Rain had passed through Kuoh during the night, leaving the air fresh and cool. The streets shone faintly in the morning light, and the scent of wet pavement lingered long after the clouds had gone.
By the time classes ended that afternoon, the schoolyard still glistened with puddles. Momo balanced on the edge of the walkway, arms stretched out, hopping from one dry patch to another.
"Careful," Lucas said as he walked beside her.
"I am careful," she replied, wobbling before catching her balance again. "See? Perfect."
She grinned, proud of herself, and continued along the path. Lucas shook his head slightly but could not help smiling.
They stopped at the park before heading home. Water dripped steadily from the trees, each drop scattering tiny ripples across the puddles below. Momo bent down to pick up a stick and began drawing lines in the wet sand.
"You ever notice how quiet it gets after rain?" she asked.
Lucas nodded. "It is nice."
"Kind of lonely though," she said. "Everything feels slower."
"Maybe it just sounds that way," he said. "People go inside."
She tilted her head. "You think too much."
"Maybe."
Momo laughed, tossing the stick aside. "You always say things like that, like a grown-up. You should try being a kid sometimes."
"I am a kid."
"Not really," she said, but her tone was light. "You act older than the teachers."
Lucas gave her a look that made her giggle again. They stood there for a while longer, listening to the faint rustle of water through the grass.
When the sun began to set, they parted at the corner where the road split toward their homes.
"See you tomorrow?" Momo asked.
"Yeah," he said.
She smiled, waved, and ran off, her shoes splashing through the shallow puddles as she went.
Lucas watched until she disappeared from sight, then turned toward the orphanage.
Dinner that night was the usual chaos. One of the younger kids tried to sneak an extra roll, another knocked over a cup, and the caretakers pretended to scold while laughing under their breath. Lucas ate quietly, listening to the noise around him. He realized, without meaning to, that it made him feel calm.
When the others went to bed, he stepped outside for a moment. The air was cool, filled with the scent of rain-soaked soil and distant pine. He sat on the wooden steps, closing his eyes as the world around him settled into stillness.
He focused on the calm at the center of his mind, the faint thread of energy that pulsed beneath his awareness. He had practiced this countless times before, waiting for something to respond.
This time, the shift was different.
The world went silent—not the silence of sleep, but something deeper, weightless. When he opened his eyes, he was no longer outside. He stood in a small, empty space, lit by a colorless glow without a source. The ground beneath him was smooth and faintly warm, stretching only a few meters before fading into a misty horizon.
It wasn't a dream. He could feel the weight of his steps, the texture beneath his fingers when he touched the floor. The air carried no sound, no wind—only stillness.
He crouched, placing his hand against the pale surface. For an instant, he imagined soil. The ground softened, darkened, taking on faint texture before dissolving again.
Lucas stared, heart steady but curious. "So this is what you really are."
He thought of distance, and the space ahead of him rippled, stretching slightly farther. The horizon expanded, a subtle hum vibrating through the air as if acknowledging him.
He stood still for a while, testing how long he could maintain it. The longer he focused, the more stable it became, though the edges trembled faintly, as if waiting for permission to exist.
When he finally relaxed, the world folded back into itself—quietly, without collapse. The pale light dimmed, and the air returned to the cool scent of rain.
He opened his eyes and found himself on the orphanage steps again, breathing softly. The night was unchanged.
Then a sound broke the silence—a soft whimper. One of the younger boys stood in the doorway, clutching a blanket, eyes wide from sleep.
"What is wrong?" Lucas asked.
The boy sniffled. "Had a bad dream."
"Come here," Lucas said gently.
The boy walked over, dragging his blanket. When the light from the hallway touched his face, Lucas recognized him. "Ren, right?"
The boy nodded. "You remembered."
Lucas smiled faintly. "Of course."
Ren hesitated before whispering, "Can I stay out here a little? It's quiet."
Lucas looked up at the pale moon and then back at him. "Just for a minute."
They sat together on the steps, the night calm around them. Ren's head began to droop after a while, the blanket slipping from his shoulder. Lucas caught it and tucked it closer.
"Come on," he said softly. "Time for bed."
Ren nodded, eyes half closed. Inside, the dorm was dim and warm, filled with the soft rhythm of sleeping breaths. Lucas helped him back into bed and waited until his breathing evened out.
"Better?" Lucas asked.
"Yeah," Ren mumbled. "Thanks, Lucas."
Lucas smiled. "Sleep well."
He sat for a while before lying down on his own bed. The moonlight spilled across the floor, catching the edge of his desk and glowing faintly on the wall. He stared at it, the calm of the night settling around him like a blanket.
Tomorrow would probably be the same.
And for now, that was enough.