The Petal Of Fear

“—esa, stop!”

Aki’s voice cracked as she finished the shout. Her hand shot out as if she could grab him from where she stood, but Shizukesa had already taken another step forward.

The corrupted beast’s head snapped towards him. Its hollow eyes fixed on his still figure, drawn to something in him that even he did not understand. Its body shuddered, limbs bending at angles that were wrong in every way, the dark emotional smoke around it thickening like a storm cloud.

“Shizukesa, get back,” Rin warned, sword raised. “You are too close.”

He heard them.

He understood the words.

But his legs did not move.

The world narrowed. The shouting around him faded into muffled echoes. The only sounds that reached him clearly were the uneven drag of the beast’s breath and his own heartbeat thudding against his ribs.

He did not feel afraid.

He told himself that.

Yet his chest felt tight, his fingers tingled, and there was a strange weight pressing down on his lungs, as if the air itself had grown heavier.

The beast screeched and hurled itself at him.

“Shizukesa!” three voices called at once.

The world tilted.

He did not decide to move. His body simply shifted. His foot slid back and to the side in one smooth step. His upper body dipped. The creature’s claws tore through the space where his chest had been a heartbeat earlier.

Wind rushed past his face.

He straightened before he fully understood what he had done.

Behind him, the beast skidded across the torn grass, half-turning, black smoke spraying in wild arcs.

A single black petal floated down through the air.

It drifted past Shizukesa’s cheek, turning lazily as it fell, so dark it was almost swallowing the light around it. For one impossible moment, it seemed to hang between him and the world, the only clear thing in a haze of noise and motion.

Aki stared, eyes wide. “He… he bloomed again.”

Mira’s breath caught. “Fear,” she whispered. “That is fear.”

Rin did not have time to respond. The beast lunged again, this time at him.

He met it head-on.

Rin stepped in, both hands on the hilt of his wooden sword, and brought it round in a harsh, clean arc. The strike connected with the creature’s side, the impact ringing out across the field. The beast was forced off course, stumbling to the left.

Mira pressed her palm more firmly to the ground. The air trembled faintly as she sent a calming wave across the immediate area, pressing down the wild emotional flux. The beast’s movements faltered, its limbs stuttering for a fraction of a second.

Aki raised both hands, Ember energy gathering around her fingers. Her aura sparked in an unstable halo, like a fire threatening to burn out of control.

“Come on, come on, just this once,” she muttered. “Work with me.”

She thrust her arms forward and a concentrated burst of force flew from her palms, slamming into the creature’s chest. It staggered back, snarling, parts of its form flickering as if barely holding together.

The nearby students had scattered by now, some hiding behind pillars, others being pulled away by teachers. A few watched in horrified silence, glued to the sight of three first-years and one emotionless boy standing between them and a monster.

Shizukesa barely registered any of it.

His heart pounded too loudly in his ears.

He looked down at his hand.

It was shaking.

A second black petal shimmered into existence above his knuckles, just long enough for him to see it, before it broke apart into dust.

I am afraid, he realised.

The thought did not come with shame or surprise. It arrived like a simple observation. The feeling itself was less simple. His chest felt cold and tight, his muscles tense and buzzing. The world seemed too sharp in some places and blurred in others.

“Shizukesa, stay back,” Mira said, her voice calm but firm. “Your emotions are disturbing it. It is reacting to you.”

He looked at the beast again. Its hollow gaze kept sliding past the others to find him, drawn like a moth to a flame that should not exist.

Rin moved to stand more squarely between them, feet firm in the torn grass.

“You will not touch him again,” he said.

The beast screeched in reply and charged.

This time it gave everything it had. Smoke tore from its limbs as it sprinted, leaving streaks of darkness in the air. Its body twitched and rearranged itself mid-run, bones reforming in a way that should not have been possible. It lowered its head, jagged teeth bared.

Rin did not flinch.

He stepped forward to meet it, sword sweeping up.

For a moment, its claws were all Shizukesa could see.

Then a blinding flare of light exploded from the edge of the field.

A huge wave of stabilising energy slammed into the creature from the side, blasting it off course. The same force washed over the students, spreading like a shockwave of cold water. Emotional pressure eased in an instant. Shizukesa gasped as the tightness in his chest loosened.

The beast hit the ground and writhed.

A senior instructor strode into view, robes flaring behind him. In his hand he held a compact restraining device, its centre glowing with an intense blue-white core.

“Everyone back,” he commanded, voice carrying across the field.

Rin stepped away from the creature, lowering his sword. Aki dropped to her knees, exhausted. Mira exhaled slowly and withdrew her hand from the grass. Shizukesa stood frozen.

The instructor pressed a series of symbols on the device. Threads of light burst out and wrapped around the beast, binding its limbs, then its torso, then its head, until it was cocooned in a shimmering net. The swirling dark emotions around it dimmed, then vanished entirely.

The beast slumped with a final twitch.

“Containment complete,” the instructor announced. He turned, scanning the courtyard with a severe gaze. “Who engaged it without orders?”

Silence.

Aki raised her hand in a tiny, terrified gesture. “We… did. I mean we did not mean to. It just… it went for the others and…”

Rin stepped forward, expression controlled. “It was going to reach the unarmed students. We intervened to hold it off until staff could arrive.”

The instructor looked from Rin, to Aki, to Mira, and finally to Shizukesa. His brows furrowed.

“And what exactly were you doing, Hana?” he asked.

Shizukesa swallowed. “I… moved. It attacked. I did not plan anything.”

“He manifested a black petal,” Mira said quietly. “Twice.”

The instructor’s eyes sharpened. “A petal?”

Shizukesa could feel his gaze like a weight.

“I did not intend to,” he said softly.

“That is what worries us,” the instructor replied.

He gestured to a second teacher who had just arrived. “Escort them to the infirmary. All four. Full assessment. I will report this to the headmaster.”

Aki whispered, “We are in so much trouble.”

Rin muttered, “It could be worse.”

“How?” Aki hissed.

“They could expel us on the spot,” he replied.

Mira placed a hand on Shizukesa’s arm. “Come on. We should go.”

Shizukesa let her guide him. His legs moved on command, but a part of him still felt suspended in that moment when the beast had leapt, when fear had seized his chest and turned into a petal.

He wondered how many more petals were locked inside him, waiting for the right emotion to break them free.

The infirmary was a long, bright room with white curtains sectioning off beds. The smell of antiseptic hung faintly in the air, mixed with something herbal and sweet. A nurse with a sharp fringe and even sharper expression directed them to sit on separate beds as she checked each of them in turn.

Rin had a shallow graze on his forearm where one of the beast’s flailing limbs had nicked him. He barely reacted as the nurse cleaned it, though Aki winced for him with exaggerated sympathy.

Aki herself had a bruised knee from when she dropped to the ground, and she kept insisting she was fine until the nurse glared at her into silence. Mira was uninjured, though the nurse performed an emotional stability check on her anyway, asking her to breathe and follow a pulse-light device with her eyes.

Then the nurse moved to Shizukesa.

She pressed two fingers to the inside of his wrist. “Pulse is steady.”

She checked his eyes with a small light. “No dilation issues.”

She placed a bit of cold metal against the side of his neck. “Breathing even.”

Her expression tightened.

“Your body does not show any signs of emotional distress,” she said. “Not even heightened adrenaline.”

Rin raised an eyebrow. “After nearly being mauled? How?”

Aki leaned in. “Is he… immune?”

Mira shook her head gently. “No. I felt his emotional wavelength. It spiked. He did feel something.”

Shizukesa looked at her. “I did not… it did not feel like fear.”

“Fear does not always scream,” Mira replied. “Sometimes it whispers.”

The nurse studied Shizukesa for a moment longer, then stepped away to speak quietly with the instructor who had escorted them. Their conversation was hushed, but Shizukesa could still make out several phrases.

“…unusual blooming pattern…”
“…Prism classification may be insufficient…”
“…report to administration immediately…”

He lowered his gaze to his hands.

They were perfectly still.

Too still.

Rin sat on the bed beside him after the nurse left. “You know,” Rin said, pretending to sound casual, “most people would be shaking after that. Or crying. Or screaming. Or… something.”

Shizukesa nodded slowly. “I do not know how to respond.”

Rin scratched his cheek. “Well… at least your dodging was good.”

Aki jumped in. “It was brilliant, actually. You were like whoosh—” She flung her arm sideways in a dramatic arc. “—and then the beast was like aaaargh—”

“Aki,” Rin sighed.

“What? I am explaining artistically.”

Mira smiled faintly, then turned to Shizukesa. “You did move perfectly. Almost as if something inside you knew what was coming before you did.”

Shizukesa thought about the moment before he dodged. The pressure in his chest. The hollow sharpness. The way the world had narrowed into a single instinct.

“It felt like I was watching myself from outside,” he said quietly. “As if my body moved on its own.”

Mira nodded. “That was your fear. A natural reflex, guided by emotion instead of conscious choice.”

Aki blinked. “So even though he felt nothing, he… felt something?”

“Not quite nothing,” Mira said. “He felt the echo. Not the full emotion. Just the part that protects.”

Shizukesa stared at his hands again.

Fear.
So that was what it was.

He tried to recall the sensation, the coldness, the tightness, the pressure under his ribs. It was faint now, fading like the last note of a distant bell.

“What if it happens again?” he asked.

“It will,” Mira said softly. “And that is not a bad thing.”

The infirmary door slid open.

Instructor Kurobane entered.

His eyes fell immediately on Shizukesa.

Aki sat up straight. Rin tensed. Mira lowered her gaze respectfully.

Kurobane approached Shizukesa’s bed, clipboard in hand.

“Hana Shizukesa,” he said, his tone cool but not cruel. “I have been informed of your… manifestation.”

Shizukesa nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Two black petals,” Kurobane said. “Uncontrolled. Triggered by instinct. That is highly irregular.”

Rin muttered under his breath, “Everything about him is irregular.”

Kurobane ignored him.

He looked at Shizukesa directly. “Your condition requires further assessment. You will report to the Resonance Observation Room tomorrow after classes. Do not be late.”

Shizukesa nodded. “Understood.”

Kurobane turned to leave, then stopped at the door.

“You four demonstrated courage today,” he said without looking back. “Reckless courage. But courage nonetheless.”

Aki beamed.

Rin pretended not to smile.

Mira bowed her head in quiet gratitude.

Shizukesa simply blinked.

Kurobane left.

The room fell silent again.

Aki leaned back on her bed. “He… complimented us. Right? That was totally a compliment.”

“More or less,” Rin replied.

“Mostly less,” Aki said.

Mira turned to Shizukesa. “Are you tired?”

Shizukesa considered it. “I do not know.”

“Well, you look tired,” Aki said. “In your face.”

“That is just his face,” Rin replied.

Aki smacked Rin lightly. “Do not bully him.”

“I was not bullying him.”

“Mmm, you were.”

“I was stating a fact.”

Mira interrupted gently. “Let us go home. Today has been heavy for all of us.”

They were discharged shortly after. The walk through the courtyard was quiet, the air cool now that the sun had dipped behind the buildings.

Rin left first, heading towards the bus stop with his sword bag slung over one shoulder. He gave Shizukesa a short nod before turning away.

Aki darted off next, waving both arms as she yelled, “See you tomorrow! Do not bloom without us!”

Mira walked a little further with Shizukesa before stopping at a fork in the path. Her dormitory was to the left. His flat was straight ahead.

She paused.

“Shizukesa,” she said softly. “When you felt fear today, even if you did not recognise it… it saved your life.”

Shizukesa met her gaze. “I did not feel like myself.”

“You were yourself,” Mira said. “Just a part of yourself you have not met yet.”

She offered a small, encouraging smile.

“Let it come naturally.”

She walked away.

Shizukesa stood still for a moment, unsure why her words lingered the way they did.

Then he walked home.

Reika was waiting outside the flat, pacing back and forth with her arms folded and her eyebrows furrowed so tightly they nearly touched.

The moment she saw him, the furrow broke into relief so strong it almost hurt to look at.

“There you are!” she snapped. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting? I nearly marched into that school and dragged you out myself.”

Shizukesa lowered his head. “Sorry.”

Reika looked him over. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Did anything bite you?”

“No.”

“Did anything explode near you?”

Shizukesa hesitated. “Yes.”

Reika groaned into her hands. “Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.”

She grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him gently toward the door. “Inside. Now. You are explaining every detail.”

Shizukesa obeyed.

Inside the flat, Reika knelt in front of him, her expression fierce with worry.

“What happened?”

He told her everything.

The beast.
The fear.
The black petals.

Reika listened without interrupting. When he finished, she exhaled slowly.

“You are changing,” she said quietly.

Shizukesa stared at the floor. “Am I dangerous?”

Reika cupped his face with both hands. “You are my kid. That is all you are.”

Something warm bloomed inside him.
No petal.
Just warmth.

Reika stood. “Sit down. I am making dinner before anything else in you decides to wake up.”

Shizukesa sat.

Reika cooked.

The room softened.

For the first time that day, he felt safe.

But far across the street, on a rooftop swallowed in shadow, someone watched through a distorted visor.

A tall figure in a black coat.

Hana Kiyoshi.

Kurohana.

His hands trembled as he watched Shizukesa eat with Reika.

“Forgive me,” he whispered. “You are growing faster than I wanted.”

He stepped back into the darkness and disappeared.