[Kenji's POV]
I barely ducked in time as her practice sword cut through the air above my head. The wind off the swing rustled my hair, and I flinched more from the surprise than the danger.
"Careful," I said with a grin, straightening back up. "Trying to give me a new haircut?"
Sakura didn't miss a beat. "Maybe you'd look better with a few split ends."
I laughed, even as I shifted back into stance. She was fast. Faster than she had any right to be after just a few months. Her grip, her posture, even the way the flame flickered at her blade's edge—it was all tighter, sharper.
She lunged, and I met her strike with my bracer. The Amouranth Flame crackled faintly where it licked the sword's surface, but it didn't burn. Not anymore. She was in control. Mostly.
We broke apart again, both of us catching our breath.
She wiped the sweat from her forehead and smirked at me. "Admit it. I'm winning."
"You're getting cocky," I replied, trying to hide my smile. "Besides, I let you land that last hit."
"Kenji," she said flatly. "You tripped over your own foot."
"Details."
She laughed—really laughed—and turned away to grab the water bottles. I should've looked away too, but I didn't. Instead, I watched her. The sun filtered down through the leaves, catching the strands of pink in her hair, the way her back moved with each breath.
I'd always known Sakura was strong. Brave. The kind of person who takes on the world without waiting for permission. But somewhere along the line... she became more than that. I started noticing things I shouldn't. The way she always brushed her hair behind her ear when she was thinking. The way she stuck her tongue out a little when trying to focus. How she hummed under her breath between drills.
She tossed me a bottle. "Kenji? You good? You're staring like I grew a second head."
I blinked. "Just... impressed."
She raised an eyebrow. "With my swordsmanship or my natural charm?"
I let out a soft laugh and cracked open the bottle. "Definitely the swordsmanship."
She rolled her eyes but smiled—and it hit me like a gut punch. The kind of smile that stays with you, even when you close your eyes.
And just like that, I realized I was in trouble.
She's beautiful.
Not just pretty—something deeper. Something I'd never let myself think before. Not with everything going on. But it was there now, and it wasn't going away.
I looked away and fiddled with the strap on my glove, trying to push the warmth out of my chest, trying to act normal.
But deep down, I already knew. I was falling for her.
We sat on the floor of Sakura's room, the journal open between us, its brittle pages casting soft whispers every time we turned one. The late afternoon light slanted through her curtains, golden and warm, like the silence between us.
Or maybe not silence. More like tension. At least, that's what it felt like to me.
She leaned over the book, her pink hair falling to one side as she read. I should've been paying attention to the ancient diagrams etched in ink, the notes about Amouranth Flame and how it interacted with the wielder's spirit—but my eyes kept drifting back to her.
Her lips moved slightly when she read to herself. Her fingers tapped the corner of the page absentmindedly. The little things. The things I'd started to notice way too much lately.
"Kenji," she said suddenly, not even looking up, "you've been on the same line for five minutes."
I snapped my head back to the journal. "Just… processing."
"Processing, huh?" She smirked, glancing sideways at me. "Or is the view just that distracting?"
I nearly choked. "What? No—I mean—stop."
"Oh come on," she said with a laugh. "You've been weird ever since we finished training. Blushing like crazy. Getting all flustered." Her grin widened. "You're so easy to read."
I shut the journal with a quiet thump. "Sakura."
She leaned in, that teasing glint dancing in her eyes. "Is someone falling for me?"
I groaned and turned away. "Seriously, knock it off—"
But she didn't. She nudged closer, her face just inches from mine now, her smile full of trouble. "Admit it. You li—"
Without thinking, I moved. One swift motion.
She gasped softly as I pinned her down onto the bed, hovering over her. My hands pressed lightly against her wrists; her hair splayed out over the pillow like a halo of pink silk. Her eyes went wide, not in fear—but something else.
Her breath hitched. Mine did too.
The space between us was a thread—thin, fragile. My face was far too close to hers, and neither of us moved.
And for a moment, everything stopped. The journal, the flame, the danger looming beyond us—it all faded.
She didn't pull away.
And that was what hit hardest.
She wanted this, maybe just as much as I did.
I felt her heartbeat under my palm. Or maybe it was mine. I couldn't tell anymore.
Then—
Knock knock.
"Sakura?" Haruka's voice came through the door, cool and composed. "Dinner's ready."
The tension snapped like a twig.
I immediately backed off, standing up faster than I should've. Sakura sat up, brushing her hair behind her ear, cheeks flushed.
"C-Coming!" she called out, her voice just slightly higher than usual.
We both avoided eye contact for a moment. The silence between us had shifted. Deeper. Louder.
I looked down at the journal again, heart still racing.
Things had changed. And I wasn't sure they could go back.
The walk down the stairs felt longer than usual. Maybe because neither of us said a word. Maybe because my brain wouldn't shut up. My heart was still thumping against my ribs, like it hadn't caught up with the fact that the moment had passed.
We entered the dining room and sat down opposite Haruka. The air was thick. The kind of thick where you notice every small movement, every clink of silverware. Sakura kept her eyes on her plate. I kept mine on the table.
Haruka, of course, noticed immediately.
"You two look like someone just told you your favorite anime got canceled," he joked, setting the last bowl down in the center. "Everything okay?"
"Fine," Sakura said quickly. Too quickly.
"Yeah, totally," I added, forcing a smile that probably looked as fake as it felt.
Haruka arched a brow. "Right. Because this doesn't feel awkward at all."
Sakura let out a soft, awkward laugh. I chuckled weakly too. Still, neither of us could look at each other for more than a second.
Haruka tried again. "Did something happen? You guys didn't get into a fight, did you?"
"Nope!" Sakura blurted, stabbing a piece of meat like it had personally offended her.
I shook my head. "Not a fight. Just… tired, I guess."
Haruka stared at us for a moment longer, then leaned back in his chair. "Alright, if you say so. Just don't bring the weird energy to breakfast tomorrow."
We all shared a laugh—well, more like a breath—but the tension was still there, clinging to the corners of the room.
Dinner dragged.
Every second was like walking across glass barefoot. I kept replaying that moment in her room, wondering if I'd messed up. If I'd gone too far. She hadn't pushed me away, but she hadn't said anything either. What was I supposed to do with that?
As soon as we finished eating, I stood up. "Thanks for the food, Haruka. I should probably head home."
Sakura looked up briefly, but didn't say anything. Just nodded.
Haruka gave me a fist bump at the door. "Take care, man. You sure you're, okay?"
"Yeah. Just tired."
He smiled, though I could tell he wasn't buying it. "Alright. Later."
As I stepped out into the cool night air, the silence felt heavier than it had in days. I shoved my hands in my pockets and started walking, trying not to let the hollow feeling in my chest get the better of me.
I should've said something. I should've asked her what she felt. But instead, I left, uncertain and stuck in my own head.
What now?
The cool night air helped. A little. The silence gave me space to think, but it didn't offer any answers. I walked slowly, my hands buried in my pockets, trying to shake the weight that had settled in my chest.
That's when I saw them.
Two men in black suits stood outside my house. Sharp silhouettes in the dim glow of the porch light. My mom was at the door, talking to them—her arms crossed, a cautious look on her face. They didn't look like neighbors. Or salesmen. Or anyone normal, really.
Something about them felt… off.
I ducked behind the hedge across the street and waited. One of the men handed my mom a card. She nodded once, tight-lipped. A few more words were exchanged before they turned and walked away—black shoes clicking on pavement like clockwork.
I didn't move until they were well down the road.
What the hell was that about?
After a few minutes, I crossed the street and walked up the path like I'd just arrived from anywhere else. I opened the door quietly. Mom was already in the kitchen, arms folded, a half-worried, half-annoyed expression on her face.
"There you are," she said, turning toward me. "Some men came by asking for you."
I blinked. "What? Who were they?"
"I was hoping you'd tell me," she said, voice pointed. "They said it was important. Government something. No names. Just handed me this."
She slid the card across the counter. Plain. No logo. Just a number. The kind of thing you see in movies right before everything goes wrong.
"I'm going to ask this once, Kenji," she continued, her gaze sharpening. "What have you been up to?"
I looked down at the card. My throat tightened.
How do you explain that you've been helping your friend learn how to control a mythical power to fight a god's offspring?
"…Nothing," I said. "Just school stuff."
She didn't believe me.
And deep down, I wasn't sure I believed myself anymore either.