Two weeks.
Two weeks counting the cracks on the ceiling, relearning how to breathe without pain reminding me of every scar. Two weeks of recovery, according to Yora. According to me… it was mostly two weeks of brooding.
Finally, when we could move again, the first thing I demanded was to go back.
The residence.
I expected a lot. Seals. Rubble. Maybe signs of a struggle. But certainly not this.
A "For Sale" sign stood in front of the entrance, clean, almost new. The walls had been repainted. The mailboxes replaced. Inside, no furniture, no memories, no trace of us. Not even a scratch on the floor.
It was as if Simon, the others… as if we had never existed here.
I froze on the sidewalk, unable to move.
— They were… efficient, Yora said behind me.
His voice was calm, far too calm for the situation. I turned to him, my chest tightening.
— Efficient at what, exactly?
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he placed a hand on my shoulder and gently guided me back.
— This place isn't safe anymore, Teikō. We'd better go home.
The silence stretched as we walked. The buildings passed by, indifferent, as if the city itself had chosen to look away. Finally, he spoke.
— People capable of erasing traces like that… they are no amateurs.
I clenched my fists.
— So you know something.
— I know they're dangerous. And I know they've probably gotten to your friends.
The word probably hit harder than a punch. He continued without looking at me.
— If you want to live a normal life, I can help you. But it means accepting some things… and ignoring others.
I stopped dead.
— You're asking me to look the other way.
He stopped too. Our eyes met. There was nothing cruel in his gaze… but nothing comforting either.
— I'm offering you survival.
I understood perfectly. Surviving meant accepting that Simon and the others might have paid the price for me. It meant moving forward as if nothing had happened.
Not a chance.
— Do you know who's behind all this? I asked.
A smile appeared on his face. Not a mocking one. An old, weary smile.
Without a word, he opened the door to his house. I hesitated for a moment, then followed him inside.
He turned to me, and without warning, tossed a set of sports clothes at me. I caught them instinctively.
— Put these on, he said simply.
— Why?
He gave me a sideways glance.
— Because we're going for a little run.
Yora didn't answer my earlier words right away. He simply studied me for a few moments, as if weighing the true weight of what I'd said. Then he let out a quiet chuckle.
— Stubborn… he murmured. Just as I thought.
I finished putting on the sports clothes. They were simple, worn in places, but surprisingly sturdy. Clothes that had seen too many battles to remain clean.
— Where are we going? I asked.
— Somewhere you'll understand why I saved you that day, he replied, opening the door.
The cool night air hit my face. The sunset was painting the streets in orange shades. Yora walked ahead of me, his steps surprisingly light for someone his age.
— You know… he began, still without looking back, there are people who live in the shadows of the world. They don't govern, they don't show themselves… but they decide. They erase. They move the pieces.
— The ones who erased the residence, I said.
— Exactly.
We entered a narrower street, away from the main roads. Lamp posts were sparse. Silence weighed heavier.
— And Simon? I asked.
— Alive, he answered immediately.
I froze.
— Are you sure?
He glanced at me.
— If they had wanted him dead, you wouldn't be here asking that question.
My heart raced. It wasn't a promise, but it was enough to keep going.
— What you'll learn from me, Yora continued, isn't just how to fight. It's how to survive in a world that has no mercy for those who awaken Giken without protection.
He stopped abruptly in the middle of a vacant lot, surrounded by rusted fences.
— Here, he said.
— Here what?
He turned to face me fully this time. His smile had vanished, replaced with something serious… almost solemn.
— This is where your real training begins.
I felt the air shift around him. A pressure, invisible but heavier than anything I'd felt before. An indigo aura mixed with blue slowly spread, not violent, but with overwhelming authority.
A soft blue light began radiating from Yora. The air seemed to hum, alive. I instinctively stepped back, impressed by the power contained in this old man.
— Teikō… he said calmly, every word resonating in my chest, making the world around us feel suspended.
— Long ago, the world was ruled by… different men, he explained. Men with extraordinary abilities, capable of things all of humanity could barely imagine. Skills inaccessible to ordinary mortals. And thanks to them, humanity's greatest achievements came to be… from the construction of the pyramids to the invention of writing.
I was speechless. His eyes shone beneath the glow of the aura, his voice carrying a nostalgic pain.
— These exceptional men… he continued, were worshiped across the world. And the world… prospered.
He inhaled deeply, his gaze becoming serious.
— Then they had children. Some, seeing the admiration their parents received, became prideful. They sought to extend their influence, cross borders, dominate. So… they awakened ordinary humans to this energy we now call Giken, using them to achieve their ambitions.
My heart skipped a beat.
— But, he continued, not all the children lost their parents' values. Some chose to protect those who stayed on the right path. They awakened ordinary humans as well, giving them the chance to fight on equal terms against those who corrupted the world.
I furrowed my brows, trying to picture the wars he described.
— This marked the start of endless great wars… battles that claimed countless Giken users' lives. Until, finally, the first awakened decided to unite. Under one banner… that of the Guardians. They swore to watch over the world from the shadows and stop any threat to its peace.
The blue aura intensified around him, pulsing like a heart.
— The world you know today, Teikō, he said softly, is constantly in danger. Every Giken user matters. And nowadays… their existence is a mystery to the public. History has been rewritten to hide this power. Only the elite know of the Guardians.
I remained silent. The weight of his words pressed down on me like an invisible rock.
— Now, he concluded, looking me straight in the eyes, the question we must answer before beginning your training…
— Which is? I asked, my breath caught by the gravity of the moment.
— What type you are, Teikō.
I clenched my fists. My gaze hardened.
— I didn't choose to be weak.
Yora smiled.
— Good. Here… you don't choose to fight. You only choose to rise.
He stepped forward, the blue aura spreading slightly, filling the small vacant lot around us.
— Then… let's begin.
And for the first time since the fire, I felt that my true journey had begun.