That night, sleep pulls you under quickly, the weight of your dreams heavy upon you. You see the pure white walls of an imposing building, see ornately carved doors leading to the holy church, a place you've only visited once, but don't care much for. You push open the doors with a bang, but you tumble into a space so infinite and black and so full of nothing that it feels heavy like liquid steel. Looming out of the darkness, figures clad in white leer at you, eerie smiles painted upon their masks, their expressions frozen and unchanging. A voice rises, speaks to you: "I was born in the darkness, too. This is where I come from." Hands reach for you, and clamp down upon your own with a vise-like grip.

You awake with a start to your darkened room. Your wrists throb, and you grab at your skin because your wrists feels as though they've been snapped clean in two. You would see the skin mottled a dark blue later though, when you peered closely at it under the candlelight. Outside, the heavy splatter of rain can be heard.

A flash of lightning catches the silver frames of photographs arranged on the wooden chest of drawers, the familiar faces frozen in time. A younger Konro, his skin tanned and healthy, holding Hinata and Hikage as babies. The normally sullen Benimaru relaxing under the frothy pink blossoms of a sakura tree, his limbs long and loose, a lazy smile on his face. Yourself, bright-eyed and happy, staring raptly at the candy apple in your hands. A further weak flash of lightning illuminates the worn paintwork of the ceiling and walls.

In the darkness you hear low voices, the whistling of wind through the cracks in the wall, the creaking of pipes and floorboards. Careful of Hinata and Hikage sleeping in the room next to yours, you leave your still-warm futon and creep out into the hallway, peering out from behind the wall and quietly trying to see who Beni has invited into the house.

The hallway is lit by only a single lantern, casting features into shadowy obscurity. Rain gushes off eaves outside; in the distance, thunder threatens. You creep closer. The guest by the door is unfamiliar, but cuts a vaguely threatening figure in his black coat and eyepatch. The fresh scent of the night and the rain clings to him, along with the smokey bite of cigarette smoke. His voice, quiet and cultured, seems incredibly loud in the silence as he explains why he's come to Asakusa; how he suspects that the Church is hiding some crucial information, and he plans to find out exactly what they're hiding. Only, he can't do it alone, which is where Beni comes in.

Beni is speaking. "What you said is dangerous . . . Are you planning to visit the Church of The Sun?"

Beni sounds as though he's actually considering going along with it. You've heard him use this tone before, usually when he's debating the pros and cons of blowing all his money on poker night. You haven't spoken in a long time, not since your entire family had turned into Infernals, but now, words bubble up on the tip of your tongue, all of them laced with indignance and promising a tongue-lashing.

The doctors at Hajima had used unfamiliar terms like "trauma", and "selective mutism", and had even gone as far to prescribe you a cocktail of medicines and drugs, all promised to cure you of your condition. Beni had told the doctors in his own brusque way to fuck off, and had thrown the cocktail of medicine into the nearest bin. The gesture had comforted you with the knowledge that there was someone on your side, someone who was looking out for you, someone who saw you as a person and not just a problem to be fixed.

You hear the low rumble of the visitor's voice. It sounds familiar, but your tired mind doesn't immediately register that you've heard it before, just moments ago when you had been cocooned in your sheets. But when you make the connection, your eyes widen and your heart stutters to a stop.

The visitor drawls out a lazy, "Interested?"

"You're not very sincere." Benimaru notes, just as casual. "Who are you, anyway?"

Bad news, you think, puffing out your cheeks and exhaling, slowly releasing the air and the tension in your body. Beni, why are you even considering going along with this? Just beat him up and tell him to get lost like you always do!

"I'm a dark hero."

You peek around the corner to see the visitor glancing right at you. The briefest of eye contact, a curl at the edge of his lip, tells you that he knows exactly where you're hiding.

You duck back behind the wall, praying that he won't ask about you. Beni might not scold you if he knows that you're awake, but he's taking pains to prevent Konro from finding about this, which tells you everything: it's risky, and he doesn't want to get anyone else involved. Your throat convulses.

Your hopes are dashed when the visitor casually calls out, "It isn't very polite to eavesdrop."

"Eaves –" There's the shuffle of clothing. You imagine Beni twisting in his seat. It doesn't take him long to figure who, exactly, is eavesdropping. "[ YOUR NAME ], come here."

Out of options. Twisting your visage into a scowl, which conveys your displeasure just as much as words, you shuffle forwards, moving to sit beside Beni on wooden floors you'd help to scrub clean just several hours earlier. The full force of your glare falls upon first Beni, and then the visitor. Both men are unperturbed; with your hair still mussed from sleep and your white nightclothes rumpled, you're about as intimidating as a wet kitten.

Beni doesn't waste any time in asking you, "How much did you hear?"

You squirm in your seat, trying to avoid his scrutiny.

The entire company has devised a system of gestures and hand movements – an entirely new language – to make communicating with you easier. You've also taken to carrying around a notepad and pens, in the event that you have to talk to people who are unfamiliar with your signing, but in this case, you deliberately choose to sign out your reply, so that the visitor won't understand what you're saying. Your hands are a whirlwind of movement, and your fingers tremble with the intensity of your distress.

All of it.

"Did you tell anyone else?"

A shake of your head. Konro's out on patrol. Not coming back until later.

"Okay."

"Aren't you suspicious about what the Church of The Sun could be hiding?" The visitor presses, quickly changing the topic. He must sense it too – how close Beni is to caving in and agreeing to leave with him.

You're suspicious. You shake your head and twine your fingers into the sleeves of Beni's hakama. You're tempted to inch your way behind him, so that the broadness of Beni's back and shoulders shields you from sight, but you inhale once, a breath of courage, before squaring your shoulders and meeting the visitor's gaze. I don't trust you, and Beni shouldn't either!

"Are you scared?"

It takes you a minute for you to realize that the visitor is talking to you. He sounds patronizing. You puff out your cheeks again, resisting the urge to stick your tongue out at him in a childish show of defiance.

"We both think that you're suspicious. You're just as shady as the church." Benimaru agrees, vocalizing what you're thinking. "But you're also interesting."

The visitor flashes a grin, which appears to you more like a baring of teeth. He reaches in the pocket of his coat for a cigarette, lights it with his ignition ability and inhales deeply. The room is thick with tobacco fumes, and the acrid smoke scorches the back of your throat.

Beni eyes the visitor evenly. "So, why me?"

"As proto nationalists, all of you have been unfairly oppressed by the Holy Sol Temple. I doubt you've forgotten that fact, right?"

The rain sluices down outside, accompanied by loud cracks of thunder, but even that is not loud enough to drown out the kernel of truth in his words. The words cut into you, opening a space in your mind into which you already feel something new shifting.

You remember the screaming, hollering panic. Heat searing your hands and face. Explosions ripping through Asakusa, one after another. Your family turning into Infernals, and having to kill them yourself. You remember hiding, tucked away into a corner, watching as Konro had battled with the Demon Infernal. You remember crying so hard that you were unable to draw breath, clinging to Konro like a lifeline, even as his skin had darkened and flaked away into ash. You remember the Fire Soldiers of the Empire arriving far too late, when all that remained of Asakusa were gutted buildings and a sea of ashes and smoke; as though the lives of the citizens there had meant nothing to them at all.

Your pained expression must tell the visitor everything, but he's determined to drive the needle even deeper into your heart.

"Or now that you're an imperial Fire Soldier, have you lowered yourself to being one of their dogs?"

You bristle. Tugging on his sleeve once again to get Konro's attention, you continue your rapid-fire signing. I saw him in my dream when I was sleeping. He's going to take you to a dark place, with bad people. They look like clowns, and they have these weird masks. Don't go with him.

". . . What?" A blank stare is levelled your way; you've never screamed before, but you can feel the urge to do so now, partly out of frustration because Beni can't understand you. "I'm just going to the Church for a bit. If he tries anything fishy, I'll take care of it."

I had a bad dream, you tell Beni, finally revealing the truth. You don't doubt his strength, but something about this situation doesn't sit right with you. You don't like this. You don't like the visitor, you don't like the Church, and you certainly don't like Amaterasu, which radiates with a strong malevolence. I went to the Church and the bad people were hiding there in the shadows. He wants to get you involved in something dangerous.

"It was just a dream," Beni says, gentling his voice for your sake once he sees how anxious you are. "I'll be fine."

He thinks the people of shadows and darkness are just dreams, but your instincts are screaming that what you saw was more than that. You know that they're real. But you don't know how to make him understand.

You're fighting a losing battle, now that he's made up his mind to go. You make one last ditch attempt to convince him to stay.

"Beni," You whisper tentatively, pushing words out into the open air for the first time in years. Even to your own ears, your voice is unfamiliar – high-pitched and fragile, fraying as though it could break apart at any second. Beni actually pauses, surprise splashing over his face as he turns to look back at you. A bad feeling hovers over your gut, icy fingers of dread tightening your bowels. "Please don't go."

"Go back to bed," Beni says. "And don't tell Konro."

Your face, already magnolia white with fear, pales even more. It's an impossible task. You and Konro have always been close, with him being eerily attuned to your moods, and you to his as well. If Konro catches sight of you in this very moment, he would no doubt be able to tell that something is weighing heavily upon your mind.

His voice softens again when he says, "I'll be fine. Quit worrying."

Beni stops only to ruffle your hair, before he pushes open the screen door and is gone, into the dark and the rain, with the visitor in tow.