After stepping through the Spatial Rift, Kai's senses sharpened as he instinctively activated his Blood Vision. The world around him became awash in hues only he could interpret - blood pulsing like distant stars in a void. His companions were already on high alert.

Sven's fingers ghosted over the hilts of his daggers, his stance coiled like a predator ready to strike. Nadya's hands crackled with energy, sparks dancing in her palms. Lenny had positioned himself in front of Amina, his broad frame forming an impenetrable shield. Even Shadow stood poised, wisps of darkness curling around his fingers, an extension of his ever-present readiness.

But something was off.

Their surroundings were unfamiliar. Shadow frowned. He was usually precise - his mastery over spatial manipulation meant that when he set a marker, he could appear exactly where intended. Yet now? He couldn't even gauge their location.

It was as if the very fabric of space was misaligned, leaving him disoriented. Perhaps it was exhaustion weighing on him, the strain of constantly rifting across the globe dulling his control. Or maybe Takeshi was simply too far from their entry point for it to be accurate. Either way, they were somewhere unknown.

Kai swept his gaze across the dim landscape, his Blood Vision honing in on the singular presence nearby.

Recognition struck him instantly.

He had recognised, over time, that every individual carried a unique blood signature - something beyond mere physique or frame. It was an indescribable essence, a whisper of identity that lingered in his vision. He couldn't explain the mechanism behind it, only that he could differentiate between people he had seen before. It was in the same way that he could usually determine whether someone was a mutant.

And the signature before him? Unmistakable.

"Takeshi," Kai murmured, his voice carrying across the tense silence. He turned, signalling to the others. "Over there."

They moved quickly, heading in the direction that Kai pointed, caution in their every step.

And what they found made them stop dead in their tracks.

Nestled in the heart of a small bathhouse, steam rising gently into the air, was Takeshi. Relaxed. Unbothered. Soaking in a hot spring.

-

It was shocking.

Takeshi sat unbothered, steam curling lazily into the air around him, the bubbling water of the small hot spring lapping at his skin as if indifferent to the brutal wounds marking his body. A deep gash ran across his chest, angry and raw, while countless cuts littered his frame - proof that even the swordsman they all deemed invincible bled.

Yet, he didn't flinch. Didn't grimace. Didn't even acknowledge the pain.

It was as if the wounds were inconsequential. As if they were nothing more than trivial marks on a body that refused to break.

But none of that was what stole their breath.

No, what caught their undivided attention was the reveal they had all been waiting for and had tried so hard to force.

His eyes.

Or rather, his lack thereof.

For the first time, perhaps ever, Takeshi was without the blindfold he wore like a second skin. The same blindfold they had tried, more times than they could count, to remove in curiosity, only to be met with his effortless evasions.

Yet now?

He sat there open, his face bare to them, watching them with an expression that carried nothing close to surprise or irritation. Instead, he casually turned toward Nadya, a silent, knowing gaze settling onto her like a weight.

It wasn't an accusation, nor was it impatience.

It was simply a question.

'What took you so long?'

The unspoken question was woven into his posture, the slight tilt of his head, the way his lips barely quirked in something that could almost be amusement. He had been waiting for the Rift to appear, for them to arrive and find him. Finally, they had.

He was just glad they had survived whatever had delayed them long enough to make him doubt. Glad they had made it without him at their backs, guarding their every step.

They even had a new mutant in tow.

But none of them spoke. None of them explained. None of them acknowledged his silent inquiry.

Because their focus remained locked on his face, even Shadow, who was usually stoic, and Lenny, who didn't know the man.

He had an alluring face, one that was almost too pretty to be that of a man when matched with his long, flowing black hair. However, now without his blindfold, his appearance flipped to one that felt rough and dangerous, because of one thing.

A scar.

It was a brutal thing - jagged, merciless, unforgiving - stretching across his closed eyes, deep enough that they didn't need him to open them to know. To finally understand.

He was truly blind.

Despite his actions certainly not seeming like that of someone who couldn't see, it was unmistakable now.

The reality of it settled over them like ice.

The depth of the wound alone told them enough. How much had it hurt? How had he endured the pain and continued wielding a sword?

But they couldn't help but wonder: Who was responsible for it? How could he still see? And what the hell was he doing here?!

However, before any of them could breathe a word, before questions could spill past their lips, before explanations could be given...

Someone else emerged.

-

The bathhouse was a modest hut, perched atop a quiet hill where steam rose lazily from the natural hot spring within. The warmth of the place should have been comforting, but the group remained tense, standing around Takeshi.

Their eyes were glued to his face, and more questions than they could count were bouncing around their heads.

That was until she appeared.

She moved like a shadow kissed by moonlight, an ethereal grace matching Takeshi's own silent elegance. None of them had sensed her approach, and that alone was unnerving. Instinctively, hands inched toward weapons, eyes sharpened with wariness. Yet, despite their guarded stance, her presence held no hostility - only a quiet serenity that settled over them like mist.

It helped that she was striking.

Clad in flowing, loose robes reminiscent of Takeshi's, she carried herself with effortless poise. A slender blade, slightly shorter than the blind swordsman's, rested at her waist, its hilt cradled in a casual grip that spoke more of familiarity than intent to strike. She was composed, utterly unfazed by the foreign figures standing in her home.

And if anything, she should be the one who was on edge rather than them.

Meanwhile, Sven, for once, was at a loss for words, staring unabashedly. She was one of the prettiest women he had laid his eyes on, and he had laid his eyes on many.

Kai, more straightforward in his approach, leaned slightly forward and asked Takeshi, "Is she your wife or something?"

The woman quirked a brow, her lips twitching with amusement. "I am his sister," she clarified in smooth English, which they weren't expecting, her voice like cool water over stones. Then, after a slight pause, she added, "Well, not by blood - but we were raised together."

Sven's thoughts flickered mischievously. 'So she's fair game,' he mused, feeling rather pleased with the revelation.

A sharp smack to the back of his head cut the moment short.

"Ow! What was that for?" he groaned, rubbing the sore spot as he threw Nadya a betrayed look.

"I just didn't like the look in your eyes, and she's way out of your league," she replied, completely unapologetic.

Despite the odd group crowding her space, the woman remained unshaken, even with Lenny, whose sheer presence alone could send most people stumbling backwards in fear, looming nearby. Let alone the man shrouded in darkness who ominously stood silently in the corner.

"He told me he had a weird group of friends," she mused, a small chuckle escaping her. "I see now that he wasn't exaggerating." There was warmth in her tone, a genuine fondness as she spoke of Takeshi, and a quiet understanding that ran deeper than words.

She alone seemed to fully comprehend the intricacies of his expressions, his body language, even better than Nadya. And for him to have even explained as much, they must be close.

With a graceful sweep of her hand, she motioned for them to follow after her.

They did exactly that, stepping into another small cottage. It was clearly a rural home, but inside was surprisingly cosy. She led them to a humble seating area where the scent of freshly brewed tea lingered in the air. Takeshi remained in the bath, planning to get dressed, leaving them in her presence.

It was then that she began to speak.

Softly, yet with certainty, she unravelled the blind man's story - one they had never heard before. Takeshi couldn't speak, and even if he could, she doubted he would have shared it himself. But she? She knew it was a tale worth telling, especially to those he considered his friends.

And as steam curled in the dimly lit space, they listened...

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