Morning sunlight crept through the thin curtains of the orphanage dormitory. The air smelled faintly of tatami and rice porridge.
Lucas woke early, as always, before the caretakers. He sat up, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and took a moment to listen.
The building was alive with small sounds: the creak of wood, distant breathing, the hum of electric lines outside. Beneath all of it, he could sense the faint vibration of his Sacred Gear.
He had learned to sense it better over the years. There was a faint pull at the edges of reality whenever he reached inward. Sometimes, if he focused long enough, he could feel the world thin around him, as if a separate space were trying to take shape.
It never lasted long. The air would tremble, light would waver, and then everything would collapse, leaving behind a hollow ache in his chest. But for those few heartbeats, he could almost touch something beyond the surface of this world, something that felt entirely his.
He dressed quietly and slipped outside. Morning mist hung over the yard, curling around the small trees planted by the fence. Beyond it, Kuoh stretched toward the horizon, calm and ordinary.
He walked down the familiar path toward the park, small sandals crunching over gravel. The world was waking up slowly. A dog barked somewhere far off, and birds circled over the rooftops.
At the pond, the water was perfectly still. He crouched near the edge, letting the quiet settle around him. When he focused, he could almost feel the thin edge of that other space tug faintly at the corners of his awareness.
A voice interrupted him.
"You're from the orphanage, right?"
He turned. A girl stood behind him, no older than him, maybe six or seven. She had pale lilac hair that gleamed faintly in the morning light and eyes that hovered between blue and green.
"Yes," he said after a pause.
She stepped closer, curiosity bright in her gaze. "I thought so. You always come here alone."
"I like quiet places."
"Really? Me too," she said, smiling. "My name's Momo. Momo Hanakai."
"Lucas White."
Her eyes widened slightly. "That's an unusual name."
"I'm not from here."
"I guessed that." She tilted her head, thoughtful. "Your hair is white too. Kind of like mine."
He blinked, glancing at her again. It was true, though hers carried a faint violet tint compared to his silver-white.
"Maybe we're cousins," she said half-jokingly.
"Unlikely."
She giggled at his flat tone. "You sound serious all the time."
He shrugged. "It's easier that way."
They stood side by side for a moment, watching the pond. The reflection of the trees rippled with the wind, scattering light in thin waves.
Momo crouched beside him, folding her arms over her knees. "Do you come here to think?"
"Sometimes."
"What about?"
He hesitated. "How things work."
"That sounds boring."
"It's not."
She smiled again. "I guess it wouldn't be, if you understand it."
They fell into silence after that. She hummed softly under her breath while poking at the water with a twig. He didn't mind the company. It was quiet in a different way, one that didn't feel forced.
When the sun rose higher, she stood and brushed off her knees. "I should go before my dad worries. He's meeting someone today for work."
He nodded.
She paused before leaving. "Hey, do you want to meet here again tomorrow?"
He considered it, then nodded once.
Momo grinned. "Then it's a promise."
When she left, the sound of her footsteps faded into the morning hum.
Lucas stayed by the pond until the light shifted from gold to white. For the first time, he didn't mind being interrupted.
Maybe, he thought, some things were allowed to exist quietly, without purpose.