The forest was quiet.
Too quiet.
Ethan and his family decided to go camping.
Ethan had just stepped away, disappearing between the trees to gather supplies. The tent fabric rustled softly as Asuka adjusted a bag.
Then—
A deep, guttural growl.
The shadow came first.
The bear burst through the brush, massive, sudden, close.
Asuka screamed.
Pure fear. No control. No thought.
Emma moved.
Instantly.
She shoved Asuka back without looking and stepped forward, eyes sharp, body loose. The bear lunged—claws tearing the ground where she had been a second earlier.
Emma dodged.
Again.
She ducked under a swipe, grabbed its thick fur at the neck, and drove her fist into its face—once, twice, again—each hit precise, brutal.
The bear roared.
It thrashed wildly, catching Emma's arm with its jaws for a split second. She gritted her teeth, didn't scream, and slammed a sharp piece of broken gear she grabbed from the ground straight toward its face.
The bear recoiled, blinded, staggering.
Emma didn't stop.
She kicked it hard, sending it crashing onto its side.
Again.
And again.
Ethan's footsteps thundered closer through the trees.
"ASUKA—EMMA—"
By the time he broke through the brush, the bear was no longer moving.
Emma stood over it.
Breathing steady.
Hands trembling—not from fear.
From something else.
She looked down at it.
And then—
She smiled.
Not relief.
Not victory.
Something cold.
She lifted her foot again, ready to strike once more.
"EMMA—STOP!"
Asuka's voice broke.
She rushed forward, grabbing Emma's arm with both hands, crying. "Please—please stop—"
Emma froze.
Her smile faded slowly, like it didn't belong there in the first place.
She blinked.
Looked at her hands.
At Asuka.
At Ethan, standing frozen, staring at his daughter with an expression he hadn't worn in years.
Emma stepped back.
Silence swallowed the clearing.
The forest didn't feel peaceful anymore.
And Ethan knew it.
That smile wasn't adrenaline.
It wasn't instinct.
It was something awake inside her.
And it scared him more than the bear ever could.
---
The night fell heavy over the camp.
The fire crackled softly, but no one spoke.
Asuka sat inside the tent, wrapped in a blanket, still shaking. She hadn't looked at Emma since the forest. Every time she tried, her chest tightened.
Emma sat on a fallen log near the fire, elbows on her knees, staring into the flames. Calm. Too calm. Like nothing had happened.
Ethan watched her for a long moment.
He knew that look.
He'd seen it before—on mirrors.
"Emma," he said quietly.
She didn't answer.
"Come with me."
She stood without protest.
They walked a short distance away, far enough that Asuka couldn't hear. The forest swallowed the campfire light, leaving them under dim moonlight.
Ethan stopped.
Turned.
And looked straight at his daughter.
"You smiled."
Emma didn't deny it.
Silence stretched.
Finally, she said, "I know."
Ethan exhaled through his nose. "Do you know why?"
She tilted her head slightly. "Why."
"Elarat adrenaline." Ethan said.
Her eyes flickered.
Ethan stepped closer. His voice lowered—not angry, not loud. Controlled. Dangerous in its restraint.
"You didn't smile because you survived. You didn't smile because you protected your mother."
He paused.
"You smiled because you liked it."
Emma's jaw tightened.
"I didn't lose control," she said.
"That's the problem," Ethan replied immediately. "You had full control."
She looked away.
Ethan grabbed her chin—not rough, not gentle—forcing her to look at him.
"I've been there," he said. "That rush. That clarity. That feeling where the world finally makes sense because everything in front of you is something you can break."
Emma's breathing slowed.
"You think you're different because you're calm?" he continued. "No. That's the most dangerous stage."
He released her.
"You were going to keep hitting it," he said quietly. "Even after it was over."
Emma didn't argue.
Instead, she asked, "Did you stop?"
Ethan froze for half a second.
That was enough of an answer.
He turned his back briefly, staring into the dark forest. "That smile ruined people. Ruined missions. Ruined lives."
Then, softer—but heavier:
"It almost ruined me."
Emma clenched her fists.
"I won't hurt mom," she said. "I won't hurt innocent people."
"I know," Ethan replied. "That's why this scares me more."
He faced her again.
"You didn't lose control," he said. "You enjoyed control."
Silence.
Then Emma spoke, barely above a whisper.
"When I fight… it's quiet."
Ethan's eyes narrowed.
"No fear. No noise," she continued. "Just… purpose."
Ethan stepped closer, placing a firm hand on her shoulder.
"That quiet is a lie," he said. "And it gets louder the more you feed it."
She looked up at him. "Then what do I do?"
For the first time, Ethan hesitated.
Then he answered honestly.
"You train," he said. "Not your body. Your restraint."
He leaned down so they were eye to eye.
"And you never—ever—let yourself believe that smile is who you are."
Emma nodded once.
Slow.
Serious.
"I won't," she said.
Ethan straightened. "Good."
They stood there for a moment longer.
Then Ethan added, quieter, almost regretful:
"But understand this, Emma."
He looked at her like a soldier, not a father.
"That part of you? It's not going away."
The fire crackled behind them.
And Emma already knew he was right.
----
Emma lay awake in the tent.
Asuka's breathing was shallow behind her. Pretending to sleep. Pretending everything was normal.
Emma stared at the thin fabric above her.
And remembered.
Blood.
Not splattered.
Not chaotic.
Warm. Heavy. Familiar.
It ran down her fingers, collecting at her palm. She remembered how her hand felt when she lifted it—how light it was, how steady.
And the smile.
Not wide.
Not crazy.
Small. Satisfied.
She saw it again through someone else's eyes.
Her mother's.
Asuka hadn't screamed after the bear fell.
She had frozen.
Eyes wide. Lips parted. Hands shaking—not from the bear anymore.
From Emma.
From the way her daughter stood there, heart in hand, blood dripping down her wrist like it belonged there.
Emma swallowed.
I scared her.
That realization hit harder than the bear's teeth ever could.
Emma turned her head slightly.
Asuka lay on her side, back to Emma. Her shoulders were tense. Guarded. Like she was sleeping next to a stranger.
Emma clenched her hand under the blanket.
She remembered lifting it.
Asuka's voice—thin, breaking:
"E-Emma… please… stop…"
Not help.
Not run.
Stop.
Emma's chest tightened.
She had protected her.
But she had also shown her something she was never meant to see.
The part Ethan warned her about.
The part that smiled.
Emma slowly wiped her palm against the blanket, as if the blood was still there.
It wasn't.
But the memory didn't fade.
"I'm sorry…" she whispered.
Asuka didn't respond.
Maybe she didn't hear.
Or maybe she did—and didn't know how to turn around yet.
Emma stared into the dark, jaw set, eyes dry.
She wouldn't let that smile appear again.
Not in front of her mother.
Not ever.
Even if it meant fighting herself harder than any enemy.
---
Morning light filtered through the trees, pale and cold.
The camp was quiet.
Emma woke up later than usual.
She sat up slowly, listening.
Outside the tent—voices.
Low.
Ethan's.
"…it's fine," he was saying calmly. "I was like that too."
A pause.
"She has my blood, Asuka. That part isn't a sickness. It's a trait."
Another pause. Softer.
"I'll make sure she stays normal."
Emma stayed still for a moment.
Then she exhaled, pushed the tent flap aside, and stepped out.
The air was cold. Dew clung to the grass. The fire was nearly out.
Asuka sat on a log, hands wrapped around a cup. Ethan stood nearby.
Emma walked toward them quietly.
Asuka noticed first.
Their eyes met.
Emma stopped in front of her.
She didn't sit.
She bent slightly at the waist while standing, lowering herself to her mother's level—not submissive, not dramatic. Just careful.
Her voice was soft.
"Good morning, Mom."
Asuka's fingers tightened around the cup.
She looked at Emma's face—searching. No blood. No smile. Just her daughter. Tired. Controlled.
"…Good morning," Asuka replied.
Her voice trembled, but she didn't pull away.
Emma straightened slowly.
For a second, neither of them moved.
Then Asuka reached out and gently touched Emma's sleeve.
Just once.
As if to check if she was real.
Ethan watched silently.
No interference.
No lectures.
Just a quiet moment where fear didn't win—but hadn't fully disappeared either.
Emma stood there, hands at her sides, expression calm.
Inside, though, she made a promise.
I won't let you see that side again.
Not the blood.
Not the smile.
Not ever.