✶✶✶
THREE days later, Sophie and Martha made their way to the city’s north gate.
Sophie had, of course, wanted to go alone, but Martha wasn’t having it.
As they neared the gate, they spotted a crowd. Far too many people for a normal day. The air buzzed with chatter, people speaking in excited, hushed tones.
“I wonder what that’s all about,” Sophie muttered.
“I shall find out,” Martha replied, already slipping into the crowd.
The old maid marched up to a young man, grabbed him by the sleeve, and began interrogating him without a preamble. After a brief, murmured exchange, she returned to Sophie to relay the story.
There had been an incident.
An ordinary-looking merchant’s wagon rolled toward the city gates. Nothing seemed off. But just as the officials waved it through, seeing nothing wrong with its paperwork, the gatekeeper moved.
One moment, he was a statue. The next, he was in front of the wagon, voice like a cannon blast.
“Close the gates! I smell gunpowder! To arms!”
The driver clicked his tongue, then whistled. Men burst out from the back of the wagon. Each carried something black and round in their hands—bombs, the fuses lit.
They hurled them toward the gate.
The explosions created shockwaves. The noise was deafening. Black smoke and swirling dust instantly choked the air.
The human officials panicked, scrambling to get across the gate before it closed. The attackers, thinking the battle was already theirs, lit more bombs and raised their arms to throw…when it happened.
A black blur tore through the chaos.
With a metallic clatter, what fell to the ground were the gatekeeper’s helmet and armor.
His figure was long gone, disappearing into the smoke.
There were screams. More smoke. The flash of movement, then stillness.
And when the dust began to settle, only one remained standing.
A demi-human, his sleek black coat glistening beneath the sun.
“You face Kuroro Rom Mukuro. Speed incarnate! The Ebon Gale! Vanguard of the Blackdiamond Bloodgang!”
His voice rolled like thunder, deep and blazing with fury.
“If any among you still has steel in your spine, come test it. But hear me now—by my fangs and by my blood, none with ill intent shall pass this gate while I still draw breath!”
Then came a roar. Wild, primal, full of strength—a feline cry that split the sky.
“My! It sounds like Mr. Kuro started enjoying himself halfway through!” Sophie said, wide-eyed.
“Apparently, the attackers were extremists—partisans with a particular distaste for our lord’s policies,” Martha continued. “They’ve all been captured. Not a lasting injury among them. This crowd seems to be made up of those especially taken with the actions of our exemplary gatekeeper. They’re even saying he deserves a medal.”
“Well, I do love a happy ending.” Sophie let out a breath.
Curious to see the man at the center of all this adoration, Sophie and Martha wandered the area. As they neared the shadows between the gate and the guardhouse, a black blur stirred. When they stepped closer, its ears twitched, and its head turned toward them. One of its golden eyes bore a long, vertical scar.
“Mr. Kuro,” Sophie greeted.
“Ms. Sophie,” he replied.
“I heard all about it. It seems you’ve saved the city.”
Kuro gave a sheepish smile. “There’s no fool like an old fool, as they say. I may have gotten a little too carried away in the line of duty.”
“I heard all about that, too,” Sophie replied with a giggle. Kuro’s coat was glistening even more than usual; he must’ve washed up after the fact. Then she noticed next to him the broken remains of a massive tree. Its trunk, thick and ancient, had been snapped clean in two. Though its boughs rested against the earth, the branches still rustled fiercely in the breeze.
“This tree…” she muttered.
“Ah, Mrs. Rustle,” Kuro said. “She gave her life valiantly in the line of duty. Took a bomb to the trunk. If not for her, it would’ve been the guardhouse.”
Sophie looked saddened. “I see…”
“It was her time. She has no regrets about giving her life for the city. Or at least, I’d like to think so, anyway.”
She gave a little smile. “Yes, I’m sure.”
“Milady.” Their quiet moment was broken by Martha’s voice. She hadn’t joined in the conversation. Instead, she’d been staring intently at the ground beside the broken tree.
“What is it?” Sophie asked.
“There’s a seedling,” she replied.
Sophie and Kuro exchanged a glance, then stepped closer.
Sure enough, nestled near the shattered stump was a tiny sprout—bright green, fuzzy, fragile. A baby tree, just barely poking its head above the soil.
“Would you look at that,” Sophie whispered.
“It’s young master Rustle, it seems,” Martha said.
Kuro chuckled softly. “Crazy old bat. Should’ve known she was too stubborn to die like that.”
Sophie laughed with him, and the two stepped aside to talk privately. But as they walked, she noticed that Martha wasn’t following.
She was still by the tree stump, still gazing down at that little seedling.
A breeze swept through, ruffling her white hair.
Rustle. Rustle.
And for just a moment, Sophie thought she saw it—that perfectly straight back, the one she’d always imagined had a metal plate strapped to it, looking ever so slightly hunched.
Something in her said not to disturb her. So she said nothing and went to speak with Kuro alone.
“I heard you’re getting a medal,” Sophie said.
“I’ll believe it when I see it. For a demi-human? It feels unlikely.”
“That’s sad…”
“Not really. Besides—” Kuro touched his chest “—I have all the decoration I’ll ever need. Right here. Thank you for making the trip today, Ms. Sophie, but I’m afraid it was for nothing. I’ll be attending the wedding with my chest out, bald spot and all.”
“I thought you might.” Sophie beamed. “And how did Miina take it when you brought it up?”
“She started crying.”
“I thought she might.” Sophie laughed, then narrowed her eyes at him with a playful glint. “Maybe it’s up to me to punish the clueless father who made his daughter cry.”
“Oh?” Kuro grinned widely, flashing all his teeth as he puffed out his gleaming black chest. “And here we have a mighty human who dares challenge the great Kuroro Rom Mukuro?”
Sophie stepped up beside him and struck a pose she clearly thought was cool. “You face Kuroro Rom Mukuro. Speed incarnate! The Ebon Gale! Vanguard of the Blackdiamond Bloodgang!”
Kuro shrieked, flailing as he covered his face with both hands. His tail writhed in full-body embarrassment.
Sophie struck another very cool pose. “Kuroro Rom Mukuro. Speed incarnate! The Ebon Gale! Vanguard of the Blackdiamond Bloodgang!”
He shrieked again—louder this time. Longer.
Rustle, rustle, rustle.
The leaves in the wind picked up a rhythm of their own. It really did sound like the steady backing to some unsung, unspoken song.
✦ ✦ ✦
✶✶✶
A few days later, Silver returned to town; Sophie immediately tried to heal his baldness.
It didn’t work, so Sophie decided to add a little disclaimer to her flyers from now on.
Will not restore long-lost friends, it now read in fine text at the bottom.
✦ ✦ ✦
✶✶✶
IT was nighttime.
Sophie was reading in her salon when she thought she heard a voice outside.
“Martha? Claire?” she called, but there was no response.
She set her book down and crossed the room to the door.
She pulled it open, only to reveal a perfectly dark hallway. No one was there.
She stood a moment longer. That voice—sharp, almost metallic—still rang faintly in her ears.
With a small shake of her head, she closed the door with a soft thud and returned to her chair. But now, she couldn’t focus. Her eyes kept drifting, skimming the same line over and over. Finally, she sighed and closed the book.
She looked around the quiet, empty room.
Then, out of a small cloth pouch, she pulled out a piece of metal wrapped carefully in wax paper. Unfolding it, she revealed the dull glint of a badge. Her fingers traced the engraved words: Rank Three Healer, Kurt Ozhorn.
There was a bit of grime on it. She took out a clean rag and carefully wiped it clean.
“Ms. Sophie, I hope I’m not intruding.”
But no matter how hard she wiped, that voice—that same square, grating tone—refused to solidify. It remained in her imagination.
Minute by minute, the night deepened.
Day by day, winter followed.