The park was empty except for morning crows and a soda can rolling lazy circles. Ryo kicked a pebble, checked his phone again—three missed calls, no reply from Dad—and muttered at the screen.
Ryo: "Tch. My head still hurts from yesterday."
A leaf drifted down and stuck to his shoulder.
Ryo: "Brat."
Yua slid out from behind the oak like a shadow deciding to be a person.
Yua: "Tch. You're learning."
No smirk. Her hand hovered near her Sword without touching it. Hunter's instinct. Something off.
Ryo: "You… okay?"
She didn't answer. She pressed her palm to the oak's bark.
The tree brightened where she touched. Not sun—draw. Subtle veins of light ran under the bark like a slow heartbeat and sank into roots that had no business reaching that deep in a city.
Ryo: "Since when do trees—"
Yua: "—act like conduits?" She took her hand back. The spot she touched spider-cracked and faded. "Since your little awakening. This park is mirroring your pulse. Irregular."
A jogger went past without seeing any of it. That landed cold in Ryo's stomach.
Ryo: "So normal people… can't see that."
Yua: "Normal people don't want to."
He flinched like she'd slapped him with truth. She didn't press it. She flicked open her dagger and balanced it hilt-up on one finger. A faint red haze coiled off the metal. Then a thin blue ribbon. The air around them hummed.
Yua: "Okay. We do it clean this time. No caves. No monsters. Just rules."
Ryo: "Rules for what?"
Yua: "What you stirred." She let the dagger float, spinning slow. Three faint motes blinked into the air: one red, one blue, one gold. "Seishu."
Ryo: "…You're finally saying it."
Yua: "Don't ask me for a lecture voice." She pointed. "Three parts. Body. Mind. Soul. We call it the Pulse because it lives and it beats."
The notes stretched into faint kanji, crisp and simple: 体, 心, 霊.
Yua: "Body keeps you standing. Mind keeps you sharp. Soul gives you weight. Everyone has a ratio—what your Pulse wants to spend first. An average person lives flat: twenty, twenty, twenty. Hunters train patterns. We cut those numbers to make them mean something."
Ryo: "What's mine?"
Yua looked him over like she could read numbers off his bones.
Yua: "Yesterday you spiked to forty-seven Body, thirty-three Mind, and… nineteen Soul that behaved like thirty."
Ryo: "Nineteen is lower."
Yua: "Condensed is not lower. It's denser. You're a small battery with mean output. That's why the tree is still humming and I hate it."
Ryo tried to joke and found no jokes. "So Body, Mind, Soul… that's it?"
Yua: "That's the start."
She dropped the dagger into her palm and clicked her tongue.
Yua: "Seishu has four functions you'll use daily and one you'll regret."
Ryo: "Four and one. Got it."
Yua held up a finger.
Yua: "One: Anchor. Body-pulse. Makes muscles honest, bones stubborn. Lets you plant when the ground tries to lie. You already do this without thinking."
She raised a second finger.
Yua: "Two: Flow. Mind-pulse. The part that cleans your movement, keeps timing, runs your eyes ahead of your feet. Hunters who over-Flow twitch and burn out. We call that Mind-Noise."
Third finger.
Yua: "Three: Edge. Soul-pulse. Not a magic slash. It's pressure. Your presence. The air listens. If you over-Edge, you start to hollow—the world pushes back, and you don't like who you are after."
Fourth finger.
Yua: "Four: Bind. How the three stack. You can layer them: Anchor-Flow to hold line, Flow-Edge to break guards, Edge-Anchor to freeze a charge. Gets fancy later. For now? Don't stack more than two or you'll puke."
Ryo swallowed. "And the regret."
Yua's face went flat.
Yua: "Echo. That's when your Pulse leaves the body to touch a thing that isn't you. Doors open. Gates notice. The Maw hears names. Only use Echo on purpose, and never alone."
Ryo: "…So yesterday. I Echoed."
Yua: "You roared."
He rubbed the back of his neck. The oak shivered like it understood.
Ryo: "There are consequences, right? You said I'd regret one."
Yua: "Consequences are the whole system." She pointed at his hand. "Over-Anchor? Veinburn. Tendons feel like wire. Over-Flow? Mind-Noise. You'll hear every sound twice and miss the one that matters. Over-Edge? Hollowing. People you love will step away and not know why."
He stared at his palm. "Sounds great."
Yua: "There are also laws. Hunters pretend they're poetry. They're not." She held up three fingers again. "Law of Cost: if it doesn't take anything from you, it isn't Seishu. Law of Echo: what you push into the world, the world keeps a copy. Law of Silence: power you brag about stops listening."
Ryo: "…You're making that last one up."
Yua: "Try bragging mid-fight and see what falls off."
He smirked despite himself. She didn't hide the small twitch at the corner of her mouth.
Ryo: "Okay. So what was that with the tree? You touched it and it—"
Yua: "Resonated." She rolled her shoulder. "Everything that lives has Pulse. Some things, like old trees and old houses, keep extra. Conduits. When your ratio spikes, nearby conduits align. That's why the oak glowed. That's why I'm going to tear it out later."
Ryo: "Don't tear out the tree."
Yua: "Fine. I'll move it."
Ryo blinked. "You can move a tree?"
Yua: "I can convince it to be somewhere else."
Ryo: "…Is there a handbook?"
Yua: "Yes. We burn it."
He laughed. Short. Nervous. Real.
Yua's eyes flicked to the path. "Now we test without breaking you."
Ryo: "How?"
Yua: "Skin contact. No jokes."
Before he could be awkward, she grabbed his hand and pressed his palm to the sternum of her kimono, just above the charm at her throat. Bare skin. Direct.
The world responded like a pulled trigger.
The path cracked with faint glowing lines under their feet, then settled. Birdsong stretched into something long and sad and then snapped back. Yua's breath hitched like cold water had been poured through her ribs. Her free hand gripped the fabric over her heart.
Ryo: "Why are your eyes—"
Two thin red threads leaked from the corners of her eyes and tracked down her cheeks. She blinked them back and snorted a laugh that wasn't like her.
Yua: "So that's what tasting divinity feels like."
Then her knees gave. He caught her because of course he did.
Ryo: "Hey. Hey. Sit—no, don't sit, just—" He propped her against the bench. "Joke later. What was that?"
Yua: "Backlash." The word came thin. "Your Pulse spikes. It drags mine up to match. My Soul ratio is not built for your nonsense. It's fine." She wiped the blood away with her wrist. "Cute mess."
Ryo: "Cute—"
Yua: "You spike because your Soul doesn't spread. It condenses. Like a star that doesn't share heat until it does. That's why that Kaimon sniffed you last night."
Ryo: "The… thing in the alley."
Yua: "It tasted the air around you and thought dinner bells. Good news, it left. Bad news, it will bring friends."
Ryo looked at the faint glow in the cracks underfoot, pulsing with his heartbeat. He hated it and loved it at the same time.
Ryo: "So what do I do? Train? Rest? Hide?"
Yua's jaw set. "All three. And—"
Ryo: "By the way… what happened yesterday? My dad's acting weird. And my memory's… I remember breakfast. That's it."
Yua didn't answer right away. She watched him like she could hold two truths in her teeth: the one he deserved and the one that kept him safe. It hurt to see.
Yua: "You hit your head during training." She kept her tone flat, like she didn't want her face to betray her. "Minor concussion. It scrambled you. He's being protective. Let him."
Ryo rubbed his temple, then let out a slow breath. "Huh. Figures. He's been hovering."
Yua looked away. A lie sat on the bench between them and refused to leave. She didn't touch it. She stood instead.
Yua: "Enough heavy crap. Since you're 'taking it easy,' teach me your realm. Wasting time protocol."
Ryo: "You want me to babysit you at an amusement park."
Yua: "Call it cultural exchange. Unless you're scared."
Ryo: "I am scared. Of you stabbing a mascot."
Yua: "Its eyes don't blink right."
Ryo: "Exactly."
He stood anyway, because saying no to a Hunter who asks for taiyaki should be illegal.
Amusement park—front gate. Yua stopped dead at the smell of fried sugar and diesel. Her shoulders tightened like the whole place was an ambush. Ryo grabbed her wrist before she drew steel on a seven-foot hamster.
Ryo: "Rule one. No murder aura near toddlers."
Yua: "Define toddler."
Ryo: "Short, loud, sticky."
Yua: "…Understood."
They hit bumper cars first. Yua hot-wired hers with a touch of Flow; it cornered like a knife. Security yelled. Ryo laughed until it hurt and apologized to three different attendants with too many coins.
They ate takoyaki at a standing table. Yua crushed her third order like a mission. "These molten balls of tentacle are acceptable."
Ryo: "Please don't call them that."
Yua: "Molten or balls?"
Ryo: "Yes."
They argued with the taiyaki grandma about fillings. Two minutes later, Yua was behind the counter with apron strings tied badly, pouring batter with surgical precision. The grandma clapped when Yua produced a fish with a perfectly crisp edge and just the right amount of red bean. Yua tried one in the shape of her Sword. The grandma gasped and declared it cursed. Ryo paid extra and bowed too much.
They rode a coaster. Yua didn't scream; she tracked the bolts with her eyes and counted the clicks. At the top, the view punched even her in the chest. She said nothing. He didn't force a moment.
They walked a lane lined with prize stalls. Yua clocked every scam and beat half of them just to prove a point. Ryo carried a ridiculous armful of toys he'd give to Rumi later. Yua kept one keychain: a tiny shark, ugly and perfect, hooked through the charm at her throat.
At a quiet rooftop near sunset, the city exhaled. Ryo sat on the ledge and watched streetlights blink into a pattern he knew by memory. Yua sat cross-legged and poked cold taiyaki.
Yua: "Your realm is too loud."
Ryo: "Yeah."
Yua: "…I don't hate it."
That was as close to soft as she got. He didn't ruin it.
They stayed until the wind picked up and the light went blue.
On the way down, at the edge of a convenience store parking lot, Yua shoved a small stone into his palm. Obsidian, rough cut, threaded on leather. It was warm.
Ryo: "What's this."
Yua: "Ward. If your head acts up, crush it. I'll find you."
He flipped it in his hand. "So you do care."
Yua: "I care about my investment."
Ryo: "Mhm."
Yua: "Don't die before payback."
She started walking. He looped the cord and let the stone sit against his chest. It pulsed once, then went still. He looked down the block and saw nothing except wind move leaves wrong.
Unknown Voice (from nowhere, close): "You are interesting… let's see how Yua reacts if I get close."
Ryo spun. Nothing. His pulse spiked. He grabbed the pendant.
Cold. No glow. No warning.
Three blocks away, Yua stopped like she'd run into glass. Her Sword shrieked in its sheath—only Hunters hear that. Familiar malice. She swore and sprinted.
Ryo kept walking because not walking felt like losing. The wind chime over the store rang once and then gave up.
They met again at the park's edge, under a streetlight that flickered like it worried. Yua scanned the shadows, jaw tight.
Ryo: "I heard—"
Yua: "I know."
She didn't say what or who. She looked at the pendant instead and her eyes narrowed.
Yua: "If it goes cold, run. Cold means something's dampening your Echo."
Ryo: "Dampening?"
Yua: "Things that eat power don't like noise. They'll kill the ring before they bite."
Ryo: "Great."
Yua: "Also—" she tapped his chest, not gentle "—stop spiking alone. You want rules? Here."
She held up three fingers again, like she had all morning.
Yua: "Rule One—Keep Ratio. Body feeds Mind. Mind feeds Soul. Don't let Soul lead unless you want to break something that isn't you."
Ryo nodded.
Yua: "Rule Two—Hold Anchor. Feet first. Breath second. Blade third. If you can't feel the ground, you don't earn a cut."
Ryo: "Okay."
Yua: "Rule Three—Borrow Don't Steal. Conduits like that oak will help if you ask. If you take, they remember."
Ryo: "Trees holding grudges. Noted."
Yua: "Rule Four—Shut Up. Don't announce. The Maw listens when you brag."
Ryo: "You really hate bragging."
Yua: "It gets people killed in stylish ways."
Ryo: "I'm not stylish."
Yua: "Correct."
He grinned. She didn't smack him for once.
Yua's phone buzzed once; she didn't check it. Her eyes flicked toward the dark like she could feel the next page.
Yua: "We're not done with the lesson. But you're done for today."
Ryo: "Because of the concussion."
Yua: "Because you're human."
Ryo: "Wow."
Yua: "It's not an insult."
Ryo: "Sounds like one."
Yua: "It's a promise. You get to be."
He swallowed. "Okay."
She turned away, then stopped and tossed him a look over her shoulder.
Yua: "Tomorrow. Six. We'll get your ratios not embarrassing."
Ryo: "I don't even know how to check them."
Yua: "You'll learn. Start with breath."
She left him under the flicker. He stood there a while, thumb on the obsidian's edge until it bit.
The wind said nothing. The pendant stayed cold. Somewhere, something smiled with teeth and patience.
Yua's Journey Log — Entry #1: The Human Realm (Addendum)
Observation: Humans will stand in line forty-seven minutes for rolling cages called "rollercoasters." No tactical value. High morale return. Possible training for patience.
Food: Suspect chemical warfare via snack stalls. Substances labeled "limited-time flavor" cause impulse buys and minor joy. Noted side effect: trust.
Threats: "Mascots." Unblinking. Erratic gait. Hollow inside. Recommend decapitation (with discretion).
Seishu Notes: Kenzaki Ryo presents condensed Soul—low surface, high output; Resonance causes environmental mirroring (see oak, park). Risk of Echo without intention.
Ratios (working):
Anchor (体): strongest when angry for others.
Flow (心): breaks when he tries to be clever. Keep cues simple.
Edge (霊): arrives late, hits hard, leaves afterimages in rooms.
Personal: The boy laughs louder when he forgets he's supposed to be mad. This realm smells like burnt sugar and buses instead of blood. Disgusting. I don't hate it.
Addendum: If pendant goes cold, I run. If he says "I'm fine," I assume the opposite. If the oak keeps humming, I move the tree. If the thing that smiled comes close, I cut.
Tomorrow: teach him to breathe before he tries to be a hero.
🌀 End Of Chapter Fifteen