Tuesday.
8:00 a.m.
He woke to a hand pinning his face like a paperweight.
The blanket barely covered his ankle. There was plenty of room on the bed—enough not to fall off—so long as he didn't make any sudden movements.
Or any movements at all.
Akari was snoring like she'd earned it.
Kaishi carefully lifted her hand away, sat up, and watched her for a moment longer. He left her with a gentle smile and slipped out of bed.
I sleep better on the couch anyway.
A curtain divided the sleeping nook from what passed for a living room. On one side: soft couches, low tables, wardrobes. On the other: burners, worktops, chilled cabinets.
The room's bright colors argued with the copper and concrete lurking beyond the door. It was hard to believe both spaces belonged to the same building.
From one of the cabinets, he took out a small reinforced case and set it on the counter. With a practiced, careful motion, he lifted the lid and revealed a stock of aether crystals—each one swollen with pale light.
Set into the countertop, beneath copper "veins," a nearly depleted crystal sat in its cradle. Kaishi pulled it free without hesitation and held it in his palm. He slotted a full one into its place.
The runes by the burners—and the ones inside the cooling cabinets—bloomed into color.
He opened the fridge, took out a strip of pork belly and a couple of eggs, and set a pan on the burner. A twist of the knob made the nearby rune glow brighter. Heat rose under the pan, warming the chill that clung to the morning—made worse by too little sleep.
Just in time to tuck the freshly charged crystal back into the case.
***
Before he left, he made sure the plate he'd set aside for the sleeper was properly covered.
In the lab, he stopped by the coagulant locker. He packed some into a cloth bag and shoved the rest inside his coat.
I hope this is enough.
He stepped into that disgusting corridor again.
Only this time, his stride didn't waver.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap…
***
9:04 a.m.
Cherry blossom petals skittered under people's feet, fleeing in little pink bursts. There were always petals—despite how much harder it was to find the tree they came from.
And luckily for Kaishi, crowds were just as hard to come by down on the lower level.
Above the Tendan streets, bridges and walkways hung like a second city. Up there—guards aside—two kinds of people dominated the traffic:
Scholars and tourists. The scholars walked with their minds elsewhere. The tourists were drunk on the moment. Both had the same talent for getting in the way.
And he'd have to deal with that chaos soon enough.
On the upper level, almost directly overhead, ran a bridge that had saved him a few hours ago—saved him from what could've been a losing fight.
A bridge that just so happened to be a stop on his route today.
"Master Miyabe!" a familiar, older voice called out. "Well, what a coincidence!"
Here?
Kaishi turned.
On a nearby platform—what people here called an elevator—an elderly man in a Tendan lift operator's uniform waved at him. Slightly hunched. Lean. Clean-shaven.
"Mr. Sato?" Kaishi asked, surprised. "What are you doing here?"
"It's been so long since you visited that I decided I'd come visit you instead!" Sato threw his hand up and laughed, the sound turning into an old man's cough. "Heading up, Master?"
"Yes," Kaishi said, and stepped onto the platform beside him.
There was a comfortable seat, a small cabinet, and a pillar engraved with runes. The elevator didn't appear attached to anything—yet a clearly marked rectangle on the ground showed exactly where it was meant to stand.
The moment Kaishi stepped inside, Mr. Sato placed his hand against the rune on the pillar. It lit faintly, and the platform began to rise toward the bridge.
"And in all seriousness," Sato added, tone shifting, "they offered me a temporary transfer. Even a bonus."
"Recently?" Kaishi asked.
"This morning—before my shift!" Sato said, and Kaishi's brow lifted a fraction.
"Apparently the Order of the Holy Scales asked for me personally. Can you imagine that, Master?"
Let it be a coincidence.
"Won't you miss the Tower of Science?"
Kaishi asked, expression blank.
The operator nodded slowly, lips moving soundlessly as if he were arguing with himself.
"More excitement there. Longer chats. But I can't focus like I used to," he admitted. "Maybe it'll be quieter here."
"Then I'm glad you can see the upside," Kaishi said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.
They were nearing the bridge.
"Years ago, I used to take the young Master on little elevator trips around the Tower," Sato chuckled. "Oh, how you were afraid of heights."
Then he fell quiet.
"I—I apologize," he said, waving his free hand as if remembering something he shouldn't have said. His voice dropped to a half-whisper. "Old habit. I remember you, Master. And I was told not to say anything, but… I remember."
"It's fine," Kaishi replied evenly. "Have a peaceful shift."
They reached the bridge. A supporting platform slid out to meet them. The elevator settled, and Mr. Sato lifted his hand from the rune and nodded to Kaishi.
"Thank you. Have a good day, Master."
Kaishi stepped off onto the bridge. The old man sat back down.
A sudden bump to Kaishi's shoulder snapped his attention sideways. Not hard—just clumsy.
Tourists…
There were too many of them to waste time weaving through. The temple gates were right there—and most importantly, at this hour, they stood wide open.
The temple courtyard was mercifully less crowded.
Kaishi moved quickly inside.
In daylight, the interior—small as it was—was breathtaking. Sunbeams, especially the ones spilling through the roof, seemed to arrange themselves into a symbol on the floor. At eye level, they formed a row of shimmering "curtains" before Vashara's bust.
A quick sweep of the room found the acolyte from a few hours ago without effort.
"You're up early," the monk greeted. "I hope the stitches are holding."
"They are," Kaishi said, handing him the bag. "A thank-you."
"We don't help for profit," the monk protested.
"And I pay my debts," Kaishi murmured, lowering his voice. "There are eleven inside."
The acolyte peeked into the bag. His eyes nearly jumped out of his head—then his face softened, and his jaw trembled.
"Thank you," he whispered. "May Vashara bless your kindness… and repay you with endless inspiration."
Kaishi nodded once and turned on his heel. The acolyte didn't try to stop him.
He could tell he shouldn't.
***
9:47 a.m.
A short walk along the upper levels brought Kaishi to a self-service lift—restricted to mages and Progenitors.
If that really was just chance… maybe I should've ridden down with Sato. I've got a bad feeling.
He pressed his tongue to his upper teeth, a habit when he was thinking—and when he was irritated.
The lift descended into its marked zone, and stepping off flowed naturally into a steady walk.
Down here, buildings—at least on the lower level—often had patches of missing plaster. Most doors were battered, or at the very least poorly maintained. The cobblestones were full of gaps and dips that didn't invite leisurely strolls, much less carriage rides.
Tap.
Tap…
He stopped before a building.
A sign above the door read:
Orphanage of the Spirit of Knowledge.
It held him still for a long beat. His chest rose a little higher than usual. Then, on the exhale, he crossed the threshold.
Inside: holes in the floor half-boarded over.
And, in the very same corridor, walls painted beautifully—bright, careful work trying to outshine neglect.
Kaishi's stride didn't falter. He moved like he remembered every inch. Passing an open room on the right, he lifted a hand in greeting without turning his head—like someone had been there all along. Or like he was telling them not to stand.
On the left, the staircase was tucked just after a bend at a split in the corridor. That wasn't a surprise either. He took the steps lightly.
The higher he climbed, the more children's laughter drowned out the creak of wood.
At the top, someone appeared in the hallway—a woman stepping out from a nearby room. Middle-aged, dressed in navy robes with white accents, similar to the temple acolytes.
"Kaishi," she said with a smile. "You're early today."
"I've got an afternoon art critique to attend," he replied, reaching her and hugging her like an old friend. "Good to see you, Mia."
"You too. Always," she said softly. "I'll call the kids."
She ducked back into the room she'd just left.
While she did, Kaishi headed into a room deeper on the opposite side of the hall.
The floorboards here were spotless. The windows were so clean you could see yourself in them—though there was no need, not with the massive mirror covering one wall.
A racket of small feet thundered down the corridor.
Kaishi hung his jacket over the back of a chair.
A heartbeat later, five kids burst into the room—different heights, different ages, all moving like a storm.
There they are.
"Kaishi!" they shouted—almost in unison, or maybe just in the same wild joy—throwing themselves at him.
He did his best to hide it.
He still couldn't quite keep the warmth out of his face.
"You practiced?" he asked.
"Yes!" they chorused.
"Homura didn't!" one of the younger ones blurted, and Homura's face fell, his head dropping.
Kaishi crouched in front of him.
"Is that true, Homura?"
The boy hesitated, avoiding Kaishi's eyes.
"Because I kept messing up," he mumbled, holding back tears. "I kept falling."
Kaishi set a hand on his shoulder and tried to catch his lowered gaze with his own.
"That's why we practice," he said gently. "We practice until it starts to work. And when it works—then we practice to make sure it wasn't luck."
Homura looked up, wiping at his face.
"Kaishi… did you practice a lot?"
"I did. I still do," Kaishi said. "And even if I trip and fall, it's not the end of the world. Next time I'll know what to watch out for."
Homura took a deep breath.
Kaishi continued, voice steady.
"If something matters to you…" He tapped Homura lightly near the heart. "Then give it everything you've got—no matter what."
He paused, inhaled slowly.
"Even when the fire goes out…"
"…our passion keeps the embers alive," the kids finished together—Homura included.
Kaishi rose with a soft smile and patted
Homura's shoulder.
"Then show me that fire," he said, stepping back.
He began clapping in rhythm, humming a melody he knew by heart.
The group moved like one organism. For how young they were, their expressions carried a strange seriousness—eyes fixed somewhere far away. All that remained was focus.
Swing after swing.
Step after step.
A turn—
—and a fall.
Homura lay on the floor, staring up at Kaishi with resignation. Kaishi's attention stayed on the rest of the group, still moving, still stamping the rhythm into the room—like their footfalls were percussion for his humming.
You can do it.
Homura pressed his lips together, popped back up with a quick motion, and caught the next beat.
Kaishi nodded slowly—without looking away from the group.
***
11:32 a.m.
"How many times do I have to tell you to quit it?" the caretaker scolded, pressing a cup of water into Kaishi's hand. "Stop fussing."
"Only the entryway floor's left," Kaishi said with a grateful nod. "After that, I'll order new doors."
The collar of his shirt was soaked through with sweat.
"Vashara, stay my hand," she muttered, rolling her eyes upward. "For I'm about to smack him for that stubbornness."
"She's been stopping you for years, Mia," Kaishi laughed.
"And you've been just as stubborn for just as long."
A brief pause let the sounds of children in the hallway swell.
"So?" Mia asked, eyes narrowing. "What about your problem? You seem absent."
"You always tell me that when I come here," Kaishi said, finishing the water.
"You know what I mean."
Kaishi drew a deep breath.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't want a repeat."
"A repeat of what?" Mia's tone sharpened.
"Sato," Kaishi said. "They moved him west this morning. At the Order's request."
He adjusted his hair as if wiping away tension.
"And if it isn't a coincidence… she must've learned my name…" He swallowed. "She pulled out more than she should've. In a few hours."
"Then why are you hesitating?" Mia asked. "Why not go to her right away?"
"Because I wanted to see you first," Kaishi said quietly. "In case something goes wrong."
"Don't say that."
"She's like a wildfire," he said. "Chasing emotional highs like it's oxygen."
Mia squinted at him.
"Then prove it," she said. "Prove that when it burns out… the embers still glow. Even if someone has to save them."
Kaishi's mouth lifted despite himself. He shook his head—amused, and a little helpless.
***
11:58 a.m.
The Tendan Museum of Art cast a long shadow over the central district square where Kaishi stopped.
A plaque near the staircase advertised Nero's exhibition as the city's must-see attraction—the talk of the season.
Well-dressed guests drifted in and out, clearing their throats, projecting their voices, performing refinement over the murmur of the crowd.
Louder. I can barely hear you from down here.
He didn't know if Nero would even be inside.
But he did know the next step would bring him closer.
And every passing second felt like a blade at someone else's throat.
So with that hope, he placed his foot on the first stair.
Tap…