The Shadow of Death Over White Hair

Serizawa was impulsive. He always acted first and thought later without a shred of hesitation. And he'd mock those who moved with caution and care. Especially people who fretted over protecting something—they struck him as utterly ridiculous. That's why Serizawa loved smashing the things others cherished. The things they desperately wanted to safeguard.

The reason he'd killed his friend as his first murder was much the same.

"I'm getting married to my fiancée soon."

His friend wore a mix of joy and bashfulness. The others offered congratulations.

"This is the time to be most careful."

"You always make your choices so prudently..."

"It's a major turning point in life."

But Serizawa was bored. A subtle irritation bubbled up instead.

"What's with all the fuss?"

Serizawa sneered. It was nothing special. Nothing at all. Why make such a big deal over something so trivial, some nobody? He mocked his friend's fiancée. The friend couldn't take it, shot to his feet, and pointed accusingly. In the end, swords were drawn. The friend died.

Serizawa was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠arrested and, before being thrown in prison, begged to visit his friend's funeral one last time. I may have been drunk and messed up, but he was my best friend. I want to pray for his soul. Permission was granted.

At the funeral, Serizawa saw the fiancée wailing in agony. It felt so good.

What's so precious about it? Why go to such lengths to protect it?

The real reason Serizawa joined the Shinsengumi was along the same lines. Outwardly, he'd sworn to defend Kyoto. In truth, he rampaged through it, wrecking everything. It was a form of mockery. Toward the Shinsengumi. Toward Kyoto. Toward the world. A sneer at everyone clawing to protect what they held dear.

And in the midst of scorning the world without restraint, a boy blocked his path.

"To protect the weak, I stand here."

Serizawa stared at him blankly. He couldn't comprehend it. The words. The actions. The motives. Or those utterly clear eyes.

Serizawa wanted to shatter it all. Rip apart everything the boy sought to protect, everything he treasured, until he screamed like that fiancée. But the boy wouldn't break. The more he resisted, the more Serizawa craved it. Madly. He'd give everything for it. Even if it led to his own death. That boy—I have to destroy him.

And now, at last, his dream was coming true.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"...Master?"

Izuki's eyes widened in shock. Beyond the hole in the wall, Kyoto sprawled into view. At the cannon's muzzle aimed at its heart stood a white-haired old man in a sedge hat.

".Ah. Ha."

Serizawa grinned with his rotting mouth.

".Indeed. That person. The one. You wanted to protect. Your precious one?"

He crooked his index finger. The cannon swiveled into position.

".Watch. Closely."

He raised his second finger. Black flames erupted from the tip.

".Starting with your master. Then every soul in this Kyoto. All the weaklings. You swore to protect. One by one. I'll crush them. Until you can't even recognize their forms."

He crooked the second finger. The flame twisted and leaped to the cannon's fuse.

"Now. Let's fire the salute."

Serizawa's black maw split wide. The Shinsengumi—most unconscious or on the brink of death—could only gape in horror.

No turning back now. The unprecedented massacre about to rain on the capital.

Serizawa savored their eyes flailing in despair. Meeting each gaze one by one, relishing the moment.

Then his eyes met the boy's.

"...?"

Serizawa's head jerked to a halt. The boy's eyes were smiling. Not cynical with defeat. Not manic with rage. Not hysterical escape from reality. A pure, unclouded smile.

Seeing that flawless grin, Serizawa froze in place.

"...Your. Master's. Right there. And you're smiling?"

He peered down at Izuki through his pitch-black sockets, incredulous. But

"Yes. Because my master's there."

Izuki's eyes sparkled with unwavering faith.

Si-ho could sense danger through the smell of blood.

But was it really the 'smell' stimulating her olfactory receptors? No.

It was a form of synesthesia. All threats around her appeared as a red 'blood mist,' and her brain interpreted the density of that mist as the 'smell' of blood.

So.

With her eyes closed like now.

Over a black wasteland devoid of anything.

The world of blood mist painted its scene.

Thump.

Like blood vessels branching from her heart, her senses stretched to the horizon.

Billowing flows. Pulsing clusters dispersing and reforming in crimson haze.

Si-ho quietly attuned to the throbbing of that red world.

Thump.

Blood mist gathering in the upper front. A black maw spewing writhing crimson clumps in a vortex.

She sensed the thin blood thread connecting it to her.

'There.'

A red line foreshadowing the future barrage. Si-ho lowered her stance, locking onto the aim point.

———Suuuuuh.

Deep breath leaking through clenched teeth. Slowly raising her right hand.

As it neared the hilt.

'...Can I really do this?'

Like a drop of blood rippling a calm surface.

A red wave stirred in Si-ho's heart.

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'Intercept a cannon shell? For real? Is that even possible? I've never tried.'

'What if I mess up? Miss the timing? Wrong aim point? Prediction off? If I'm slower than the shell?'

Anxiety and doubt billowed like clouds. The blood mist world she envisioned warped unstably.

'...No.'

Breath quickening. Stomach churning. Head spinning.

'I don't want this anymore.'

She wanted to run. Back to her dim corner. Into darkness without a sliver of light. Barricade the door to the world, curl up in her cramped nook.

'Why. Am I. Here...'

Tears welled under her closed lids. Finally spilling down her cheeks.

As she trembled and staggered back.

"Um, ex-excuse me."

Someone tugged her sleeve.

"Y-you can't stay here. You have to run. Quick."

Si-ho cracked her eyes. A small child stood in her blurry vision.

"...?"

The child was right. Everyone around Si-ho had fled in panic. But the narrow street choked with crowds, evacuation lagging. They were still in cannon range.

'But why is this kid here?'

Not running.

"A-are you hurt? I-I'll help you walk."

The child stammered through shivers.

"If you can't see, I'll guide you. So, hurry."

The kid slung Si-ho's arm over his shoulder. Struggling to lift her slight frame with his tiny body.

"...."

Si-ho stared blankly at that fragile effort. Those childlike hands too weak to budge even her frail form.

So very weak.

And weak.

Yet warm.

'———To protect the weak. I stand here.'

A boy's faint voice echoed. A forgotten memory resurfaced.

'That time.'

Their first meeting. Izuki had clasped both her hands. Warmth flowed through that gentle grip.

The human body heat Si-ho had forgotten. Feared and shunned.

Eerily unfamiliar.

Yet achingly longed for.

It had softly enveloped her.

'I remember.'

This kid—it was the one from her first trip into Kyoto for supplies. The boy who'd bowed cutely with a smile.

"Th-thank you. For trying to save me."

Si-ho wiped the child's tears.

Bewildered, the kid sniffled but gazed up, entranced by Si-ho's radiant eyes.

"B-but it's okay."

A year as a shut-in in her past life. Four months here. Her first smile in ages felt awkward.

"Step behind me now."

Si-ho turned gently, shielding the child.

Thump.

The red world unfurled in an instant. Pulsing heart. Throbbing vessels. Senses lancing every direction.

———Suuuuuh.

Breath seeping out. Stance lowering. Clutching the lingering human warmth at her fingertips.

The boy's warmth. The child's. Niimi Nishiki's.

Treasuring it, she surged toward the crimson blood-violet ahead.

The white-haired girl drew.

The cannon roared. The air quaked.

Faster than the quake, the shell hurtled toward Si-ho.

But her eyes stayed shut.

She saw not the present shell, but the red orb arriving from the future.

Hypersonic iaijutsu struck true.

"———————."

Vacuum. A fierce ultralow-pressure zone in a 10-meter radius.

Cannon blast. Screams. Shouts. All sounds of the world stolen by the massive silent bubble.

It collapsed.

A sound unborn to the world was born.

It hammered Kyoto's sky, reaching neighboring lands. Like a colossal god inhaling and exhaling, the vacuum burst, sucking air into a storm.

Everyone on the street was swept rolling.

The shell shattered backward in fragments. Shotgun-like pellets pelted houses; a vast fan-shaped dust plume erupted from Si-ho.

Shooooaaa.

Dust veiling the sky settled.

Coughs echoed here and there. Stunned people staggered up.

"Wh-what happened...?"

"What the hell? Wasn't a shell falling?"

The crowd checked on each other. Aside from minor bruises from the blast wave, no serious casualties.

Everyone reeled at the miracle. A dud? Misfire?

Shell fragments found scattered deepened the mystery.

Then.

Strange rumors spread through Kyoto's streets.

A white-haired hermit in a sedge hat sliced an incoming shell.

Ridiculous nonsense. Everyone laughed it off.

Except one child.

He vividly remembered. The girl's back, white hair whipping before him.

She'd vanished after shielding everyone, before they recovered.

But that day's truth lingered deep in one child's heart.

Dense dust clouds blanketed Kyoto. But from the second floor's clear view, the entire Shinsengumi witnessed it.

The sedge-hatted figure intercepting the shell.

And the hat blown off by the gale.

Beneath it.

The girl's face, long white hair streaming.

"...My God."

Okita sweated coldly. The other Shinsengumi too.

Having seen the impossible, they were speechless.

Only Izuki smiled at the snowy hair.

".……………………"

Serizawa couldn't smile.

His empty sockets fixed on the white-haired girl.

Borrowing a god's eyes—no longer human—he saw something else. Not human.

"Wh...wha-wha. Wha."

Serizawa stumbled back. But his gaze stuck fast.

He couldn't tear away from that existence.

"Gu...gugu. Guhguh. Guh."

Facing death, Serizawa saw god.

To him, god was death. The wheel of fate's final stop. Absolute law nothing in the universe could defy.

End. Finale. Death.

Thus, closer to death meant closer to god. Greater peril brought greater power. One and the same.

But.

Then.

What is that.

Descending over the white-haired girl's head.

Blanketing the sky, crawling the earth.

Too horrific to name.

That colossal scale of death.

"Uu, uwaaaa!! Uwaaaaaaaa!!! Agagaaaaak!!!!"

Serizawa clawed his sockets. But no eyes remained to gouge.

Forced to confront it still.

Couldn't turn away. Couldn't avert his gaze. Mind buckled. Brain self-immolated.

Foul smoke rose from his sockets, charring rotten flesh.

Serizawa soiled himself and collapsed.

"M-mom. Mommmma. Wha. Mom. Moommaa...."

He flailed limbs at empty air.

The Shinsengumi stared in horror.

As all stood stunned, speechless.

Only Nagakura sighed deeply.

"...Can't say 'rest in peace.'"

He lit his pipe, inhaling long. Pulled a talisman from his bosom, etching a spell in ash.

"Survive down there. Bottom of hell."

Talisman to forehead. Nagakura clapped twice and bowed.