We walked in silence, the kind that lingers—not awkward, not heavy, just... present. And as the silence stretched, I let something bloom in my hand. A golden lotus. No incantation, no gesture. Just a thought. A memory. A whisper from a version of myself that I left behind long ago.
It wasn't a spell you'd find in some dusty old tome, scribbled between blood wards and battle runes. No, this was mine. My first. Not crafted for defense, nor for destruction, but for stillness. A sanctuary, really. Something to cradle the mind when the world gets too loud.
Funny thing is... I thought I'd let it go. I thought I'd moved on. But the past has a peculiar talent, doesn't it? It knows just how to hide behind your ribs until the quiet gives it permission to speak.
"Was the training that stressful for you, young master?" Reinhardt asked, his voice as measured as ever, eyes following the golden lotus as it floated away—weightless, unburdened.
I gave a small sigh, one of those soft ones you only release when you're not quite sure how you feel. "It's been a while. I'll adjust. By tomorrow, probably."
Then I looked at it—that lotus—like one looks at an old photograph found in the attic, buried beneath years of dust and distance. "You know... every time I see that, I remember. Running from home. The cold wind on my face. The freedom. The fear. I miss it. I miss all of it."
Reinhardt said nothing. Of course he didn't. What was there to say?
"But nostalgia... nostalgia's a slow poison. It sweetens the past while quietly rotting the present." I watched the lotus dissolve into golden dust. "If I had stayed... just one more year... perhaps I wouldn't still be shackled by this weakness. I wonder when I'll learn to let go. To understand detachment the way he did."
"You could go back anytime you wanted," Reinhardt said calmly. "You're a Lord of Time, after all. You could relive those moments whenever you wish."
I let out a soft, dry chuckle. "If only it were that simple. I'm a Guardian, too. If I rewound time just to indulge in memories... what would make me any different from the Variable whose blood stains my hands?"
I paused at the cafeteria entrance, the scent of warm food drifting through the air like a welcome distraction. "Sometimes it's better to move forward, Reinhardt."
Without another word, we silently parted ways.
I made my way to the same seat I'd used that morning, beside Sylvia and Tom. Both of them had already filled their trays. This time, our servings were noticeably larger—rice, slime-coated mutated chicken, piles of red beans, and butter-glazed mutated tomatoes and onions. A meal that looked like it came from a culinary fever dream, but somehow still smelled appetizing.
"How'd your training go?" Tom asked, glancing in my direction.
Sylvia passed me her red beans in plain sight, smiling as if nothing happened.
"Stressful," I replied, casually deflecting her fork as it came toward my plate with yet another heap of beans. I returned the excess to her tray, leaving only what had already made it across. "I haven't done something like that in a while. What about you?"
"It was fun!" Tom beamed, talking with his mouth full of rice and red beans. "If I knew we'd be doing this every day, I'd have stopped complaining from the start. Nothing like a daily fight to keep the spirit sharp."
"They let you fight on the first day?" Sylvia cut in, speaking mid-bite. "Our instructor started with basic weapon drills."
"It's probably because they're aura users," I explained. "There's not much to teach someone who's already adapted to a weapon. If an aura wielder still needs weapon lessons, it's... well, humiliating. Then there are others who don't use weapons at all. They strengthen their bodies instead—turn themselves into weapons. For them, training with gear is pointless. Waste of time, really."
We talked for a few more minutes before finishing our meals and heading our separate ways. I had someone to find before heading back to the training zone. There wasn't much left to say for now—each of us had our own plans.
As I stepped out of the cafeteria, a soft flute melody drifted into my ears.
And just like that, I wasn't outside anymore.
I found myself standing atop a giant white lotus, suspended in the center of a vast, still body of water. The world around me was serene—silent, except for the haunting tune.
In front of me sat a man about my age, dressed plainly. Jet-black hair, piercing blue eyes. The flute at his lips breathed out gentle notes, each one rippling across the water like whispered thoughts.
"Sigh… Speak of the saint. I was just about to look for you," I said, walking toward him.
"Been a while, senior brother," he replied, without turning around.
"Please," I scoffed, settling down beside him. "I was there for a year. I didn't even learn anything before Uncle dragged me back home."
"Once a teacher, always a teacher. That's what Grandmaster used to say," he replied, still playing. "I believe the same rule applies to brotherhood."
I tilted my head, listening to the tune. "With ideals like that, how do you ever plan to reach enlightenment? Still... your playing has improved. Last time, it was just crickets."
"But you complimented it so much," he retorted.
"You cried about it constantly. I didn't have a choice," I laughed, remembering his pouting face from years ago.
"I was nine," he grumbled. "Children are supposed to cry. Wasn't my fault... Sigh. Then again, Grandmaster was hard to deal with. Getting him to eat meat was the real battle. Crying just made it easier."
"Haha... You've changed a lot, Wuxin," I said, looking down at the water's surface. A reflection stared back at me—not his current self, but the small boy in monk's robes he used to be. "Back then, you looked like a lost lotus. But now... it seems you've found your path to detachment."
"You're not going to call me by that ridiculous nickname?" Wuxin blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Didn't expect that."
"That name... it's a title you'll receive someday. And when that day comes, everything else will seem meaningless."
"Then I just won't walk toward it," he said simply. "Paths are inanimate. It's up to us whether we follow them."
I looked at him and smiled faintly.
"Fate... is a bloody son of a..." I trailed off with a sigh. "If you try to defy it, it'll turn you into a Variable."
"It's better to be a lonely lotus than a dead one, don't you reckon?" Wuxin said with a half-smile. "Besides, you wouldn't kill me if I turned into a Variable… though I can't say the same about the other one. He's gotten darker since I last saw him."
"Hey, kid," Moriarty answered with a grin. "Honestly, it's better to become a Variable than let someone else pull your strings. Sure, I might try to kill you—but at least you won't be living like a puppet. I mean, look at me. I'm a Variable, and all things considered, I'm doing just fine."
"Moriarty, you share a vessel with a Guardian of Time," Wuxin shot back, smiling. "Why are you always trying to mess with me?"
"I'm just stating my position," Moriarty said, still smiling playfully. "The choice is yours. But fair warning—if you turn into a Variable, I will hunt you down."
"Yeah, right. Reach my level before you try," Wuxin sneered.
"You wanna fight?"
"I'll meet you at the training zone," Wuxin said, already walking away—his feet skimming over the surface of the water as the dreamlike space collapsed around us. In the blink of an eye, we were back at the cafeteria gate.
I exhaled slowly, speaking more to myself than anyone else. "Sigh... Both of you are still kids."