XXVI - Command the Breeze

Inside the Infirmary of Asahi Academy, then Aurora's eyelashes fluttered open, her vision hazy and unfocused, she realized—she found herself lying down on the mattress, her long dark-blue hair with crimson streak spilled across beneath her like an ink.

She sat up slowly, with breath escaping from her lips, as she darted around in confusion.

H-Huh? Where am I? How did I get here? Where's my sister? Quincy? Sarah? Charlotte?! she thought to herself, panic rising through her mind.

Charlotte! Charlotte!? Where are you—I need you to stand by my side, even though I'm unconscious!

"Ugh!" Aurora pouted, crossed her arms over her chest. Until a bell chimes in, her ears perked up.

It could be…? Charlotte? Aria? Something else? M-Mom…?

Then, the door creaked open, the healer—a young woman, wearing a long soft blue robe, layered in a tunic with a belt to hold any kinds of herbs and potions. Her hair tied back into a low bun.

Aurora's excitement vanished instantly.

Sighs… just a healer.

She lowered her head, both hands holding a tray of elixir, and a single of damp cloth, a warm, welcoming smile curled on her lips.

"Ah, Miss Chu, you'd awake early, huh?" she asked warmly, settling the tray down on the table, before she sat on the bed beside her.

"How's your feeling today? Any signs of fever? Chill? Or—anything unusual?"

"…W-where am I?"

Her hand slowly drifting on her own cheek, her fingertips brushing over a thin strip of bandages she hadn't noticed until now—right where the wind had cut her in the forest.

The skin beneath throbbed faintly when she touched it, it was warmer rather than sharp, and began knitting closer whatever salve the healers had used.

"Oh… you're in Asahi's infirmary." the healer said, dabbing the cloth gently along Aurora's temple, wiping the last trace of dried mud that she hadn't managed to clean in the field.

"Asahi infirmary?" Aurora asked, watching the healer squeeze the cloth.

"Mm-hm, Professor Zamora had you carried in personally—uh, well, I forgot to say, a paladin named Charlotte did, but he insisted on escorting both of you." the healer explained, while her hands worked as she wrung the clothes more, before settling it aside to reach the elixir.

Aurora blinked several times, her gaze shifted her attention towards the empty wooden chair—this where Charlotte supposed to keep an eye while she remained unconscious.

But she wasn't around, her stomach dropped, realizing her paladin had left her behind.

Her ears drooped, shifting her gaze back toward the nurse.

"W-where is Charlotte?"

"Ah, she was left at home to feed her siblings. You've been asleep for almost a day right now." 

"Wait…h-h-how long? I-I didn't know what time it is now."

"Maybe, you'd been awake today?"

"—W-w-what?! Today?" Aurora mumbled, her stomach dropped at the word, something had already lodged itself sideways on her chest, refusing to let the rest of the settled property.

"Mm-hm." the healer nodded, while measuring a careful dose of elixir into a small bamboo cup. 

"Ah, speaking to your friends—you might give them quite a scare. Especially to your sister."

Aurora stared at the window through the rain streaked glass, followed by the illuminate of the flash of lightning, staring at the rain hammered against the roof of the random cottage as the memory flashed back on her mind.

Her reflection suddenly changed into something smaller— it was a younger version of herself.

Before the arrogant version of herself—just herself, innocent, with those mismatched eyes wide with curiosity, a vigilant child, with her spirits high, and her dream—to become a heroine, not just to protect herself: she protects everything whenever she faces.

But in the present, she ends up sitting up in the bed, remaining inside of the Infirmary, under the care of the healers, until she's ready to be expelled.

Before the healer could interrupt the silence—

"AURORA!"

Aria barged into her sister's room, nearly knocking the healer's tray clean off from the table in her rush to reach the bed.

Without hesitation, she threw her arms around her sister without enough force to knock the breath from her lungs.

Aurora struggled to breath, gasping for air, squirming against her sister's grip.

"—A-Ack—! Aria, I-I can't breathe—"

"Y-you scared me half of death, Sister! Did you realize how much my heart was pounding anxiously because I saw you dying!"

"I-I'm not dying, Aria! I was resting!"

"I-I don't care if you're just asleep or not! Just don't do it again, okay?! OKAY?!"

"Fine… j-just let me breathe!"

The healer can't help, but let out a low giggle, observing the sisters before quietly slipping out without a word, giving them a respectful privacy for a moment.

Quincy and Sarah stepped in, after having a conversation with the healer from the earlier.

They're considerably more composed, except for Sarah, her eyes were suspiciously red-rimmed from almost tears?

"We tried to keep her from tackling you." Quincy offered, adjust her glasses.

"We failed."

"Absolutely, failed." Sarah added, hovering close as her hand drifted, reaching forward to Aurora's hand to give a gentle squeeze at the moment.

Aria gently let her go, sniffled, with a hint of purr rumble on her throat that was enough to hear by everyone.

"S-Sorry…"

"I-It's okay, Aria."

Aurora manages a small, tired laugh despite the ache still lingers on her ribs, glancing at the window once again, searching the place she'd wanted to practice the rarest ability using her war fans.

This time, no more fear, nor hiding, she learned it from her mistakes, this time—it became different.

She needed to master her Dawn Wing mana—to surge that hidden power fully instead of only brushing against its edges when the desperation forced on her own hand.

It wasn't a last resort, not something she stumbled by accident in the middle of a crisis.

She drifted her gaze back toward the window one last time. She'd promised to herself, determination returning beneath her eyes.

Next time. I won't need someone to save me. I'll promise that I'll be standing in front, dealing the storm all by myself.

I have not tried to worry my friends, my sister, Charlotte…

I can do this. No more hiding, no more mistakes.

꒰ა ✦ ໒꒱

Everything silent inside the Infirmary, students gone home, everyone asleep in their own respective chamber, except for Aurora.

She remained awake, sat on the bed while staring at the rain streaked glass, followed by the flash of lightning. The sound of rain hammered against the roof from above makes her ears lifting.

With a long breath, her bare feet touched the cold wooden floor, standing by herself.

Her gaze drifting passed from the rain streaked window toward the table nearby, her both war fans—lay still, closed, but it gleamed faintly in signature cyan—it was seeking its host.

Her mismatched eyes widened, then narrowed, her pupils slitted, for the time making a mistake—it was the same look she'd worn as a child, the first time she'd refused to stay down from the mud.

Alright, Aurora. No more mistakes… just one more try.

She quietly crossed the room, careful enough not to awake the healer, who'd dozed in the adjoining chamber, slipped out outside of the gates of the academy.

The rain hadn't let her up—if anything, it grew heavier, strong winds howled between the stone columns, the same way it had howled through the trees, that night she'd chased her own shadow into unconsciousness.

She didn't flinch as the rain soaking straight through her nightclothes, and opened her fans.

A flash of lightning reflects on her soaked form, for the distant, a rolling thunder.

RUMBLE…

Her hair was damp, sticking on her face, but she didn't move, her gaze remained staring at the midnight sky above.

She'd remember her mother's words still echoed through her ears.

It's okay, sweetheart. Just breathe with me, okay?

Then, in… and out.

Followed by her own words.

Just take your breath, let it out… and don't fight it, my little princess.

Before she could take a first move, the wind hit her immediately, sharp and cold exactly as she felt years ago.

Her feet slid slightly against the mud, almost nearly slipped from her position.

She raised her arm, shielding herself as another wind hitting her, mocking her vulnerability, again.

Then a memory flashed through her mind—the world seemed to fold on itself—the storm around her blurring at the edges, the academy dissolving into something smaller, damp, half-remembered.

Then, she saw a younger version of herself. Soaked, feverish, refusing to stay down, no matter how many times the wind knocked her flat. Her gaze narrowed.

You again, little me? the present version of herself though, throat tightening, watching younger herself rising despite the feverish weaken her energy, fans too large enough to tighten her small grip, snapping them both open on unsteady rhythm.

From one motion behind, then again, chasing the technique she wouldn't fully understand from another decades.

But she never stopped believing in herself, and she would try once more.

Present Aurora closed her eyes, letting the memory guide her, instead fighting it back, holding apart from herself.

You'd never stop trying, well me. I won't either.

Then, she matched her stance to the child rhythm.

Not correcting it, not outpacing, but she was joining it, moving through the exact arc the smaller herself had practiced.

Repeating, and, repeating over, and over alone, in the storm nor should a six year old have to weathered by herself.

Instead, listening to the call from her concerned friends might give them a distraction.

Left, then… right.

The wind who'd knocked her down began, instead, it curled itself.

Again, just breathe with it. Don't let the wind win, remember?

Her fans immediately caught the gust, rather than resisting.

The feather-shaped blades began to hum in cyan light, gathering the storm's fury, shrinking into something smaller, almost gentle, no longer threatening.

Spiraling into a slow arc around her outstretched arms.

The ghost version herself reflected her movement—now completely. 

No longer a single step behind, but she created a perfect time, the two versions of the same girl finally finished the lesson she had been interrupted years ago by the mud, the fever, and grief.

Don't fight it, just keep focused.

As the rain suddenly slowed, no longer a fury, didn't stop, but became hesitant, having caught in the pull of spiraling mana, the droplets had been floating suspended around her, for only impossible breath, before scattering, molding into a spiral ring.

Aurora's eyes snapped open, wide, amazed, catching in her throat.

"Did I…? I-I actually did."

Her knees finally giving up, crashing over her at once, the fury storm has finally subsided, the mana she'd barely learned to hold a second of her concentration has wavered.

She staggered, slowly rising herself from the mud, fans drooping at her sides, finally…

She finally fixed her mistakes from her past, not forcing, only her determination and discipline to make her younger self become reality.

Her chest heaving, but she was smiling—a proud smile curled on her lips. Small, disbelieving but satisfied.

I finally made it, haven't I? Not perfectly, but I did it.

She was standing alone, but despite how difficult it was to stop the fury storm before the storm frightened the villagers.

She finally stopped it, without showing her Dawn Wing at all.

"I…I-I DID IT!" 

꒰ა ✦ ໒꒱

From a distance, unbeknownst to them, hidden among the massive oak haven tree, Professor Zamora observed Aurora from the distance at this hour; she didn't notice his presence nearby, but neither did.

Impressive, Miss Chu. You'd finally embrace your power.

He offered his student an approving nod one last time, without showing his appearance. 

Without saying a word, he retreated back towards the shadows, realizing: Aurora finally fought her own fear and let go of her dark past.