The morning smells of smoke and damp timber cling to my nostrils, even though the battlefield is long behind me. I can still hear it—steel clashing, screams, the roar of fire—and in my chest, the hum of something that never leaves me: the power I gained that day. My fingers twitch unconsciously, sparks leaping off my skin in tiny flashes, harmless yet insistent reminders.
I walk through the streets, boots splashing through puddles, the sound of them hollow in the early hour. The city is alive, ordinary, and I feel completely out of place. Children chase each other past carts piled with fresh bread. Merchants call out their wares. Soldiers march in formation down the cobblestone, polished armor glinting in the weak sunlight. Life continues, indifferent to everything I've become.
Lily is waiting for me at the corner near the market, sitting on the edge of a bench, hands folded neatly in her lap. Her hair is a bright contrast to the gray stones around us, and her eyes—those eyes—track me as I approach.
"You're early," she says, voice soft but sharp enough to pierce my thoughts.
"I… couldn't sleep," I admit, stopping a few feet from her. The words feel hollow even as they leave my mouth. She tilts her head slightly, noticing the tremor in my hands, the tightness in my shoulders.
"You're… different," she says. Simple words, but the weight in them settles on me like a stone. "I can feel it, Ikyuu. The magic… it's inside you."
I look away, unable to meet her gaze. I can't tell her how it hums constantly, like a living thing beneath my skin, restless and impatient. I can't tell her that every time I close my eyes, I see flashes of the battlefield: fire, blood, and the look on the face of the one I struck.
"It's nothing," I say, forcing the words out. "Just… a headache, that's all."
Her lips press together in a thin line, not quite a smile. She doesn't argue. She never does. She just waits, her presence a calm anchor in the chaos of my mind.
I sit beside her, letting the damp chill sink into my bones. For a moment, the world feels still. The city hums around us, and I can almost believe that life can be normal again.
But then I feel the spark in my fingers, small and insistent. I clench my fists, trying to bury it. My body remembers the heat of battle, the thrill of power surging through me, and the cost it demanded. I remember T, kneeling, blood in his mouth, laughter still in his eyes. I remember my own hands, stained red, trembling.
"Did… did the others make it back?" Lily asks quietly, breaking my thoughts. Her voice is steady, but I see the fear in her eyes. She's asking about people who aren't here, people who died because of choices I made—or didn't.
I shake my head. "Some… not all."
She places a hand over mine, and I flinch at the heat that passes between us. Not magic—just human warmth—but it's enough to remind me that I'm still tethered to something ordinary, something fragile. "Ikyuu…" she says softly, "you have to take care of yourself. Don't let this… power… consume you."
I want to nod. I want to believe her. But I can already feel the pulse in my veins, a constant reminder that control is an illusion. The power will grow. It will test me. And no matter what I do, everything I touch carries a cost.
I stand abruptly, breaking the moment. "I should walk," I mutter. My voice sounds distant, even to me. Lily doesn't follow immediately. She just watches as I move through the streets, her gaze following me until I disappear into the crowd.
Every step feels heavier than it should. Every breath reminds me that I am no longer the boy who returned home. I am something else now—a spark in a body that can burn, a power that can heal or destroy, and a curse that whispers constantly in the back of my mind: everything has a cost.
The city moves around me, oblivious. And I know that soon, they will learn that I am not ordinary. That I am different. That my life—and everyone I care about—can never be the same again.