Author's Note:Sora speaks 127 words in this chapter. Kaito only remembers 9 of them afterward. The other 118? His brain filtered them out as self-defense. Reread and find which 9 stuck.
POV: Kaito Endo
Word Count: ~1,900
Kaito's substance manifested before conscious thought caught up.
Greenish-blue mist exploding outward, forming a solid barrier between himself and Sora in the space of a heartbeat. Defensive. Instinctive. The kind of reaction that came from nine years of building walls between himself and anything that felt dangerous.
Blue eyes felt very, very dangerous.
"Interesting," Sora said, not moving from his position at the tree line. That smile still in place—warm, friendly, completely wrong for the ice spreading through Kaito's chest. "Your power responds to perceived threats faster than your conscious mind processes them. Subconscious defense mechanism. That's useful data."
"Get the fuck away from us," Kaito said. His voice came out steadier than he felt. The barrier stayed solid, no black tint, completely under control despite the panic screaming in his hindbrain.
"I'm not here to fight." Sora raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "Just to talk. Introduce myself properly. We're going to be seeing a lot of each other in the coming weeks. Thought it would be better to establish communication now rather than letting assumptions build."
Takeshi moved to stand beside Kaito, shimmer activating. "You're on Cold Eyes Team. Psychological warfare specialist. Akashi's son." His voice was calm but his posture said ready for violence. "We know who you are."
"Do you?" Sora's blue eyes shifted to Takeshi, then back to Kaito. "Interesting. I wonder where you got that information. Hayato, probably. He has a tendency to share intelligence too freely." The smile widened slightly. "But knowing my name and knowing me are very different things."
"We know enough," Takeshi said. "You attack people's minds. Show them their worst fears. Make them relive trauma. Psychological terrorism disguised as ability usage."
"Such harsh words." Sora tilted his head, and the movement reminded Kaito of a bird studying prey. "I prefer to think of it as... accelerated self-confrontation. Most people spend their whole lives running from uncomfortable truths. I simply help them face those truths faster. It's almost therapeutic."
"Bullshit," Kaito spat. "You're a sadist with a power that lets you torture people without leaving marks."
Sora's expression didn't change. "Perhaps. But at least I'm honest about what I am. Can you say the same?"
The words hit harder than they should have.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you're standing there with substance wrapped around you like armor, pretending you don't know why my eyes make your hands shake. Pretending you don't dream about fire and screaming and someone with blue eyes watching while the world burned around you." Sora took a single step forward. "It means you're running from a truth you've known since you were eight years old, and I'm the only person who can help you stop running."
The barrier cracked.
Not physically—structurally it was fine. But Kaito's concentration wavered, the substance flickering for half a second as those words burrowed into his brain and found something that resonated.
Fire and screaming and blue eyes watching.
"How do you know about that?" Kaito's voice came out quieter than intended. "How do you know about my dreams?"
"Because I was there." Sora's blue eyes seemed to glow faintly, or maybe that was just Kaito's perception distorting. "Nine years ago. A house fire in residential Tokyo. One casualty. One survivor." He paused. "One witness."
The world tilted.
Kaito felt Takeshi's hand on his shoulder—grounding, steadying—but it felt distant. Everything felt distant except Sora's voice and those blue eyes that knew things Kaito didn't know himself.
"You're lying," Kaito said, but it came out uncertain.
"Am I? Then why does hearing it make your substance try to turn black?" Sora gestured to Kaito's hands. "Look."
Kaito looked.
The greenish-blue mist had darkened at the edges. Not fully black, not the corruption from this morning, but definitely shifting. Responding to emotional intensity he was trying desperately to suppress.
"That's enough." Takeshi's voice cut through, sharp and commanding. "You've made your point. You know something about Kaito's past. Congratulations. Now leave before this becomes a fight you don't want."
"But I do want it." Sora's smile never wavered. "Fighting you would be fascinating. Four developing essentials with complementary abilities. I'd learn so much about your limits, your fears, your breaking points." He paused. "But not today. Today I'm just here to plant seeds."
"Seeds of what?" Kaito demanded.
"Questions. Doubt. Curiosity." Sora's blue eyes locked onto Kaito's with uncomfortable intensity. "You can't remember what happened nine years ago. Your mind has built walls so thick, so comprehensive, that the truth can't reach you anymore. But it's still there, Kaito. Buried. Waiting. And every time you see blue eyes in your dreams, every time your substance turns black, that's the truth trying to break through."
"You don't know anything about me."
"I know more than you know about yourself." Sora took another step forward. Takeshi's shimmer intensified. "I know you were eight years old. I know there was fire. I know someone died. I know you blame yourself for something you can't consciously remember." Another step. "And I know that until you remember, until you stop running and face what actually happened, your power will keep corrupting. Getting darker. More unstable."
The black tint spread further. Kaito could see it now without looking—feel it in the way the substance moved, heavier and hungrier than normal.
"Stop," Takeshi said, voice hard. "One more step and I reverse you into the nearest tree hard enough to break bones."
Sora stopped. "Violent. I like it. Shows you actually care about your team." He looked at Kaito again. "He's protecting you because he thinks I'm a threat. But I'm not your enemy, Kaito. I'm the only person who can give you answers."
"Then give them," Kaito said through gritted teeth. "Stop playing games and just tell me what happened."
"No."
The refusal was simple, direct, and somehow more infuriating than anything else Sora had said.
"Why not?"
"Because being told isn't the same as remembering. Your mind blocked the memory for a reason—probably to protect you from something your eight-year-old self couldn't process. If I just tell you the facts, your brain will reject them. Rationalize them away. Create new walls." Sora's expression shifted, became almost gentle. "You need to remember on your own. And when you're ready—when the walls start crumbling and the truth starts bleeding through—I'll be there to help you make sense of it."
"That's—" Kaito couldn't find words. "That's the most manipulative psychological bullshit I've ever heard."
"Probably." Sora shrugged. "But it's also true. You can hate me for how I'm delivering this information. That's fine. Natural, even. But don't hate me for the information itself. I'm not the one who lit the fire, Kaito. I'm just the one who watched it burn."
Something in those words hit like a physical blow.
I'm just the one who watched it burn.
The barrier shattered.
Not dismissed—shattered. The substance exploded outward in a wave of black corruption, spreading across the shrine courtyard in tendrils that moved like living things, reaching for Sora with intent that felt almost predatory.
Kaito tried to pull it back, force it to greenish-blue, regain control—
Couldn't.
The black substance had its own momentum now, responding to rage and fear and guilt he couldn't name, and it wanted Sora with an intensity that terrified him.
Takeshi's reversal field expanded.
The black tendrils reversed mid-reach, flying back toward Kaito, and he barely managed to dismiss them before they hit. The substance evaporated back to nothing, leaving Kaito breathing hard and shaking.
"Fascinating," Sora said quietly, seemingly unbothered by nearly being attacked. "Full corruption manifestation triggered by emotional spike. And you managed to dismiss it before impact. That's impressive control for someone who doesn't understand what they're controlling."
"Leave," Takeshi said. His reversal field was still active, shimmering in the air like a warning. "Now. Before I stop being diplomatic."
Sora looked at them for a long moment—Takeshi's protective stance, Kaito's trembling hands, the lingering traces of black substance in the air.
Then he smiled. Genuine this time, not the warm-friendly mask.
"I'll go. But Kaito?" He took a step backward, toward the tree line. "Your mother would be proud of you. The person you're becoming. The team you've built. The strength you're developing." Another step. "She always believed you were special. Right up until the end."
The words detonated in Kaito's chest like a grenade.
"How do you know about my mother?" His voice cracked. "How do you—"
But Sora was already gone.
Disappeared into the trees with the kind of practiced efficiency that said he'd planned his exit timing perfectly. Maximum impact, minimum exposure.
Psychological warfare at its finest.
Kaito stood in the shrine courtyard feeling like the ground had been pulled out from under him. His hands were shaking so badly he had to clench them into fists. The substance kept trying to manifest—black, angry, corrupted—and he kept shoving it down with effort that made his head pound.
Your mother would be proud.
Right up until the end.
What end? How did Sora know? Why had he been there? What actually happened nine years ago that Kaito couldn't remember but dreamed about constantly?
"Kaito." Takeshi's voice cut through the spiral. "Look at me."
Kaito looked.
Takeshi's expression was worried but steady. Grounded. Present.
"Whatever he said, whatever he knows—he's using it as a weapon. That's what psychological specialists do. They find your weak points and press until you break." Takeshi's hand was still on Kaito's shoulder, solid and real. "Don't give him the satisfaction."
"He knows about my mother." Kaito's voice came out hollow. "He was there. He watched. He knows what happened and I don't and I—"
He couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't articulate the desperate need to know mixing with the terror of finding out.
"Then we'll find answers another way," Takeshi said firmly. "Without letting him control the narrative. Without playing his game."
"How? I can't remember. My brain won't let me remember." Kaito laughed, but it came out broken. "And apparently my power is corrupting because I'm suppressing it. So my options are: remember and probably shatter, or keep suppressing and eventually lose control during combat. Great choices."
"There's a third option."
"Which is?"
"You remember slowly. In pieces. With support. We help you process whatever's buried without letting it overwhelm you." Takeshi looked toward the tree line where Sora had vanished. "And we don't let that manipulative asshole control when and how you get your answers."
Footsteps on the shrine path made them both turn.
Ayumi and Akira emerged from the opposite direction, both looking alert and ready for trouble.
"We felt hostile signature from three blocks away," Akira said, already scanning the area. "What happened?"
"Sora," Kaito said. "Cold Eyes Team's psychological specialist. He showed up to fuck with my head."
"Did it work?" Ayumi asked bluntly.
Kaito looked at his still-shaking hands. "Yeah. It worked."
"Good," Ayumi said, surprising him. "That means you're human. If psychological warfare didn't affect you, I'd be worried you were a sociopath." She moved to stand beside him, not touching but present. "What did he say?"
Kaito opened his mouth to answer, then realized something strange.
He couldn't remember most of it.
The conversation had happened five minutes ago but his brain had already started filtering, suppressing, building new walls around information it decided was too dangerous. He could remember fragments—fire and screaming, blue eyes watching, your mother would be proud—but the connecting tissue was gone.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I remember pieces. Blue eyes. Fire. My mother. But the rest is just... gone. Like my brain deleted it for self-preservation."
Akira's grey eyes sharpened. "That's not normal memory loss. That's active suppression. Your subconscious is protecting you from information you're not ready to process."
"So what do I do?"
"You train," Takeshi said. "You get stronger. You build trust with this team until you feel safe enough to let those walls down." He dismissed his reversal field. "And you don't let Sora rush you. He wants you destabilized, confused, desperate for answers he's dangling like bait. Don't give him that power."
It made sense. Logical, strategic, the right call.
But Kaito's hands were still shaking and the black substance kept trying to manifest and somewhere in his suppressed memory was a truth that Sora knew and he didn't.
"Okay," he said quietly. "We train."
They spent the next hour working on combination attacks, but Kaito's focus was shot. His substance kept shifting toward black during emotional spikes. His timing was off. His control wavered.
By the time they quit, everyone was frustrated.
"Go home," Takeshi said. "Rest. We'll try again tomorrow."
Kaito walked back to his aunt's apartment in a daze, replaying the few fragments he could remember.
I was there. One witness.
Your mother would be proud. Right up until the end.
What end? How had his mother died? He knew it was a fire—everyone had told him that much. House fire when he was eight. Tragic accident. His father had died six years ago in a car crash. Two dead parents, one traumatized kid.
But something about that narrative felt wrong.
If it was just an accident, why couldn't he remember it? Why did blue eyes trigger panic? Why did Sora's presence feel like looking at something he wasn't supposed to see?
His phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
Unknown:You handled that better than I expected. Most people shatter during first confrontation. You only cracked. Impressive.
Unknown:When you're ready to remember—really ready, not just curious—you know where to find me. Until then, enjoy your training. Enjoy your team. Enjoy the next 24 days.
Unknown:They might be the last normal ones you get.
Kaito stared at the messages.
Then blocked the number and shoved his phone in his pocket.
Twenty-four days until trials.
And apparently less than that until his suppressed past caught up with him whether he was ready or not.
The greenish-blue mist coiled around his fingers.
For now, at least, it stayed the right color.
For now.
[To be continued in Chapter 14...]
Author's closing note:Kaito's brain filtered most of Sora's words. But nine stuck: "fire," "screaming," "eight years old," "someone died," "you blame yourself," "your mother," "would be proud," "the end." Why these nine? Because they're the pieces his subconscious is already trying to remember. Everything else got suppressed.
Sora says he's not Kaito's enemy. He's also Akashi's son (the main villain). Can both be true? Drop theories 👇
Add to library if you're hooked. The truth is coming and it's going to