Chapter 94: The lotus blooms for the One Who Accepted Light.
Ren stood at the center of the still, green water, facing the two reflections of himself: the child and the adult, both marked by their tragedies. His body, once drenched in cold, was now warm, the water receding.
The child, feet rooted in alcohol-colored water, sneered. "You think you can change things? You think you're better than us?"
The adult, standing in blood-red water, crossed his arms. "You're nothing without us, Ren."
Ren's eyes narrowed, his resolve unwavering. "I won't choose either of you."
Both versions of himself gaped at him in disbelief.
"What?" the child spat. "You have to pick! You need to."
"No," Ren said firmly, "I don't need to choose. You both acted like you controlled this body, that you were the only options I had."
"We saved you," the adult snapped, stepping forward. "I kept you alive when the world turned against us."
Ren's eyes flashed. "You killed. You became a mercenary. You threw away everything—"
"For survival!" the adult shot back. "What would you have done? Be helpless?"
The child laughed mockingly, shaking his head. "As if you did any better. You were worse than him. You rejected everyone's help, refused to reach out—"
"And paid the price," Ren interrupted, his voice low but firm. "Both of you paid the price."
The green water around them churned, mingling with the deep red hues. Their feet were lost in the chaotic swirl of past choices, decisions that had led them here.
The child looked down at the water, his voice softer. "I didn't need them. I didn't want them. I had my books. I had my solitude."
"You had nothing," Ren said coldly. "You wore yourself out to the point of death because you were too proud to ask for help."
The child's face twisted in anger. "Proud? I wasn't proud. I just knew what I wanted. I—"
"You wanted to be alone," Ren cut him off. "And you died because of it. You rejected everyone's light."
The adult scoffed. "And you think you're better? You think you've got it all figured out?"
Ren turned his gaze to the adult. "No. But I've learned from you. Both of you."
The flower beneath his feet began to blossom, its red petals unfurling as the water settled into an uneasy calm.
The adult's voice was sharp. "You can't survive on ideals alone. The world will chew you up and spit you out."
Ren's eyes hardened. "Maybe. But I'm not you."
The child scowled, stepping forward. "You're weak. You think kindness will save you?"
"I don't think it's about kindness," Ren said, his voice steady. "It's about balance. It's about accepting the darkness and the light."
The child's fists clenched. "I didn't need light! I thrived without it!"
"And you died," Ren said quietly. "Because you never asked for help. You never let anyone in."
The child glared at him, shaking his head in disbelief. "You don't know what it's like."
Ren's voice was calm, but firm. "I know exactly what it's like. You're me."
The adult laughed bitterly, the sound harsh in the still air. "So, what's your grand plan, Ren? You think you can walk a path between us? There's no middle ground. You either fight, or you fall."
Ren's gaze didn't waver. "I'm not going to fight. Not anymore."
The adult's eyes narrowed. "Then you'll fall."
Ren shook his head. "No. I'll stand."
The water began to shift again, the colors blending more violently as tension crackled between them.
"Stop pretending," the child hissed. "You're no different from us. You're just too afraid to admit it."
Ren's eyes softened. "I'm not afraid anymore."
The child blinked, his anger momentarily faltering. "You're lying."
Ren shook his head. "No. I've accepted what you were too afraid to."
The flower beneath them bloomed wider, its petals vibrant with life.
The adult scoffed. "And what exactly have you accepted?"
"That I don't have to be either of you," Ren said quietly. "I can take the lessons you've given me without becoming you."
The child's face twisted in frustration. "You're just running away."
"No," Ren said, his voice resolute. "I'm moving forward."
The adult sneered. "Forward into what? More pain? More loss?"
"Maybe," Ren admitted. "But I'll face it as myself, not as a shadow of either of you."
The child's fists unclenched, his eyes flickering with doubt. "I never wanted to be a shadow."
Ren's gaze softened. "I know."
The adult's voice was cold. "And what about me? Do you think you're better than me?"
"No," Ren said, meeting his gaze. "But I don't need to be. You taught me what it means to survive. But I won't live like you did."
The adult's jaw clenched, his expression unreadable. "You'll die without us."
Ren's lips twitched into a sad smile. "Maybe. But at least it'll be on my terms."
The green water stilled, the chaotic swirl finally settling into clarity.
The child's voice was small. "What if you're wrong?"
"Then I'll be wrong," Ren said softly. "But it will be my choice."
The adult's shoulders slumped, the fight draining from him. "You're a fool."
Ren nodded, a smile blooming on his face , one that had similarities with a certain someone's smile , "Maybe."
The flower beneath him bloomed fully, its vibrant colors a stark contrast to the bleakness of their past.
The child looked down at the water, his reflection distorted. "I never asked for any of this."
"I know," Ren said gently. "But it's time to let go."
The adult's voice was barely a whisper. "We were never meant to last."
Ren nodded again. "No. But I'll carry your lessons with me."
The child looked up at him, his expression unreadable. "Will it hurt?"
Ren's smile was sad. "Yes. But that's part of living."
The adult's gaze softened, his voice quiet. "And what if you fail?"
Ren's eyes were unwavering. "Then I'll try again."
The two selves stood in silence, the weight of their pasts hanging heavy in the air.
The flower beneath Ren's feet pulsed with life, a symbol of the unity they had never been able to achieve.
"I don't hate you," Ren said quietly. "Either of you."
The child's voice was barely audible. "You should."
Ren shook his head. "No. I've learned too much from you."
The adult's voice was thick with emotion. "You'll be alone."
Ren's smile was soft. "No. I won't."
The green water shimmered with clarity, the reflection of Ren standing tall in its depths.
The two selves began to fade, their forms dissolving into the air like mist.
"Take care of her," the child whispered, his voice carried on the wind.
Ren nodded. "I will."
The adult's voice was the last to go. "Don't make the same mistakes we did."
"I won't," Ren promised.
The water was still now, the only sound the gentle lapping of waves against the shore.
Ren stood alone, but not lonely.
The lotus beneath him bloomed fully, its petals a vibrant display of life and rebirth.
Ren stared at the flower, his heart swelling with a quiet, unshakable resolve.
"I am not the child who rejected light. I am not the man who was cast out by it," Ren said softly, his voice carrying across the stillness of the water.
"I am Tokusake Ren," he continued, "The one who accepted light."
He stared at the flower, the symbol of everything he had come to understand.
"For so long, I wandered through shadows, burdened by the weight of our pasts.
I was lost in the echoes of a child who rejected warmth and an adult who was cast out by light.
Their pain, their regrets, their unyielding battles—they were mine to bear.
Yet now, I understand that their struggles were not a curse,but a crucible, forging me into who I am today,and who I will be in the future.
The child, who sought solace in isolation,
who turned away from the light of his mother's love,who buried himself in books to escape the world—that child taught me the value of introspection and resilience.
He showed me the strength it takes to stand alone,even when it feels like the world has abandoned you.
The man who became a mercenary, who took lives without hesitation, who was cast out by humanity—that man taught me the harsh truths of existence.
He showed me that survival often comes at a steep price, and that the path to redemption is fraught with pain and sacrifice.
But today, I choose to honor their lessons,
not by rejecting them, but by embracing them.
I am the amalgamation of their experiences, the synthesis of their trials and triumphs.
I am neither the cold, unfeeling child, nor the ruthless, cast-out man.
I am a new entity, born from their ashes, carrying their wisdom , their experience and their strength.
At this very moment, I have found my peace.
At this very moment, I have forged a new beginning.
And at this very moment, I will embrace the light that lies ahead."
Ren closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the light wash over him. The water beneath him was calm now, the turbulent waves of his inner battle having stilled. The lotus at his feet glowed softly, as if it were absorbing the very essence of the light he had just accepted.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Ren allowed himself to simply be—to exist without the weight of his past selves pulling him in different directions. The silence around him was no longer suffocating but peaceful, a quiet that came from within.
"I will not be bound by what I once was," Ren whispered to the still air. "I am free."
He took a deep breath, opening his eyes slowly, and the world seemed brighter. Colors were more vivid, the air clearer. The green water shimmered like glass, reflecting not just his image but the infinite possibilities of the future he had claimed for himself.
As he turned to leave, the lotus petals shifted slightly, as if bidding him farewell. The child and the adult were no longer with him, but their presence lingered—less as ghosts of his past and more as guides, as fragments of himself that had shaped him into the person he was now.
Ren's steps were slow but sure as he walked forward, each one carrying him further from the shadows of his past and closer to the light he had embraced. He wasn't afraid anymore. He wasn't running or hiding. He was moving toward something—toward a life of his own making, toward the light that had always been waiting for him to accept it.
The lotus floated quietly behind him, a silent reminder of the battles fought and the peace that followed.
And as Ren disappeared into the distance, the light followed him, ever-present, ever-bright.