He lay there, back against the cold floor, staring up at the open sky. The clouds drifted by—slow, lazy, completely unbothered by anything happening below them.
'Must be nice. Being a cloud. No responsibilities. Just floating.'
Nora lay beside him, doing the same. Watching the same sky. Breathing the same air.
It was calming. The kind of calm that doesn't ask for anything. It just exists.
For a few minutes, neither of them spoke. Not the angry kind of silence. Not the tense kind either. Just the quiet, patient kind, the kind that sits between two people, waiting for one of them to go first.
And of course, he went first.
"I'm sorry, Nora. Truly." He kept his eyes on the clouds. Easier to talk to the sky than to her face. "I didn't mean to leave without telling you. Well—not like I had a choice, you know."
A pause. He drew in a lungful of fresh air.
"I wanted to tell you what happened the moment I saw you again." A soft chuckle. "But you did say you'd choke me to death yourself. So the timing felt off."
Another pause. Quieter.
"I want to tell you everything. I do. I just—don't have the words yet."
He turned his head toward her.
"But before I do—ask your father something. Ask him what the real point of our fight that day was."
A beat.
"Then I'll tell you…"
He turned his head toward her.
She was asleep. Out cold. Breathing softly. Completely, utterly unconscious. His entire heartfelt monologue had put her to sleep.
'Oh. That's just rude.'
But looking at her messy hair, her face relaxed, her guard completely down, he couldn't help but smile. A small one. His body was still in terrible shape, so even smiling cost him something.
He could've healed faster. His body wanted to. Limitless was already working, pulling him back together piece by piece.
But he held it back. Slowed it down. Kept pace with Nora's healing instead.
He didn't think too hard about why.
Slowly, his eyes drifted back to the clouds. Watched them swim by—smooth, easy, like they had nowhere to be and all the time to get there.
And before he knew it, his eyelids started to fall. Slow. Heavy. Like a curtain drawing itself closed.
His mind drifted further back than he wanted it to.
Two weeks before their fight.
He'd done what he always did when Nora didn't show up to their spot—snuck over to her house. Through the window. Because walking through the front door wasn't really an option when her father wanted him nowhere near her.
'Definitely was not my proudest moment.'
They had a spot. A small lake tucked inside a clearing in the forest. Their clearing. They found it by accident the day she chased him through the trees like a lunatic with a wooden sword and a battle cry he could still hear to this day.
"Surrender, villain! And accept your divine punishment!"
The divine punishment was always the same. A bash to the head, followed by whatever special move she'd seen on TV that week.
But that day, she never came.
So he climbed. Peeked. Her room was empty.
'She's probably already there. Waiting. Annoyed.'
He was about to drop back down when Richard appeared, walking toward the house. His body moved before his brain caught up. He threw himself into her room. Flattened against the wall. Held his breath.
'Just wait. He'll pass. Then leave. Simple.'
It wasn't simple.
Because her mother's voice tore through the walls. Raw. Broken. The kind of crying that comes from a place words can't reach.
"If something happens to my daughter—I will never forgive you!"
"She won't lose." Richard. Calm. Measured.
"Why are you doing this? Why are you playing with children's lives?"
"It's tradition." Softer now. Almost a whisper. The voice of a man holding something he wished he could put down. "The only way to please the island. The only way to keep it alive."
Silence. Then—
"Nothing will happen to our daughter. I'll make sure of it."
"What are you going to do?" Fear crept into her voice. "Richard—promise me. Promise me you won't hurt that boy." Her words cracked. "His mother was my closest friend and—"
The air changed. His voice dropped into something cold. Something final.
"I am not losing her too."
A door slammed so hard the walls shook. Then footsteps. Then nothing.
'His mother was my closest friend.'
That line stayed with him. Stuck to the inside of his skull like a splinter he couldn't pull out. It never made sense. His parents had friends? They could barely tolerate their own children. The idea of them having friends felt like a joke missing its punchline.
Reliving this wasn't helping.
So he lay on the hill near the lake. Grass against his back. Sky above. Eyes closed. Trying to make sense of something that refused to make sense.
Then a voice. Nora's. Telling him to wake up.
Again.
And again.
But each time, it sank lower. Deeper. Until it wasn't Nora anymore. It was thick. Heavy. A man's voice.
He groaned and rolled over.
"Five minutes."
"Wake up, buddy!"
Too loud. Too cheerful. Too Darius.
He peeled his eyes open. Three figures loomed above him. Darius, as always, grinning. Ana—amused. Richard giving him the good old murderous look.
'Why does everyone look like they want to bury me?'
"Oh. Hey." He yawned. "When did you guys—"
A hand slapped over his mouth. Warm. Small. Familiar.
"Shut up. Too loud," a sleepy voice mumbled next to him.
'Whose hand is—why is my body so heavy?'
He looked down.
Nora. Curled into his side like a cat that had claimed its territory. Leg thrown over his. Arm draped across his chest. Hand plastered over his face.
'Oh.'
'Oh no.'
He glanced up at Richard.
Richard glanced down at him.
'Yeah. I'm dead.'
He tried to gently peel her hand away from his face. Carefully. Delicately. The way you'd handle something that could explode.
She slammed it back down.
"Stop it," she mumbled. Still asleep.
Ana's lips curled into a sly smile. "Shiro, you dog."
'Not her too.'
'I am so, so dead.'
"NORA!"
Her eyes snapped open. Her body jerked upright so fast you'd think someone had poured ice water down her back.
Richard stood above them. Jaw tight. Eyes burning.
"I thought this was supposed to be sparring."
She blinked at him. Rubbed one eye with the back of her hand. Then—completely unbothered—smiled.
"It was. We just got a little carried away."
'How. How is she this calm? I am having a heart attack and she is giggling.'
"Yo—what's with this bow?" Darius's voice bulldozed through the tension. He was crouched over the weapon, both hands wrapped around it, face scrunched, barely getting it off the ground. "This thing's heavier than my axe!"
'Ah. The missed shots.'
Richard's gaze drifted to Shiro. Slow. Deliberate. That look—the one that sat somewhere between suspicion and disbelief. He could tell Richard was turning something over in his head. Something he didn't want to believe. Because dead men don't just show up alive.
Shiro scratched the back of his head. Strolled over to Darius. Took the bow off him like it weighed nothing.
He aimed at the ground, gave the string the tiniest tug, and fired an arrow so weak it barely stung his own foot.
The weight vanished. Light as air again.
He dismissed the bow. Tossed the shard to Richard.
"Sorry. Borrowed it without asking."
Richard caught it without looking. Held it for a moment.
Then threw it right back.
"Keep it."
Two words. Simple. But the tone held something different. There was no distaste, no coldness. From Richard, that was practically a hug.
The shard dissolved into his palm the moment it touched. He felt it settling in with his other weapons. Ready. Waiting for the call.
"Hey, kid." Darius was already rolling his shoulders. "How'd you beat her?"
Richard looked at Nora.
She just shrugged. "He's stronger than he looks."
No excuses. No bitterness in her tone.
And Richard—surprisingly—wasn't bothered. He didn't press. Which was unlike him. But this wasn't a death match. His daughter's life wasn't on the line this time.
'Maybe that's what it's like having parents who actually love you.'
He envied that about Nora. Maybe even felt jealous—not the bitter kind, just the quiet ache of watching someone have something you never did.
And Richard pulling her away from him all those years ago? It didn't bother him. Not really. In his mind, the man was just protecting his daughter.
From him.
'Honestly, I can't blame him for that. Not even my own parents could stand me. So it's normal…'
The thought sank deeper than he wanted it to.
"You ready, best buddy?!"
"Yeah, yeah."
As expected, Darius was not letting it go. His eyes were practically glowing.
Shiro read the room. Sighed.
'He's not going to drop this until I show him.'
"Alright. Come at me."
He took a deep breath. The bow materialized in his hand—invisible at first, like a ghost of a weapon. He pulled the string back with his fist, not his fingers. The ground responded. Minerals rose from the earth, drawn to the bowstring like iron to a magnet, forming an arrow from nothing.
Darius stared. Confused.
Ana's voice cut through. "Darius, you idiot—he's charging up an attack."
The brute turned to her. "What? His hand is empty."
Then back to Shiro.
Who just smirked.
He raised the bow, and it materialized. He aimed straight at the brute. Pulled the string back further. The minerals rose faster—the arrow growing denser, heavier, humming with compressed force.
Darius charged. Like a bull. Head down. Fist cocked. He brought it down with enough force to crack the earth itself—and it did. His fist buried into the ground like a hammer into wet clay.
Shiro leapt back. Drew the string tighter. Ready to fire.
But Darius grinned. That excited, unhinged grin.
He drove his fist deeper. The earth cracked beneath Shiro—splitting apart, separating—and before he could react, a wall of stone erupted between them. Then the ground started climbing his legs. Crawling up like hands pulling him under.
He jumped back before it could grip him. But where he was supposed to land, the ground turned liquid. Soft. Hungry.
'Oh, you've got to be kidding.'
Before his feet touched the sinking ground, he aimed up and fired the arrow straight into the sky. Then tossed the bow aside—because holding it any longer would drag him under. The missed shots had stacked the weight to something insane.
His feet hit the ground. He sank. Just as he expected.
Darius closed in. And what had been bare fists a moment ago were now covered—gauntlets stretching up his entire arms. Not metal. Something else. Monster-like. Purple scales that pulsed with a faint, living energy.
"Not bad." Darius cracked his neck. "Almost had me."
Shiro just smiled. And pointed one finger at the sky.
Darius looked up.
The arrow he'd fired exploded. Like fireworks—bright, violent, beautiful. Dozens of smaller arrows rained down from the burst, screaming toward the earth.
The brute's eyes widened. Instinct kicked in. The ground surged up around him, forming a barrier—thick, dense, protective.
The arrows hammered down. Dust erupted. The ground shook. When it settled, the barrier was cracked. Damaged. And through the gaps—Darius. Still standing. Almost surprised.
Almost.
Shiro pulled the string one last time.
And this time, every particle of dust hanging in the air was pulled into the bow. Swirling. Compressing. Forming an arrow so dense the air bent around it.
And because the dust was already there—suspended, practically begging to be used—all he had to do was pull it in.
It took a fraction of the normal time.
A breath later, with a massive grin on his face, he let it loose.
The arrow slammed into Darius. Dragged him back. Pushed him across the ground and into the wall with a crack that echoed through the training ground.
And at the last moment—the purple scales spread. Up his arms. Across his chest. Down his legs. Over his face. Until Darius was encased in full armor.
And what stood before him wasn't a man anymore.
It was a beast. Claws that could carve stone. A jaw stretched so wide it shouldn't belong on a human face. Teeth so jagged and massive they looked like they'd been stolen from something that lived at the bottom of the ocean.
He stared up at it.
'Yeah. Hell no. I am not fighting whatever that is.'
Before it could escalate, before that thing could take a single step toward him, he raised his hand.
"I give up."
He had nothing left. Every drop of mana—gone. Spent on that last shot. Even if he drew the string again, nothing would come. Just air and embarrassment.
Ana approached him, clapping slowly. Darius came next, blood dripping from a small cut on his arm, but wearing the biggest smile Shiro had ever seen on a human face.
Richard stood back. Silent. Shocked. And more suspicious than ever.
Nora acted like Nora. Arms crossed. Nonchalant. Like watching someone go toe to toe with a monster of a man was just another Tuesday.