The next few days at school were different. Takeda and his goons left me alone, shooting me wary looks when they thought I wasn't watching. But the bigger change was Kizawa. He wasn't just the quiet new kid anymore. He was my friend.
We started eating lunch together, sharing stories and laughing at each other's drawings. I found out he was an amazing artist, his notebooks filled with mythical creatures and ancient warriors. He was quiet with others, but with me, he was funny and smart. It was easy being with him, like we had known each other forever.
I also learned that his blue hair wasn't the only unique thing about him. He was obsessed with swordsmanship.
"My dad teaches at a dojo," he told me one afternoon as we walked home. "He says the way of the sword is about discipline and protecting what's important."
"Cool," I said, genuinely impressed. "Can you fight?"
He shrugged, a faint blush on his cheeks. "A little. I'm better with two swords than one."
My curiosity was piqued. A boy with electric blue hair who fought with two swords? He was like a character straight out of one of my manga. So, on Saturday, when he mentioned he was going to the park to practice, I invited myself along.
The park was mostly empty, with golden afternoon light filtering through the leaves. Kizawa pulled two wooden swords, called bokken, from a long cloth bag. He handed one to me. It was heavier than I expected, smooth and solid in my hands.
"Just try to mirror my movements," he said, taking a ready stance.
And he began. He moved with a grace that was mesmerizing. The wooden swords became extensions of his arms, flowing through the air in a series of blocks, parries, and strikes. He was fluid and precise, a whirlwind of controlled energy. I tried my best to keep up, clumsily mimicking his form, feeling more like a flailing fish than a fearsome warrior. I tripped over my own feet more times than I could count, and my arms ached, but I was laughing.
"You're terrible," he said, a grin spreading across his face as I stumbled for the tenth time.
"Am not!" I retorted, sticking my tongue out. "I'm a natural. You're just too fast."
Our laughter was cut short by a familiar, grating voice.
"Look what we have here. Blueberry and the silver freak playing with sticks."
It was Takeda, and he wasn't alone. He had two of his cronies with him, all of them wearing nasty sneers.
Kizawa immediately stepped in front of me, his grip tightening on his bokken. "Leave her alone, Takeda."
Takeda laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "Oh, I'm shaking. You gonna hit us with your little twig? I think we'll start with you. We're gonna teach you that weirdos with blue hair don't belong here."
The three of them started to circle us, like vultures. My heart hammered in my chest, but it wasn't just fear. It was that heat again, bubbling up from my core, familiar and frightening.
"I'm warning you," Kizawa said, his voice low and steady, his violet eyes flashing.
They ignored him. One of the boys lunged at Kizawa from the side. Kizawa moved like lightning, blocking the attack with one bokken and using the other to knock the boy's feet out from under him. The kid went down with a surprised yelp.
Takeda and the other boy hesitated, shocked by Kizawa's skill. But they were three to our two, and they were bigger. They charged.
Kizawa met them head-on, a blur of motion. He was good, really good, but it was two against one. While he was busy with Takeda, the third boy broke off and came straight for me.
"Now it's your turn, princess," he snarled, reaching for me.
The heat inside me exploded.
It was like a furnace door had been thrown open in my soul. My vision tunneled, and the world seemed to slow down again. I saw the boy's grimy hand reaching for me, his cruel smile, and pure, undiluted rage washed over me.
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" I screamed.
The power erupted. My long silver hair whipped around me, and this time, there was no mistaking it. It blazed with a brilliant, fiery gold, the two colors swirling together like molten metal. A wave of force, visible like a heat haze, blasted out from me. Takeda's friend was thrown backward, tumbling head over heels before landing in a heap ten feet away, groaning.
Everyone froze. Takeda and his other friend stared, their jaws hanging open in disbelief and terror. Kizawa, who had just disarmed Takeda, spun around, his eyes wide. He wasn't looking at the bullies. He was looking at my hair.
The rage receded as quickly as it had come, replaced by a dizzying exhaustion. The golden light in my hair faded, leaving only the pure silver. I swayed on my feet, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
Takeda and his crew scrambled to their feet and ran. They didn't look back.
Silence descended on the park, broken only by the chirping of birds.
"Mizuki," Kizawa breathed, taking a tentative step toward me. "Your hair… it was…"
"I know," I whispered, my voice trembling. I looked down at my hands, half-expecting to see them glowing. "I don't know what that was."
I expected him to run, too. To call me a freak and get as far away as he could. But he didn't.
He walked right up to me, his violet eyes filled not with fear, but with awe. He gently touched a strand of my silver hair.
"It was beautiful," he said softly. "Like a phoenix."
A weird sense of relief washed over me. I wasn't a monster in his eyes. I was just… Mizuki.
"Phoenix, huh?" I managed a weak smile. "I like that."
From that day on, our bond was sealed. We weren't just friends anymore. We were partners. We started practicing together every day, me with the dagger I "found" in my dad's old storage chest, and him with his dual swords. He taught me how to fight, and I learned alarmingly fast. It was like my body already knew what to do. The weird energy inside me, the golden fire, made me faster, stronger, and more aware than any normal nine-year-old had a right to be.
We didn't know what we were fighting for, not yet. We didn't know about the demons that lurked in the shadows, or the ancient secrets my family guarded. We only knew one thing for sure. Whatever was coming, we would face it together.