The world did not end with a bang or a final shout. It ended with the soft, rhythmic sound of a wooden shovel hitting damp earth. Ren Hanshin stood behind the main hall of the Okutama shrine. The iron dust from the Blood-Rust rain had finally settled, coating the pine needles in a dull silver frost. The golden ships were gone from the immediate sky, leaving behind a bruised, purple sunset that looked more like a healing wound than a celestial event.
He dug the grave by hand, feeling the rough wood of the shovel handle bite into his palms. Each scoop of dirt was a reminder that he was still made of flesh. Each drop of sweat that rolled down his nose proved he wasn't just a collection of code and percentages. Beside him lay Jubei.
