Moving around had never felt so good. Running, lifting, and everything else had gone from being exhausting after a while, to becoming easier than ever. He absolutely loved it.
The following day after he had mastered leakage prevention, Riku had tried getting used to his body, running around the halls and testing his stamina. He'd run thirty minutes straight through the Ecliptic Vault, yet his chest wasn't even burning.
This feels good! Too good! Is this how all mantriks feel?!
On top of his unrealistic boost in stamina, he felt... stronger? It wasn't anywhere near Akio or Mei's level of physical prowess, as far as he knew. But he definitely felt his body had gained more vigor.
Every stride felt like it carried him farther than he meant to go, like the ground itself was springing him forward
Sayaka scoffed from her spot on the armchair, lazily flipping through some parchments. "Ugh, is running around all you're gonna be doing, Shinsora?"
Renjirō chuckled. "Let him be. He's lived his entire life without such freedom, up until now. Akio and Mei were more or less the same when they figured it out."
"Equally as annoying, more like..." Sayaka replied, her voice exuding exhaustion and annoyance.
Riku came to a stop, his chest rising and falling with excitement rather than exhaustion. He bent his knees, bouncing on the balls of his feet, as if gravity had significantly lowered in influence. His movements were anything but refined, but even he could tell they had more weight behind them than before.
Renjirō finally set aside the lantern he had been polishing, his tone calm but edged with that teacher's patience he always carried. "It isn't just stamina, Riku. You're noticing the result of proper energy circulation."
Riku tilted his head. "Circulation?"
"Before you mastered leakage prevention, your body was a sieve," Renjirō explained, leaning forward. "Constantly leaking mantra was a curse upon your body, and your stamina and strength diminished faster than it could be replenished. Every muscle you moved, every breath you took—energy leaked away. That's why your body always felt heavy, why fatigue arrived too soon. Humans who haven't awakened have little mantra reserves, so they don't suffer from those consequences like you did."
Riku blinked, slowly connecting the dots.
"Now," Renjirō continued, gesturing with a finger that traced invisible lines in the air, "your mantra no longer bleeds out with every heartbeat. It stays sealed within your gate, and is only spent when using your Bhāṇḍa, which in your case, is the jester."
Riku gently touched the center of his forehead, reminiscing over how quickly he exhausted himself when using Kapaala at the shrine. "So, I've basically been—what? Like a deflated balloon this whole time?"
Sayaka chuckled. "You catch on quick."
"Not a bad comparison." Renjirō chortled. "But yes. What you feel now isn't borrowed strength, it's your own body working as it should. Your body is now operating the way it's always meant to, like everyone in this profession. Akio, Mei, Me, Ms. Uro, the Shvara, and everyone in between. You've got a long way to go, but compared to what you were? The difference will feel… intoxicating."
Riku nodded, slowly trying to stop his eagerness to move around in his energized body. Even after Renjirō's words had disappeared, their meaning and warning had continued to persist in Riku's ears.
Renjirō's gaze softened, though his words carried quiet caution. "Careful, Shinsora. That feeling has led many mantriks to ruin. Power feels endless… until you learn the cost of reaching further than you should."
-------
Riku laid there in his room that night, staring at the ceiling, and slightly frustrated that sleep had not claimed him yet. He turned in his bed constantly, trying to find a position that would lull him into slumber.
Nothing worked.
Ugh, the pillow's cold... and I'm still not sleeping...
The faint hum of the city seeped through the paper-thin walls — the buzz of cicadas, the occasional bark of a stray dog, the whisper of wind slipping through branches. It should have been calming, yet each sound only sharpened the awareness thrumming in his veins.
Is it because I mastered leakage prevention that I'm so restless? If that's the case, then I'd like a refund...
Riku sat up and padded to his door, slowly opening it and peering outside. He tiptoed down the corridor and paused at Akio's room. His friend was curled under the blanket, breathing slow, steady, unbothered. Mei, too, lay on her side in her room, the rise and fall of her chest almost rhythmic with the night itself.
So, it wasn't the energy in his body. Not really.
Riku returned to his room and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling as if the wooden beams could offer an answer. His mind replayed Renjirō's words about intoxication, about losing oneself in power.
But that wasn't what kept him awake.
A single thought slipped into the silence, unbidden, heavier than any weight his body had borne that day.
Why am I alive?
The memories of everything that had happened up until now, pressed down on him like a shroud. The darkness. The paralysis. The hopeless certainty that he was about to be erased. And yet — he wasn't. He had survived when survival should have been impossible.
According to Dr. Tsukimura and the people at the hearing, the difference between where I am as a thriver and an apostolic threat is a million years' worth... Then why?
Why am I still here, in a bed?!
His fingers tightened in the blanket. The ceiling blurred, and all he could see was that moment again. The suffocating stillness, the eyes that gazed into him as if he were nothing, and the gnawing questions that refused to leave.
And above all... that moment where he couldn't do a single thing.
"Purge the anomaly and his allies... Sanctify this REPUGNANT world!"
Those words which came from the prayer hall repeatedly played in his head, like the ringing of a bell that went off right next to his ears.
And Riku secretly loathed it.
Riku pressed his palms over his face, dragging them down until his vision peeked through the narrow gaps between his fingers.
A thriver.
An apostolic.
Even attempting to compare the two levels would be a mockery of language. Apostolics were monsters who had torn through layers of causality, who could erase whole districts with a whim. The universe itself could be threatened if one was not under the regulations of mantrik society. They were the culmination of centuries of refinement, entire lifetimes spent gathering knowledge, will, and strength until they towered above humanity itself.
He was a boy barely learning how to keep his own energy from spilling out like water through a cracked pot.
And yet… he'd lived.
Riku thought with a bitter smile, his lips trembling slightly. That shouldn't be possible.
Even with Akio.
His mind retraced the battle in fragments, like shards of broken glass scattered across a floor. The suffocating aura, the reality that bent and folded, the way their bodies had threatened to dissolve under the weight of something utterly beyond them.
The vow to have them break out of the state of paralysis. Akio's voice, desperate, roaring with conviction as chains of iron will surged forth and held the impossible at bay. His vows were ironclad — no one could deny that. He had the spirit of a man who would bind himself until he was nothing but a chain. But even then… there was no law, no precedent, where a thriver could truly contend with an apostolic threat. The scales weren't just tipped — they were shattered.
Nothing that happened in their favor should have come to pass.
Akio's vows should not have worked. Mei's martial prowess should've proven ineffective.
And Kapaala's illusions should've been nothing but mere annoyances.
So why?
Riku turned onto his side, clutching the blanket like a lifeline. His heart raced not from fear but from the gnawing itch of a question he couldn't silence.
Something else happened that day. Something he couldn't see.
His mind scrambled through the memory, combing the cracks. He remembered the eyes of the Silent God's full manifestation. They were vast, merciless, stripping him bare. He remembered that if it weren't for the Viropāṇa potion Akio had, then he would've died.
And he remembered the smallest flicker. A gap.
It had been less than a breath, less than a second. But in that moment, the pressure relented just enough. Just enough for Akio's chains to hold, for Mei to move, for him to breathe again.
That gap was what saved them.
And it hadn't come from Akio.
Riku's nails dug into the fabric under his fingers, his thoughts racing a million miles a second.
"Where did it come from? Or... who did it come from?"
The question slipped out before he realized it, tasting foreign on his tongue. It couldn't have been from him. His Bhāṇḍa was unfinished and ambiguous according to Sayaka. And by no means, was he Renjirō, or Sayaka, or Mei, or Akio.
He was a boy still crawling in a world that demanded he stand.
So then why did it feel like, in that impossible instant, something answered for him?
Something quiet. Subtle. Dormant.
His breath came out ragged as he stared at the ceiling once more. The beams above seemed heavier now, like they bore the weight of a truth he couldn't reach.
Maybe it was foolish to even think this way. Maybe he was simply reaching for comfort in a place where none should exist. But the thought rooted itself deeper, sprouting like an invasive vine that would not die.
His eyes closed, but sleep still refused to come. Only the question lingered, threading itself into every corner of his being.
Something else was at play.
And whether it was within him, or something far beyond, it terrified him even more than the battle itself.
-------
As the sun rose and graced the Palimpsest with a new day, Riku blinked slowly, his eyes burning with the lack of sleep that plagued him last night.
To hell with this, I'm staying in bed!
He turned his face away from the window, burying into his pillow and imagined himself as someone dead to the world. Riku closed his eyes, or rather he obeyed the colossal weight that was upon his eyelids.
While he continued to rot in bed, a voice sounded from the corridor. "Hey Riku! Get up! Dr. Tsukimura said he wants to see you!"
It was Mei's.
Riku groaned, grabbing the pillow and covering his face with it, trying to drown anything and everything that dared to ruin this sliver of comfort he had.
Footsteps could then be heard padding into the room, followed by the voices of Mei and Akio.
"Come on, get up!" Mei said.
"Dude... Are you okay?" Akio asked.
Riku peered from the pillow slowly. "Does... any part of me... look okay, right now?"
Akio's eyes widened. "Holy... Did you even sleep?!"
"What does it look like?" Riku asked.
Akio looked down, while Mei quirked an eyebrow. "What kept you up?"
Riku stopped. What should he tell them? That he had doubts about whether they should even be alive? That he thinks they all should've died long ago?
"Don't know... Couldn't sleep." he said quietly.
Mei sighed. "Fine... I'll tell Dr. Tsukimura. Just get up when you can and meet him in the training yard. He's got something for you."
Riku smiled weakly, silently appreciating the gesture. "Thank you..."
Mei rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah."
She walked out of the room, while Akio stayed behind.
"Hey... If there's anything bothering you, you can talk to us. You know that, right?"
Riku exhaled deeply, once again pondering on whether he should say anything. After all, this concerned them just as much as it did him, if not more.
Or maybe he was thinking too hard about it all.
"I know... I'm fine, though." Riku said.
Akio nodded slowly, although he looked like he wanted to say more. "Alright... You know where to find me."
And with that, Riku was left to the deafening silence once more.