The girl didn't blink.
Not once.
She stared at him like she'd seen him die a thousand times.
Maybe she had.
Shigure's voice cracked as he spoke. "Remember what?"
"The truth."
Her answer was simple.
But it hit like a blade through his spine.
The silver-haired girl walked toward the tree, not touching it, just circling it slowly. The hem of her pale robe whispered across the scorched earth.
"This tree is not a prison. It's a monument," she said. "To failure. To pain. To memory."
Shigure followed her gaze. Every branch creaked as the wind moved through it. The air carried a sound. Not a howl. Not a cry. Something deeper. The faint echo of regrets.
"You've been here before," she said.
He flinched. "No. I haven't."
"You have. Many times. In lives you can't remember. That's why you suffer so much. Because each time, you refuse to break."
His hands clenched into fists. "I don't want to be here."
"You say that every time too," she murmured.
Something inside him cracked.
He didn't know why.
But her sadness hit harder than any nightmare.
"Then tell me," he whispered. "Who are you?"
She stopped.
Turned.
"I'm what's left of her."
"Her?"
Her eyes glistened. "The one you failed to save. Again and again."
She raised her hand.
And in a flash of white light, the world tilted.
No pain.
No warning.
Just sudden collapse.
When Shigure opened his eyes, he wasn't in the valley anymore.
He was in a burning house.
He smelled smoke. Heard screaming. A child crying. Wood cracking.
"Move!" a voice shouted.
A man pushed past him, grabbing someone small from the floor.
The child looked up at Shigure.
She had silver hair.
No.
She had her hair.
The girl.
But she was younger.
And she was smiling. Despite the flames.
Like she didn't know this was the moment she would die.
Shigure stepped forward.
But everything froze.
The fire stopped mid-leap.
The smoke hung like painted mist.
He turned.
The girl from the tree stood behind him again.
"This is the moment you failed," she said softly.
He couldn't speak.
She walked past him and stood by the frozen child.
"You promised to protect her. You swore it. But you ran."
"No," Shigure whispered.
"You chose to survive. That choice cursed you."
"I didn't—"
"You think suffering makes you pure? That dragging pain through your veins is redemption?"
Her voice rose.
"You don't get to hide behind sorrow. You abandoned her."
Shigure felt