Mitsuna: Rei

Rei’s hand trembled. That was her family name. The same as her grandmother’s, her great-grandmother’s, going back generations she had never traced.

“I didn’t burn,” the voice whispered. “I became the gold. I’ve been waiting for you to listen.” mitsuna rei

“Crimson is brave,” her grandmother would say, threading a needle with red silk. “It speaks of heartbeats and vows. Blue is lonely, but honest. Gold... gold remembers.” Rei’s hand trembled

“How did you know her face?” she asked. “I didn’t burn,” the voice whispered

The fan began to speak in fragments: the pop of flames, the scratch of a brush, a woman’s voice humming a lullaby that Rei knew by heart — the same one her grandmother had hummed to her.

She didn’t restore colors. She listened to them.

Then, a whisper. Not a color this time. A name.