Chapter: Birthday Quiet
The rain was softer that morning.
He woke up warm, wrapped in blankets, curls sticking out in every direction, eyes heavy with sleep. For a moment he just lay there, listening to the quiet house.
Then it clicked.
Seventeen.
A knock came at the door, followed by Charlie easing it open. He held a mug of coffee like a peace offering.
"Happy birthday," Charlie said, a little awkward but sincere. "Figured I'd let you stay home today. No school."
That alone felt like a gift.
"Thanks," he murmured, voice still sleepy.
Bella appeared behind him, already dressed for school. "You get to skip? Unfair."
Charlie shrugged. "Seventeen's a big one."
When they left, the house settled into silence again.
He pulled his laptop onto the bed and stared at the open document.
Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.
Finished.
He reread the last page slowly. Every word felt like closing a door from another life—one he remembered but no longer lived in.
"…Okay," he whispered.
He posted it online under a simple username. No announcements. No hype. Just released it into the world and let go.
A strange mix of relief and nervous excitement washed over him.
Later, with the house empty, he slipped outside into the damp forest air. He pressed his palm to the soil and let himself sink.
The ground welcomed him.
He moved underground more smoothly now, feeling the roots, the stones, the living earth shift around him. He practiced stopping, turning, emerging. He formed a few simple White Zetsu clones—rough, unfinished, but obedient.
They settled beneath the house and nearby trees, quiet watchers.
Still learning, he thought, satisfied.
By the time he returned inside, tired and faintly muddy, Bella was waiting in his room.
She sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor.
"You okay?" he asked.
She looked up, eyes troubled. "Can I talk to you?"
He nodded and sat beside her.
"Yesterday in class," she said slowly, "Edward acted like I… smelled bad or something. Like being near me hurt him. And today—he wasn't even at school."
She swallowed. "I don't know what I did wrong."
He listened without interrupting.
"That's not your fault," he said quietly. "People don't react like that unless they're dealing with something big. Something personal."
Bella exhaled, leaning against his shoulder. "I wish people would just say what they mean."
"Yeah," he agreed softly. "Life'd be easier."
Rain tapped gently against the window as they sat there.
Seventeen years old.
A finished book behind him.
A strange world unfolding in front of him.
And the sense—deep in his bones—that everything was only just beginning.