**Chapter 14: When the Light Flickers**
The sound of rain was the first thing he felt.
Soft, distant — pattering against glass. Then the smell of antiseptic.
Aiki opened his eyes to white light. The ceiling swam above him, spinning in slow, dizzy circles. His throat felt dry, his lungs heavy.
He sat up. Bandages wrapped his torso. His sword — the **Spirit Edge** — lay on the table beside the bed, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.
"...You're awake."
Sakura's voice was small, exhausted. She sat slumped in a chair at his bedside, her arms crossed.
Her eyes were red — not from power, but from crying.
Aiki rubbed his head. "How long was I out?"
"Three days," Enji said from the corner. He leaned against the wall, arms folded, trying to look casual — but even his smirk was shaky.
"You nearly stopped breathing. Sen thought you were gone."
Sen grunted, not looking up from the book he was pretending to read. "He did stop breathing. Twice."
Aiki blinked, staring at his hands. His veins glowed faintly — gold threaded with thin lines of crimson. "...But I'm fine now."
"Fine?" Sakura snapped, standing. "You were bleeding out *spirit energy*! You almost vanished!"
Her voice cracked. "And that sword wouldn't stop glowing. We thought— we thought it was eating you alive."
Aiki looked toward the Spirit Edge. The blade pulsed once, like it understood.
He reached toward it — and the lights in the room flickered.
Everyone froze.
The hum of electricity warped into a low whisper. The windows darkened. A shadow moved along the ceiling, forming briefly into a shape — two glowing red eyes staring down — before dissolving back into nothing.
The Spirit Edge dimmed again, quiet as if nothing had happened.
Sen slowly closed his book. "…Okay, I'm gonna pretend I didn't see that."
Sakura exhaled shakily. "Aiki. What did you *bring back* with you?"
Aiki didn't answer. His reflection in the glass window looked wrong — faintly delayed, smiling when he wasn't.
Then he blinked, and it was gone.
He whispered, mostly to himself:
> "Seno said… I can't kill him. Because I *am* him."
The silence was thick enough to choke on.
Enji pushed off the wall, walking closer. "You're not him, Aiki. You're just... connected, right?"
He tried to sound reassuring, but his voice wavered. "Like a... spirit Wi-Fi problem or something?"
Aiki actually laughed — a short, rough sound. "Yeah. Let's hope it's just bad reception."
But deep down, something inside him pulsed — a whisper only he could hear.
> *"We're not separate anymore."*
His reflection smirked again.
The rain outside turned crimson for a single heartbeat — and then it was gone.