[ Days went by ]
I'd been discharged from the hospital.
My mother, though, was still there. Still unmoving. Connected to machines.
I came home alone. The apartment felt colder, larger. Like a bottomless pit where every silence screamed back at me.
In the mornings, I trained in a deserted alley.
" F I R E "
I traced the word in the air, again and again.
Each letter appeared as glowing red runes.
The flame burst forth… wavering, small, then vanished right away.
"Again!"
Then I tried another word.
" B L O C K "
The bluish letters appeared slowly, forming a translucent wall in front of me.
But at the slightest impact, it shattered into luminous fragments.
I muttered, "It's not strong enough…!"
I moved on to the third word:
" P U S H "
A gust of air burst from my palm, sending cardboard boxes and scraps of paper scattering further down the alley.
But the power was ridiculous.
Just enough to knock over a cat.
---
I was drenched in sweat.
My arms felt heavy, at one point, I heard voices at the end of the alley:
"Hey, look, it's the kid whose mom's in the hospital!"
"Seriously…? He thinks he's some kind of hero, that one…"
"Whatever. It's pointless. He doesn't even know ten words, pff…"
They laughed.
I clenched my fists.
My spiritual brush still glowed faintly between my fingers.
"…I don't care."
And I started tracing FIRE again.
---
By the time the sun began to set, I was completely exhausted.
My breath came out in white clouds. My fingers were stiff, almost bleeding.
I decided to head home.
It was as I passed a shabby little bar that I saw him.
The old madman.
---
Two men were shoving him outside:
"Get outta here, you old piece of trash!"
He staggered, looking completely drunk, an empty bottle in his hand.
He kept shouting:
"You know nothing! The Forgotten Century! The erased words! I've seen it, the other side of the veil! Ha ha ha…!"
Passersby burst out laughing.
One of the guys kicked him in the side:
"Shut up, old man!"
He collapsed onto the ground.
His glasses fell onto the pavement.
---
Without thinking, I rushed over:
"Hey! Stop that!"
"Who's this kid?"
I stepped between them and the old man:
"Touch him again, and I'll send you flying!"
---
The two men sneered:
"Go ahead, 'Fire-boy'… scare us."
I raised my hand, and my invisible brush materialized.
— F I R E. —
A tiny flame appeared.
The guys burst out laughing:
"See? Told you. He can't do anything!"
But instead of fighting, I locked my gaze on them:
"Get lost."
Maybe they saw something in my eyes. Because after one last mocking laugh, they walked away.
I picked up the old man's glasses and handed them to him:
"You okay?"
̀ He stared at me, his blue eyes sparkling despite the grime on his face:
"Heh heh… Not bad, kid.
You've got a strange fire in your eyes."
I sighed and was about to leave when suddenly the old man tapped my arm:
"Hey. Give me something to eat, and I'll tell you something no one else wants to hear."
I looked at him for a long moment.
He stank of alcohol.
His hair was tangled.
Moved by a bit of compassion and partly just wanting him to leave me alone.
I fished into my pocket and handed him a small bread roll I'd bought for my dinner.
"Here."
He devoured it almost in a single bite:
"Hahaha! You're a good kid!"
ÎWhen I tried to leave, he grabbed my sleeve:
"Wait. You look sad, kid.
Let me tell you a story."
I stood there, motionless.
"A story?"
The old man smiled, revealing his missing teeth:
"Yeah.
A story about words… that no one's supposed to know."