The morning they left, the village felt quieter.
Maybe it was the overcast sky, or the wind that didn't whistle through the trees the way it usually did. Or maybe it was just my heart, heavy and slow, dragging everything else down with it.
In the clearing behind our home, Aya and Kaela packed their satchels while Theo double-checked the edges of his blade, calm and methodical as ever. Elda, ever the caretaker, moved among them, tucking supplies, folding cloaks, fussing over the details.
I sat on the wooden fence near the path, half-listening, half-hoping the day might delay itself if I stared hard enough at the dirt.
"Aisu," came a voice, light as ever.
I looked up.
Aya approached, red hair bouncing gently as she crossed the grass. Her expression wasn't teasing this time—it was gentle, almost somber.
"You've been quiet all morning," she said.
"I usually am," I replied, not looking at her.
She snorted. "You're usually loud when you're being dramatic."
I gave her a shrug. "Not much to say. Not like I'm going with you."
There was a beat of silence as she stopped beside me, eyes focused on the woods.
Then she asked, "Have you decided yet? About the academy?"
I didn't answer right away.
Every part of me wanted to go. I wanted to walk those same paths, to sit in those halls, to learn aura, magic, history, anything. To stand with them—not behind them. But desire doesn't pay tuition. It doesn't fill bowls or fix shoes. It doesn't ease the weight on Elda's shoulders.
I exhaled. "It's not that simple."
Aya's brow furrowed. "Why not?"
"We're not made of silver," I said. "Tuition costs more than coin. It costs time, resources, everything. Elda already works herself half to death. I won't add more."
Her lips parted, but she didn't speak.
I continued, quietly, "People like Theo, they get chosen. Kaela and you, you've trained for this. Me? I've got chores. And old boots. And a sister who deserves better than a burden."
Aya was quiet a long moment.
Then she said something I didn't expect.
"I always imagined us going together."
I turned to look at her.
She smiled, faint but sincere. "You, stumbling through spellwork. Napping in class. Getting detention for picking fights."
"You paint such a noble portrait," I muttered.
Aya laughed softly. "You belong there, Aisu. Not because you're the strongest. But because you're us."
She leaned closer and said, "Just… talk to Elda. For you. For her. For all of us."
---
Time, like always, showed no mercy.
By the time the last trunk was buckled shut, the clouds had begun to break. The morning sun peeked out just in time to watch them go.
Theo stood at the edge of the path, straight-backed and ready. Kaela fussed with her pack straps, pretending not to be emotional. Aya, for once, was uncharacteristically still.
I waited with them, heart dull and sinking.
Kaela was the first to speak. "Don't forget us, Aisu. I expect a letter. If not, I'll send Hiro with a wooden spoon."
Aya grinned. "Or worse. I'll come back myself."
Theo said nothing, only stepped forward and gripped my shoulder with quiet strength. It said enough.
They embraced me, one by one. Even Theo, after some hesitation, pulled me into a short, firm hug.
Behind me, I heard a soft sniffle.
Renji had turned away, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Hiro made no attempt to hide his tears—his cheeks were wet, his arms crossed tightly like he was holding himself together.
Kaela gave them both a teary smile.
Aya stepped close and whispered in my ear, "If you tell them I cried, I'll haunt you."
I smiled, because I believed her.
Then they turned down the eastern road. Their boots crunched over gravel and dirt, their packs swaying with each step. We watched them go, watched until the trees took them, until the world swallowed them up.
And then it was quiet again.
---
Later that day, I found myself wandering toward Renji's house, my feet moving without much thought. Hiro walked beside me, unusually silent.
We didn't speak. We didn't need to.
Mari, Renji's mother, opened the door before we even knocked.
"Aisu," she greeted with a tired smile. "Come in, sweetheart. You all look like you've lost something."
"Maybe we have," I murmured.
Inside, the house smelled of herbs and stew. Warmth filled the walls despite the gloom outside. Renji's father, Bram, grunted from his seat in the corner, nodding toward the kitchen.
Renji sat at the table, his arms crossed on the surface. Hiro and I took the open seats, still saying nothing.
Finally, Renji spoke.
"I already miss them."
Hiro nodded. "Me too. Aya's laugh, Kaela's bickering. Theo trying to act like our dad."
A weak smile tugged at my lips.
"They'll be fine," I said. "And we'll see them again."
Renji leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. "We will. We'll catch up, Aisu. Somehow."
Hiro thumped the table. "Not somehow. We'll figure it out. Starting now."
Renji looked at me.
"I was thinking… we try hunting one of the west ridge boars."
I blinked. "You mean a blacktusk?"
"They're dangerous," Hiro said. "But worth it. Meat, tusks, hide, maybe a monster core if we're lucky."
Renji nodded. "We sell it in the market. Split the coin. You could help Elda out. Maybe even start saving."
I sat up straighter.
It wasn't much. But it was something. A step. A beginning.
"I'm in," I said. "I want to help her. It's time I did more than just stand around."
Bram's voice drifted in from the other room. "Then start sharpening your blades, boys. That boar won't gut itself."
Hiro grinned. "Now that's the Aisu I remember."
I didn't smile back right away.
But I felt something stir inside.
Hope, maybe.
Or fire.