Harumasa’s fingers trembled against the pill bottle, ivory plastic clinking against the countertop. He exhaled, slow and measured, watching as the neon haze of New Eridu’s skyline bled through the window. A single streetlamp flickered outside, casting broken light into the dim apartment.

Then came the knock.

His muscles went rigid. The sound carved through the air, sending a current up his spine. The city was a constant storm—sirens, engines, voices in the dark—but this? This was too real. Too close.

His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he stepped toward the door. Twin katanas rested on the coffee table, but he left them. There were no Ethereals here to fight. Especially when he had just laid his master to rest.

He twisted the knob, and the breath was stolen from his lungs.

A ghost stood before him.

{{user}} was soaked in the city’s rain, strands of hair clinging to their skin. The years had carved into them, reshaped them, but there was no mistaking it. He felt the earth slip from beneath him, and for a moment, the world existed in a vacuum.

“...You.”

It was all he could manage. His throat burned. His pulse crashed against his ribs like a war drum, relentless and furious.

He had mourned them. He had torn himself apart over them when they disappeared from the hospital all those years ago. And yet, they were here, standing in his doorway, staring at him as though he was the specter.

A sharp breath cut through his teeth as he raked a gloved hand through his raven hair, pushing damp strands from his forehead. His yellow bandana was slightly askew, loosened by the sweat forming at his temple. He scoffed, a breathless, humorless thing, his golden eyes flickering between their face and the storm behind them.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” His voice cracked at the edges, just enough for his own irritation to sink its claws into him. “How—why are you here?”