It's a new day.
I wake up slowly, staring at the ceiling as my body reminds me of everything it went through. The pain is still there—deep, dull, constant—but it's better than yesterday. Not gone. Just quieter. With time, my body will heal.
The scars won't.
I sit up carefully, rolling my shoulders, wincing as stiffness pulls through my arms and back. Every bruise feels like it's been pressed into my skin with intent. I shuffle into the bathroom, brush my teeth, and let the water run in the shower longer than I should. Steam fills the room, fogging the mirror, blurring my reflection. For a moment, I'm grateful—I don't have to look at myself.
When I step out, I dry off and pull on my uniform piece by piece, tugging sleeves down, adjusting fabric, making sure nothing shows. Every mark is hidden. Every reminder tucked away.
I stop in front of the mirror anyway.
Just for a second.
And just like that, I'm not here anymore.
I see his face—twisted into a grin that didn't belong on a human. I hear his laugh, low and hollow, vibrating in my skull like a warning. Darkness moved around him like it was alive, stretching and curling, an abyss reaching back toward its master.
My teeth grind together. I break eye contact with the mirror.
I grab my sword and slide it into my backpack. The familiar weight settles against my spine, steady, reassuring. I sling the bag over my shoulder and head downstairs.
My parents are already home again. Quiet. Distant. The clink of dishes, muted footsteps, routine conversations that barely brush against me. No questions. No lingering looks.
Outside, the morning air is cool. Zack is waiting at the curb, rocking slightly on his heels.
"What's up, Zack?" I say.
"What's up, bro?" He grins. "Feels like forever since I've seen you."
"Yeah," I reply. "Weekend was long."
As we start walking, his eyes flick to my face. He slows. "What happened to your cheek?"
"Oh—uh. I fell."
He raises an eyebrow. "You fell… and your cheek got cut?"
"Yeah," I say quickly, forcing a shrug. "Guess I got clumsy."
He studies me for a moment longer than I like, then lets it go. "Alright. Just be careful."
"Yeah," I say. "I will."
The walk feels almost normal. Almost.
Then I see Ava ahead, laughing.
With Shin.
"Ew," I mutter.
Zack snorts. "Guess they made back up."
"Guess they did," I say, shaking my head. "You knew you never had a chance, right?"
"Come on," he groans. "At least give me some leeway."
The school doors swallow us whole, noise and chatter crashing over me. I spot Mike near the lockers—first time I've seen him since school started.
"Hey, Mike."
"Hey, William."
"Zack, this is Mike. Mike, Zack."
"Nice to meet you, dude."
"Likewise."
Mike adjusts his backpack. "I gotta get to class."
English feels like stepping into another world. Miss Maldiva's voice snaps through the room as she calls me out for zoning off.
And weirdly?
It feels good.
Ava's bright eyes. The familiar scent of her perfume. Zack's laugh echoing down the hallway earlier. Even the sharp slap of a worksheet hitting my desk—it all feels normal.
Normal feels safe.
Lunch passes quietly.
"Did you hear about the docks?" Zack asks.
Something tightens deep in my gut.
"Yeah," I say. "I did."
"Fire, water everywhere, people blacking out. That's like the eighth weird thing that's happened in Redwood in the past few years."
"Probably nothing," I say, though the words feel thin. "Don't overthink it."
He nods. "Yeah. You're right."
Math class drains whatever energy I had left.
Mike sits beside me, quieter than usual.
"Did you ever finish that Naruto drawing?" I ask.
He hesitates. "Not yet. I'll show you when I do."
Something in his tone feels… distant.
After school, I head straight home. No coffeehouse. No training. No distractions.
Days blur together.
School. Sleep. School. Sleep.
A normal life—thin, fragile, hollow.
Then, three days later—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound hits the house like a warning.
I freeze.
Another knock. Louder this time.
I rush downstairs and peer through the glass.
Jordan.
My breath catches. My thoughts scatter.
Why is she here?
And why does it feel like whatever comes next…
won't be normal at all?
Jordan!" I hear her call through the door. "William, I know you're in there. I can hear you moving. Can you just hurry up and open up?"
I freeze.
My heart jumps straight into my throat. I glance down the hallway, listening. No voices. No footsteps. Thank God.
"Damn it," I mutter under my breath as I unlock the door and open it just enough for her to slip inside.
"You took long enough," she says, stepping past me.
"Well, I wasn't exactly expecting visitors today," I reply, shutting the door a little too quickly behind her.
She raises an eyebrow. "Relax. I'm not the cops."
"Yeah, well—still."
I gesture for her to follow me upstairs. Every step creaks louder than it should, the house suddenly feeling way too alive. When we get to my room, I close the door softly and exhale.
She looks around, taking it all in. "Nice room," she says. "Nice house, even."
"Thanks," I say, sitting in the chair by my desk while she sits on my bed.
"You know," she continues, her long hair catching the light as she moves, freckles standing out against her skin, gray eyes calm but sharp—looking at her like this brings a strange sense of quiet I'm not used to.
"Well," she says, breaking the silence, "I came to talk about the team."
My jaw tightens.
"Sensei Shu told me you stormed off during your last conversation," she continues. "And that you went… pretty berserk at the docks."
The word hits harder than I expect. The anger. The fear. The way the darkness wrapped around him like it was alive—like it belonged to him. My hands curl into fists before I even notice.
"Yeah," I say quietly. "I lost control. But I had to. Someone had to hold him off. I needed to buy you all enough time to get out so Cameron could get you back safely."
She doesn't interrupt. That alone surprises me.
"I didn't come here to argue," Jordan says. "I came because we need you back."
I blink. "You… what?"
"We need you," she repeats. "As the leader."
That one nearly knocks the air out of me.
"I thought you didn't trust me," I say.
She exhales slowly. "I didn't. And honestly? Part of me still doesn't. But the docks showed me something."
She stands, stepping closer. "I tried to lead, and people almost paid for it. You stepped up knowing it might cost you everything."
The room feels smaller now.
"I won't let it fall apart like that again," I say.
She studies my face, searching for something—truth, maybe. After a moment, she nods.
"I know."
Before either of us can say more—
"William?" my mom calls from downstairs.
I freeze.
Jordan's eyes widen just slightly. I move fast, grabbing her wrist and pulling her toward the far side of my room.
"Hide," I whisper.
"What—"
"Please."
She hesitates, then slips behind my door just as footsteps start up the stairs.
My mom pokes her head in. "Oh. You're home early."
"Yeah," I say too fast. "Just—tired."
She looks at me, eyes narrowing slightly. "You okay? You've been acting… off lately."
"I'm fine," I say. "Really."
She smiles, though it's tired. "Dinner's almost ready. Your dad's home too."
"Okay," I say.
She lingers for a second longer, then leaves. The footsteps fade.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.
Jordan steps back into view, amusement flickering across her face. "Nice save."
"Never doing that again," I mutter.
She laughs softly and punches my shoulder. "Relax."
"I'm glad you're feeling better," I say.
She meets my eyes. "And I'm glad you're still here."
The words sit between us, heavy. Unspoken things fill the space.
"You're important to the team," she adds. "More than you think."
"I won't let you down," I say.
She nods once. "I know."
"I should go," she says finally.
"Yeah. I'll walk you out."
We move quietly down the stairs, the house settling back into its usual silence. At the door, she turns to me.
"Tomorrow," she says. "Coffee house."
"I'll be there."
She smiles—small, real—and slips outside.
I close the door behind her.
For the first time in days, my chest doesn't feel tight. The memories don't claw at me. The fear doesn't scream.
It's calm.
And for now… that's enough.