The village had not slept since the storehouse burst into flame. Even now, whispers clung to every alley like smoke.
Yoshiki sat on the edge of the well, head bowed, blistered hands trembling in his lap. His arms were wrapped in bandages, but faint heat still bled through the cloth. Every breath felt heavy, thick with the memory of fire clawing out of his chest.
Children peered from doorways before their mothers pulled them inside. Villagers' voices followed him wherever he went.
"Monster…"
"…Or savior?"
"…Did you see his hair? It's red now, like it's been set alight."
They weren't wrong. Yoshiki's once-dark hair now glowed a deep, unnatural crimson, strands catching the light as if embers had woven themselves into him. It marked him as something more than human—and something less.
He clenched his fists until the smoke began to curl from his fingertips. He hissed and forced them open, but the trembling didn't stop.
Yuzuriha crouched nearby, carefully sketching patterns of ember veins from memory onto parchment. Her gaze was analytical, but her voice softened. "The change is permanent. Your body… it's rewriting itself around the resonance." She hesitated. "Your hair, your eyes—they're part of the signal now."
Yoshiki gave a bitter laugh. "So even when I'm not burning, I'm still a torch for them to see."
Across the square, Hikaru lingered in the shadows of a half-collapsed roof. His eyes followed Yoshiki's every move. Where others saw fear or awe, Hikaru saw fragility. His friend's hands shook, his body blistered. If this was the price of power, how long before Yoshiki burned himself out completely?
The silence between them stretched until Daichi broke it. He hauled a sack of grain past, as steady as always, though his gaze lingered on Yoshiki longer than usual. There was no fear in his eyes—only concern, heavy and quiet.
"Rest before you fall apart," Daichi said gruffly. "You won't help anyone if you're ash."
Yoshiki's jaw tightened. "And if I stop? Who will?"
No one had an answer. The village around them watched, divided between awe and terror.
Yoshiki lowered his head, crimson hair catching the dim lantern light. The fire inside him hadn't gone out—it pulsed with every heartbeat, demanding release. And for the first time, he wondered if this gift was meant to protect his people… or destroy them.