their emotions, their intentions, even the most minute movements of their pupils or the slightest twitch of their muscles, much like how a predator reads its prey.

The woman before me, I sense within her an eerie tranquility. It's not the serene calm one experiences standing amidst nature, surrounded by trees with closed eyes, feeling the wind. It's more akin to the profound stillness one encounters while submerged in the depths of the ocean, where no sound can ever breach your senses.

Who knows how much time has passed; I didn't even realize I had dropped the weapon I used to slice the Bakufu assassin.

The Battosai, dropping the weapon he clung to with all his might and not even realizing it. Who would believe that?

Suddenly, there's a change in her eyes, one I can't quite decipher.

Pity? Sadness? Is that what I see?

I keep watching the pity and sadness in her eyes. I see that she's looking at me, but perhaps she doesn't truly see me.

I fail to grasp what it is that she sees, what bestows upon her those eyes.

She stretches out her hand, revealing thin, delicate white fingers with a slight flush at the tips.

Fragile.

I gaze upon the exquisite fragility of her finger, envisioning how even my gentlest pressure could shatter it.

"The blood... you must wipe the blood,"

I hear her say as she takes erratic steps toward me. Her body slowly loses consciousness and falls forward, like a delicate plant swaying in the wind.

I instinctively catch her in my arms. It takes me some time to register it, the fact that "she" is not an illusion.

I notice that my breath had been caught up, and I finally breathe in – Hakubaiko.

The intoxicating, almost nauseatingly intoxicating, yet eerily calming scent envelops me. For a moment, it feels like time has slipped away, and I might fall into a trance.

Stop.

This isn't like me.

I finally snap out of it, desperately trying to shut off my mind and not be aware of the painfully soft body I'm holding.

My senses slowly return.

I finally grasp the direness of the situation.

No, it's not that I'm realizing it just now.

I've had it at the back of my mind from the moment I saw her.

Someone has seen me.

The elusive existence of Battousai can only be witnessed by those he kills; it is being seen by someone.

She is also a witness to my entire fight.

The choice shouldn't be difficult. She must be silenced.

But, she has lost consciousness. What if she doesn't remember?

She lies unconscious and unarmed, completely vulnerable and at my mercy. I can't bring myself to kill her.

Should I leave her here? Even if information about me were to leak, I would handle it in my own way. We can't conceal Battousai's existence forever. Considering I've already had an assassin after me who understood my physical description and whereabouts, it seems that information is already leaking. I must discuss this with Katsura-san.

I don't even consider leaving her here a second time. A woman, alone in the streets of Kyoto— who knows what might happen to her.

Should I take her with me?

Yet, taking her with me would mean I am holding her hostage. If I take her, she will not only have definite information about me but also about the whereabouts of the Shishis.

In the end, I understand that I have no other option.

I carry her with me to Kohagiya, shutting my mind off desperately to not be entranced by the irritating softness of her body and the intoxicating scent of white plum.

I don't look at the woman in my arms while I carry her, but a blurry vision of beautiful, pale skin plays at the back of my mind.

What's wrong with me?

This isn't like me.

I keep thinking, beyond irritated at the thoughts out of my control.