Chapter 22 - Fragility

Another week had passed since the elven elders met.
“That’s right. Feel the essence flow through your hands. Picture the water turning to ice.” Elith’s voice was calm but encouraging.

Alina stood at the edge of a lake, eyes closed, staff raised. Her blond hair fluttered slightly as ice lances shimmered into existence, fanning out to her left and right. When she opened her eyes, the dozen lances shot across the water, striking the far bank with sharp cracks.

“Excellent, Alina. That’s the fifth volley in quick succession.”

Alina exhaled, a mix of pride and disbelief. “I can’t believe I could only conjure one at a time a few weeks ago.”

“That’s because you never pushed yourself.”

“Yeah, that too. I was always more focused on non-elemental magic research.”

Come to think of it, Rovan was the one who encouraged me to go down the path of a researcher.

“That knowledge will not be wasted,” Elith said. “Travelling with Renji, you’ll find it more useful than you realise. He will need all the help he can in returning home.”

Alina’s chest tightened a little. Renji returning home… Her grip on the staff tightened. Why does that thought sting so much? I swore I’d help him. I meant it.

Elith’s tone softened, then sharpened again with purpose. “Now—let’s test your barriers. See if you can raise five at once.”

Alina groaned. “Four was hard enough. Do I really need five?”

“Need? Not strictly. But channelling larger flows of essence will open the path to more impressive spell-work, my dear. You’ll thank me later.” Elith’s lips curved in a knowing smirk.

Five at once…? My arms are already trembling. What if I fail? No—Renji wouldn’t hesitate. He’d grit his teeth and push through. So will I.

***

At the same time, elsewhere on Floor Forty.

Steel rang out across the training field.
Renji and Sorien were clashing with real blades this time, each strike augmented by physical enhancement magic. Stab, slash, parry—metal struck metal in a storm of movement. Sparks flew with every impact.

Renji’s eyes tracked Sorien’s shoulders, the way his weight shifted before each strike.

He favours his right foot when he presses—same as some instructors back in the SFG. If I can bait him into overcommitting…

He stepped in with a quick feint, but Sorien adjusted instantly, blade knocking Renji’s aside. Damn. No wasted movement. Reads me faster than I can adapt.

Aenura and Drevan watched from the side, the air humming faintly with the power the two combatants gave off.
“They’re well matched and disciplined,” Drevan observed. “It seems your healing magic won’t be needed today.”

“That is a good sign,” Aenura replied. “Still, I think it’s nearly time for the next phase. The girl as well.”

The sparring slowed. Sorien caught Renji’s last strike, twisted, and then both men lowered their blades.

Renji exhaled through his nose, sweat beading his brow. He’s testing me like a drill sergeant—no sympathy, no slack. Good. I need that.

“Well done, Renji. There is little more I can teach you. The rest will come with experience.”

“I had a good teacher,” Renji said, bowing slightly.

Sorien chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “Why so formal? You’ll make me feel old.”

***

Later that afternoon, when the day’s training was finished, Renji sat beneath a tall tree, watching deer-like creatures graze in the meadow. The quiet rustle of leaves was a rare peace. He took a long pull from his waterskin and heard soft footsteps approach.

Alina emerged, her staff tucked under one arm.
“Mind if I sit?”

“Please,” Renji said, shifting to make space.

She lowered herself beside him and placed a small cloth-wrapped bundle in his hands. “Here.”

Renji unwrapped it, revealing a neat stack of cookies. He raised a brow. “What’s this?”

“Made them earlier.”

He bit into one, eyes widening faintly. “They’re good.”

“I’m glad,” she said, smiling as she plucked one for herself. “Feels like it’s been a while since we’ve had a chance to just… talk.”

Renji gave a small nod. “Yeah. You’ve been with Elith, me with Sorien. Feels strange, not being side by side all the time.”

“Unlike when we were fighting through the dungeon floors,” she said softly, gaze lowering to the grass. “Those days were hard… but good too, in a way.”

Renji grunted quietly. “I guess.”

“Have you gotten used to magic yet?” she asked after a pause, brushing crumbs from her skirt.

“Somewhat. Once I understood the basics, everything started to fall into place. Somehow, I feel like I’m only scratching the surface.”

“This power you received from the Spirit—I think it’s irresponsible of him. He should at least have taught you how to use it after giving it to you.”

Renji smirked faintly. “I guess. Sorien mentioned that it’s not the same power he uses, but close. A lot of it is down to my visualisation of the magic essence. I’m getting the hang of it.”

“That’s good.” She offered a small, almost shy smile. “Elith’s training has been eye-opening. Tough, but… she’s shown me things I never imagined I could do.”

“Sounds like her,” he said, chewing another cookie.

A comfortable silence fell between them, the kind that felt less like distance and more like rest. The leaves whispered overhead, and for a moment, neither felt the need to break it.

“Hey, Renji?” Alina said finally.

“Yeah?” He glanced sideways at her.

She hesitated, fingers grasping the edges of her sleeves, before exhaling. “Do you miss your family?”

“Family?” He blinked, caught off guard by the question.

“Yeah, you said you had a family.”

Renji’s mouth curved into a humourless smile. “Family, huh? I guess you can call them that,” he answered in a low voice.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

He leaned back against the tree, eyes distant. “My ‘brothers’ in the military. My teammates. We’re close as brothers.” A soft exhale escaped him. “The closest thing I have to a family.”

Alina turned her head toward him, surprise flickering across her features. “What about a wife? Or children?”

Renji shook his head. “No wife, no children.”

Her curiosity sharpened. “A lover, then? Or a special someone waiting for you?” she pressed, her voice carrying a hint of excitement.

Renji raised an eyebrow. “Like a girlfriend?”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded, watching his face closely, searching for a reaction.

Renji stared at the cookies in his hand, his jaw tightening slightly.
Girlfriend…

***

Nine years ago, Shibuya, Tokyo

Renji leaned back in his chair as the waitress placed a plate of cookies and two cups of coffee on the table. Kyoko was seated across from him at their usual café in Shibuya. She had let her long hair down today—no ponytail.

“Say, Renji-kun,” Kyoko said, lowering her cup. “It’s been over half a year now. How do you like our university?”

“I have no complaints. Architecture is interesting. Why do you ask?”

Kyoko shook her head slightly. “No real reason. Just wondering.”

She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her right ear and shifted her gaze outside, beyond the window.

Her breathing is shallow, quicker than usual. Her face is slightly flushed. Elevated heart rate? Is she unwell?

“With your smarts, you could’ve gone to Todai,” she continued. “You even passed the exam, didn’t you?”

So she knew.

“We made a promise, didn’t we? To enter the same university.”

Renji observed Kyoko wringing her hands on the table.

Her hands look clammy despite the chilly weather. She’s anxious about something.

Kyoko bit her lip. “We were kids when we said that. Just starting to date. We didn’t understand what such a promise meant—for us, for our futures.”

“What do you mean? I’m happy we’re at the same university. That matters more to me than which university it is.”

“Renji-kun…” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”

He frowned. “For what? Is something wrong?”

“I think… we should break up,” Kyoko said in a low voice, her eyes apologetic.

So, she wasn’t sick after all.

***

“Renji?” Alina called out softly.

“Huh? Oh, sorry.” Renji’s thoughts snapped back to the present.

“You were lost in thought again. Sorry, did I touch on a sensitive topic?”

“Sensitive topic? Oh, not really.”

“Oh, I thought it was because I asked if you had a special someone waiting for you.”

Renji shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “Nope, no special someone.” He glanced at her. “What about you?”

“No one either. I spent most of my time studying magic. Magic theory, to be exact.”

“No one’s ever caught your eye at all? How old are you, anyway—twenty?”

“Nineteen. And… I can’t say no one ever piqued my interest.”

“I see. Just nothing came of it?”

“Not yet,” she said softly. Her gaze dropped to the bundle of cloth in his lap, fingers brushing absently at the grass. A faint smile began to tug at her lips, as if she hadn’t noticed it herself.

For a moment, neither spoke. The meadow’s quiet hum filled the silence.

Alina shifted closer, her shoulder brushing lightly against his arm.

Renji felt a weight settle against him. He turned his head—Alina’s face was close, her blond hair brushing his sleeve as she leaned into him, eyes closed.

Caught off guard, he stiffened. “Alina…?”

“Just let me stay like this for a little while,” she whispered.

Just let me have this selfish indulgence for now, Alina thought.

Renji hesitated. The soldier in him told him to pull back, to keep the line clear. But her warmth against his shoulder, unfamiliar though it was, wasn’t unwelcome.