Jin felt like everything around him was falling apart, breaking into a million pieces. His mind was stuck in a weird in-between state, hovering between living and dying. He was hanging on to life, mostly because of the Phoenix Protocol, which was doing everything it could to keep him going.

"Critical organ failure has been identified in sectors three through seven," Asha's voice reached him, coming through softly like it was coming from really far away, all muffled and bouncing around like sound does in water.

"The rate of cellular degradation is at 67%. Jin, my capacity to endure is rapidly diminishing—"

As her voice faded away, he started to think about something else. Out of nowhere, a warm memory popped into his head.

---

Sunlight streamed in through the paper screens, creating a soft light. The sound of wooden sandals tapping against the polished floor made the place feel even more peaceful. Outside, a garden full of cherry blossoms dropped its petals like tiny snowflakes, even though he couldn't really recall what season it was.

In front of that beautiful garden, there was a room. Meanwhile, adults were having quiet, serious chats in the background.

"Jin," his mom's voice had a cozy vibe but sounded a bit worn out. Lady Reika Tsurugi crouched next to her little boy, fixing his fancy hakama. "You're going to meet a very special cousin today. She's... she's been through difficult times. Her parents were lost in an accident."

Five-year-old Jin's face scrunched up with concern. "Lost? Like when I lose my practice sword?"

His mother's smile was sad. "Something like that, sweetheart. She's alone now, except for family. Except for us. Can you be kind to her?"

"Of course!" Jin bounced on his heels, already eager to help. "I'll be the best cousin ever! We can play samurai and I'll show her my secret frog spot and—"

"Jin." His mom's hand on his shoulder had a soft but steady grip. "She might be... different. She's a quiet girl. The loss of one's parents changes a person, even one so young."

Jin didn't really understand, but he nodded solemnly. "I'll be extra nice, Mom. Promise!"

The sliding door eased open, accompanied by a soft creaking sound. A woman dressed in a stark black kimono stepped inside first—Jin would later forget her features, but the precision of her movements would linger in his memory. Following closely behind her was a small girl, so petite that she seemed nearly lost in the woman's shadow.

The girl was remarkably tiny for her age of five. Clad in a pristine white kimono—mourning attire, though Jin didn't yet understand this—her long black hair cascaded down her back like a dark waterfall, held in place by a single red ribbon. However, it was her eyes that stole Jin's breath away. They were a striking red, reminiscent of rubies, like a flame burning, or an angry sunset. Jin's mother had called them Tsurugi eyes, while his own were a deep brown.

"This is Shūmei," The lady in the black outfit said. "She will be staying with us at the compound for...a time."

The little girl stepped forward and performed a bow. It was flawless—almost too flawless for someone her age, every angle executed perfectly and held just long enough. When she straightened, her piercing red gaze locked onto Jin with an intensity that seemed unexpected for someone so young.

"Hello," She spoke, her voice sounding like wind chimes. "You must be Jin-sama."

"Just Jin is okay!" He said with a cheerful tone, completely overlooking all the things his mom taught him about how to properly introduce people. "Wanna see the garden? The cherry blossoms are super pretty right now!"

Something flickered in those red eyes—was it a surprise? For just a moment, the perfect mask cracked, giving a glimpse of a more real feeling underneath. But then, just like that, it was gone, replaced by a polite little smile.

"If it pleases you," she said.

"Come on!" Jin instinctively grabbed her hand, totally unaware of her sudden freeze and wide-eyed surprise. "I'll show you everything!" he said with excitement.

He dragged her over to the engawa, chatting enthusiastically about all kinds of stuff—the koi fish that would eat from his hand, the best trees to climb, and those sunny spots where the cats loved to hang out. Shūmei strolled alongside him quietly, still holding his hand, her captivating eyes fixed on him.

That's when the clearer memories kicked in—Jin practicing his sword moves while she watched.

At only five years old, Jin sat cross-legged on the engawa, struggling with a practice sword way too big for him. He was concentrating hard, his little tongue sticking out as he tried to copy the moves he'd seen the older kids do.

"You're not holding it right," a soft voice broke through, feeling like silk in the air. Jin looked up to see his cousin, who had been so quiet that he almost forgot she was there.

She glided closer with surprising grace, each step smooth and careful for someone her age. When she knelt next to him, she did it with the kind of elegance you'd expect from someone doing a tea ceremony.

"Here," she said, her tiny hands adjusting his grip with surprising firmness. "The sword is like an extension of your spirit. You need to hold it gently but with intention."

Jin blinked his big, innocent eyes at her. "Oh! Thanks! You're really smart!" His face broke into such a radiant smile that the girl's pale cheeks flushed pink.

"I... I'm your cousin," she said, looking away. "It's my duty to help you."

"Cousin?" Jin tilted his head like a curious puppy. "What's your name?"

She paused for a long moment, as if the question puzzled her. "You... you already know it. The woman said it."

"Yeah, but I wanna hear you say it!" Jin grinned. "Plus, names are important! Mama says they have power."

"Shūmei," she whispered, so quietly he almost missed it. "My name is Shūmei."

"Shūmei," Jin repeated cheerfully. "That's pretty! It sounds like... like bells! Or water!"

The girl's composure cracked again, her eyes going wide. "You... you think it's pretty?"

"Uh-huh! Everything about you is pretty!" Jin spoke with the straightforwardness only kids have. "Your hair is like nighttime and your eyes are like rubies! I've never seen eyes like that before!"

Shūmei suddenly went completely quiet. When she finally talked, her voice sounded weird, almost like she was older or something. "The elders say they're cursed, that I have eath eyes. Or I'm a monster."

"That's stupid," Jin declared firmly. "They're beautiful. Like... like fire."

The girl let out a sound that was kind of like a mix between crying and laughing, a weirdly beautiful expression of her feelings. She sat with her small hands squeezed in her lap, staring at him with such focus that it might make even the toughest adults uncomfortable. Her look was a blend of wanting something and a hint of something darker.

"Jin-sama," she whispered.

"Hm?"

"If... if someone tried to hurt you, what would you do?"

Jin put down his practice sword, and his expression went all serious in that cute way that only kids know how to pull off. "I'd protect everyone! Like a hero! No one gets hurt when I'm around!" He stuck out his chest, trying to look tough.

"Everyone?" Her voice was strained.

"Yep! But family especially, right? You said family looks out for each other," he said with a big grin. "So if anyone ever tries to mess with you, I'll be there to have your back!"

Shūmei's red eyes were brimming with tears, not the soft kind you see from a kid, but something deeper and way more intense. "You'd... protect me? Even with these eyes? Even knowing I'm—"

"You're my cousin!" Jin cut in, trying to wipe away her tears with her awkward but caring touch. "And you're nice and smart and pretty! Of course I'd protect you! That's what heroes do!"

The girl took his hand and pressed it to her cheek. Her skin felt kind of chilly, but Jin didn't really care. "Then... then I'll protect you too, Jin-sama. Always. Forever. No matter what, I will keep you safe."

She clutched tighter, and for a split second, it looked like her shadow was getting bigger, spreading out like ink spilled across the porch. "Even if the whole world tries to pull you away. Even if you forget. Even if I have to become a monster myself."

"You're not a monster," Jin said firmly. "You're Shūmei. My cousin. My friend."

"Friend," she repeated, tasting the word. "Yes. Friend. Family. Everything." Her smile was beautiful and terrible. "We'll be together forever, won't we, Jin-sama?"

"Forever!" Jin agreed cheerfully. "It's a promise! We'll always look out for each other. Always!"

"A promise," She took a breath, and out of nowhere, she was in motion, grabbing something from her kimono. It was a small, fancy knife that looked really old. Before Jin even had a chance to react, she had nicked her finger, and blood started to pool against her light skin.

"Shūmei!" Jin gasped. "You're hurt!"

"Blood promises can't be broken," she said with eerie calm, holding out the knife. "Will you seal it properly, Jin-sama?"

Jin found herself in a scary situation, one that would usually send anyone into a panic, calling for help from nearby adults. But it wasn't just her striking crimson eyes that caught his attention; it was the deep sense of desperation and loneliness behind them. Feeling an undeniable urge to connect, he reached out to offer her support. "Will it hurt?"

"Just for a moment," she promised. "And then never again. I'll make sure you never hurt again."

The poke was quick, and their blood mixed as she linked their fingers. Suddenly, the cherry blossoms started falling faster, like some wind had kicked up, even though it was calm.

"Now we're bound," Shūmei whispered, her child's voice carrying weight beyond her years. "My blood is your blood. Your life is my life. Forever and always, until the last star dies."

"That sounds really long," Jin said, but he was smiling. "Good thing I like you!"

Shūmei's expression transformed—pure, radiant joy that made her truly beautiful. "And I... I love you, Jin-sama. More than the moon loves the night. More than roots love the earth. More than—"

"Hey!" Jin interrupted excitedly. "Wanna see the koi pond now? I bet they'll eat from your hand too! And there's this huge gold one that—"

As he yanked her up from the ground, still holding onto her bloody hand, neither of them noticed the cherry tree nearby shaking and suddenly blooming with these bright, unnatural red flowers. They didn't see the shadows reaching out toward them, as if trying to hold onto this moment forever.

In the warm light of the setting sun, Jin was rambling excitedly about fish and ninja frogs while Shūmei watched him with a knowing look that seemed way beyond her years. In that moment, she realized he was everything to her—her god, her purpose, her whole world.

And she promised herself she'd never let him go.

*"Even if you forget me, Jin-sama," she whispered, too soft for him to hear. "Even if the world ends. Even if I have to kill everything else that dares to love you. You're mine. Forever."*

But the memory was starting to fade, breaking apart like cherry blossoms blown around in a strong wind…

---

Jin suddenly snapped back to his struggling body, and it hit him hard. He started recalling a childhood promise—images of blood mingled with cherry blossoms danced in his mind, and he remembered those loyal crimson eyes. Someone had vowed to protect him with a fierce love that was deeper than just like.

And now, that person was stirring from a cryo-pod after over a hundred years of sleep, all set to live up to that blood oath.