The morning air was crisp, and the soft hum of the wind brushing against the windows barely registered over the steady beat of my thoughts. The journal still sat on my desk, closed but pulsing in my mind like an unanswered question.
I wasn't ready. Not yet.
The memory of the purple flame flickering from my eye, the overwhelming sense of power and chaos, Leviathan's name echoing from the pages... it all pointed to one inevitable truth: I needed to be stronger.
I stood up abruptly, grabbing a hoodie and heading down to the living room. Haruka was sprawled on the couch, flipping lazily through channels with a half-finished mug of coffee in his hand. He looked up as I walked in.
"Morning, sleepyhead. You good?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
I hesitated. "Yeah. Just… thinking."
He sat up slightly. "Thinking about?
I took a breath. "I want you to teach me how to fight."
His face froze for a moment. "What?"
"I want to learn self-defense," I said, trying to sound casual. "Things have been… tense lately. It just feels like something I need to do."
Haruka put the mug down, eyes narrowing slightly, studying me. "This is out of nowhere."
"Is it really?" I asked, forcing a smile. "You've been teaching martial arts since high school. It's about time your little sister learned something, right?"
He let out a slow breath and leaned back. "Alright. I'll teach you. But I'm not going easy on you."
"Didn't expect you to," I replied.
That afternoon, we cleared space in the backyard. Haruka tossed me a wooden practice sword with a grin. "We'll start with the basics—stances, breathing, movement. You can't just swing a blade around and expect it to work."
I nodded, gripping the hilt. The weight felt awkward in my hand, but something about it felt right. Like it belonged there.
He began with simple drills, explaining posture, footwork, and balance. I followed each instruction carefully, focusing on the feel of each movement. The journal had mentioned swords—not just as weapons, but as conduits of the wielder's will. If I was to wield one, I needed the foundation.
Hours passed in a blur of motion, correction, and repetition. By the end, my arms ached and sweat clung to my back, but something inside me felt sharper—more focused.
Haruka handed me a towel and a bottle of water. "You've got a decent sense of balance. Not bad for day one."
I smiled; grateful he didn't question my motives further. For now, this was enough. He was helping me become stronger.
I was beginning to understand that strength didn't come from one place alone. It came from all directions—discipline, knowledge, instinct.
And I would need every piece of it.
That night, sleep came in fragments.
My muscles ached in a strangely satisfying way, the soreness a reminder that I'd taken a step forward. But even through exhaustion, my mind wouldn't settle. I kept thinking about the journal, about the blade in my hand, about what Kenji and I had read. About the threat that still loomed in the shadows.
Eventually, I drifted off.
And then—I was somewhere else entirely.
The sky above me was a sickly violet, swirling like oil in water. Beneath my feet stretched an endless ocean of glass, reflecting the unnatural sky with eerie precision. In the distance, jagged black rocks jutted out like the spines of some ancient beast. The air felt heavy, electric.
I turned, unsure of how I'd gotten there—only to find myself face to face with a towering figure.
She was beautiful in the most terrible way.
Tall and lithe, with deep blue-black hair that cascaded like water down her shoulders, skin pale as moonlight, and eyes—those eyes. Slitted like a serpent's, glowing with an unnatural teal light, her gaze peeled through me.
"Hello there," the figure said, voice soft, smooth, and echoing in the space like ripples in a cave. "So… you're the one who inherited her flame."
I took a step back. "Who are you?"
Her smile was slight. "They call me many things. But you may call me… Leviathan."
The name chilled me. It rang with the weight of the journal's warnings.
"This is a dream," I whispered.
"Is it?" she said, tilting her head. "Or is it the first time you've truly seen beyond the veil? You've stirred the power, Sakura. And now, those of us who were sealed… feel it. Smell it."
My fists clenched. "What do you want from me?"
Leviathan stepped closer. "Want? I want to see if you're worthy. If you'll burn out like the rest… or become something greater. We've been waiting… so very long."
She raised her hand—and suddenly the sea of glass around us shattered, replaced by a vortex of flame and water, whirling together in violent harmony.
"You don't even know what you are," she whispered.
The vortex closed in, heat and pressure mounting. My right eye began to burn again, glowing faintly in the reflection of the shattered world around us.
"You will see me again, Sakura," Leviathan said. "When the time comes, you will choose—to rise… or drown."
I screamed—but no sound escaped. The dream collapsed.
I shot awake, my heart pounding, sheets tangled around me like restraints. My room was still. The journal sat untouched where I'd left it. But I could feel something different in the air. Like a thread had been pulled. A gate, cracked open.
I reached up and touched my right eye. It no longer hurt, but it was warm.
I knew that voice would come back.
Leviathan was real.
And now… she knew I existed.
The sun dipped low by the time I got home, casting long shadows through the windows. I dropped my bag by the door and just stood there for a moment, letting the silence swallow me.
The dream.
The power.
Leviathan's eyes.
I couldn't stop thinking about it—no matter how many times I tried to shove it to the back of my mind. The weight of it clung to my chest like armor I hadn't asked to wear.
I made my way upstairs and changed into my training clothes, the motions automatic. Haruka was already outside by the time I stepped into the yard, his usual relaxed stance waiting for me under the fading light.
"You're late," he said, teasing, but his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He must've noticed something was off this morning.
"Sorry," I muttered, tying my hair back. "Lost track of time."
We started with the basics—stances, footwork, a few sword drills. My body moved, but my mind didn't follow. Every swing felt heavier than the last. I wasn't present. I was drowning in the thoughts spinning inside my head.
Haruka caught it quickly.
"Sakura," he said, stepping back. "You're not focused. You keep hesitating."
"I'm fine," I said, forcing a swing. "Just tired."
But he didn't let it go. He lowered his sword and took a step toward me.
"Don't lie to me," he said quietly. "Talk to me. What's really going on?"
I tightened my grip on the wooden sword. The urge to lie again burned on my tongue, but the lump in my throat made it hard to speak at all.
"I… I wish I could tell you," I said finally, my voice breaking a little. "But it's hard. I don't even know how to explain it."
Haruka stayed silent; his eyes locked on mine.
"It feels like something huge… something terrifying… is coming," I continued. "And it's all being dropped on me like I'm supposed to handle it alone. Like I'm expected to know what to do, how to fight it, how to carry it—and I don't. I didn't ask for any of this."
Tears welled up in my eyes before I could stop them. I looked away, ashamed. "I'm scared, Haruka."
He didn't say anything right away.
Instead, he pulled me into a hug.
A strong, warm hug—no pressure, no questions, just comfort.
"I don't know what you're dealing with," he said softly, "but you're not alone. You never will be. Whatever it is… I'll help you carry it. However I can."
I stood frozen for a second, then sank into the embrace. The tears fell silently, but they felt lighter than before.
Maybe I couldn't tell him everything—not yet.
But I didn't have to carry everything alone.
Not anymore.