A week passed.
Then a second.
The world outside hunted them, whispered about them, feared them…
…but here, at a quiet clearing deep in the woods,
the surviving members of the Eclipsed Order gathered around three graves.
Mira.
Sable.
Satoro.
The air was heavy with grief.
Nova held her newborn tightly, eyes swollen from crying.
Lira stood beside Haruto, supporting him as he stared at the grave of his brother—his hero—his entire world.
Even the Dreaded Knight, helmet lowered, stood unmoving before Mira's grave, his skeletal fingers resting gently on the stone.
They were a broken family.
But still a family.
Haruto's Question
After a long silence, Haruto turned toward Nova.
He walked to her slowly, shakily, and held out his arms.
"…May I?" he whispered.
Nova sniffed and nodded, passing the baby into Haruto's arms.
Haruto held the infant carefully—almost fragilely—
as if he were holding the last piece of Satoro left in existence.
He looked down at the child with watery eyes.
Then he looked up at Nova.
"In all this chaos… all this war…
you never named him."
Everyone looked toward them.
Haruto's voice broke softly:
"…Nova…
what are you going to name my nephew?"
Nova's Answer
Nova wiped her cheeks, took a small breath, and stepped closer.
Her expression softened into a trembling smile.
"I'm going to name him…" she said gently,
"…Satoro.
Satoro."
Haruto froze.
His throat tightened.
Tears spilled down his face as he held the baby closer, whispering:
"…Thank you, Nova.
He'd… he'd be so proud."
Nova leaned onto Haruto's shoulder, crying quietly.
Even the Dreaded Knight bowed his head deeper—
a rare show of respect,
honoring the man who saved them all.
Years Later…
The meadow was peaceful.
Sunlight warmed the graves.
And beneath that same tree stood a young boy,
around five or six years old,
holding a wooden sword far too big for him.
His black hair was messy.
His eyes were sharp and curious.
His posture—confident, stubborn—
exactly like his father.
He read the grave marker out loud:
"SATORO — The Silent Blade."
Behind him came a teasing voice:
"Hey, Satoro !
Careful leaning on that thing—
your dad will haunt me if you tip it over!"
Haruto walked up, older now, taller, calmer.
Satoro. turned and ran to him.
"Uncle Haruto!
Tell me another story about Dad!"
Haruto kneeled beside him.
He placed a hand on his brother's grave—
the same way Satoro once protected him.
With a warm, proud smile, he said:
"I'll tell you everything, Satoro .
Your father…
was the greatest warrior I ever knew."
The boy grinned.
The wind carried their laughter through the meadow.
Three graves stood at peace—
but Satoro's legacy lived on,
in the heart of his son
and in the love of the brother he died to protect.