The headquarters was finally enveloped in a serene quietness. After the tumult and turbulence of the recent battle, the atmosphere felt remarkably lighter, as if a heavy weight had been lifted. The noise of clashing weapons and shouts had faded into memory, leaving behind a delicate stillness. Everyone had taken refuge in their corners, seeking solace and rest. For the first time in what felt like forever, no missions were looming on the horizon, no threats to prepare for—just a moment of much-needed peace.
Unmei sat cross-legged on his modest bed, gazing out the window at the twilight sky. Hues of deep blue and purple blended seamlessly as the sun dipped below the horizon, while the first stars began to twinkle like distant diamonds scattered across a darkened canvas. He let out a long sigh, his thoughts drifting toward his ever-present companion—his curse.
Within the confines of his mind, the familiar presence stirred with a subtle energy.
"You seem unusually quiet tonight," Unmei remarked, breaking the tranquil silence.
The deep, smooth voice of his curse, Shinwatekin, echoed back to him with a hint of amusement. "Quiet doesn't mean absent, boy. I'm always here, lurking just beneath the surface."
Unmei smirked, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "You don't sound as terrifying as you used to."
"And you don't flinch at the sound of my voice anymore," Shinwatekin replied, his tone teasing and light.
A brief silence settled between them, filled with unspoken thoughts, before Unmei voiced his curiosity. "Why have you been… nice lately? What's your angle?"
"Do you always suspect kindness?" the curse responded, a hint of indignation creeping into his voice. "Perhaps I've grown fond of you. Or perhaps I see potential in what we could achieve together—a partnership."
Unmei raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Partnership? Since when does a curse want to collaborate with a human?"
"Since I realized you're not as insufferable as most humans," Shinwatekin said, a chuckle rumbling beneath his words. "You're stubborn, reckless, and far too trusting of your friends. But…" He paused, the weight of his words lingering in the air, "You possess a heart. That's something I haven't encountered in centuries."
Unmei blinked in surprise, taken aback by the unexpected compliment. "Heart, huh? Coming from you, that's... strangely nice."
The curse didn't respond immediately, but Unmei could feel the warmth of his presence enveloping him, akin to a gentle, reassuring hand resting on his shoulder. It was a subtle comfort that mingled with the uncertainty swirling within him.
As days turned into weeks, their connection deepened, the invisible threads of their bond intertwining. Unmei found himself speaking to Shinwatekin more frequently, sharing his innermost thoughts and simmering doubts in the quiet moments between training sessions. The curse's advice, often laced with biting sarcasm, proved surprisingly insightful, guiding him through complex emotions and strategies he had struggled to navigate alone.
Yet, even with the growing trust, he remained vigilant, never allowing himself to fully lower his defences.
"Don't think I trust you completely," Unmei said one evening, sweat glistening on his brow as he practised his punches in the dim light of the courtyard. The air was thick with the scent of earth and the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze.
"I wouldn't expect you to," came Shinwatekin's reply, his voice smooth yet edged with a pearl of ancient wisdom. "But perhaps you should consider this—I gain nothing from betraying you. If you die, I die as well."
Unmei froze mid-punch, his breath coming in heavy gasps as he absorbed the weight of those words. "You're saying you'd protect me… for self-preservation?" he questioned, a mix of disbelief and intrigue in his tone.
"Call it what you will," the curse responded, his voice softening like a fading sunset. "But you know it's more than that, deep down."
One night, as Unmei surrendered to the pull of slumber, he felt Shinwatekin's presence wrap around his consciousness like a protective cocoon, warm and comforting against the chill of uncertainty. The world around him began to fade, replaced by a serene darkness.
"Goodnight, boy," the curse murmured, his tone almost tender.
With a faint smile gracing his lips, Unmei replied, "Goodnight… brother."
In an unexpected turn, the curse didn't scoff at the title. Instead, he whispered, "Sleep well," the words imbued with a sincerity that lingered in the air long after Unmei had closed his eyes.