A world where she lives

The wind was stronger than usual.

It howled as it rolled through the mountain pass, carrying the scent of pine, stone, and cold earth. Clouds crawled slowly across the sky, blotting out the warmth of the sun. The cliff where Saikyou Enma sat looked over a sea of green trees and rolling hills, stretching far beyond the borders of his small, suffocating world.

It was his escape.

Every day he came here. Every day he watched the horizon and dreamed of disappearing into it.

And today… today he didn’t plan to return.

The torn grimoire sat beside him, its pages fluttering with the wind like it, too, was trying to leave. He held it in one hand, staring out into the mist that hugged the lower cliffs.

“I wonder…” Saikyou whispered. “If I fall… would the world notice?”

His voice vanished into the wind.

He stood up.

The breeze caught his hair, lifting the dark strands gently. His feet were close to the edge now. One step—just one—would be enough.

It didn’t feel sad. It didn’t feel dramatic. Just… quiet. Tired.

His foot shifted.

“Stop.”

The voice came soft, but clear. It rang louder than the wind.

He froze.

A hand grabbed his wrist. Not rough, not forceful—just there. Warm.

He turned his head slowly.

There she was.

A girl, maybe his age—perhaps younger, perhaps older by a few days or hours. It didn’t matter. What mattered was the way the sunlight found her through the clouds.

Her hair was a waterfall of shimmering sapphire, gently pushed back by the wind. Her eyes—also sapphire—held a strange kindness, but also something deeper… like she knew what he was about to do.

She smiled. Not wide. Not pitying. Just… genuinely.

“I’ve been watching you come up here every day,” she said softly. “Today felt different. So I followed.”

He blinked, unsure if she was real.

“Who are you?” he asked, voice raw.

She tilted her head, still smiling. “Someone who doesn't want to see you vanish.”

Saikyou’s throat tightened. He looked back at the horizon, then down the cliff. The moment had passed. His feet stepped back.

He sat down, slowly. The girl sat beside him, her presence warm even in the cold wind.

For a long time, neither spoke.

Then she said, “Do you want to talk about it?”

He gave a dry laugh. “Would you even believe me?”

“Try me.”

He looked at her again. She wasn’t just beautiful—she was real. The kind of real that made pain and warmth feel sharper. Someone who didn’t belong in a world like his.

“…My name is Saikyou,” he said.

“I know,” she replied, softly. “Saikyou Enma. The forgotten genius. The boy with the empty grimoire.”

That stung more than he expected. But she didn’t say it cruelly. She said it like a truth that didn’t need hiding.

“How do you know that?” he asked.

“I listen. I ask questions. And I read… people.”

He glanced at the torn book beside him. “Well, mine’s pretty blank.”

“Blank pages mean there's still room to write.”

He looked at her again. Her sapphire eyes didn’t waver. They were full of conviction. Strange. Why would a stranger care?

“You’re weird,” he murmured.

“I’ve been told that,” she replied cheerfully. “But weird’s more fun.”

A small laugh escaped him. The first in what felt like years.

She stood up, brushing off her skirt. The wind tugged at her hair, but she didn’t mind.

“I’ll be here tomorrow,” she said. “Same time.”

“Why?”

“Because I think you’re worth saving.”

She turned and walked away, leaving him stunned on the edge.

He sat there long after she left, the wind whispering secrets he couldn’t quite hear. He didn’t step toward the cliff again. Instead, he picked up the grimoire.

He opened it.

Still blank.

But tonight… it didn’t feel empty.

The days bled together in a haze.

It was strange. Before Sora Hoshizora had appeared, every day had been filled with the same emptiness—long, silent stretches of time with nothing but the wind to keep him company. But now, every morning, a quiet anticipation hung in the air.

Saikyou didn't know why he kept coming back to the cliff. It wasn't as if he was hoping to see her again. It wasn't like he believed in fate. Or at least, he didn't used to.

But there she was. Every day, at the same time.

She came quietly, like the wind itself. And every time, she simply sat beside him, never asking anything more than what he was willing to give. No questions about his past. No pity. No false optimism. Just a calm, unspoken understanding that he didn’t quite know how to return. Not yet.

It had been a week since he had stood at the edge of the cliff, the wind pulling at his body, and she had stopped him. He still wasn’t sure what had made him take that step back from the ledge. Her words? Her presence? Or just the raw fact that someone—someone who had no obligation to—wanted him to stay.

Each time she came, she didn't force him to talk. They would sit together, side by side, under the open sky, just listening to the wind. The silence wasn’t oppressive. It was oddly peaceful, like the weight of the world had been momentarily lifted from his shoulders.

But today was different.

He didn’t wait for her to appear. He had been there already, sitting on the edge of the cliff, looking down at the distant trees and rocks below. The air was warmer today, a soft breeze carrying the smell of the forest up to him. The grimoire rested beside him, still blank.

He turned the pages again, hoping for something new, but the book offered him nothing. It was always the same—empty, broken.

“Why did I even bother?” he muttered to himself.

He had been thinking about it for days, his mind a spiral of thoughts that never seemed to end. Was this his life? Was this all he was destined to be—just a forgotten genius with a broken past? His family's name had long since fallen into obscurity, his grimoire nothing more than a memento of failure.

But then…

She’ll be here soon.

The thought came unbidden. And for the first time, it didn’t feel like an inconvenience. It didn’t feel like something that would annoy him.

No.

He looked out at the horizon, waiting.

And sure enough, there she was. Sora Hoshizora, walking toward him, her sapphire hair catching the sunlight. She didn’t need to say anything. Just her presence made everything feel a little lighter.

She sat beside him, exactly where she always did, and for a while, neither of them spoke. But it wasn’t awkward. It was just the quiet that filled the space between them.

Eventually, Saikyou broke the silence. “Why do you keep coming back?”

Sora’s eyes shifted to him, her expression gentle. “Because I want to.”

That was it. Simple, honest. No hidden meaning. Just… because she wanted to.

Saikyou swallowed hard. Her answer was too pure. Too straightforward. It made something in him ache.

“Why me?” he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it.

Sora turned to look at him, her eyes full of a peace he couldn’t quite understand. “Because I see you,” she said softly. “I see who you could be. Not who you were. Not who they say you are. But who you can become.”

Her words hung in the air between them, like an invitation.

He felt his chest tighten, the pressure of her gaze making him want to shrink away. He didn’t deserve her kindness. He didn’t deserve anyone’s kindness.

But she didn’t look away. She didn’t flinch. She just waited. Silent. Patient.

For a moment, he felt the walls he had spent years building around himself crumble just a little. He didn’t know how to handle it. Didn’t know how to handle her.

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve learned… it’s all been for nothing.”

Sora shook her head, slowly. “No. It hasn’t been for nothing. You just haven’t found the right path yet.”

He looked at her, unsure. “You think I can find it?”

She smiled softly. “I think you’re already walking it. One step at a time.”

The silence returned, but this time it wasn’t heavy. It wasn’t suffocating. It was something else—a shared moment, a quiet understanding. Saikyou didn’t know why, but he suddenly felt… lighter.

And for the first time in a long while, the empty grimoire didn’t feel so hopeless.

Saikyou could feel it, even as he sat at the edge of the cliff, staring at the vast expanse of trees below. His heart felt heavier than usual, the weight of his own thoughts pressing down on him like a stormcloud. But today, it was different. His mind, for the first time in a long while, seemed clearer. It wasn’t peace—he wasn’t at peace—but something had started to change.

Sora Hoshizora had said something to him yesterday that kept replaying in his mind like a broken record. The words didn’t seem important at the time, but now, he couldn’t shake them.

“You just haven’t found the right path yet.”

He looked down at the grimoire in his hands. It was still as empty as it had always been. He didn’t even know if it could ever be anything more than blank pages. The family’s legacy—the power he had inherited—had always been something he could never truly tap into. The magic he wielded was weak, insignificant, while the swordsmanship of others reigned supreme in a world that didn’t value magic.

But what if… what if there was something more to his path?

His mind drifted back to Sora’s smile, her words like a flickering light in the distance.

"I think you’re already walking it. One step at a time."

He wasn’t sure what to make of that. But something in him stirred. Maybe, just maybe, he had been looking at this all wrong. Maybe he didn’t need to walk a path like everyone else. Maybe… he just needed to start walking, even if it was a path no one else understood.

As he sat, deep in thought, he felt a presence beside him.

“Did you come to stop me again?” he asked without looking up.

“No,” Sora replied, her voice full of calm certainty. “I came because you might be ready to stop yourself.”

That was new. He looked at her, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was staring at the horizon, her eyes lost in the view, as though she could see something he couldn’t.

“Ready to stop myself?” he repeated. “What does that mean?”

She finally turned her gaze to him. Her sapphire eyes were filled with an understanding that made his throat tighten. “You’ve been running away from yourself. From everything. And every day, you come here, hoping to forget. But I don’t think you really want to forget. You just don’t know how to move forward.”

Saikyou stared at her, the words sinking deep into him.

“Sometimes,” Sora continued, “the hardest part isn’t making a decision. It’s choosing to take that first step. You don’t have to have it all figured out. No one does. But you do have to try.”

Her words were simple, but they were like a thread pulling at the deepest part of him, the part that had been buried beneath layers of apathy and despair. He had never thought about it like that. All this time, he had been waiting for something to change, for some grand moment of clarity to make everything clear. But maybe the change he needed wasn’t some grand revelation. Maybe it was as simple as choosing to move forward, one step at a time.

“I’m not a hero,” he said softly, almost to himself. “I’m not someone who changes the world.”

Sora smiled, but it wasn’t condescending. It was gentle, like the first light of morning. “Who said you had to be a hero? You’re Saikyou Enma. And that’s enough. You don’t need to save the world to make it better. But you do need to save yourself first.”

Saikyou swallowed, the weight of her words sinking in like a stone. His fingers clenched around the grimoire, but this time, it didn’t feel like a symbol of failure. It felt like a tool—an incomplete one, perhaps, but one that still had purpose. He wasn’t sure what his path was yet. He wasn’t sure if he could ever change the world, but maybe Sora was right. Maybe he didn’t need to be perfect. Maybe he just needed to try.

He looked at her, feeling a strange warmth in his chest. “You make it sound so easy,” he muttered.

“It’s not easy,” she said, standing up. “But nothing worth doing ever is.”

With that, she began walking away. But before she disappeared behind the trees, she stopped and turned back to him.

“Remember, Saikyou. You can’t change the past, but you can change how you move forward.”

Her words lingered in the air long after she had gone.

Saikyou remained sitting on the cliff, the grimoire resting gently in his hands. The wind picked up again, but this time, it didn’t feel so cold. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel like he was just waiting for something to happen.

He wasn’t sure where this path would lead. He wasn’t even sure if he would take the first step tomorrow. But today, for the first time, he thought he could.

Maybe tomorrow he would start. Maybe he wouldn’t. But, just maybe, the journey would begin when he stopped waiting for it to begin.

The cliff was quieter today.

The wind brushed past Saikyou Enma’s face as he stared into the horizon, the usual comfort of the morning silence now tainted by something heavier. Sora hadn’t said anything strange when she arrived—she simply sat beside him, as she always did.

But her silence wasn’t peaceful this time. It was... final.

“You’re quiet,” Saikyou said, though his voice lacked energy. “Usually, you won’t shut up about how bright the future is.”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ve been accepted into Eiyuu Academy.”

His heart stopped for a moment. He looked at her, his mouth parting, but the words didn’t come out.

“It’s in the Central Kingdom,” she continued, eyes still on the view. “They noticed my grades and my... bloodline.”

Saikyou said nothing. The wind seemed louder now.

“I leave tomorrow.”

There it was.

The blow he hadn’t expected.

The one thing that had started to matter again in his life—was leaving.

“Congratulations,” he finally said, his voice bitter even to his own ears.

Sora turned to look at him, her sapphire eyes soft. “Enma…”

“I get it,” he interrupted, forcing a small smile. “You’re special. You always were. I knew you wouldn’t stay here forever.”

She looked at him with a mix of pain and affection. “You were special too.”

“Was I?” he chuckled dryly. “Tell that to the grimoire that refuses to show me a single spell. Or to the family that barely remembers I exist.”

Sora’s smile faded. “That’s not what defines you. I told you before—”

“Yeah. I know. ‘You haven’t found the right path yet.’ But maybe I’m just walking in circles. Maybe the path leads nowhere.”

She stepped closer, taking his hand. “Then walk in circles. Walk until your legs break if you have to. But don’t stop.”

He looked away. “It’ll be harder without you.”

“I’ll write.”

“You won’t.”

Sora bit her lip. Her silence was the answer.

And that silence hurt more than anything.

He pulled his hand away slowly, staring down at the torn, empty grimoire. “I was just starting to believe again,” he whispered.

She reached into her coat and pulled something out—a small, blue ribbon. “Then believe in this. Tie it to your grimoire. Or your wrist. Just don’t forget that someone saw value in you.”

He didn’t respond. He just took it quietly, staring at the ribbon in his palm.

And then, she left.

Just like that.

The cliff felt emptier than ever before.

That night, Enma didn’t go straight home. He wandered.

The streets were too loud. The sky too quiet. The people too far.

His thoughts spiraled. What did she see in him? Was it pity? Hope? Or something else?

At home, his mother greeted him like always—soft, tired, and gentle. But even her warmth couldn’t fill the silence in his chest.

The days that followed blurred. He returned to the cliff every morning, but Sora never came.

And that’s when they approached him.

A man in black robes. Pale skin. A calm voice like dripping poison.

“You were close to the girl from the Central Kingdom, weren’t you?”

Enma froze. “Who’s asking?”

The man grinned. “A friend. One who knows how easily people forget those left behind.”

“What do you want?”

“Nothing,” the man lied. “Just to remind you that people like her... they move on. They forget the broken. The weak.”

Enma said nothing.

“But not everyone forgets,” the man continued. “Some of us see potential. Even in blank grimoires.”

His eyes widened. “What did you say?”

The man’s grin deepened. “You were just reading it wrong. Magic like yours doesn’t respond to effort or emotion. It responds to loss.”

Enma’s heart thudded. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ll understand soon,” the man said, turning away. “You’ve already begun walking your path. You just don’t know where it leads.”

And then he was gone.

Just like her.

Back on the cliff the next morning, Saikyou tied the blue ribbon to his grimoire.

His heart ached. His mind boiled. But something inside him cracked open.

Not from hope.

But from something darker.

Resolve.

He would walk this path, even if he had to crawl. Even if it meant losing what was left of him.

Sora was gone.

But Saikyou Enma?

He was still here.

And now, he would stop waiting to be saved.