Bar of air

The suite looked exactly as I'd left it a month ago—wide and spotless. Great for crowds, sure, but any other time it felt like one of those chips bags with more air than potatoes.

My handbag flew to the sofa, and I drifted toward the wardrobe. Most of my clothes were still at the estate, but I had enough here to go around. I was reaching for an outside outfit before I caught myself.

You've been here less than five minutes, girl, and already defaulting to distraction?

With a defeated sigh, I abandoned that idea, slipped into a bear pajama—yes, with hood and ears—and pulled out a mat. Once it was centered, I jotted a few lines in a notebook, set it in front of me, and sat cross-legged. Kneeling was for uptight people anyway.

With my breathing settling down, thoughts began to take shape.

Those olds scrolls from the estate were a goldmine—a shame I couldn't copy them. Beyond the Yokai insight and Munakata traditions, they built on what you'd taught me, mapping the next steps for training my powers.

And just like that, I was back to independent learning—all the resources at my fingers, no one around to show me how to use them.

The ancient notes said that after the first month, you could start pushing your magic output—with care. Screaming it in big letters—well, kanji—the scroll warned: stay alert, know your mind, don't lose sight of yourself. Poetic enough to sound like a self-help book.

First step: make a list of what mattered most to you. Stuff you loved. Stuff that made you… you. Keep it close.

Next, increase your magic use slowly over the next few days. If any stray, out of character thoughts slipped in—likes you didn't actually have, attitudes that felt wrong—that was the cue to dial back and refocus on the list.

If something on the list started feeling… off, that was the danger sign. Stop. Go reconnect with it—person, food, place, whatever. Remind yourself why it mattered, why it was part of you.

As long as nothing was out of place, you kept going. Steady. Slow. Mindful.

Day 1 was a breeze. Nothing weird, progress rolling like a snowball down a mountain. My goal was to sharpen my intimidation game with better gun illusions—but somehow, by the end of the day, I was staring at a full-on tank.

Well… tank. More like a perfectly scaled toy. It couldn't even roll two inches because I don't actually know how a motor works. Apparently illusions care about physics now.

Totally useless as a bluff, too over the top.

Skill-wise? Huge win.

Day 2 hit differently. By noon, my head felt like a dozen radios tuned to different stations. The thoughts did belong to me, even if I wished they didn't. It was mainly the awkward, gnawing tension between the two of us. The way I'd walked out without a word, and that bitter, sinking fact that we were heading for a goodbye that might last forever.

Nope, not dealing with that today.

Freezing water worked wonders on the intrusive thoughts—trick I learned two days ago. Then I headed out before the mood could sink its claws any deeper. At the pool, I did a few lazy laps. Easy on the body. Tomorrow was gym day, and even if magic training had gone sideways after that Reiji disaster, the gym routine we'd started was hanging on by stubborn habit.

After enough laps to feel like a mermaid, my feet carried me toward the office of that worldwide organization with the red sign. The clerk recognized me instantly—her smile flared like we were old friends—and handed me the form without me even asking. A flutter sparked in my chest as the words took shape under the pen. Signing the donation kicked it up another notch. Her warm thanks? They placed a coiled spring under each of my feet—the kind that makes you want to skip like a kid. Mature me kept it together, under control.

Only until I stepped outside.

My feet barely touched the ground during the next few minutes. Pavement might as well have been a trampoline. Doing something good just… resets the day. I was so free of negativity I forgot why I'd gone out in the first place. Aimless wandering replaced all thoughts of magic training.

It had been a while since my last charity stint—back when you were still in the hospital. I didn't just spend that time drinking, I swear. That week turned out to be quite productive: dropped off some of my best clothes because people needed them more; helped a group of elders run errands; even did community service.

Cleanup day was the most fun one. Watching streets that some hooligans had thrashed slowly turn spotless under everyone's hands felt… fulfilling. Like charging a battery you didn't know was dead. Part of me had almost wished bad guys would cause mayhem more often, just to have days like that again.

Anyway, drifting aside, let's return back to the present. While walking around feeling like a glowing saint, a familiar group spotted me—guys and gals from some hangout weeks ago.

"Isn't that Avery? Hi there, girl, how are things?"

"Oh hey, it's… hi, hi, guys!" The names were long gone from my brain, but their faces clicked. Friendly. Easy to be around. The kind of people who greeted you like you belonged.

They were headed to a bowling alley and invited me over. Poor souls—they had no idea what they'd dragged along.

They realized their mistake pretty soon though.

"Another strike? Gee, Avery, leave some luck for the rest of us."

"Don't share any. Destroy them. No mercy."

"You only say that because she's propping up you girls' score, ha!"

Like a queen reclaiming her throne, I settled onto my seat and swirled my wine glass—it was my only drink for the day, I promise.

"How are you so good at everything? Last time we played volleyball and you carried the whole team. You some kind of secret pro?

"Nah." My answer stayed vague. "I'm decent at a lot, but never truly good at anything."

We kept chatting, sipping, laughing, while I knocked down strike after spare, occasionally leaving a lonely pin or two. Only the one bowling fanatic in the group managed to keep pace.

Until…

"So what do you do for a living? Work somewhere? Studying?"

"Not really… I'm more of a free spirit."

"What does that even mean? Ha ha!"

"Then what do you do all day? Don't tell me you're just campin' sport venues to bully us."

My hands fidgeted a bit. "Well… I help with an investigation of sorts."

"You mean like detective stuff?" One of the girls asked.

"Kinda."

"For real? That's so cool! Are you close to solving it?"

"Uh… Oh, look, my turn."

Grabbing the ball, it felt heavier as someone whispered behind me, "Maybe she's having trouble at work."

The throw was clean, but weak, scattering most of the pins—except the dreaded 7-10.

Dagnabbit.

"Unlucky, Avery."

"Well, nothing to do," I said, shrugging. "Pick one and give up on the spare."

"Ehh? Don't be like that," a girl said. "Do the crazy trickshot! Hit one pin into the other!"

"That's impossible outside movies," said one of the guys. "She'd be sabotaging herself."

"No! Don't give up on a little hardship. Go for it!"

"She's been hooked on this anime about muscled fighters who never give up," someone snorted.

"I know that one," the girl's boyfriend said. "It's the coolest thing ever. Don't give up, Avery!" He started clapping. "You can do it!"

The girl joined, cheering like I was in a championship. They were such dorks, which made them all the more endearing.

One of the others offered quiet support, while the last two looked ready to sink into the ground under all the attention their friends were dragging onto us.

People rooting for me wasn't new. It happened more often than it should—and usually, when they did, I blew it and soon after quit whatever activity it was. A pattern as reliable as sunrise.

But lately, I'd wanted to break that habit. Maybe anchor myself to something for once instead of drifting every few weeks.

The lane stretched out in front of me. Two pins, miles apart. My eyes locked on the right one—mind picturing the exact angle I'd need to send it skidding across.

Deep breath. Throw.

I didn't even hit that one.

"Boo! Look what you three did, she missed both."

"Well… um…" The girl stuttered. "Now the rest of the game's more interesting! She gave you a handicap."

"What game? That was the last turn. She would've tied with me if she'd hit even one."

"B-but—"

"It's fine." A smile spread as the words left me. "I'd rather end this way than settle for a tie." And I meant it.

Bag in hand, I offered a parting gesture. "Heading out, thanks for the fun. Ah, and don't worry about the bill. My treat."

A small chorus of cheers followed.

"Avery, wait," the anime-loving girl said. "Want to hang out again? Exchange contacts?"

"Umm… I'll be busy for a while. If you're okay with waiting a month or two."

"Sure! Just call whenever. No pressure."

The irony forced me to bite off a laugh.

Twenty minutes later, my place became training central for the rest of the evening, flowing into the next day, then the one after.