"How'd you end up being seen as a ghost?" Yuma wondered aloud, his voice kept low out of respect for the quiet space around them.
Hiroshi lowered his head slightly, shoulders drawing inward as if trying to make himself smaller.
"In m-my first y-year…" he began. "I-I u-used t-to s-sneak in a-at n-night t-to r-read. A-and… s-some o-other k-kids d-did too. F-for d-different r-reasons…"
His whisper shifted, the stutter softening into something heavier. Guilt.
"…They s-saw me. T-they g-got s-scared and h-hit me." He paused, swallowing. "B-but instead of c-connecting… t-they s-saw m-my skin c-crack l-like g-glass. U-untouched."
He inhaled slowly before continuing, voice barely above breath.
"I h-had to g-get rid o-of them… t-they s-saw t-too much."
The words landed like a weight.
The air felt colder.
Yuma's mind snapped back to a half-forgotten memory, news reports from his first year. Three boys. Missing. Never found. Talked about for weeks… then quietly buried.
The pressure between them became suffocating.
Hiroshi hadn't wanted to do it.
He had to.
Whether it was to protect himself, his Ikon, or because his Ikon demanded it, Yuma couldn't tell. Maybe all three. Before he could speak, Hiroshi continued, forcing the story forward.
"So I h-hid," he said. "I c-conjured the r-rumor… m-made e-everyone t-too scared t-to c-come near me." His lips trembled. "T-the d-disappearance… it s-solidified it. S-since t-then… I n-never h-had to d-deal with a-nything l-like that a-again."
It clicked.
Yuma finally understood why the boys yesterday had been so relentless, why they mocked him despite his size. Why Hiroshi let it happen.
"That's why they picked on you," Yuma said quietly. "Because they knew you wouldn't fight back."
Hiroshi nodded.
"…Not that it m-mattered," he added softly. "S-since they s-saw you."
Yuma frowned. "What do you mean?"
Hiroshi tilted his head, confused by the question.
"D-didn't y-you k-kill them?" he asked hesitantly.
Yuma shook his head immediately.
The shock hit Hiroshi all at once.
"WHAT?!" he blurted.
Yuma jumped in his seat. Hiroshi slapped a hand over his mouth, mortified.
"w-what!" he corrected in a whisper.
Yuma stared at him. "Why are you surprised?"
Hiroshi hesitated, then asked carefully, "Y-your Ikon d-didn't… p-push you t-to g-get r-rid of them?"
Yuma shook his head again. "No. She was furious… and now she won't talk to me."
"…She?" Hiroshi echoed.
Yuma paused.
Right. He hadn't explained anything about himself yet.
"Uh- yeah," he said. "I'm the frost-fire conduit."
Hiroshi's entire demeanor flipped.
His eyes lit up, guilt evaporating instantly as curiosity surged forward. He leaned in far too close, questions tumbling out in rapid succession.
"What does it feel like when you use your abi-"
"Relax," Yuma cut in. "Too many questions."
Hiroshi froze, then inhaled deeply, visibly calming himself.
"…Sorry."
Yuma tilted his head. "Your stutter's gone."
"I d-don't stutter when I t-talk about w-what I l-like," Hiroshi spoke quietly.
Yuma rolled his eyes, though the corner of his mouth twitched. Despite everything, confession included, he could tell Hiroshi wasn't a bad person. If the story had ended at the disappearances, maybe things would've been different… but he understood why.
Mercy might actually be an option.
"For now," Yuma said, "what was your first question?"
Hiroshi lit up.
"What's it l-like t-to enhance y-yourself? T-the sensations?"
Yuma blinked. "Enhance myself?"
Hiroshi nodded eagerly. "You know, amplifying your strength? Your body?"
"I can do that?"
Hiroshi stared at him, jaw dropping.
"Y-yeah?! I t-thought you k-knew!"
Yuma tried to explain his ignorance, but Hiroshi was already in full explanation mode.
"I s-saw your mark, so I c-can g-guess your resonance. L-less than s-six percent," he said rapidly. "That's enough to enhance yourself. You can draw past your biological limits, run your body like it's on constant adrenaline. You won't tear yourself apart like a normal human would."
Yuma listened, stunned.
"Downside," Hiroshi continued, "you h-haven't r-reached peak enhancement yet. If your resonance were higher… you'd be superhuman."
Then…
"Oh! And y-you can s-summon your w-weapon!"
Yuma's brain short-circuited.
"…I can summon a weapon?"
Hiroshi nodded eagerly and rolled up his sleeve, revealing the mark on his left elbow. It connected into a stunning mosaic tattoo, an ancient Greek-style library etched into his skin.
From it, glass began to grow.
Glittering flakes assembled into an incomplete saber, forming slowly until it halted just over a third complete.
"This is mine," Hiroshi said calmly. "Completion depends on resonance. I'm around eighty-nine percent, so that's all I can make."
Yuma leaned closer, captivated.
The pommel was a perfect sphere of clear glass, refracting light beautifully. The grip was wrapped in spiraling brown leather, flowing seamlessly into an ornate shell guard. Vines and budding flowers decorated the outer guard, carved with artisan precision. The blade itself was glossy black, obsidian-like, with a curved spine and edge. A fuller ran along it, etched with ancient script that abruptly cut off where the blade ended unfinished.
Yuma straightened slowly, pressing his lips into a thin line.
'What would mine look like…?'
"So," Hiroshi asked, "what d-did you t-touch when you m-made your deal?"
"Uh… just the hilt," Yuma replied. "That's all I remember."
"Ooo! T-then s-summon it!"
"How?" Yuma hesitated.
Hiroshi's face relaxed with understanding.
"Like a g-genie," he said. "Rub your mark. It should force it out."
That explanation disturbed Yuma a little, but he tried anyway.
Rubbing his thumb over the mark on his wrist, he felt it respond. Cold fire surged.
Something pressed against his palm.
His hand lifted involuntarily as blue flames formed, shaping the hilt he remembered, the same one that started everything.
When the glow faded, all that remained was the hilt.
…And something more.