Serapheria was livid. That much was unmistakable from the way she looked down at him. Only now did Yuma realize she had intentionally reverted to her original height, towering over him like a looming force of judgment.
"ARE YOU FOOLISH?!" she demanded.
Yuma flinched despite himself. Fear rippled through him, but anger followed just as quickly. Strangely, it didn't feel like just his anger. It pulsed through him like an echo, braided with her emotions. And beneath that fury, there was something else.
Worry.
"Uh-"
She cut him off instantly, pressing a finger firmly against his lips.
"Shut up," she said flatly.
The fury in her expression melted away, leaving behind raw concern. That shift hit him harder than the yelling.
"What you did was incredibly dangerous," she continued. "You played hero without even understanding us. Had it not been for your elemental intangibility, you would be dead." Her voice hardened again. "And to make matters worse, you let normal humans witness our existence."
Yuma shifted where he stood, confusion bubbling up.
"…What?" he muttered.
She sighed softly, pulling her finger away. The tension between them eased just a fraction, and it dawned on him that the emotions bleeding into his chest weren't one-sided. The connection went both ways.
"Ikons do not exist publicly for a reason," Serapheria said. "Only a select few even know of us, and fewer still understand what we are." Her gaze sharpened. "It is law that we remove loose ends."
Yuma's jaw dropped.
"…Excuse me?" His fear evaporated instantly, replaced with disbelief and outrage. "I have to what?!"
"You have to kill them," she replied calmly. "It's non-negotiable. No one can know of our existence."
Her face was stone. She wasn't threatening. She wasn't bluffing. She was stating a fact.
Yuma shook his head violently.
"I-I'm not killing anybody," he said firmly. "Especially not over something this stupid." His fists clenched. "Let's be realistic. Even if they did talk, who would believe a bunch of delinquents and some posh prick who surrounds himself with them?"
Serapheria stared at him, unyielding.
He felt it then, her stubborn resolve pressing against his mind. She knew his logic made sense. And yet she didn't budge.
Because this wasn't about reason.
It was a duty.
"This isn't a game, Yuma," she said, voice heavy with authority. "I chose you because you were the best match. Do not make me regret that."
The weight of her words crushed down on him.
Before he could respond, she waved her hand sharply.
The world tore away.
***
Golden sunlight streamed through the open blinds, burning against Yuma's groggy eyes. He groaned softly, rolling onto his side. Even though it had felt like mere minutes in the dream, hours had passed in reality.
Inconsistent Time dilation.
He hated it.
Dragging himself out of bed, he headed to the bathroom to freshen up. Since he'd fallen asleep in his uniform, there was no need to change; he simply straightened out the wrinkled fabric and ran water over his face.
Returning to his room, he paused.
It was a mess.
Normally, he'd ignore it. Today, though, the anger trapped inside him needed an outlet. For once, it wasn't his fists.
He started cleaning.
Clothes folded. Trash thrown out. Feathers from the destroyed pillow swept away. Within minutes, his room was orderly, almost unrecognizable.
A soft knock followed by the creak of a door broke the silence.
"Baba?" his mother called gently, peeking inside.
"Yeah?" he answered, the nickname easing the lingering edge of Serapheria's words.
"Oh, you're awake," she smiled. "You never wake up this early."
Despite the jab at his awful sleep habits, it felt… normal. Comforting. He turned fully to face her.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "I guess it's time things changed."
She pushed the door open wider, her eyes scanning the room. The sadness that once lingered in the clutter was gone. A wider smile spread across her face.
"…You even cleaned your room," she whispered.
Yuma stepped forward and hugged her tightly.
She was all he had left.
She returned the embrace, squeezing him just as hard. Soft sniffles followed, and concern sparked through him. He pulled back slightly.
"What's wrong?"
She smiled through tears.
"I'm sorry, baba," she said shakily. "I've been so consumed by the loss of your father and brother… I neglected you."
Yuma pulled her back into his arms immediately.
"Mama, it's okay," he murmured. "We were both hurt. But things are okay now. We'll heal. We'll grow. We won't forget them, but we'll live how we should."
For the first time, those words weren't hollow.
She cried softly against him, clinging tightly. And Yuma understood, she was getting better. For him.
She stepped back and kissed his cheek.
"I'll make it up to you," she said warmly. "Tonight, I'll make your favorite. And this weekend, we'll go out together."
There was no room for argument.
Yuma smiled back, nodding.
"Of course, Mama. Thank you."
She left the room lighter than she'd entered.
Alone again, Yuma glanced at his phone.
〔2023年10月25日〕
19:30
The day was beginning.
He grabbed his bag and headed out.
He needed answers, and if Serapheria wouldn't give them to him, he'd ask the one person who offered.
Hiroshi.
And maybe, just maybe, he'd find a way out of the choice she forced on him