Morning came with mist.
The forest felt softer than usual.
Quiet.
Like it was holding its breath.
Kengojo sat near the stream.
Barefoot.
Still.
Water moved gently over smooth stones.
Clear.
Cold.
Alive.
He dipped his fingers into it.
Pulled them out.
Watched droplets fall back down.
"…Everything moves."
He had noticed it more lately.
Not just water.
Not just wind.
Everything.
The trees.
The dirt.
The air.
Even silence had weight.
Daren's voice echoed in his memory.
"Everything has mana."
Kengojo looked at his hand.
Turned it slowly.
"…Then where is mine?"
No answer came.
Not in words.
So he closed his eyes.
At first—
Nothing.
Just the sound of the stream.
The wind brushing leaves.
A bird calling in the distance.
But he did not stop.
He focused deeper.
Past sound.
Past thought.
Past memory.
Then—
A warmth.
Faint.
Small.
Like a candle far away.
His fingers twitched.
The warmth moved.
Not outside.
Inside.
Kengojo's eyes snapped open.
The stick in his hand… cracked.
A soft snap.
He stared.
He hadn't squeezed.
Hadn't tried to break it.
Yet it split clean in two.
"…What was that?"
The air around him felt different now.
He reached toward the ground.
Slowly.
Carefully.
His fingers hovered above the dirt.
He focused again.
The warmth returned.
Stronger this time.
It moved from his chest—
To his arm—
To his hand—
And then—
A tiny spark.
The dirt beneath his fingers blackened.
A faint wisp of smoke curled upward.
Kengojo froze.
"…Fire?"
But there was no flame.
No heat burning him.
Only a mark.
A small, perfect burn.
He pulled his hand back quickly.
The warmth vanished.
Silence returned.
But something had changed.
He knew it.
He stayed there longer than usual.
Testing.
Repeating.
Trying to understand.
Sometimes nothing happened.
Sometimes—
The air shimmered.
Once—
The water rippled before he touched it.
Each time, the same feeling.
Warmth.
Movement.
Response.
Like the world was listening.
By the time he returned home, the sun had climbed high.
Mira stood outside, shaking a cloth clean.
"There you are."
She smiled.
"You're late."
Kengojo nodded slightly.
"…I was by the stream."
"You always are," she said lightly.
But she paused.
Looked closer.
"…Something happened."
It wasn't a question.
Kengojo hesitated.
"…I don't know."
She stepped closer.
Knelt slightly.
"What do you feel?"
He thought.
Carefully.
"…Warm."
"…Where?"
He placed a hand on his chest.
"…Here."
Mira's expression changed.
Subtle.
Serious.
"…Stay here."
She turned toward the cabin.
"Daren!"
Moments later, Daren stepped out.
Wiping his hands.
"What is it?"
Mira didn't answer.
She just nodded toward Kengojo.
Daren looked.
Waited.
"…Show me."
Kengojo swallowed.
He walked to the dirt near the house.
Raised his hand slowly.
Closed his eyes.
He reached for the warmth again.
It came faster this time.
Stronger.
It moved like something alive.
Down his arm.
Into his fingers.
The air around his hand trembled.
Then—
A small flash.
The ground burned.
Clear.
Visible.
Undeniable.
Silence.
No wind.
No birds.
Just three people standing still.
Mira covered her mouth.
Daren did not move.
"…Again."
Kengojo tried.
Nothing.
Again.
A flicker.
Again.
A weak spark.
Then it faded.
Kengojo lowered his hand.
Breathing slightly heavier.
"…It doesn't stay."
Daren stepped forward.
Knelt in front of him.
"…It will."
His voice was calm.
But firm.
"…That was mana."
Kengojo looked up.
"…Mine?"
"…Yes."
A pause.
"…Too early."
"…Is that bad?"
Daren shook his head slowly.
"…No."
Then his eyes hardened.
"…But it means we need to be careful."
Inside the cabin, the mood had changed.
Not fear.
Not panic.
Awareness.
Mira placed food on the table.
But her eyes stayed on Kengojo.
"…Will it hurt him?"
Daren shook his head.
"Not if controlled."
"…And if not?"
A pause.
"…Then the world will hurt him instead."
Kengojo sat quietly.
Listening.
Understanding more than they realized.
Mana.
Power.
Danger.
It did not scare him.
It felt…
Natural.
That night, the fire burned low.
Kengojo sat closer than usual.
Watching.
The flames moved slowly.
He focused.
Not forcing.
Not reaching.
Just… observing.
The warmth inside him answered.
The fire shifted.
Just slightly.
Leaning toward him.
Like it recognized something.
Kengojo's eyes widened.
"…It listens."
He reached out slowly.
The flame stretched.
Thin.
Curving.
Then snapped back to normal.
He pulled his hand away.
Heart beating faster.
Not from fear.
From realization.
Later, as he lay in bed, sleep didn't come quickly.
The ceiling looked the same.
But he was not.
Something had awakened.
Not fully.
Not yet.
But enough.
He raised his hand in the dark.
Focused again.
A faint glow formed around his fingers.
Soft.
Weak.
But real.
Kengojo stared at it.
Then whispered quietly—
"…I won't waste this."
Outside, the forest moved with the night.
Inside, the fire crackled gently.
And somewhere far beyond the world—
A god with mismatched eyes smiled.
"…There it is."