MORNING — A QUIET START
The next morning unfolded gently, like a page being turned by the wind. A warm golden glow drifted over Gyomei's training grounds, stretching long shadows across the grass still wet with morning dew. Tiny droplets sparkled on each blade, catching the light like scattered diamonds.
Tanjiro stepped forward first, inhaling deeply as he stretched his arms upward, his breath forming faint clouds in the cool air. Zenitsu, with messy hair sticking everywhere, let out a dramatic yawn so long that even birds seemed to pause and glance at him. Inosuke was… already upside down. Balancing on his hands. Muscles tightening and flexing for absolutely no reason other than "training." Murata looked half-awake, blinking slowly like he was still trying to reconnect to reality.
Jinwoo stood quietly among them, adjusting his coat with small, precise movements. The rising sun reflected faintly on his eyes, giving him a calm but sharp presence—like a warrior hidden inside a monk.
They began training like every morning, but today… there was a silent heaviness in the air that none of them could quite explain.
Tanjiro stepped into his stance and swung his wooden sword slowly yet rhythmically, every motion guided by controlled breaths.Zenitsu trembled through his push-ups—his arms shaking violently, as if each repetition was a personal crisis.Inosuke screamed, loudly and proudly, at a random tree for "looking at him funny." The tree, of course, did nothing.Murata tried desperately to keep up with the others, sweat already dripping down his forehead.And Jinwoo?He simply watched the flow of their movements with a teacher's eye, quietly stepping in to adjust their stance—just enough to guide, never enough to overwhelm.
For a few minutes, only the sound of breathing and wooden swords cutting through air filled the grounds.
Then—
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
The ground itself seemed to respond to the footsteps.
A towering presence approached.
Gyomei Himejima moved toward them with slow, heavy steps—each one radiating power and serenity. His prayer beads clinked softly in his hands, and although his expression was gentle, there was a weight behind his presence that made even the wind grow quiet.
"Everyone… come here."
His voice was deep, soft, yet carried across the field like a temple bell.
The boys gathered instantly, forming a line before him.
Before them stood a massive boulder—round, ancient-looking, and tied tightly with thick ropes. Its surface was scarred, weathered, and almost intimidating.
Zenitsu's jaw hit the floor.Murata's soul visibly left his body.Inosuke's eyes sparked like he had just found the ultimate battle rival.Tanjiro swallowed hard.
Gyomei placed a hand on the boulder, touching it as if offering a prayer.
"Your next task… is to move this."
Zenitsu exploded instantly.
"MOVE WHAT—?! THIS THING IS A BUILDING!! GYOMEI-SAN, BE SERIOUS!! NO HUMAN CAN MOVE THAT!!"
Gyomei turned calmly toward Jinwoo.
"Jinwoo… you don't need to participate in this one."
Silence hit harder than a strike.
Jinwoo blinked once.Tanjiro tilted his head slightly.Zenitsu grabbed Jinwoo's arm like a lifeline.
Gyomei continued:
"Your strength would make this test meaningless. This is for them… especially Tanjiro."
Tanjiro stepped forward, determination tightening around his expression.
"Yes! I'll do my best!"
He grabbed the rope with both hands, planted his feet into the earth, and pulled with everything he had—
Nothing moved. Not even a vibration.
Zenitsu threw his hands up.
"SEE?! I TOLD YOU! NOT EVEN A SINGLE ANT MOVED!!"
Tanjiro kept pulling, breath heavy, veins bulging—yet the boulder felt like part of the mountain itself.
Then Inosuke shoved Tanjiro aside with dramatic inconsideration.
"MOVE, KAMADO! WATCH A REAL WARRIOR!!"
He roared and threw himself at the boulder—
Nothing.Not even a pebble shifted.
Inosuke collapsed backward dramatically, twitching like a defeated beetle.
Murata tried after him… and very nearly cried after failing.
Other demon slayers stepped forward through the morning hours—each one trying, struggling, shouting, but ending with the same unmoving boulder.
Jinwoo watched silently the whole time. He didn't move. He didn't try. He respected Gyomei's instruction without question.
AFTERNOON — The Campfire
The afternoon sun drifted lazily across the sky, painting long golden streaks that filtered through the trees of Gyomei's training grounds. Shadows stretched slowly, as if even time itself had grown tired after the grueling morning of training. A soft breeze carried the scent of freshly cut grass and river water, fluttering the leaves overhead in a soft, rhythmic whisper.
A small fire crackled in the center of their makeshift camp. The orange flames flickered gently, reflecting in everyone's eyes as they sat around it. Over the fire, a pan rested on a flat stone, and inside it—freshly caught fish sizzled gently, the skin blistering and curling at the edges. Every few seconds, the fire spat a spark or popped loudly, earning tiny flinches from Zenitsu and Murata.
It was a moment of warmth—both the kind that touched the skin and the kind that wrapped itself around their tired hearts.
Inosuke, who had no concept of patience, sat closest to the pan, practically vibrating with hunger. Before anyone could warn him or stop him, he grabbed one entire fish with his bare hands, steam rising off it as he tore into it unapologetically like a beast who had never known the meaning of manners.
"FOOD!! DELICIOUS!! MORE!!"He shouted, voice echoing through the trees in pure, untamed joy.
Zenitsu clutched his head and groaned so dramatically you'd think he was watching a national tragedy unfold."CAN YOU EAT LIKE A NORMAL HUMAN BEING?!"
Inosuke ignored him, too busy shredding more fish like a wild boar at a feast.
Murata let out a deep, exhausted sigh as he watched the two argue—something that had already happened at least five times today. He looked into the fire, his expression softer now, troubled even.
"That boulder… it's impossible…" he whispered, the doubt heavy in his voice. His shoulders slumped forward as though the weight of the stone itself had settled onto him.
Tanjiro, sitting beside him, gently poked the fire with a thin stick, turning the coals carefully. Sparks rose upward like tiny golden fireflies before fading into the sky. His eyes held a calm determination even as he listened to the crackling flames.
"There must be a way," Tanjiro said, his voice steady, patient. "Gyomei-san wouldn't give us something meaningless."
His words were soft, but they carried strength—like a river quietly moving with unstoppable force beneath the surface.
Jinwoo, who sat slightly apart from the group with his usual quiet aura, nodded slowly. His expression was unreadable, but there was a knowing seriousness in his dark eyes.
"Everything he does has purpose," he said, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched the fire. "There's something you're missing, Tanjiro."
Tanjiro blinked, thinking deeply, as if Jinwoo's words planted a seed of realization that would take time to sprout.
Zenitsu, who had just recovered from screaming at Inosuke, now trembled again—this time from anxiety rather than anger.
"Missing WHAT?!" he wailed. "Missing MUSCLES?? Missing THREE YEARS OF TRAINING??"
Inosuke, having finished the first fish and reaching for another, jumped to his feet and raised both fists high.
"I WILL BE THE FIRST TO MOVE IT!!" he bellowed confidently, chest puffed out, eyes burning with unshakeable pride.
Zenitsu didn't miss the chance to attack him verbally.
"You couldn't move a pebble," Zenitsu said flatly, deadpan, as he pointed at him judgmentally.
Inosuke immediately responded the way Inosuke always did—with fists.
He punched Zenitsu square in the shoulder.
Zenitsu let out a scream so shrill that several birds nearby took flight, startled by the noise.Murata practically jumped up in panic, trying to push them apart.
"H-Hey! Stop! Both of you! We're supposed to be relaxing! Stop fighting!!"
Tanjiro, smiling with that warm gentleness he always carried, intervened by simply placing his hand between the two and gently but firmly guiding them apart, as if separating two children fighting over a spoon.
"Come on, guys," he said with a laugh that eased the tension instantly. "We're all hungry. Fighting won't make the fish cook any faster."
The fire popped again, sending a warm pulse of heat across their faces. The wind rustled softly, carrying the sound of distant waterfall-like flow from the river where they had caught their meal earlier. Leaves drifted lazily to the earth, landing at their feet like nature's slow applause.
For a moment, no one spoke. They simply breathed in the peaceful silence — a silence not empty, but comforting. The kind that lets tired bodies settle, the kind that lets hearts mend a little.
Jinwoo took a slow bite of his fish, chewing thoughtfully as he glanced around at the group. He wasn't used to this kind of atmosphere. In his world, quiet moments usually came after battles—moments tinged with danger, death, and strategy. But here… it felt different.
There was warmth.
There was camaraderie.
They were laughing, arguing, healing from their struggles, even if just for a moment.
Tanjiro's smile reflected the orange flames as he spoke softly, almost to himself."It's nice… everyone sitting together like this."
Zenitsu let out a quieter sigh now, the panic easing from his face as he nibbled his fish like a squirrel, carefully blowing on every bite.
"Yeah… I guess… if Inosuke doesn't bite me again."
Inosuke, now lying back with both hands behind his head, snorted."If you don't talk like a scared rat, I'll think about it."
Murata shook his head with a tired laugh. "How are we supposed to move a boulder with these two acting like children?"
Tanjiro chuckled, eyes soft. "We'll figure something out. Gyomei-san believes in us. That means we can do it."
A comfortable silence followed.
The sun sank a little lower, the sky deepening into a beautiful orange-pink. The shadows from the trees grew softer, stretching long and gentle across the ground. The fire's warmth pulsed quietly, matching the slow, steady rhythm of their breathing.
Jinwoo leaned back slightly, letting the calm wash over him.He rarely allowed himself to relax—but right now, surrounded by friends, good food, and a peaceful atmosphere, he let down his guard by just a fraction.
It was… nice.
Too nice.
A moment of stillness he didn't know he needed.
The fire continued crackling.
The air smelled of warm fish.
They sat together—laughing, eating, healing.
A quiet, gentle peace.
A moment of calm…Before the next storm, the next trial, the next burden each of them would have to carry.
But for now—Just this fire, this warmth, this brief afternoon of quiet friendship—was enough.
EVENING
Evening poured slowly over Gyomei's training grounds, as if the sunlight itself were reluctant to leave. The sky melted into a gentle purple, streaked with fading gold, and the air cooled just enough to make the cicadas quiet down. A soft breeze drifted through the trees, carrying the faint smell of pine and river water.
Tiny lanterns hung around the edges of the small wooden hut the demon slayers used for rest. Their warm glow flickered gently, pushing away the shadows.
Inside, the room felt peaceful—humble, warm, alive with tiny sounds:the rustle of rice, the soft clack of bowls, Tanjiro's steady breathing.
Tanjiro knelt on a straw mat, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hands moved slowly and carefully, shaping small rice balls one after another. Each movement was deliberate, almost ritualistic, as if he were handling something precious.The grains of rice glistened softly under the lantern light, and the faint smell of vinegar and seasoning drifted through the room.
Jinwoo sat beside him, knees folded neatly. He watched the way Tanjiro worked—not rushed, not mechanical, but with quiet intention. Jinwoo wasn't used to seeing someone cook with such tenderness. In his world, meals were energy sources, often eaten amid bloodshed or urgency. But here… the act itself felt peaceful.
A group of demon slayers peeked through the doorway hesitantly, drawn by the scent.
One stepped forward."Tanjiro… are you making dinner?"
Tanjiro looked up with that bright, gentle smile that always seemed to soften the entire atmosphere around him.
"Yes! These are onigiri I learned from my mom. After we finished selling charcoal, she always made them."
His tone shifted—warm, nostalgic, carrying a softness that made the air feel heavier with emotion. His hands slowed a little as memory guided his touch. The hut seemed quieter, even the fire outside crackling faintly as if listening.
He reached into a small wooden bowl and sprinkled a familiar seasoning—something earthy, aromatic, simple yet filled with love.A seasoning from home.A taste of a life he missed dearly.
Jinwoo accepted one onigiri when Tanjiro offered it to him. He turned it slightly in his hand, noticing the shape—imperfect, handmade with care. He took a small bite—
And paused.
His eyes widened slightly, just enough for Tanjiro to notice.
"…This is… really good."
The compliment was simple, but coming from someone as reserved as Jinwoo, it felt sincere and heavy with meaning. Tanjiro's smile deepened, a gentle glow spreading across his face.
The other demon slayers finally entered, unable to resist.
Some took cautious bites. Others shoved entire onigiri into their mouths.
One chewed for three seconds then instantly started crying. Big, dramatic tears rolled down his face as he whispered,"Why is it so warm…? Why does it taste like home…?"
Another slayer screamed as if punched in the chest."It's too good!! What is this feeling?! Is this what LOVE tastes like?!"
And another, younger slayer fell to his knees, clutching his chest."MOM—!!!"
Tanjiro laughed softly, a sound as warm as the lantern beside him. His eyes gleamed—not with amusement, but with deep affection. He wasn't just feeding them; he was sharing a piece of his heart… a piece of his family.
As he watched the others enjoy the meal, a quiet image formed behind his eyes.
For a moment…
He wasn't in the hut.
He was standing in a small mountain home with paper windows glowing orange from the hearth.He saw his mother—gentle, smiling, her hands moving the same way his moved now.He saw his brothers and sister laughing, running around.He saw his father sitting quietly by the doorway, warmth in his tired eyes.
Tanjiro blinked slowly.The steaming rice ball in his hand felt like a bridge to a past life.One he cherished more than anything.
Jinwoo watched him—carefully, quietly.He didn't say anything, but his expression softened in a rare way. He recognized that look on Tanjiro's face. He had worn it too—whenever he thought about the pieces of his old life, the ones he lost, the ones he tried to protect but couldn't.
Jinwoo wasn't a stranger to longing.To memory.To the ache of holding onto the past because it was far kinder than the present.
He took another bite of the onigiri, savoring it slowly.He didn't just taste food.He tasted warmth.He tasted something gentle in a world that was constantly cruel.
Tanjiro glanced at Jinwoo, meeting his eyes for a brief moment.And in that quiet exchange—a simple, silent connection—Jinwoo conveyed something without words:
I understand.
Not the exact pain, not the exact life, but the feeling.The longing.The love tied to memory.
Tanjiro's smile grew even softer.He didn't need words either.
Outside, the night deepened.Fireflies drifted lazily beyond the hut's open door, tiny lights floating like stars brought down to earth. The cool air carried distant sounds of rustling trees and faint water flowing.
Inside the small hut, the atmosphere remained gentle—warmth from the lantern, laughter from the slayers, and the quiet, unspoken understanding between Jinwoo and Tanjiro.
For the first time in a long while, Tanjiro felt like a son again—someone's beloved child.And Jinwoo, in his rare moment of stillness, felt like he was sharing a home he never truly had.
In that small hut, surrounded by friends, rice, lantern light, and memories…
They weren't demon slayers.They weren't hunters.They weren't warriors preparing for battle.
They were simply people.
People sharing warmth in a cold world.People finding comfort in each other's presence.People who deserved these quiet moments—brief but powerful.
Moments that healed.
Moments that reminded them why they kept fighting.
MIDNIGHT
Midnight draped the training grounds in silver.
The moon hung high—rounded, bright, and unwavering—casting a pale glow that washed over every tree, every rock, and every shadow. The air was cool, quiet, and still, the kind of silence that felt sacred yet fragile. Only the gentle rustle of leaves responded to the soft breeze.
Inside the small hut, the demon slayers slept in a chaotic harmony.
Zenitsu snored with a force that could genuinely be mistaken for distant thunder.Every exhale shook the wooden walls faintly.
Inosuke, impossibly, slept upside down on the ceiling, limbs dangling like an oddly placed bat. No one knew how he got up there. No one questioned it anymore.
Murata clutched his pillow desperately, mumbling in his sleep as if battling invisible nightmares, face pressed tightly against the worn fabric.
Tanjiro lay peacefully on his side, breathing with such soft, calm rhythm that the rising and falling of his chest almost soothed the room around him. His presence felt warm even in sleep.
Jinwoo, however, did not rest.
He sat outside the hut, legs loosely folded, cloak rustling gently in the night breeze. The moonlight caught on the edges of his hair, turning it a faint silver-blue. His eyes were lifted toward the boundless sky filled with stars—cold, eternal, unmoving.
He quietly exhaled.
Cha Hae-In…The Demon domain…The Demon king..muzan..…
His mind drifted between worlds.
This world of swords and demons felt so distant from the chaotic modern world he came from—but beneath everything, beneath cultures, eras, and powers… life and death still danced the same way.
A fragile balance.A razor-thin line.A choice that could vanish with a heartbeat.
Jinwoo closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the night's gentle lull. The earth felt alive here. Wild. Pure.But dangerous.
That's why he was awake.
He didn't need sleep like the others. His shadows didn't need rest.They existed to protect.
Suddenly—
A low, wet crawling sound seeped from the darkness.
Something shifted among the trees beyond the fire's dying embers. A grotesque silhouette crept forward—skin stretched tight over bone, eyes glowing faint yellow. Its mouth hung open, dripping saliva that hissed when it touched the ground.
A demon.
It moved with a predator's patience, limbs contorting unnaturally as it stalked closer to the hut.Its claws tapped softly against the dirt.Its breath rasped like broken glass.
It sniffed the air.
It smelled prey.
Zenitsu's thunderous snoring made the demon flinch, but it did not back away. Instead, it grew hungrier.
With each step, it edged closer.
Closer.
Closer.
Just a few more steps and it would reach the door—
SLASH—!!
In a single motion, too fast for human eyes, the demon's head shot upward, spinning into the moonlit air before crashing onto the grass with a dull, final thud.
The demon's body collapsed a moment later, twitching once before dissolving into ash.
Standing behind it was a towering, muscular shadow warrior—A High Orc Shadow, its massive blade dripping with thick, tar-like demon blood.Its glowing violet eyes burned through the night like twin embers.
The shadow did not boast.Did not roar.Did not hesitate.
It simply did its duty.
Jinwoo looked over his shoulder, eyes half-lidded.
He nodded once.
"Good work."
The High Orc Shadow lowered its head respectfully, kneeling before him. Then it rose silently, moving back into its position beside the hut—standing guard like a living fortress, unmoving, unblinking.
The night settled again.
The stars shimmered quietly above.
But then—
Tanjiro stirred inside the hut.Not fully awake, but sensing something.
His eyes opened halfway, groggy but warm.
"Jinwoo san…? Are you still awake…?"
Jinwoo didn't turn.His voice remained calm.
"Go back to sleep. Everything's fine."
Tanjiro sat up slightly, rubbing his eyes as the moonlight fell on his face.
"You're protecting us, aren't you?"
Jinwoo didn't need to answer.But tanjiro already know
Tanjiro smiled softly, that gentle, sincere smile only he could make.
"…Thank you."
Jinwoo finally glanced at him with a subtle, almost hidden softness.
"You all worked hard today. Rest. I'll handle the night."
Tanjiro nodded—and before he could say anything else, Inosuke fell off the ceiling behind him with a loud crash.
Zenitsu screamed in his sleep.Murata punched his pillow.The hut shook like an earthquake hit it.
Tanjiro sighed, whispering:
"…They need all the protection they can get."
Jinwoo let out the faintest smile.
"Yeah… I noticed."
Tanjiro laid back down, comforted.The night returned to stillness.
Jinwoo looked at the stars again, cloak fluttering softly.
The High Orc Shadow remained at the door, unmoving.
And in that quiet, silver-lit world, one hunter kept watch while the others dreamed—a silent guardian under the midnight moon.
DAYS PASS…
Morning broke gently over the training grounds, but Zenitsu, Inosuke, and Murata did not stay to see the sunrise glow across the misty hills. They were already preparing their supplies, strapping on their uniforms, and readying their blades.
Zenitsu cried as usual, clinging to Tanjiro's haori.Inosuke bragged loudly about becoming "THE STRONGEST IN THE WORLD" before he left.Murata gave a tired wave, trying to pretend he wasn't nervous.
And then—
Just like that—
They were gone.
Their footsteps faded along the dirt path, swallowed by the forest.
Leaving Tanjiro alone.
Only the boulder remained by his side—massive, unmoving, indifferent to his struggles.
Day after day, Tanjiro tried.
He tried with hands blistered raw.He tried with arms shaking until he could barely lift them.He tried under the blazing sun that baked the ground beneath his feet.He tried under harsh rain that drenched his clothes and made the stone slippery.
Every morning, he rose before the first bird sang.Every evening, he pushed long after the sky turned dark.
He wrapped bandages around his palms, only for them to bleed again.
He bit down on his breath, trying to anchor himself, trying to find the rhythm, the balance, the technique Gyomei insisted he could learn.
But no matter how many times he gritted his teeth…
The giant boulder never moved.
Not even an inch.
And with each passing day, a heavy weight settled over Tanjiro's shoulders—not just physical exhaustion, but doubt.That gentle, creeping doubt that clings to the heart when everything hurts.
One day…
After hours of pushing, pulling, dragging, straining until his muscles screamed, Tanjiro's strength finally gave out.
He slumped forward, falling to his knees beside the boulder. His forehead pressed against its cool, unmoving surface. The stone smelled like rain, dirt, and earth—calm… steady… unshakable.
Everything Tanjiro wanted to be, but right now… wasn't.
He exhaled shakily, his breath ghosting across the stone.
"…Why… can't I do it…"
His voice cracked slightly, filled with frustration, fatigue… and a whisper of despair.
The wind passed gently through the trees, rustling the leaves above as if trying to comfort him.
Footsteps approached quietly.
Sung Jinwoo.
He didn't speak at first. He simply walked over and lowered himself beside Tanjiro, sitting with one knee raised, cloak rustling softly.
The moonlight draped the two of them in pale silver.The world felt still.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Tanjiro closed his eyes, trying to control the trembling in his breath.
Jinwoo watched him thoughtfully—seeing not just a boy who was tired, but a boy who was fighting with every fiber of his being.
Finally, in a low, quiet voice, Jinwoo broke the silence.
"Tanjiro… do you know my biggest mistake?"
Tanjiro lifted his head slightly, eyes rimmed red with exhaustion and emotion.
"Mistake…?"
Jinwoo looked up at the star-packed sky.
"My whole life… I tried to become strong for myself," he said softly."I wanted to survive. To fight back. To protect only myself."
His voice carried history—pain and memories that didn't belong to this world.
Tanjiro listened with full attention, tired but present.
Jinwoo continued.
"But true strength… doesn't come from protecting yourself."He glanced sideways."It comes from someone you want to protect. Someone whose belief in you… makes you rise again."
Tanjiro's eyes widened a little, his breath catching.
Someone he wanted to protect?
Someone who believed in him?
Jinwoo placed his hand on the massive boulder, palm flat against the rough stone.
"Think of the person who made you want to become strong," he said gently."Someone who told you to keep going… even when it hurts."
Tanjiro swallowed hard.
"Use their strength," Jinwoo whispered."Not yours."
Tanjiro's hands curled slowly, nails biting into his palms.
His breath trembled.
And then—
In his mind…
Warm flames flickered.
Not destructive flames—but bright, burning, living ones.
He saw a smile more radiant than fire itself.A man who stood between life and death with unwavering resolve.A mentor, a pillar, a hero.
Kyojuro Rengoku.
His voice echoed, loud and clear, reaching Tanjiro's heart like a blazing comet.
"Set your heart ablaze."
Tanjiro's whole body shook.
His vision blurred as tears formed—uncontrolled, overwhelming—dripping slowly down his cheeks.
Jinwoo watched quietly, understanding more than Tanjiro realized. He had lost mentors too. He had lost people who believed in him. And he knew the kind of strength those memories could give.
"Rengoku-san…" Tanjiro whispered in mind, trembling."…I won't give up."
Jinwoo stepped back slightly, giving him space.But he continued speaking, voice softer now.
"You're not alone in this," Jinwoo said."You're carrying, . Let it burn through your weakness. Let it guide you."
Tanjiro wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
"Jinwoo-san…" he murmured."Do you… also have someone like that? Someone who helped you rise?"
Jinwoo looked away for a moment.
A shadow.A memory.A quiet smile from another world.
"…Yes," he said simply."Someone who believed in me even when I didn't believe in myself."
Tanjiro nodded slowly, almost instinctively, as if understanding something unspoken.
Then Tanjiro placed both hands on the boulder—but this time, not with desperation.Not with fear.
With resolve.
With fire.
He inhaled deeply, letting the night air fill his lungs.
Jinwoo stepped back further, watching from a respectful distance.
Tanjiro whispered again, louder, firmer:
"…Rengoku-san…Please… let me carry your flame."
The wind shifted.
A faint warmth spread through the air—as if the spirit of a fallen Flame Hashira stood beside him, hand on his shoulder, smiling proudly.
Tanjiro's fingers tightened.
His stance steadied.
The fire inside him blazed.
And Jinwoo—standing in silence—felt the shift.He felt the boy's heart ignite.
He closed his eyes for a moment and murmured:
"…That's it. You found it."
Tanjiro turned slightly, tears still glistening but his smile strong.
"Thank you, Jinwoo-san… For reminding me."
Jinwoo shook his head.
"It's your fire," he replied softly."I just pointed you toward it."
The two stood there beneath the fading evening light—a boy carrying the legacy of fire,and a man carrying shadows from another world.
Together in the quiet.
Together against the weight of the world.