The Thirteenth Domain was not a place that welcomed dawn.
Even when sunlight rose over the Crescent Isles, the Domain clung to its shadows the way a starving beast clung to bone. Morning here was only a slightly paler shade of night.
Rin walked with his hood low, the smell of ash and metal lingering on his clothes. Overnight, he had slept in the rafte
rs of an abandoned shrine, away from the streets crawling with Veil Hunters and scavenger gangs. His body ached from the battle, from the awakening, from the way the shadow had moved without him yesterday—like a predator unchained.
But nothing ached as much as the knowledge of what he had become.
Shadow-eater.
Veil-touched.
Monster wearing a boy's skin.
Rumors were spreading fast. Too fast.
Already he heard whispers as he passed the morning crowds:
"—they say something killed a Wraith again—"
"—ate it whole, like the dark swallowed itself—"
"—a boy with no clan—"
"—a bounty from the High Council—alive or dead—"
Rin quickened his steps.
He needed to leave the district before someone recognized him. Before someone tried to collect on that bounty, or worse—before the shadow slipped again.
He turned into a quieter street where laundry lines sagged overhead and the air smelled like wet stone. And that was when he felt it—
A presence.
Soft. Barely noticeable. But watching him.
Rin froze. His hand drifted toward the short blade tucked inside his sleeve.
The presence did not approach.
It waited.
"Come out," Rin said.
Silence.
A breeze stirred, rustling paper charms tied along a wooden gate. All the doors here were shut; no footsteps, no breathing, nothing except—
Rin's shadow shifted.
Not me, he thought. Not now.
But it wasn't hunger this time. It wasn't rage. It was… curiosity.
Something was watching it.
A faint voice answered from somewhere above:
"You're not hiding your emotions very well, you know."
Rin spun. The voice came from the roof of a small teahouse.
Someone sat there, legs folded neatly, posture straight.
A girl.
She wore a simple white kimono tied with a blue cord, sleeves fluttering in the breeze. Her hair was long and dark, falling like ink over her shoulders. Her face was serene—calm in a way no one from this cursed Domain should be.
But what stopped Rin cold were her eyes.
They were milk-white. No pupils. No focus.
Blind…?
Yet she had looked straight at him.
"How long have you been watching me?" Rin asked.
"Long enough." Her voice was gentle, but firm. "You've been leaking colors everywhere."
"Colors?"
"Yes." She tilted her head, as though studying him through senses he couldn't understand. "You're… hurting. Frightened. Determined. But underneath it all…"
Her expression darkened.
"…something else."
Rin's muscles tensed. "Who are you?"
The girl stood and dropped from the roof. Her bare feet landed on the cobblestones without a sound.
She walked toward him with the grace of falling snow.
"I'm Ayame." She stopped a few feet away—close enough to touch, but leaving enough room to flee. As if she already knew he wanted to. "And I can see emotions."
Rin frowned. "Impossible."
"Not really." She smiled faintly. "I was born without eyes that see the world. So I was given eyes that see hearts instead."
It sounded like nonsense. Yet she tracked him perfectly, sensing his every breath.
"If you can see emotions… what do you see now?"
Ayame hesitated.
She opened her mouth. Closed it.
Then she said quietly:
"…I see grief. Not normal grief. Something older. Something… merciless."
Rin's heartbeat quickened. He stepped back.
But Ayame didn't advance. She just stood there—listening to the silence around his shaking breath.
"Kuro," she whispered, using his alias by accident—or intuition. "Something inside your shadow is weeping."
Rin's blood went cold.
"You… can see my shadow?"
Ayame shook her head. "No. I can only see emotions. But the grief you carry isn't human. It clings to you, like tar." She paused. "It's not yours, is it?"
Rin felt the shadow stir behind him.
Ayame's blind eyes followed the movement.
"I won't ask what it is," she said softly. "But you should know… it's afraid too."
Rin blinked. "Afraid?"
"Yes."
That made no sense. The shadow had eaten a Yokai Wraith the night before. It did not fear. It consumed fear.
Ayame lifted her hand slightly. "May I?"
Rin stiffened. "Don't touch me."
"I'm not trying to hurt you," she said, lowering her hand. "I want to help."
"Why?"
"Because…" Her voice grew even softer. "I think you're alone. And because something terrible is coming for you."
Rin narrowed his eyes. "Who sent you?"
"No one." She paused. "I heard the same rumors everyone else did. But when I followed the emotions in the air, they led me to you."
Rin didn't believe her. Couldn't. Trust was a knife to the throat in the Thirteenth Domain.
But there was something about her—calm despite the danger, gentle despite the darkness.
And then she said something that made him freeze:
"You're not a monster, Rin."
His real name.
He stepped forward, blade drawn, pressing it to her throat.
"Say that name again," Rin whispered.
Ayame didn't flinch. "Your shadow told me."
Rin's grip trembled.
It spoke? To her?
Ayame continued gently:
"It said your name the moment it sensed me. Like a frightened child hiding behind its parent."
"I'm not its parent."
"But it feels that way."
Rin's blade pressed harder. "Who are you really?"
Ayame's voice didn't waver.
"The girl who doesn't want you to die."
---
She told him everything.
She was from the Eighth Domain.
Her clan practiced a rare sensory technique—Kokoro-no-Me, the Eye of Hearts.
Ayame was the first in three generations to be born fully blind.
Her parents treated her like a broken tool.
Other clans saw her as a curiosity.
Some saw her as a weapon.
She ran away.
And now she wandered the Domains alone, following emotional trails no normal human could sense.
But today was different.
"I've never seen colors like yours," she admitted. "Your grief is pitch-black, but there's something trying to pierce through it."
Rin clenched his fists. "Enough. Stop looking at me like I'm some painting."
Ayame's expression softened.
"Then stop leaking emotions so loudly. It hurts to look at."
Rin faltered.
No one had ever scolded him gently before.
The shadow behind him rippled—soft, almost shy.
Ayame tilted her head. "There. It's doing it again. Like… hiding behind you."
Rin swallowed. "If you see emotions… what does it look like?"
Ayame hesitated.
"Like a person kneeling in the dark," she whispered. "Weeping. Screaming. Wanting to be held, but unable to ask."
Rin felt something twist in his chest.
A memory tugged.
His father sealing the Authority into him.
The weight of a second consciousness.
The cold whisper of a forgotten name.
Ayame continued:
"And then there's you. You drown all your pain in silence. You don't cry or scream. You just… carry it. Alone."
Rin turned away. "You don't know anything about me."
"No," she agreed. "But your shadow does. And emotions never lie."
---
Footsteps echoed at the end of the street.
Shouts.
Armor clinking.
Multiple presences moving in formation.
Veil Hunters.
Ayame tensed. "They're coming for you."
Rin cursed under his breath.
Ayame stepped closer. "Let me guide you out."
"I don't need help."
"You do," she said sharply. "Your emotions are too loud. They'll track you."
"How?!"
Ayame pointed at his chest. "Grief stains the world. They can smell it."
Rin stared at her.
She held out her hand.
"Please, Rin. Let me help you."
The shadow whispered behind him—low, pleading, echoing her voice.
Rin grabbed her wrist.
"Fine. But if you slow me down—"
"I won't."
---
They ran.
Ayame moved as if the world bent around her.
She avoided broken crates before her foot touched them.
She ducked under hanging lanterns without seeing them.
Every turn, every corner, she predicted before Rin even looked.
"How are you—?" Rin began.
"I told you," she said between breaths. "I see emotions. Footsteps have colors too."
And then she suddenly yanked him back.
A spear whistled through where his head would've been.
"RUN!" Ayame yelled.
They sprinted down another alley. Veil Hunters poured after them, shouting commands:
"Shadow signature confirmed!"
"Do NOT engage alone!"
"He's worth ten platinum marks alive!"
Rin grimaced. "Ten platinum? I'm not worth that much."
Ayame gave him a dry smile. "You're underselling yourself."
The Hunters closed in.
Rin's shadow writhed—hungry, eager, growing thicker beneath his feet.
"No," Rin hissed. "Not now. Not here."
Ayame grabbed his sleeve. "It reacts to stress. Try to keep calm."
"I AM calm!"
"You're screaming inside."
Rin glared. "I thought you were blind."
"I am. Not deaf."
Despite the danger, Rin almost snorted.
Almost.
But the Hunters were closing from every direction.
Rin skidded to a stop in a courtyard surrounded by towering walls.
Dead end.
Ayame whispered, voice trembling for the first time:
"…Rin. They're not here to capture you."
Rin looked at her sharply. "What do you mean?"
"They came with killing intent."
Rin clenched his jaw. "Then stay behind me."
Ayame shook her head violently. "No—if your grief spills more, you'll awaken that thing again—"
The shadow surged beneath him.
Hungry.
Restless.
Triggered by danger.
Veil Hunters raised their talismans and spears.
"Target located!"
"Release the Sealing Nets!"
"Kill the Emanation inside him!"
Rin froze.
Kill… the Emanation?
Ayame's voice broke.
"Rin—your shadow is a person to me. It's crying."
Rin inhaled sharply.
The shadow twisted, rising—
Ayame reached blindly and grabbed his hand.
"Don't let it consume everything," she begged. "It's afraid of losing you."
Rin's eyes widened.
The shadow paused.
Frozen between instinct and something… softer.
Ayame stepped closer, pressing her forehead against his arm.
"I can't see the world," she whispered, "but I can see you. Both of you. And neither of you want to die."
Rin's heartbeat pounded in his ears.
The shadow trembled beneath him.
"Ayame," he whispered, "get back."
"No."
Veil Hunters lunged.
Ayame didn't move.
Rin's world slowed.
Fear surged.
Rage crashed.
Instinct roared.
And the shadow—
The shadow exploded outward.
Black tendrils erupted like a tidal wave, slamming the Hunters into walls, crushing armor, shattering weapons.
Emotional agony flooded the courtyard—Rin's, the shadow's, Ayame's fear—blending into something primal.
Ayame squeezed Rin's hand tighter.
"Rin," she whispered, "don't disappear."
The shadow writhed, claws formed, a monstrous silhouette rising—
Rin forced himself forward, arms shaking.
And he whispered:
"Stop."
The shadow froze.
Trembling.
Then slowly… painfully… it sank back into him like a wounded child hiding in its mother's coat.
The courtyard fell silent.
Ayame exhaled shakily. "You… tamed it."
Rin stared at his own shaking hands.
"No," he murmured. "I just… asked."
Ayame smiled softly.
"That's why it listens."
Rin swallowed hard. "Ayame… why help me? You could've run."
She squeezed his hand again.
"Because I see what no one else sees."
Her voice was quiet, gentle, steady.
"You're not the monster they think you are."
She tilted her head, as if looking straight into his broken chest.
"…The monster is the grief inside your shadow."
Rin didn't know what to say.
Ayame stepped beside him.
"Let me travel with you."
Rin stiffened. "No. Too dangerous."
"I'm blind," she said with a small smile. "Danger is my entire life."
Rin shook his head. "Ayame—"
She interrupted him, tone soft but unwavering:
"You need someone who can see what you can't."
Her white eyes lifted toward him.
"And your shadow needs someone who won't fear it."
Rin exhaled.
Shaking.
So he said the only thing he could:
"…Fine. But stay close."
Ayame nodded. "I will."
They turned to leave the ruined courtyard, Veil Hunters groaning on the ground.
Ayame paused.
"Rin?"
"Yeah?"
"Your shadow stopped crying."
Rin froze.
A warmth he didn't understand flickered in the darkness behind him.
For the first time in years, something inside him whispered not hunger, not rage—
—but relief.