We Got Amane!
But Amane's reaction wasn't what he expected. She drew her katana in a swift, fluid motion and pointed it at his neck, her eyes cold and unrecognizing.
"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice as sharp as the blade she held.
Her crimson eyes, mirroring his own, were like a sharp knife, cutting into his heart. She looked at him as if he were a stranger, an enemy, and it broke him a little.
'Am I too late?' he thought, panic rising in his chest.
The terrifying possibility of his mother never remembering him or their family loomed over him. What should he do then? Could he live with that? How would his family react?
The questions crowded his mind, rendering him speechless. Amane, never one for patience, pressed the edge of her katana closer, drawing blood from his neck.
"I'll ask you one more time, who are you?" her eyes colder than ever.
"I... I..." he stammered, "I... I'm your son..."