The first feeble light of dawn, a sickly grey pallor, began to bleed into the fissure chamber, doing little to dispel the deep shadows that clung to the sleeping forms. Statera awoke gradually, her consciousness returning to the ache in her bones from the hard pallet and the deeper ache of responsibility in her soul. Her Polaris light, a soft, sleeping ember, flickered and steadied as she opened her eyes. She lay still for a moment, listening to the chamber's nocturnal symphony, Ryota's deep, rumbling snores, the faint, restless murmur of Mira's dream talking, the quiet, even breathing of the others.

And then she heard it. Or rather, she heard the absence of it.

Her head turned on the rough sack of her pillow. Shiro's pallet, right next to hers, was empty. The coarse blanket was thrown back haphazardly, as if he'd left in a hurry.

A flutter of unease, cold and sharp, stirred in her chest. Her mind, ever the rationalist, offered placating explanations. He's at the spring. He's checking the perimeter watch. He couldn't sleep and went to train. But her heart, the part of her that had been remade since finding him, knew better. This emptiness felt different. It wasn't just a vacant space; it was a hollow that echoed with the silence of a scream she hadn't been there to hear.

She rose, her movements silent and fluid. She didn't bother with her outer robe, stepping out into the Plaza of Screams in her simple sleeping tunic. The mist clung to her immediately, a damp, possessive chill that seeped into her skin. The plaza was its usual nightmare self, the jaundiced runes pulsing their slow, malevolent rhythm against the encroaching dawn.

Her eyes, sharpened by worry, scanned the gloom. And there he was. A solitary figure curled on a jagged rock near the fissure's entrance, his head bowed, his shoulders hunched so tightly they seemed to be trying to fold him in half. Even from twenty paces, she could see the tracks of tears glistening on his cheeks in the rune light.

Her heart didn't just ache; it cracked. It was a maternal pain, vast and terrifying, one she had spent a lifetime building walls against. Now, those walls were dust.

She stepped forward, her voice soft but cutting through the oppressive silence like a knife. "Shiro?"

At the sound of his name, he startled violently, his head snapping up. Through his blurred, red rimmed eyes, he saw her. Panic flashed across his face before he could hide it. He swiped at his cheeks with the back of his bandaged wrist, a gesture so hurried it was painful to watch. He forced a smile, a brittle, terrible thing that didn't touch the devastation in his amber eyes.

"Aunty," he said, his voice rough, scraped raw from things unsaid. "I… I just needed some air. The chamber was… cold."

Statera didn't stop walking. She closed the distance between them, her gaze steady, seeing straight through the flimsy facade. "Don't lie to me, Shiro," she said, her tone gentle but with an iron core that brooked no argument.

He flinched as if she'd struck him. The smile vanished. "I'm not lying," he insisted, the words coming too fast. "Just air. That's all." He made to push himself up from the rock, a clear intention to retreat back into the fissure, to escape her seeing eyes.

Her next words halted him mid motion. "Don't you dare lie to me, Shiro." Her voice was louder now, layered with a frustration that was born of profound worry.

He froze, his back to her. "I said I'm fine," he repeated, but the pitch was wrong, strained.

She took another step closer. The space between them was electric with his pain. "You are not fine. I have watched you these past days. I see the way you carry this weight, this dread, like it is yours alone to bear. I see you flinch when Aki's name is spoken. I see the shadows in your eyes when you think no one is looking. You think I don't recognize the face of someone who is screaming on the inside?"

He shook his head, still not facing her. "You're seeing things that aren't there. I'm just tired. We're all tired. It's the stress. The planning. It gets to everyone."

"Tired men sigh, Shiro. They groan. They complain. They do not sit alone in the mist before dawn, weeping." Her voice was rising, matching the tension coiling in the air. "They don't look like their very soul is being scoured from their body. They don't look like you do right now. So, I will ask you one more time. Look at me and tell me the truth."

He whirled around then, and the mask was gone. Utterly. What was left was raw, open anguish. "What do you want from me?" he demanded, his voice cracking. "What truth? That I'm scared? That I have nightmares? That I see her burning every time I close my eyes? That I'm terrified that the next face I see burning will be Aki's? Is that what you want to hear? That your precious nephew, the great 'Twin Star,' is a coward who's so scared he can't breathe? Well, there it is! Are you happy now?"

"I want you to stop lying to me!" she shot back, her own composure fracturing. "I want you to stop pretending you have to be this unbreakable statue! I am not happy hearing you're in pain, you foolish boy, I am relieved that you are finally admitting it!"

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"I TOLD YOU I'M FINE, IM NOT IN FUCKING PAIN!" The shout tore from him, echoing off the obsidian spires, a sound of such broken desperation it was more devastating than any curse.

And that's when her hand moved. It was not a premeditated act, but a pure, visceral reaction to his blatant, soul destroying lie. Her palm connected with his cheek with a sharp, shocking crack.

The sound seemed to hang in the air between them. Shiro's head snapped to the side. The sting was immediate and fierce, but it was nothing compared to the shock that widened his eyes. Tears, not from the pain but from the sheer, world ending shock of her action, welled instantly and spilled over.

Statera's own hand trembled. Her breath came in short gasps. She had never, ever raised a hand to anyone in anger. But this wasn't anger. This was… desperate love.

Her voice, when it came, was a low, trembling blade. "Don't. You. Dare." A pause, filled with the weight of her shuddering breath. "Fucking. Lie. To me. Shiro."

The profanity, from her, was more shocking than the slap. It shattered the last of his defences. He stood frozen, a statue of misery, tears streaming down his face onto the handprint blooming on his cheek. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. The fight was gone, leaving only a vast, empty vulnerability.

"You think I don't know what you're capable of?" she pressed, her voice trembling with the force of her emotion, stepping closer until she was mere inches from him. "You think I don't see the brilliant, strategic mind? The fierce, protective heart? I see it all. And I see you trying to bury it under a mountain of bravado and defiance because you think that's what strength is. That is a child's idea of strength. True strength is letting someone else see the cracks. It is trusting someone to help you carry the weight. And I will not let you hide behind that wall anymore. Not from me. Never from me."

Shiro let out a sharp, bitter laugh, a hollow sound in the oppressive silence. "What wall? There is no wall. You're chasing ghosts, Aunty. You see a story that isn't there." He gestured vaguely at his own chest. "This is it. This is all there is. A tired soldier in a mist choked plaza. That's the truth you're so desperate for."

"The truth does not sit alone in the dark before a battle, weeping," Statera countered, her voice low and relentless. "The truth does not flinch at the sound of its own sister's name. You are a terrible liar, Shiro. I can just see it. Your tells are written in the tension of your shoulders, the evasion in your eyes."

"So now you're a mind reader?" he shot back, a flash of real anger in his amber eyes. "You've known me for a handful of days and you think you can decipher me? You don't know what I feel. You don't know what I need."

"I know that what you need is not this… this self imposed isolation! You think you are protecting us? Or are you protecting yourself from the humiliation of being seen as something less than the invincible 'Twin Star'?"

"Don't," he snarled, the word a warning. "Don't you dare use that title to mock me."

"I am not mocking you! I am trying to reach you! The title is not a suit of armour you must wear until it crushes you! It is a banner that those who love you are willing to carry with you! Let me in, Shiro. Please."

"There's nothing to let in!" he shouted, his voice rising, cracking with the strain. "It's empty! Can't you understand that? The fear is just… noise. The memories are just… ghosts. They don't mean anything. They don't change the objective. We have a mission. Aki needs me to be focused, not… not this." He gestured at his own tear streaked face with disgust. "You don't see me! You see a ghost you need to fix!"

"Then fucking show me!" she demanded, stepping so close they were almost touching, her eyes blazing into his. "Stop hiding behind this pathetic, transparent wall and show me the truth! If you are so strong, then have the courage to be weak for one single, fucking moment! Tell me what is in your head! Scream it! I am right here!"

He was trembling, his breath coming in ragged, useless gasps. The wall was shattered. The cliff gave way. His mouth opened, but the words that were supposed to be another denial, another defiant shout, died before they were born. All that was left was the truth, and it was too vast to speak.

A geyser gushed out. A ragged, gut wrenching sob was torn from the depths of his being. His body folded, the strength leaving his legs. "I'm sor…" he choked out, the apology beginning to form, but the words were cut short as she moved.

Seeing him crumble, Statera stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him in a fierce, unbreakable embrace. The force of it, of his sudden weight and her pull, made them stumble. His foot caught on a twisted, fleshy vine snaking across the ground, and they fell together in a tangle of limbs, landing hard on the cold, unforgiving stone of the plaza. Statera took the brunt of the impact on her back, a pained gasp escaping her lips. Shiro landed half on top of her, a fresh wave of pain from the fall making him wince, his tears momentarily shocked into hiccupping silence.

But Statera didn't let go. If anything, her arms locked around him tighter, one hand cradling the back of his head, pressing his face into the hollow of her neck. She ignored the throbbing in her back, ignored the cold dampness seeping through her tunic. None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was her son shaking in her arms.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of their harsh breathing and the pulse of the plaza. Then, a new word, small and broken, muffled against her skin.

"Mother."

It was barely a whisper. A confession. A plea. A title bestowed not out of replacement, but out of a need so profound it had no other name.

Statera's breath hitched. A fresh wave of her own tears fell, hot and silent. She held him closer. "I'm here," she murmured into his hair, her voice a broken, watery thing. "It's okay. It's okay, my broken little rain baby. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

The old, childhood endearment, rain baby, for a boy who cried so easily, shattered him completely. He clung to her, his fists twisting in the fabric of her tunic, his body shaking with the force of his sobs.

"I love you," he wept, the words raw and unguarded, a confession torn from the deepest, most frightened part of his soul. "Please never leave me. Please. I can't… I can't do this alone. What if I'm too late? What if Aki's already… what if I let them take her and I can't get her back? What if I fail? I'm so weak. I'm so stupid. I'm not strong like you. I'm not brave like Kuro. I'm just… me. And it's not enough. It's never been enough."

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