As Luis's emotions finally erupted, his voice changed—louder, sharper. The warmth and liveliness that once defined him vanished, replaced by a fire of anger.
His grip was intense; I could feel his heartbeat racing. His eyes glowed a fierce green, and beneath that light, I sensed something within him—an aura stirring, a spirit both wild and powerful.
Mika ran toward us, trembling, tears glistening in her eyes. Her cold hands reached out to both of us, desperate, afraid. She pulled Luis away, sobbing as tears streamed down her face, separating us.
"Please stop, both of you!" she cried softly, her voice breaking as she begged for peace.
Luis stepped back and slumped into the chair. Mika, unable to hold herself together, collapsed to the floor. She buried her face in the bed, muffling her cries as her shoulders shook.
"I don't care how strong you are now."
Luis spoke again, his voice lower, but still edged with fury.
"I don't care where you go. I just want you to understand the cost of doing whatever you think is right."
He paused, drawing a deep, ragged breath.
"I never had the chance to protect Mika from everything happening around us—Premo, the thugs kidnapping kids… I can't even protect myself."
Tears welled in his green eyes, falling one by one onto the floor, like crystals shattering into countless fragments.
I could feel his pain.
"I don't know what to do. I don't know if I can protect the people I care about. And if we lose you… I'm terrified that everything will fall apart. I'm frustrated—angry—that I always have to rely on you."
He tried to stifle his sobs, wiping the tears away with trembling hands. His breathing slowed, steadying. Then he stood, helping Mika to her feet though she was still crying.
They faced me, and Luis continued, voice firm but heavy.
"From now on, do what you want. I don't care anymore. But I'll make you a promise—I will get stronger. I'll awaken my own spirit and catch up to you. One day, you won't need to protect us. We won't have to rely on you anymore. And you won't have to carry the weight of us on your back."
He turned toward the door, guiding Mika, her face hidden in her hands as she wept. Their steps echoed, heavy with unspoken pain.
"But promise me this," Luis said quietly, his voice fading as they reached the door, "when Mika calls your name… be there for her."
Those were the last words I heard before they disappeared beyond the doorway.
As they left, my mother entered. Her face was full of worry, still holding a plate of biscuits meant for the three of us.
"What happened?" she asked softly, her eyes gentle as they searched mine.
"Nothing, Mom. Just… kid stuff," I replied quietly, Luis's words still echoing in my head.
I knew she and Dad had been arguing about me again. I stepped toward her in the doorway and wrapped my arms around her. She was warm—so warm it almost hurt.
"I'm sorry, Mom… for making you and Dad worry," I whispered.
Then I pulled away, turned toward the window, and leapt out—holding back my tears, too afraid to let her see me cry.
I ran through the quiet streets, toward the old hideout that Luis and Mika had built deep in the forest—a place once filled with laughter, joy, and noise.
Outside, it still looked the same—aged, fragile, half-swallowed by vines. As I stared at it, memories flickered like ghosts before my eyes: the three of us playing, teasing, carefree—unaware of the storms that life would bring.
I stepped inside. The wooden floor creaked under my boots, dust rising in faint clouds and marking my path. I reached for the doorknob; it was cold and rough, my hand coated with dust as I turned it. The hinges groaned in protest, a small, aching sound.
Inside, a basket sat on the table, filled with rotten fruit, feasted on by countless flies. The sour smell filled the air.
"These were supposed to be for us," I murmured.
I wandered slowly, my eyes tracing the walls—covered in our old drawings, now buried under a thin gray film of time.
On the floor lay a tattered blanket Luis once used as his "hero's cape," pretending to save the world. I had told them stories back then—tales of comic book heroes from my past life on Earth.
In the corner, the half-finished painting of the kitsune mask still hung crookedly—Mika's handiwork, uneven but full of effort. I remembered her struggling to shape the fox's smile just right.
"Damn…" I whispered under my breath.
Each memory played before me like an old film reel, flickering and fragile, replaying every moment we once shared—our laughter, our promises, our innocence—now only echoes within these wooden walls.
Two months had passed since that argument.
"Happy Birthday to you!" Mom and Dad cheered early in the morning, waking me from deep sleep.
"Son, it's your birthday!" Dad laughed as he picked me up right out of bed. Despite my growing size, he still hoisted me like a child, his strong arms wrapping around me with ease.
"Oh my gosh, Dad! Stop embarrassing me in front of myself!" I groaned, leaping from his grip.
Mom chuckled from the doorway, leaning against it with a warm smile. She held a small birthday cake, candles flickering softly. "Look at your son, William," she said between laughs. "He's almost catching up to your size!"
Dad shrugged, grinning. "Doesn't matter—he's still my little boy." He rubbed my head, messing my hair even more.
"Come on!" I protested, running toward Mom.
"Alright, alright," she said, laughing as she reached out to steady the cake. The candlelight shimmered in her eyes, tiny reflections of joy dancing there. "Now, make your wish."
She leaned forward with the cake while Dad rested a hand on my shoulder.
"Nine years old already," he whispered playfully. "Time flies fast… Got a girlfriend yet?" His grin widened toward Mom, clearly trying to annoy her.
"Shut up! He's still a kid!" she snapped before I could answer.
"Right," I said, smirking. "Still a kid."
The cake smelled wonderful—sweet icing over soft bread, a mix of blue and green swirls like waves on the ocean. In the center, a single white candle stood tall. My mouth watered as I held it carefully.
"Go on, make your wish," Mom said, her voice trembling with excitement.
I closed my eyes, whispered my wish to the quiet morning, and blew out the candle.
"So," Dad asked immediately, curiosity bright in his tone, "what did you wish for?"
"Secret," I teased, dashing toward the kitchen with the cake in hand.
"Careful! I made that cake myself!" Mom shouted, chasing after me as Dad laughed behind her.
We spent the whole day together—just the three of us—celebrating my birthday.
By evening, the air had cooled, and I decided to take a short walk.
"I'll just walk around!" I called out.
"Okay!" Mom shouted back from inside.
Outside, the wind carried a cold whisper. The night sky was clear, sprinkled with countless stars—like a sea of tiny crystals scattered across the heavens, lighting the quiet streets below.
'I love this second life I've been given,' I murmured into the night, letting my words drift away into the unknown.
I walked down the empty road until I saw two shadows ahead, barely visible through the drifting fog. As I drew closer, the shapes became clearer.
"Happy Birthday!" a soft, familiar voice called out.
"Mika?" I asked, blinking through the haze.
Then the moonlight revealed them both—Mika and Luis.
My eyes widened in disbelief. Mika rushed toward me and threw her arms around me. Her embrace was tight, warm; I could feel her heartbeat racing.
"I'm so happy to see you!" I said, holding her back. Behind her, Luis stood a few steps away, quiet but smiling faintly. His eyes, though distant, glimmered with warmth.
"I didn't expect to see you two here at this hour," I said as Mika slowly released me.
"Did you think we'd forget this special day?" she said, feigning irritation but smiling all the while.
Then she leaned close and whispered in my ear, "That guy was spying on your house all day. The moment he saw you come out, he ran to get me so we could follow you here."
She looked at Luis with a teasing grin. "He missed you more than I did."
I smiled softly and whispered toward him, "Thank you." Even through the night mist, I saw him blush, turning his face away to hide it.
Mika took my hand and placed something small and smooth in my palm.
"He carved it, and I painted it," she said proudly. "It's a good luck charm."
It was a little wooden keychain shaped like a flower, painted in red and yellow.
"Thank you—both of you," I said, my voice low with gratitude.
Then Luis called out, "Let's go, Mika. It's getting really late."
"Okay!" she shouted back. She turned to me, smiling softly. "I won't make him say it out loud, but trust me—he's just as happy as I am to see you again."
She hugged me one last time before dashing off into the fog with Luis.
I stood there, watching them disappear into the distance, a quiet smile still lingering on my face.