She blinked.
"A… name?"
"Yes," Victor replied. "Like Gojo." He gestured briefly toward the frost raptor, who huffed as though offended at being brought into the conversation. "A name is how others call you. It's how you understand yourself. It separates you from what you were before."
She tilted her head slightly while her brows knitted together.
"I… don't understand," she admitted. "What is a name?"
Victor paused.
Then he smiled faintly and began explaining.
He told her how names were given at birth—or chosen later in life. How they carried meaning, history, hopes, and sometimes even burdens. How a name could be a promise, or a reminder, or a wish for what someone might become.
As he spoke, her eyes gradually changed.
At first, they were merely attentive.
Then curious.
Then—slowly—something almost childlike bloomed within them.
"…So," she said cautiously, "if I have a name… I am no longer just… that?"
She gestured vaguely toward herself, toward the markings...
