The fragile hope carried Yuki through the twilight and into the mountain night. The numbness persisted, a welcome buffer against the constant pain and fear. He found a small, sheltered cave and made a rough camp. He even managed a few hours of dreamless sleep, the first in weeks.
He woke just before dawn, the air in the cave crisp and cold. He felt… rested. Clear-headed. The burns on his arms still throbbed, the black veins were still visible, but the oppressive weight of Kage's presence and the exorcist's hunt felt distant, like echoes from another life.
He needed water. He left the cave, following the sound of a nearby stream. The mountain was beautiful in the pre-dawn light – silent, majestic, covered in a dusting of fresh snow. He knelt by the stream, the icy water numbing his fingers as he scooped it up to drink.
He glanced at his reflection in the still, dark water.
And froze.
His reflection looked back. But it wasn't quite right.
He raised his right hand to splash more water on his face. His reflection raised its left hand.
Yuki's breath caught. He slowly lowered his hand. His reflection slowly lowered its hand.
He raised his right hand again. His reflection raised its left hand again.
A glitch. A mirror-image delay. A simple trick of the light? His exhausted mind playing tricks?
He stared, his heart beginning to pound. He raised both hands. His reflection raised both hands. That was normal.
He waved his right hand. His reflection waved its left hand.
He slowly touched his right cheek. His reflection touched its left cheek.
A cold dread, deeper and more chilling than the mountain air, seeped into his bones. This wasn't exhaustion. This wasn't a trick.
He leaned closer to the water, his own reflection staring back with wide, terrified eyes. He slowly raised his right hand, palm outward, towards his reflection.
His reflection raised its left hand, palm outward.
Then, slowly, deliberately, his reflection smiled.
It wasn't Yuki's smile. It was a slow, stretching of the lips, revealing too many teeth, teeth that looked sharp and yellow in the dim light. It was Kage's smile. The elegant, predatory grin that never reached its eyes.
Yuki scrambled back from the stream, a choked cry escaping his lips. He slipped on the icy rocks, landing hard on his back. The impact knocked the wind from him.
He pushed himself up, scrambling away from the water, his eyes fixed on his reflection. The smiling figure in the water slowly lowered its hand. It tilted its head, the smile widening, the eyes – Yuki's own eyes – now holding the faint, unmistakable glint of crimson embers deep within the pupils.
Did you enjoy the respite, little vessel? Kage's voice echoed, not in his mind, but seemingly from the reflection itself, the sound layered and cold, like dry leaves scraping against glass. The calm before the storm? The illusion of freedom?
Yuki stared, horror rooting him to the spot. The numbness was gone. Vanished like smoke. In its place rushed the full, crushing weight of the demon's presence, the cold knot in his chest tightening painfully. The hum in his bones returned, louder and more dissonant than ever.
You cannot escape me, the reflection's voice hissed, the smile never faltering. I am part of you. Woven into your flesh, your blood, your soul. This vessel is mine. The anchor you cling to is already drifting in my sea.
Yuki looked down at his hands. The black veins seemed darker, more prominent, pulsing with a cold, angry light. The burns on his arms flared with sudden, intense agony. The memory of Aoi's fear, the exorcist's judgment, the fire in the junction – it all came rushing back, amplified by the demon's renewed presence.
"No," Yuki choked out, the sound pathetic in the silent mountain dawn.
The reflection in the stream chuckled, a dry, grating sound. No? Look again, vessel. Look at what you truly are.
Yuki forced himself to look back at the water.
The reflection had changed again.
It was still him, but… corrupted. The skin was grey and waxy, stretched too tight over the bones. The dark circles under the eyes were like bruises. The lips were parted, revealing not just sharp teeth, but rows of them, like a shark's. And the eyes… they were solid, burning crimson, devoid of any humanity, burning with ancient, predatory hunger.
This was the truth. Not the numb, hopeful boy who'd stood on the ledge at sunset. This was the monster. The abomination. The soul-eater.
This is the face of the fire, Kage's voice whispered, now coming from all around him, seeming to emanate from the very stones and trees. This is the price of the spark. This is what awaits when the anchor finally snaps.
Yuki scrambled to his feet, backing away from the stream, from the horrifying reflection. He turned and ran, not towards the sanctum, but away, driven by pure, unreasoning terror. He ran blindly, crashing through the undergrowth, the image of his corrupted reflection burning in his mind.
He ran until his lungs burned, until his legs gave out. He collapsed at the base of a towering pine tree, gasping for breath, tears of terror and despair freezing on his cheeks.
The numbness was gone. The hope was gone. The anchor wasn't just drifting; it was lost, swallowed by the demon's sea. The glitch in the reflection hadn't been a trick. It was a warning. A revelation.
He was already lost. The monster was already here. It wore his face.
And it was smiling.