"I don't want to alarm you, Akira," Ito said evenly, "but you have a Yokai inside you."
Akira froze—
Then clawed at his chest.
"What?!" His fingers scraped skin in blind panic. "How do I get it out?!"
Ito moved instantly, catching both wrists before Akira could tear himself bloody.
"Stop," he snapped. "I said don't panic."
Akira's breath came fast and shallow, teeth clenched like he was bracing for something to burst out of him.
"This," Ito continued, forcing Akira's hands down without releasing them, "is exactly why I didn't start with punching trees or flaring Tao."
Akira blinked. "You… knew?"
"I suspected," Ito said. "Didn't expect it to be this obvious, though. Your Tao is easy to see—too easy."
He stepped back, posture loosening, but his eyes stayed sharp.
"Sit."
Akira hesitated, then lowered himself cross-legged onto the floor.
"Before Tao becomes power," Ito said, crouching across from him, "it's sensation. If you don't learn that first, you'll mistake pressure for strength and burn yourself out."
Akira frowned. "So… what do I do?"
"Nothing," Ito said.
Akira stared. "That's it?"
Ito smirked. "For most people, yeah."
He placed two fingers lightly against Akira's sternum—not on the mark, but just above it.
"Close your eyes. Don't reach. Don't push. Just… notice."
Akira obeyed.
At first, there was nothing—just his heartbeat, the dull ache in his ribs, the faint itch where Ito's fingers rested.
Then—
Warmth.
Not heat. Not energy. Presence. Like standing near a crowd without hearing a single voice.
"Something's… there," Akira murmured.
Ito lifted his fingers immediately. "Good. Don't chase it."
Akira clenched his fists. "It feels… big."
Ito let out a quiet chuckle. "That's not Tao. That's you."
Akira cracked one eye open. "What?"
"Tao is life," Ito said. "And you are alive. Taoists forget that and treat it like a tool. Tao and body are one."
Akira closed his eyes again.
The warmth sharpened. Spread. Not outward—everywhere. Like pressure behind his bones.
And beneath it—
Cold.
Still.
Watching.
"There's… another rhythm," Akira whispered.
Ito's tone hardened instantly. "Describe it."
"Slow," Akira said. "Heavy. Like it's resting."
Ito stood.
"That," he said quietly, "is not normal."
Akira swallowed. "So I really do have a Yokai."
"Yes," Ito said. "And it isn't hiding."
"Then why didn't I feel it before?"
Ito folded his arms. "Because it didn't want you to."
Silence settled.
Ito paced once, thinking, then stopped in front of him.
"Normally, Yokai contracts involve separation," he said. "Power for Tao. Two pools. Two wills."He looked down at Akira."This one is fused with you. Tao, body, instinct—everything."
Akira's jaw tightened.
"It's not just blocking its own power," Ito continued. "It's stopping you from learning Tao at all."
Akira tilted his head. "But?"
Ito's gaze flicked to Akira's split-colored hair.
"But you can enter your true realm."
Akira blinked. "My what?"
"A space where Taoists confront themselves—and anything bound to them." Ito knelt and pressed his palm to the floor between them. "The problem is, only Taoists can enter."
Akira stiffened. "And I'm not one yet."
"No," Ito said. "So I'll force my Tao through you. Temporarily."
Akira grimaced. "That sounds painful."
Ito grinned. "It's gentler than it sounds."
A thin ripple of Tao spread from Ito's palm—not violent, not explosive. Controlled. Steady.
Akira inhaled sharply.
The warmth inside him responded instantly.
Pressure deepened.
The world tilted.
"Don't resist," Ito said. "And don't follow me. Let your body choose."
The floor vanished.
Akira floated.
No up. No down. Just endless space, layered in slow-moving color—as if reality itself hadn't decided what it wanted to be yet.
At the center stood a throne.
Not desire—recognition.
The moment Akira leaned toward it, his body locked.
Something massive stepped into view beside him.
A lion-like humanoid. Golden mane streaked with silver flame. Eyes calm, ancient, and impossibly sharp.
"Who are you?" Akira demanded. "Where am I?"
"I am Arthur," the being said evenly. "And this is your mind."
Akira exhaled. "Figures."
Arthur inclined his head toward the throne. "That is your true realm."
"Then why can't I reach it?"
"Because you haven't earned it," Arthur replied. "Most Taoists never do."
Akira clenched his jaw. "You've been stealing my Tao."
Arthur shook his head gently. "If I stop," he said, "we both die."
Images flickered—
A crying infant.A clawed hand brushing his forehead.Rain. Running.Arthur carrying him to an orphanage before sealing the contract.
Akira swallowed. "If we're working together, you have to let me learn Tao."
"No," Arthur said, turning away.
Akira stared. "What do you mean, no?!"
"I want a quiet life," Arthur replied calmly. "Being a Taoist guarantees suffering."
Akira stepped forward as far as his body allowed. "You've known me since I was born. You really think I'd give up that easily?"
Arthur paused.
Then nodded. "Very well. I'll let you learn Tao."
Akira glanced back at the throne. "One last thing. Why did you protect me?"
Arthur smiled faintly. "I don't know."
He turned away.
"Just remember," Arthur said, "everything I do is for your future."
Akira collapsed forward as the world snapped back.
Ito caught him before his face hit the floor.
"You understand Tao yet?" Ito muttered, eyes wide.
Akira groaned and raised a shaky thumb.
Ito laughed.