The wind blew softly through the quiet training grounds of the Association, carrying with it the fading warmth of the day. The field was mostly empty, the sun low in the sky and casting long shadows across the cracked concrete and dulled weapon racks.
Ketsu sat on a worn bench near the far edge of the grounds, the white bandages around his forearm flapping gently in the breeze. Blood had dried along the edges, the result of another training session taken too far. His gaze wasn't on the horizon or the city skyline—it was on nothing, really. His mind drifted.
Footsteps approached. Light, deliberate.
Sora stepped into view, her white hair catching the sunset's final glow. She didn't say anything at first, simply lowered herself onto the bench beside him.
For a while, there was only the wind between them.
"You overdid it again," Sora said eventually, eyes still on the open field.
Ketsu didn't respond immediately. "It's fine."
"You say that every time. But every time, you look more torn up."
"Pain reminds me I'm not them anymore."
Ketsu glanced toward the training dummies in the distance, his voice low but curious.
"Want to show it to me?"
"What," Sora asked slightly blushing.
"Your Blessing"
Sora hesitated, turning her eyes to him. "It's not like I don't want to"
He nodded once. "But?"
She looked away, uncertain. "It's not... something for showing off."
Ketsu didn't push. He simply waited, expression steady. After a moment, she stood.
"Alright. Just one."
She looked toward one of the rusted metal dummies, lifted her right hand, and held it out toward the figure. Her fingers closed, slowly — like gripping something that wasn't really there.
And then—
A shimmer appeared in the air. A crack in space, like a pane of glass fracturing from pressure. It spidered outward silently—then shattered.
The dummy vanished. Not destroyed. Not broken.
Erased. As if it had never existed.
Ketsu stared, eyes narrowing slightly. Sora lowered her hand, saying nothing, her eyes catching a slight tone of grey.
"So that's it," Ketsu muttered.
She glanced at him, lips slightly parted as if to speak, then paused.
"My clan... everyone has white hair. It's like a badge of fate, you know? The whole clan has Reality-Warping Blessings, with high cost. My whole family treats it like a sacred burden. We exist for it, live under it... and eventually die for it."
"My uncle abandoned his Blessing, just to be freed from the chains," she added. "I haven't seen him since then."
Ketsu didn't interrupt. His head tilted slightly, listening.
"It sounds like power. But it feels like chains," she added. "They never hurt me outright. Not like yours did. But they made me... less. By deciding who I was before I could choose."
"That still kind of hurts," Ketsu muttered. "Different scars are still scars."
Sora drew in a slow breath, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You said your clan... cut you to make you stronger. To make your regeneration faster?"
He nodded. "They called it refining. I called it training, back then. But now I understand, that its no less than torture."
Sora looked away, her voice quieter now. "I thought if I tried hard enough, they'd love me for who I was. But they only ever loved the power."
Ketsu leaned back slightly, finally meeting her gaze. "Then they never loved you at all."
The words landed heavier than expected. Sora blinked, slowly. Then, a soft chuckle escaped her.
"You're not very comforting."
"Wasn't trying to be."
She smiled faintly. "Still kind of worked."
Ketsu looked up at the sky, silent for a long time.
"You're stronger than you think," he said finally.
She glanced at him. "You keep saying that."
"Because it's true."
Another pause. The air between them had shifted—still quiet, but no longer distant. Familiar, in its own raw way.
"You ever wonder what it would be like," Sora asked suddenly, "if we weren't born with these abilities? If none of this existed?"
Ketsu didn't answer immediately. "Sometimes. But then I think... if that were true, maybe we never would've met."
Sora blinked, then smiled again—a little wider this time.
"You're getting dangerously close to sounding like a person."
"I'll dial it back tomorrow."
The wind passed again, curling around them. The city buzzed softly in the background, far removed from their moment. They sat together as the sky turned orange, two pieces from broken homes quietly fitting into place beside each other.