The streets of Wellwood faded into the background as I walked, the setting sun casting long shadows on the stone path ahead of me.
My thoughts drifted again… not to anything recent, but further back. Way back.
I could see it clearly.
I was a kid again, barely seven. The world felt bigger then, louder, harder to understand. I remembered storming out of our house, tears welling in my eyes, but refusing to let them fall. I didn't want to cry, not over that.
I'd gotten into it with Mom. She was upset about something I'd said to Kensei. Something that wasn't fair, maybe something cruel, even if I didn't fully understand why at the time.
Kensei and I… we were different. He was always bigger, stronger, ahead. He had the calm presence, the discipline, the approval. I had the fire. The frustration. And at that age, all I ever seemed to do was burn bridges I didn't even know I was standing on.
Mom told me to apologize. I refused.
So I ran. Not far, just to a park a few blocks from our house.
I remember the sky that evening, burning orange and soft pink. The wind blew just enough to rustle the trees, and the swings creaked gently under the weight of no one.
I sat on the one closest to the edge of the sand pit, my arms hugging the cold chains. My feet didn't reach the ground fully, so I let them dangle, lightly brushing the dirt beneath. The park was mostly empty, just the fading sunlight, a few distant sounds of people finishing their day, and me—quiet, angry, alone.
I hated feeling like the one who was always wrong.
So I sat in silence, pretending I didn't care. Pretending I wasn't waiting for someone to come find me.
And then I felt it.
A warm hand settled gently on my shoulder.
I flinched, instinctively tensing up, the swing shifting beneath me as I whipped my head around.
He stood there, like he always did—like he always would, in my memory.
Dad.
The last light of the sun framed him from behind, golden rays bending around his frame like even nature couldn't help but acknowledge his presence.
His brown hair was tied back the way he liked it—half-up, half-down, loose but never unkempt. A few strands had fallen in front of his face. His sharp features were softened by the light in his brown eyes—eyes that always seemed to understand more than they let on.
And that smile... wide and confident, full of calm assurance.
I stared up at him, my breath caught in my throat.
He said something—his mouth moved. I could see the warmth in his expression, the softness in his gaze as he crouched down beside me.
But I couldn't hear it.
No matter how hard I tried, his voice never came through.
It was just silence.
An empty, aching silence.
I tried to remember it. What he sounded like. But the memory was hollow.
And then... it shifted.
The soft light behind him flickered.
The gold in the sky started to dim. His smile—just slightly—began to fade.
I blinked, and he wasn't crouching anymore.
I saw him standing again, but different now. There was no sunlight behind him. Just darkness. Shadows pressing in around the edges.
His eyes weren't filled with warmth anymore, but something else.
Something colder. Sharper. Red—
No.
I shook my head, snapping back to the present with a quick, shallow breath.
The memory shattered like glass, and I was standing on the quiet street again, the last of the daylight slipping beyond the rooftops.
I was alone.
Shaking my head, I let out a sigh and kept walking, hoping those memories would stay buried for a while. I just wanted a quiet night.
**
A short while later, I found myself in the small field behind our house. The sun had dipped just low enough to cast a warm orange glow over the grass, and a soft breeze rolled through the trees lining the edges of the property.
I stood in the middle of the field, my arms loose at my sides, breath steady. No weapon this time—just my fists. I took a few steps forward and started shadow boxing, my movements sharp and focused.
Every punch, every shift of my feet, I kept one thing in mind—conserve stamina. No overexerting, no unnecessary movements.
I imagined an opponent in front of me, ducked, sidestepped, countered. Again and again.
My body was warmed up from the start, and each movement flowed better than the last. I could feel my control improving, especially with the ring. I wasn't pushing for speed or power.
One, two—pivot.
Three, four—step back.
I exhaled through my nose and kept going.
I took another deep breath, sinking into the stance that felt the most natural, yet focused.
My hand tightened around the hilt of my imaginary weapon, and for a split second, I felt the strange hum of matter coursing through my veins.
As I opened my eyes, I couldn't help but notice the air shifting around me. A dark aura swirled from my fingertips, creeping slowly like smoke from a dying ember. It was subtle at first, barely visible in the dimming light, but then it began to grow.
The crackling energy intensified, and the black aura expanded, wrapping around my hands like an unseen force, like something… alive.
I took a deep breath, concentrating my power to continue moving through my arms.
Without hesitation, I allowed the energy to flow more freely, letting the black aura climb up my forearms and spill over my shoulders. The air around me hummed with it.
I raised my hands slightly, admiring the dark tendrils that clung to my skin like shadows. It was like I had summoned a part of myself that I'd never fully understood before. I smirked, looking at the aura swirling around my limbs. "I really am getting the hang of it… My Dark Matter."
The words felt strange on my tongue, but they didn't sound wrong. There was something satisfying about it, about how effortlessly the power flowed through me now, how my body seemed to work with it, not against it.
I straightened, my chest rising and falling with the steady rhythm of my breathing. The dark aura flickered briefly, but I could feel it already calming, settling back into the quiet hum. My grip loosened on the invisible weapon I held, the aura slowly retracting, as if retreating back into its dormant state.
This..this was progress!
I took another deep breath, focusing on the black aura still swirling around my arms, the dark matter now an extension of my will. I'd gotten used to the crackling, the constant hum of energy, but today, I needed to push it further.
With a sharp exhale, I thrust my arm forward, and the dark tendrils shot out, wrapping the air in a black veil. They moved with unnatural speed, like whips slashing through the space around me, crackling as they cut through the air.
The tendrils flickered and twisted, reacting to my movements almost as if they were alive, and I had to fight the instinctive urge to flinch as they lashed out.
I took a step back, adjusting my stance, and flexed my wrist. The tendrils followed, extending further and faster than I expected, wrapping around an invisible target I imagined in front of me.
With a swift pull, I sent the tendrils snapping forward like whips, and they tore through the air with a satisfying crack. The feeling was exhilarating, the power rushing through my limbs as the tendrils slithered back to my side.
But I wasn't done.
I focused harder, gathering the dark energy, pulling it toward my other arm. My hands trembled for a split second, but I kept them steady, letting the darkness flow and shape. The black aura thickened, and I extended my arm forward once again, but this time, I willed it to take a new form.
A small dagger of pure dark matter materialized in my palm, its edges jagged like the sharpest obsidian. It was heavier than it should've been, dense with the power it carried. The cool weight in my hand felt strange, but it was real, undeniable.
With the dagger in hand, I practiced a few swift strikes, slashing at the air in front of me, the dark blade cutting through the invisible opponent. The darkness around me pulsed with each movement. Each swing was smoother than the last, more controlled, as I focused on the feeling of the power thrumming beneath my skin.
I let the dagger disappear with a thought, the dark matter evaporating into the air like smoke, and refocused on the tendrils. They shot out again, this time with more precision, aiming for a target I created in my mind, a motionless figure in front of me. With each crack, each lash of the tendrils, I could feel the power growing, but at the same time, I was aware of the limiter ring around my finger, holding it all in check.
It was strange, this sense of balance—of pushing forward, testing my limits, but also knowing when to pull back, when to stop.
I stepped back, chest rising and falling with each deep breath. I felt a smile tug at my lips
I stood there, breathing heavily, my pulse still thumping in my ears, but something was different.
I flexed my fingers, feeling the crackle of energy still humming in my hands. It was like I could sense the flow of the dark matter even in the smallest motions. The tendrils I had conjured only moments ago seemed so… fluid now, like an extension of myself. I could almost feel their path before I even moved.
Even my vision seemed clearer. The fading sunlight felt more vibrant, the colors of the world sharper, as if my eyes could capture every subtle shade and hue. I could see the smallest movements of the air around me, the way it swirled in tiny vortices.
I lifted my arm, watching the dark tendrils snap back to life with a thought, and this time, they seemed to respond even faster, more intuitively. I could sense where they were, where they'd strike, before I'd even commanded them. It was like we were in sync, the tendrils and I, working as one.
I grinned, testing the limits again.
I took a deep breath, savoring the feeling. My senses were heightened, my mind clearer.
A sharp pulse shot through my nerves. Something was behind me.
Before I could think, my body moved on its own. I spun around, my dark-coated arm lashing out, forming the dagger in my hand as I aimed at whatever presence I felt.
But my hand stopped the moment my eyes met hers. Aiken stood in front of me, eyes wide—not with fear, just surprise. Her posture was steady, like she wasn't sure whether to speak or stay quiet, and for a second, neither of us moved.
My arm, still raised, trembled slightly, dark energy coiled around it. I blinked, my breathing slowing as everything caught up to me.
She didn't say anything right away, just watched me with that usual calm of hers. I let my arm fall, the energy flickering out as my fingers unclenched.
The weight of what almost happened sat heavy in my chest. I muttered something under my breath—an apology maybe, or just a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. She stepped back, giving me space, but didn't look away. I did.
Aiken smiled, the corner of her mouth tugging up before she let out a soft laugh—light, almost teasing.
"Looks like you've finally gotten a bit of control over that Dark Matter of yours," she said, arms crossing as she leaned her weight to one side.
I glanced down at my hand, the last traces of the dark matter flickering away like smoke in the wind. "Guess so," I muttered, still trying to process the sudden shift in my own instincts.
"But, it seems you're still bent on killing me." she added with a smirk.
I shot her a look. "Funny."
She shrugged. "I'm serious. Last time I snuck up on you, I had to dodge a whole tree getting vaporized."
I couldn't help the small smile that pulled at my face. "Yeah… I remember that."
"Thought you were gonna pass out from panic after," she said, stepping closer.
I looked at her, then back at my hands, flexing them slowly. The power was still there—resting, not raging. Contained, at least for now.
"Thanks," I said quietly. "Still feels like I've got a long way to go."
She nodded. "You do. But you're getting there."
We stood there for a while, just talking about nothing and everything—the kind of conversation that drifts without needing direction. The wind had cooled, brushing past the field as the sky bled orange and pink across the horizon.
Aiken had that look on her face—the one where she was watching me a little too closely, trying to read what I wasn't saying. I kept my eyes forward most of the time, answering her with short sentences, a shrug here and there. She didn't press.
Eventually, I stretched my arms behind my head and let out a small breath. "Alright, I should probably head in," I said, turning toward the house.
She nodded, stepping aside slightly as I walked past her. But just as I was a few feet ahead, her voice came—soft, but clear.
"So… do you want to talk about him?"
I stopped mid-step.
The wind stirred again.
I didn't look back right away, just stared at the ground in front of me. I knew exactly who she meant—there wasn't a second of confusion in my mind.
Her voice hadn't been pushing, or even careful. It was just… honest. Like she knew the question had been sitting between us for a while, and finally decided to give it air.
I stayed quiet for a moment, my fingers twitching slightly at my sides. The sky above was starting to dim, the sun nearly tucked away behind the trees.
"...Maybe later." My voice low.
Aiken shifted beside me, nudging my shoulder. "Well when you're ready, I'll be here." she said.
**
Morning came quicker than I expected. After training, I barely had time to rest before packing what little I needed—some clothes, my limiter ring, and the envelope Mom had quietly slipped into my bag when she thought I wasn't looking.
The station sat on the edge of town, quiet except for the occasional gust of wind and the distant hum of the train still making its way down the tracks. I stood near the boarding platform, bag slung over my shoulder, boots scuffing the stone beneath my feet.
Aiken, Yui, and Mom were nearby, chatting in that easy, effortless way that made it feel like just another morning. Their voices blended into the soft morning breeze.
Then, I felt two heavy hands clap down on my shoulders from behind—rough, calloused, and way too familiar.
"Leaving without saying goodbye?" came a loud voice, full of energy and zero tact.
I sighed before I even turned. "Kendra…"
Sure enough, there she was, grinning like she just pulled off the best prank in the world. Her dark hair was tied back, a few strands still escaping and blowing in the wind. Beside her stood Jasper, arms crossed, posture calm as always, though I could see the faintest smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth.
Kendra leaned in, practically shoving her face next to mine. "Did you really think we'd let you sneak off without a proper send-off? Come on, Noro."
"I wasn't exactly sneaking," I muttered, cracking a small smile despite myself.
"Could've fooled us," Jasper said, nodding toward my bag. "You were out here looking like some lone warrior off to face the world without so much as a goodbye."
I rolled my eyes. "You two are unbelievable."
"And yet," Kendra added, throwing an arm around my shoulder, "we're still your friends. Tragic, huh?"
I laughed under my breath, shaking my head. "More like a curse."
Kendra grinned wider. "Then consider it one you're stuck with."
"You know," Kendra continued, giving me a playful jab in the ribs, "you could at least pretend to be sad about leaving."
"I'm not sad," I said, adjusting the strap of my bag. "Just… focused."
Jasper raised a brow. "Focused on not tripping over your own feet when you get off that train?"
Kendra let out a loud laugh, and even Aiken cracked a smile from where she stood beside Yui and Mom.
I was about to fire back with something clever when the quiet murmur of footsteps pulled my attention. Two figures approached from the far end of the station platform—one tall, dressed in dark layers with the kind of posture that screamed nobility, and the other shorter, bulkier, dragging along a long bundle covered in cloth.
Xaviar's sharp eyes met mine before he even fully stepped into view. His expression, as usual, was unreadable—stoic and calm. Beside him, Igon grunted as he adjusted the weight of whatever he was carrying beneath the long black covering.
"You're making quite the scene this morning," Xaviar said, stopping a few paces from us. "I figured you'd try to leave without notice. Guess I was wrong."
"You were," I said simply.
"Good." His eyes shifted to the others for a moment, nodding respectfully to Mom and Aiken before settling back on me. "We brought you something."
Igon stepped forward, his boots clunking against the wooden platform as he held out the cloth-wrapped object with both hands. His usual smirk was there, but his eyes had a weight to them—like he knew what he was giving me was more than just steel.
"Aye, lad," he said, voice low and rough around the edges. "This here's fer you."
I took it from him carefully, the fabric thick and tightly wound, hiding the shape well. It had weight—more than a standard blade, but it felt right in my hands. Balanced.
I started to unwrap it, and as the cloth slipped free, the gleam of a sleek black jian met the morning light. The steel was dark and sharp, lined with silver near the edges. The guard and pommel were carved with deep, old designs, and the scabbard was wrapped in a royal blue fabric, embroidered with strange symbols that looked almost ancient.
I ran my hand along the blade, fingers brushing the runes etched just above the guard.
Igon crossed his arms, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Was made jus' for yer hands, lad. No one else'd make it sing like you will."
I looked up. "What do you mean?"
He shrugged lightly, eyes narrowing. "Exactly what I said, lad. She's yers. Ain't a soul alive could swing her the way you can."
I stared at the weapon, fingers tightening around the hilt.
"What does it do?"
Igon smirked. "Aye, now that's somethin' for you t'figure out."
I frowned. "You're being vague."
"Better ye learn by usin' it than bein' told what she's got brewin' inside," he replied. "Blades like that… they make sense when they start singin' in yer hands."
Xaviar, still standing behind him, nodded once in silent agreement.
I looked down at the blade again—its weight, its balance, the way it seemed to hum with something just beneath the surface.
"Thanks," I said quietly.
Igon gave a small grin. "Make it worth it, Kin. Blade chose ye fer a reason."
The sharp cry of the train's horn echoed through the valley, rolling across the hills like thunder. It snapped through the still air, and the low rumble of the engine followed close behind. I turned slightly, watching as it approached—its metal frame glinting in the morning light, smoke billowing out behind it like a lazy shadow stretching over the tracks.
I let out a deep breath through my nose, the weight of everything finally pressing down a little more than usual.
Then I turned back to the people in front of me.
Kendra was the first one I stepped toward, grinning like she always did, hand already raised. I smacked my fist against hers with a soft chuckle.
"Don't die," she said, completely casual like she wasn't half-serious.
"No promises," I shot back.
Jasper was next. He gave me a small fist bump too, quieter than Kendra but that little nod of his said enough. He trusted me.
I made my way over to Yui next. Her arms were already crossed tight against her chest, eyes glassy but defiant.
I didn't ask. I just pulled her in, arms wrapping around her small frame before she could react. She let out a tiny gasp and then immediately tried to squirm free.
"D-Don't hug me like that in front of everyone, you idiot," she mumbled, her voice cracking just enough to betray her.
I laughed into her hair, holding on a second longer. "You're crying."
"I'm not," she snapped, but I felt her arms tighten just for a moment before she finally pushed me back, furiously rubbing her eyes with her sleeves. "Just go already."
I gave her a small smile, ruffled her hair, and turned toward the last person left.
Mom.
She stepped forward slowly, graceful as always, her presence calm and warm like a familiar blanket. Her eyes locked with mine—kind, proud, and just a little tired.
"You've grown so much," she said softly, her hands gently brushing down the sleeves of my jacket like a mother trying to memorize her child before they left home. "Your path won't be easy… but I know you'll succeed."
I tilted my head. "Yeah?"
Her smile widened, faint lines forming near her eyes. "Because you're just like your father."
That hit deeper than I expected. I felt something clench in my chest, and all I could do was nod—once.
The train let out another hiss as it rolled to a stop, steam rising around the platform. The doors slid open.
It was time.
I adjusted the strap over my shoulder, the Jian blade now resting neatly across my back, and turned one last time to face them.
No more words needed.
I stepped onto the train.