Chapter 32
Elijah walked through the front door of his house and went straight to the bathroom. He turned the shower on as hot as it would go and stood under the water, letting it beat against his shoulders, his back, his legs. The steam filled the small space, fogging the mirror, clouding the window.
He didn't move for a long time. Just stood there, letting the heat work into his muscles, letting the day so far wash off him.
When the water started to cool, he reached for the soap. He washed his hair twice, scrubbed the sweat from his skin, watched the dirt and grime circle the drain. By the time he stepped out, the bathroom was thick with steam and his body was finally beginning to loosen.
He dried off and stood in front of the mirror. The fog had started to clear, and his reflection looked back at him—the same face he'd always had, but different. His jaw was more defined, his cheekbones higher, his skin clear in a way it had never been. He ran a hand through his wet hair, pushing it back from his face, and for a moment he didn't recognize himself.
He turned away from the mirror and sat on the edge of the tub. The breathing technique came easily now. He closed his eyes and let the Ki move through him, not the sharp surge of Zenith but the slow, patient flow of the Eternal Grounded Tree, Healing and Adaptation.
The warmth spread through his arms, his legs, his chest. The ache in his muscles began to fade. The rawness in his knuckles smoothed. His ribs, where Henry's punches had landed, stopped throbbing. He sat there for twenty minutes, maybe longer, letting the technique do its work.
When he opened his eyes, his body felt normal again. No signs of the run and No signs of the sparring. Just that his body had adapted, increasing his strength fast. But didn't show on his stat meaning it wasn't much.
He brushed his teeth, the mint sharp in his mouth, and dressed in clean clothes—jeans, a plain shirt, his old jacket. The jacket was loose on him now, his shoulders broader than they had been, but it would do.
He checked his phone. A message from Kai.
Sent 3k to your card. Buy what you need.
Elijah typed back: Got it. Thanks.
He grabbed his keys and headed out.
The barbershop was on Loomis Street, three blocks from his house. It had been there since before Elijah was born, run by the same man his whole life. The sign above the door was faded, the paint peeling, but the chairs inside were good and the cuts were clean.
Old Man Rivera was sweeping when Elijah walked in. He was short, round, with gray hair and thick glasses that made his eyes look too big. He looked up when the door chimed, and his broom stopped mid-stroke.
His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
"Elijah?"
"The one and only."
Rivera set the broom against the wall and walked around him slowly, his eyes moving from Elijah's face to his shoulders and back again. "What the hell happened to you? You look like you been eating right and sleeping well for once."
Elijah shrugged. "Something like that."
"Something like that." Rivera shook his head, still staring. "My boy, you were always a good-looking kid. Your mother's face, her eyes. But this—" He waved a hand at Elijah's face. "This is something else. You gonna break some hearts looking like that."
Elijah laughed. "Just need a haircut, old man."
Rivera was still staring. "You been working out? Your shoulders—"
"Just the haircut."
Rivera shook his head again and motioned to the chair. "Sit down. Let me see what I'm working with."
Elijah sat. Rivera draped the apron around him and ran his fingers through Elijah's hair, tsking under his breath.
"You let this get too long," he said. "You look like you been sleeping in a bush."
"Been busy."
"Busy." Rivera picked up his scissors. "You college boys always busy. Too busy to get a haircut, too busy to call your mother, too busy to come see an old man who's been cutting your hair since you were this high." He held his hand at knee level.
Elijah smiled at Rivera in the mirror. "I'm here now."
"You are." Rivera started cutting, the scissors moving quick and precise. "And you look like a new man. What you been eating? What you been doing? You got some color in your face, some life in your eyes."
"Just taking better care of myself."
"Mmm." Rivera didn't sound convinced, but he let it go. "You seeing anyone? Girl? Boy? Someone's gonna notice you looking like this."
Elijah thought about Lisa. About tonight. "Maybe."
Rivera's eyebrows rose. "Maybe. That's not a no."
"It's not a yes either."
"With that face? It's a yes." Rivera laughed, a wheezing sound that turned into a cough. "My wife's niece, she's single and extremely Beautiful girl. Good family. You want I should—"
"Old man, focus on the haircut."
Rivera laughed again and kept cutting.
They talked for the next twenty minutes. About the neighborhood, about Rivera's bad knee that was acting up, about the new bakery that opened on 5th Street. Rivera asked about Amy, about Stella, about how the family was doing. Elijah answered without saying much, the way he always did with Rivera. The old man didn't need details. He just needed to know people were okay.
When Rivera finished, he pulled the apron off and handed Elijah a mirror.
"What do you think?"
Elijah turned his head. His hair was short now, clean, the curls at the top left longer than the sides. It was the same cut he always got, but it looked different on the face he had now. Sharper. He looked like someone who had his life together.
"It's good," he said.
Rivera beamed. "It's always good." He named a price, and Elijah paid, adding extra the way he always did.
"Next time, don't wait so long," Rivera said as Elijah headed for the door. "And bring your sister. Her hair's getting too long too."
"I'll tell her."
"And eat something! You look like you lost weight even though you put on muscle!"
Elijah waved and stepped out onto the street.
He stopped at the gas station first, filling the car's tank. The numbers climbed higher than he wanted to watch, but Kai's money was there, and he needed the car for tonight.
After the tank was full, he drove to a small restaurant on the corner of 4th and Main. He ordered rice and beans, grilled chicken, a bottle of water, and ate in the car, the food settling the last of the emptiness in his stomach.
His phone buzzed, A message from Amy.
Pick me up at 3. Don't be late.
He checked the time. 2:15. He had time.
He pulled into the pharmacy on his way to the school. The condoms were behind the counter, but the girl working didn't ask for ID. She just rang him up, her eyes lingering on his face a moment longer than necessary, and handed him the bag.
He put it in the glove compartment and drove to the school.
Amy was waiting at the front gate when he pulled up, her bag slung over one shoulder, her phone in her hand. She looked up when the car stopped, and her face did something strange—a double take, a blink, a long stare.
She got in and closed the door. Her eyes didn't leave his face.
"What?" Elijah said.
"What happened to you?"
"Got a haircut."
"I can see that." She was staring at him like she was seeing someone new. "You look different."
"I look the same."
"You do not look the same." She pulled down the visor mirror and held it up to his face. "Look at yourself."
He looked. The same face. The same features. But sharper. Cleaner. The way Rivera had said.
"I look like I got a haircut," he said, pushing the mirror back up.
Amy shook her head slowly. "This is weird. You're weird. Something is happening to you."
"I'm fine."
"You're something." She settled into her seat, still looking at him sideways. "Where are we going?"
"Clothes. Mom gave me money to get you some things."
Amy's eyes lit up. "Seriously?"
"Seriously."
They drove to the shops on 6th Street, the ones with the stores that weren't too expensive but weren't cheap either. Amy led the way, pulling things off racks, holding them up against herself, tossing the ones she wanted into Elijah's arms.
He bought her three shirts, two pairs of jeans, a jacket she said she needed even though she already had three. While she was in the changing room, he found things for himself—two plain shirts, a pair of dark jeans, a jacket that fit his shoulders better than his old one. Nothing flashy. Nothing that would draw attention.
He paid at the register, the total less than he expected, and left enough in his account for tonight.
Amy was waiting by the car, her bag of clothes clutched to her chest. "You're being weirdly nice today. What do you want?"
"Nothing. Mom said to get you clothes. I got you clothes."
"Mmm." She didn't believe him, but she got in the car anyway.
He drove her home, pulling into the driveway, killing the engine.
"I have plans tonight," he said. "Tell Mom I'll be back late."
Amy's eyebrows rose. "Plans? What plans?"
"Just plans."
She studied his face for a long moment. Then she smiled. "You're going to see a girl."
Elijah didn't answer.
"You are. You're going to see a girl, Oh my god." Amy was grinning now, full and bright. "You got a haircut and new clothes."
"Amy—"
"You did." She was laughing. "My brother is going on a date."
"Get out of the car."
"You're blushing."
"I am not blushing."
"You're blushing so hard." She was out of the car now, leaning in through the open door, her face lit up. "Okay, okay, I'm leaving. Have fun, Be safe. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"That doesn't narrow it down."
She laughed and slammed the door, running toward the house with her bag of clothes, already pulling out her phone to text someone.
Elijah sat in the car for a moment, his hands on the wheel, his heart beating a little faster than it should have been. He looked at the time. 5:30.
He had an hour and a half.
He pulled out his phone and opened Lisa's message. The address was still there. 5th Street. 7pm.
He typed: See you at 7.
She responded a moment later: Can't wait.