I moved through more volumes. Some were too damaged to read. Others resisted my touch, protected by decaying wards or inscriptions in forgotten dialects. But I found another—simple in appearance, brittle around the edges. No sigil. No family crest. Just a faded strip of parchment tucked inside the cover.
"Cleansing of the Unworthy – Cycle 124."
I hesitated before opening it.
But I did.
Each page was worse than the last.
Cold transcripts of trials—if they could even be called that. Names of the accused. Ages. Charges. Weak affinity. Mana incompatibility. Disobedience.
Punishments: Termination.
No embellishments. No guilt.
Just entries.
I swallowed hard.
The list went on.
Page after page.
Children. Adults. Entire sub-branches of the family were removed like smudges on a ledger. Most of them bore traits similar to mine—irregular mana flow, strange affinities, Summoning with unpredictable form output.
[Hoshino Execution Records: Final Cycle — Authorized Oversight]
A knot tightened in my stomach before I even read the names.
Entry 412492
- Date: ??-??-????
- Name: Naofumi Hoshino (Father)
- Age: 49
- Charge: Subversion of Doctrine through concealment of rejected kin
- Verdict: Guilty
- Action: Terminated by Executioner
Entry 412493
- Date: ??-??-????
- Name: Kurumi Hoshino (Mother)
- Age: 47
- Charge: Subversion of Doctrine through concealment of rejected kin; Emotional interference, failure to report anomaly
- Verdict: Guilty
- Action: Terminated by Executioner
Entry 412494
- Date: ??-??-????
- Name: Sakuya Hoshino (Eldest Daughter)
- Age: 28
- Charge: Sympathetic shielding of rejected kin
- Verdict: Guilty
- Action: Terminated by Executioner
Entry 412495
- Date: ??-??-????
- Name: Tetsuya Hoshino (Eldest Son)
- Age: 23
- Charge: Mana deviation, suspected corrupted affinity; Sympathetic shielding of rejected kin
- Verdict: Guilty
- Action: Terminated by Executioner
Entry 412496
- Date: ??-??-????
- Name: Mikoto Hoshino (Second Daughter)
- Age: 19
- Charge: Refusal to submit to testing; Sympathetic shielding of rejected kin
- Verdict: Guilty
- Action: Terminated by Executioner
Entry 412497
- Date: ??-??-????
- Name: Kaede Hoshino (Youngest Daughter)
- Age: 9
- Charge: Undeclared mana type, latent Summoning; Sympathetic shielding of rejected kin
- Verdict: Guilty
- Action: Terminated by Executioner
Entry 000000
- Date: ??-??-????
- Name: Satoshi Hoshino (Youngest Son)
- Age: 12
- Charge: Rejected Kin; Magic form is Melee, not Summoning; Family bloodline ability not present
- Verdict: Guilty
- Action: Repurposed to be Designated Hoshino Executor
My breath stopped.
[Confirmation: Satoshi Hoshino fulfilled the final culling protocol in Cycle 412497. Result: Annihilation of entire known bloodline. Status: Sole Survivor. Execution record closed.]
He didn't survive it.
He ended it.
The book shook in my hands.
I felt something burn in my chest—grief, horror, disbelief… it all blurred.
They weren't just names.
They were his family.
His siblings.
His parents.
And he…
"…He was the one who—"
[Affirmative.]
I dropped to my knees.
The book slipped from my fingers and shut with a soft thud.
My heartbeat was too loud. Too slow.
He didn't speak of them. Not once.
Not a name.
Not a face.
Only silence.
I lifted trembling fingers to my lips.
And I finally understood the full weight of what my blood carried.
A chorus, indeed.
Of ghosts.
I stayed on my knees for a long time.
No tears came. I wasn't even sure I knew how to cry like I used to.
But my chest hurt. Like something had hollowed out my ribs and replaced them with pressure.
Not grief. Not entirely.
Just weight.
A crushing, suffocating weight that refused to lift.
[Observation: Pulse irregular. Emotional restraint fraying. Recommend—]
"Stop," I whispered aloud. My voice cracked.
A pause.
[Acknowledged.]
The silence that followed was almost cruel.
For a moment, I hated him.
Not for surviving.
But for never saying anything.
For letting me grow up thinking legacy meant silence and cold honor and nothing else.
He killed them.
All of them.
And then he became my father.
I braced my hands against the floor, head bowed.
"…Why didn't you tell me?"
Not even Great Sage answered.
I didn't want it to.
I didn't want to hear anything that sounded like logic.
Logic didn't belong here.
Not in the face of this.
I wasn't supposed to find this. No five-year-old should ever hold this kind of knowledge in their hands. But I wasn't just a child.
I never was.
I had known that long before the tails. Before the mana.
But knowing it didn't make it easier.
My body trembled.
And then—I screamed.
Not loud. Not feral.
But deep.
A low, gut-wrenching sound that never left my throat.
It echoed only in me.
I felt my voice shake in my mind. "He—he killed them."
[Correction: Subject Satoshi Hoshino received orders to execute all listed individuals after they were charged under falsified or manipulated accusations. He was not permitted to refuse.]
My head snapped up. "He still did it."
[Affirmative. However—after fulfilling the command, Subject Satoshi Hoshino eliminated the senior authority responsible for the sentence and razed the command structure. The Hoshino Lineage was extinguished entirely by his hand—including those who forced the order.]
I clenched my jaw, but I couldn't speak. Not yet.
[Notice: I am unable to record or retain personal memories or familial emotions. The Chorus, however, now lives within you. If you wish to remember them… you may ask.]
I closed my eyes.
And for the first time, I didn't feel like screaming.
I just felt… quiet.
I would ask later.
But not now.
I pushed myself up slowly, every muscle aching like I was dragging the truth with me. The room spun slightly, but I held my balance.
I turned to leave—ready to step out, maybe find air—
And my foot hit something.
A soft click echoed beneath me.
I stumbled forward slightly, catching myself on the edge of a shelf.
Then turned around.
The floor panel I'd stepped on had shifted just enough.
And behind the far wall—
A faint line of mana glimmered.
A door.
Hidden.
I blinked.
[Unregistered access point detected. Concealment enchantment weakening. Would you like me to map a path?]
I nodded, then realized that was pointless.
"Yeah," I whispered in my thoughts. "Do it."
[Navigation initiating. Standby.]
The floor adjusted under my feet.
And I took a slow, steady step forward—toward whatever was waiting in the dark beyond that door.
The enchantment on the wall shimmered faintly as I approached, like mist curling around a forgotten name. Faint mana threads flickered across the seams—old, but still potent.
[Displacement lock detected. Estimated age: 17 years. Complexity rating: Tier III. Status: Weakened.]
"Can you break it?"
[No. However, your presence is destabilizing the seal. Continued proximity may be sufficient.]
I pressed my hand against the smooth surface. It didn't feel like stone or wood. It felt… cold. Hollow.
Like the wall was pretending to be something it wasn't.
A pulse of magic surged beneath my palm.
And then—
The wall clicked inward.
Not loud. Not dramatic.
Just a soft, almost reluctant invitation.
Dust stirred as the door cracked open, revealing a narrow passage.
Dark.
Silent.
Undisturbed.
[No hostile presences detected. Ambient mana levels: minimal. Air quality: dry. Proceed with caution.]
I hesitated for a heartbeat longer.
Then stepped inside.
The air shifted immediately.
Stale. Preserved.
Like nothing here had breathed in years.
I raised my hand slightly and whispered, "Illuminate."
A dim orb of mana flickered to life at my fingertips. Weak. Unstable. But enough to see.
The passage curved downward, a gradual slope leading into darkness. Walls lined with ancient stone and polished steel veins—magically reinforced.
Buried deep beneath the estate.
Hidden even from the family.
My heart thudded louder as I moved, each step echoing too sharply in the silence.
There were no traps. No alarms. Just silence.
[Observation: This space does not appear on any known schematics of the Tomaszewski estate.]
"Because it's not Tomaszewski," I murmured. "It's Hoshino."
A pause.
[Affirmative.]
The corridor ended in a single chamber. Large. Circular.
And at the center of it—
A weapon.
Suspended inside a containment seal.
It was massive. Nearly my height. The hilt carved from dark stone flecked with crimson. The blade itself forged from a translucent ruby-like crystal, its edges still shimmering faintly with dormant enchantments.
It pulsed.
Like it was breathing.
[Artifact identified: Yukihana. Category: Sentient Weapon. Status: Dormant. Sealing protocols engaged.]
I stepped closer, barely breathing.
This… didn't belong in a noble's collection.
This belonged in a legend.
"Whose was it?"
[Cross-referencing… no match found. Records incomplete. This artifact does not correspond to any known wielder.]
I stared at the blade, its massive frame suspended in stillness—powerful, breathless, ancient.
Forgotten.
Like it had never belonged to anyone.
Or like the world had chosen to forget.
I looked up at its surface—at the warped reflection of my face staring back through ruby crystal.
Not Chiori Tomaszewski.
Not the daughter of nobility.
But something deeper.
A shadow that refused to stay buried.
"…Is it bound to anyone?"
[Negative. No active binding signatures detected.]
"Then why is it here?"
[Unknown. Purpose: Undocumented.]
The air around me buzzed faintly.
Not mana.
Not magic.
Memory.
The Chorus stirred in the back of my mind, restless—like the presence of this place had reawakened something ancient within it.
I took another step closer.
And the blade pulsed again.
Not brighter.
Not louder.
Just… aware.
Watching me back.
I reached out.
Not thinking.
Not deciding.
Just acting.
My fingertips brushed the surface of the seal.
A violent crack of energy snapped through the air, throwing me back.
I hit the ground hard, breath catching in my throat as the mana pulse rolled over me—raw, ancient, and sharp like broken glass. My fingers stung. The seal hadn't just rejected me—it had recognized me. And denied me.
[Notice: Mana feedback detected. Subject has been repelled by artifact seal.]
[New Data Available: Compatibility Assessment in Progress…]
I sat up slowly, heart still pounding.
[Update: Artifact "Yukihana"—Compatibility Rating: 67%. Rejection initiated due to incomplete resonance. Artifact is partially attuned to Hoshino lineage, but full access denied. Requirement: Unknown emotional or magical threshold not met.]
I stared at the weapon.
It hadn't just refused me.
It was waiting.
I pushed myself up, my palms still tingling from the backlash.
My breath was shallow. Uneven.
But I didn't stop looking at it.
Yukihana.
It hadn't hurt me out of malice.
It had rejected me because something was missing.
Or maybe... because something wasn't ready.
But I had seen the flicker. The pulse that wasn't just magic—it was memory. Recognition.
"…Then I'll try again."
I stepped forward, slower this time.
[Notice: Residual mana distortion from initial rejection still active. Contact may result in further physical trauma.]
"I don't care."
I raised my hand again.
The seal shimmered like oil on water. The air buzzed with tension.
I reached out—fingertips trembling slightly.
And I touched it.
Again.
A sharper, more violent pulse erupted from the seal—raw force slamming into me like a wave of broken sound.
I hit the ground with a cry, skidding across the stone.
My vision blurred. My shoulder burned. My mana trembled.
But I didn't pass out.
I was still awake.
Still here.
Still trying.
[Compatibility Reassessment in Progress…]
My breath hitched.
[Update: Compatibility Rating—97%. Seal response altered. Artifact recognizing fragments of resonance. Emotional imprint acknowledged. Further attempts may unlock permanent attunement.]
Ninety-seven percent?
I blinked against the ringing in my ears, heart thudding so hard I thought it might burst.
I wasn't ready.
But I was getting closer.
I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling the faint echo of something shift inside me.
Not power.
Not clarity.
Just… resolve.
"…You remember me," I whispered. "Or someone like me."
And I wasn't leaving without understanding why.
I gritted my teeth, pushing against the wall to stand again.
Before I could take another step—
My limbs locked.
A freezing spell wrapped around my joints.
Not cold.
Just final.
I knew this feeling.
It was the same stillness that had filled the room when Calamitas had stopped my mother and father from destroying each other.
The same pressure. The same silence.
Like reality had paused just to see if it still mattered.
Then—
A voice.
Light.
Playful.
Deadly.
"Third time's usually the charm, but you might want to keep your soul intact. That thing wasn't meant to be touched—not by you, not by anyone anymore."
Calamitas appeared beside the blade without walking.
Like she'd always been there.
Her eyes flicked toward me, and she smiled.
But it wasn't kind.
Calamitas didn't move.
She just stood there, one gloved hand resting lightly against the edge of the containment field—like she was greeting an old friend she didn't particularly like.
Her gaze lingered on the blade for a long moment, the smile on her lips curving tighter. Not amused. Not cruel.
Just… resigned.
"This sword," she said, "wasn't forged to be wielded. Not really. Not like a weapon you hold in your hand. It was forged to be remembered. To remind. To burn names into the world that couldn't be erased."
Her fingers curled slightly over the barrier.
"Unfortunately, it worked too well."
I couldn't move.
I couldn't speak.
She looked back at me finally, her eyes softer now. But only just.
"You felt it, didn't you?" she murmured. "The rejection? That wasn't just incompatibility, little storm. That was the blade deciding not to kill you. Because the version of it I made… wouldn't have stopped."
My breath hitched.
"It's called Yukihana," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "And once, a long time ago, it was my answer to balance. To silence. I made it to cut through lies and cleave through fate. But it doesn't ask for a wielder—it demands one. One with conviction so absolute it eclipses the blade's own will."
She stepped forward, tracing the floating edges of the ruby crystal with her fingertip.
"And your father thought this would be a good thing to keep buried beneath a house built on shame." Her voice turned bitter. "Of course he did."
"But… why is it reacting to me?" I whispered, the words scraping my throat.
Calamitas turned her head toward me, one brow raised.
"Because it remembers you."
I froze.
"What?"
"Not you, exactly," she said. "But what you carry. That resonance—the part of your bloodline that was never supposed to wake up again."
She tapped her head. "The blade remembers that kind of mana. That kind of determination. That kind of loss."
I stared at the sword.
At the way it pulsed.
At the way my own chest still echoed with its rejection.
"It wants you to prove yourself," she said. "And if you don't? It breaks you instead."
She stepped away from it, brushing invisible dust off her coat.
"Yukihana is not a gift. It's a curse I gave to the world when I was younger and angrier and too brilliant for my own good."
She looked at me again.
And this time, there was something solemn in her voice.
"If you keep reaching for that blade, Chiori, it'll tear pieces off of you until there's nothing left but what it wants. It's not just measuring your compatibility—it's reshaping it."
I swallowed hard.
"And you made that?"
Her smile tilted. "Every line. Every seal. Every scream that lives inside it."
She turned slightly toward Yukihana. "It was a prototype. A failed one, depending on who you ask. Me? I think it did exactly what it was supposed to."
She paused.
Then looked at me with eyes that didn't blink.
"You're not ready."
"I can handle—"
"No," she said flatly. "You can't. Not yet."
The pressure in her voice cut through mine like a blade.
"You touch that a third time, and Yukihana will brand you—lock into your soul and carve out everything it doesn't like until you become something it does."
My breath hitched.
"I'm telling you this once, Chiori Tomaszewski," she said, voice low but absolute. "You come back here in seven years—no sooner. You train. You study. You grow stronger than every weight dragging behind your name. And then—only then—you come back and ask Yukihana to listen."
I didn't respond.
Not immediately.
She tilted her head.
"Or," she said, "you try now. Let it eat you from the inside. And I'll be the one to clean up the ash."
Her words didn't carry malice.
Just truth.
That was worse.
The containment seal around the sword pulsed faintly.
Waiting.
Calamitas took one last look at the blade—something unreadable passing through her expression.
"…It shouldn't be here," she murmured. "But your father always did have a talent for burying the things he couldn't understand."
Then—she turned.
The mana that bound my limbs faded all at once.
I nearly dropped to the floor again.
But I caught myself.
Barely.
"You've got time," she said, already walking back toward the shadows of the corridor. "Don't waste it."
With that, she vanished—no sound, no flash—just gone.
And the silence that followed felt more final than anything that had come before it.
I didn't approach the blade again.
Not this time.
Instead, I looked at it one last time.
At the echo of something ancient.
Something waiting.
And I turned to leave.
I didn't remember the walk.
Only the silence.
When I emerged, dawn was barely touching the windows.
I moved carefully, retracing my steps through the hallways—ducking behind shelves, timing my breathing, leaning on Great Sage's soft alerts when patrols passed too close.
I slipped through the last hallway unseen.
Then I opened the door to my room and stepped inside.
The warmth greeted me first.
The soft familiarity of linens. The scent of mana-soaked incense still clinging to the air.
I climbed into bed slowly, careful not to wake anyone, and settled beneath the covers like nothing had happened.
I stared at the ceiling for a long time.
Eyes open.
Breath steady.
And finally, I whispered to the dark:
"He killed them all."
A pause.
"He was ordered to… but he still did it."
Another silence.
Not from Great Sage.
From me.
Because the pain had dulled now.
Just enough.
Not gone.
But bearable.
I turned my face into the pillow, letting the warmth soak back into my skin.
And for the first time since I found the book, I didn't feel the need to scream.
Not anymore.
"Now I understand why he buried them."