- Back to Mikail.
The sun hung low in the sky, casting long golden rays across the backyard. Shadows stretched like tired arms, reaching toward the trio in the center of the worn, cracked ground.
Mikail stood calmly, barely a bead of sweat on his brow. His breathing was even, his stance relaxed.
Across from him, Melisa crouched, hands on her knees, sweat dripping from her forehead. Her ponytail had come loose, strands sticking to her cheek. Her breaths came in short, ragged gasps. Beside her, Moona leaned against a wooden post, eyes wide with disbelief, her chest rising and falling with each gulp of air. Her arms trembled from exertion, and fresh bruises blossomed along her forearms, a silent testament to Mikail's relentless, yet controlled strikes.
Melisa chuckled, though it sounded more like a wheeze.
"Okay… Okay, I'll admit it. You're terrifying"
"I thought you said he was still 'figuring things out,'" Moona muttered between gulps of air, glaring half-heartedly at Melisa.
"I thought he was," Melisa replied, shaking her head. "I don't even know what I was thinking"
Mikail blinked, confused.
"I... I was holding back"
"You were WHAT?"
Both girls shouted at the same time.
And Mikail looked genuinely puzzled.
"I thought I should match your pace…"
Melisa dropped to sit cross-legged, rubbing her arms with a dry laugh.
"Mikail, sweetie, if that was you matching our pace, remind me to never ask you to go all out"
Moona collapsed onto the grass with a dramatic sigh.
"This is way beyond us. Grandpa's going to have to train him himself… With just the two of us, I honestly can't tell who's teaching who anymore"
"*Sigh* I think so too"
Melisa admitted, her eyes drifting toward the sun as it dipped closer to the horizon.
With effort, she pushed her tired body upright.
"...Alright, that's enough for today. You're strong enough to make it through the night"
Mikail hesitated, his voice low and uncertain.
"Will they come again tonight?" He paused, as if the words weighed heavily on him. "...The Shadows... Will they return?"
Melisa's eyes flickered at the question.
Her expression shifted, tension tightening her jaw for a heartbeat before she masked it with a small, weary smile.
"Most likely," She said softly, brushing hair from her face. "...They always do"
Moona sat up slowly, her expression shifting to something more serious as she looked toward Mikail.
"They've been getting bolder each night. Stronger, too. We don't know why. And now that your existence has been exposed… Even though they were all wiped out that night because of you… The Shadow remembers. The Shadow is always there"
Melisa stepped closer to Mikail, her gaze steady and searching.
"Don't worry," She said at last. "They don't know how fast you're growing. You alone could change everything, Mikail"
Mikail looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers slowly.
"Change everything…"
Moona let out a half-hearted laugh.
"Well, whatever you are, you kicked our asses. That's a pretty good start"
Melisa gave Mikail a slow, solemn nod.
"Get some rest. If they come again tonight… we'll face them together. But something tells me you'll be doing most of the work"
Mikail nodded quietly. But even as he turned to leave, his gaze drifted to the far edge of the yard, where the trees met the fading light.
The shadows there seemed thicker than usual.
Watching.
Waiting.
--------
With practice finished, Moona, Melisa, and I headed back to my house.
We stepped through the door, the scent of garlic and spices already drifting from the kitchen. The house felt warm, a gentle contrast to the tension still clinging to my shoulders.
"Ah, you're back just in time," Grandma called out from behind the stove. "Dinner's almost- " She turned, saw us, and froze mid-stir.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, scanning each of us from head to toe.
Melisa's shirt was sweat-stained and dirt-smudged. Moona's hair was a tangled mess, her sleeves rolled up to reveal the beginnings of a bruise. And me… I guess I didn't look much better.
Grandma set down her spoon with a sigh.
"My goodness," She muttered, wiping her hands on her apron as she approached. "You look like you've been chased by wild dogs... Or worse"
Her gaze lingered on me just a second longer than the others. Not worried. Not surprised. Just… Aware, before it shifted again toward Melisa and Moona.
"... What happened?"
Melisa offered a sheepish smile.
"Well~ we were, technically, chased by a wild dog"
She said, then glanced at me. Her sheepish smile quickly morphed into a teasing grin.
"...A big wild dog," She added, her eyes gleaming with mischief as they stayed fixed on me.
Moona groaned dramatically, flopping into a chair.
"Please don't encourage him. He'll start howling next"
Melisa snorted, clearly amused, and I felt both their gazes land on me with exaggerated expectation.
I blinked, caught somewhere between embarrassment and amusement, unsure if I was supposed to laugh… Or bark?
"...I don't think I know how to howl," I muttered under my breath. "Should I?"
Melisa burst into laughter, her voice echoing warmly through the kitchen. Moona shook her head, smirking despite herself.
For a moment, it felt like everything was normal.
Just friends joking around, the scent of dinner in the air, and the soft clatter of Grandma's cooking behind us.
But then my eyes drifted toward the window.
The sun had nearly vanished, dipping below the horizon, and the shadows outside were beginning to stretch, long, dark fingers creeping across the ground.
The warmth of the kitchen, the comfort of laughter, suddenly felt just a little more fragile. A little further away.
--------
The kitchen was quiet now, save for the soft bubbling from the stew pot and the rhythmic clink of utensils as I helped set the table. The light from the ceiling cast everything in a soft yellow glow. Familiar. Safe.
Or at least it should've been.
Melisa and Moona had gone to clean up, leaving me alone with Grandma. She moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, humming under her breath, an old tune I didn't quite recognize, but somehow knew I'd heard since I was little.
I placed the last spoon down when her voice cut through the quiet, calm and steady, but carrying weight beneath it.
"Mikail," She said without looking up, "Is there something you want to say to me? To your Grandma? Or should I wait a bit more… Until you're sure enough to tell me?"
I froze.
My fingers curled around the edge of the table, knuckles pale.
I looked at her. She hadn't turned, just stirred the pot with that same soft rhythm, like she hadn't just turned my entire chest inside out.
"I… What do you mean?"
She finally glanced over her shoulder, and her eyes, sharp and kind all at once... Met mine.
"You've always been quiet, but lately, it's different. You're heavier, inside. There's something in your eyes that wasn't there before"
"I don't need to know everything. Just… Don't carry it all alone, okay?"
I wanted to answer.
To say yes.
To say no.
To say I don't know what's happening to me either.
To say I think something inside me is waking up and I'm not sure if it's good or bad.
To say I think the shadows are coming for me again tonight, and I'm afraid I'll hurt someone if I lose control.
But the words caught in my throat.
So I said nothing.
Just nodded slowly.
A small, silent promise that I wasn't ready now.
But I wanted to be. Maybe soon.
She gave me a small smile, turning back to the pot.
"Alright then... I'll be here. Waiting. Whenever you're ready to tell me, no matter how long it takes... Always"
....
...
..
.