Chapter Six: Time Gap, Part Three
Yozora stood before the First Mirror, starring at him like a stranger. Yozoras fingers trembled slightly as he folded his hand into a fist, the weight of unspoken questions pressing down on him like an unbearable burden.
Perhaps—just perhaps—the First Mirror could offer him insight into the person he used to be.
His gaze traced the First Mirrors face, searching desperately for something familiar, something to anchor him to the fragments of a self he could no longer grasp. But the face staring back was unrecognizable, offering no comfort. Instead, it stood as a stark reminder of the emptiness within—a hollow echo of the man he once was. The stories he’d heard of his past—tales of his strength, brilliance, and triumphs—hovered over him like shadows, unreachable and suffocating.
Finally, he spoke.
“They say I was a hero,” he murmured, his voice cracking under the weight of the admission.
The words felt foreign, distant, almost laughable. How could someone so fractured, so utterly lost, have ever been that person? Frustration bubbled within him, a storm of emotions he couldn’t contain. Those tales of victories and glory, of a legacy he once claimed, felt more like taunts than truths. They mocked him, reminders of a life that seemed impossibly out of reach. A legacy he could no longer touch, no longer claim as his own.
His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms as he wrestled with the ache in his chest. There was a part of him that wanted to believe—desperately—that he could still be that person, that those stories weren’t just relics of a life he’d lost. But how? How could he reclaim something he couldn’t even remember?
Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, unbidden and unwelcome. He looked away from the First Mirror, a heavy reminder of the void where his identity should have been.
“Who am I… really?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
The silence that followed was deafening, filling the room like an oppressive weight. Yozora stood there, unmoving, feeling smaller than he ever had before. He was an empty vessel, grasping at the shadows of a life that felt more like a dream than a reality he could reclaim.
In the midst of his internal turmoil, the First Mirror spoke, its voice calm yet piercing. “Still the emotional child, I see—unable to show the world how you truly feel. It’s okay if you don’t remember; this may be the perfect time to rebuild the broken links left behind by your old self.”
Yozora looked at the first mirror, “I just don’t want to let anyone down, what if I fail and Mara dies…”
The First Mirror regarded him with a steady gaze. “Master there is no failure in doing your best. You’re not so different from who you used to be, still bearing the weight of the world on your shoulders. For now, let’s focus on completing your training. I will guide you as you train with your father—that bond is sacred, and I shall not interfere. Now… awaken!”
As the dense, Hindo around Yozora began to dissipate, Zephyr, who had been sitting nearby, twiddling his fingers anxiously, immediately rushed over. His face lit up as he exclaimed, “Looks like he passed!” He shook Yozora enthusiastically. “Zora, wake up! Stop being lazy—I know you passed!”
Yozora groaned as his head bobbed back and forth. His eyes barely opened, and his voice was groggy. “Stop it, old man, I’m up. Yes, I passed. The First Mirror told me it would be best for you to finish the training, and he’d guide me. How long was I out?”
Zephyr scratched his head sheepishly. “Well, umm, you see… it’s been a whole day here. So let’s get a move on!”
Yozora facepalmed. “Oh snap, a whole day.” Slapping his leg, he sprang to his feet. “No time to waste old man.”
Zephyr chuckled at Yozora’s urgency. “Alright then, let’s begin. As I mentioned before, we’ll primarily focus on Keijo, Kakusu, and Fumi. Zora, listen carefully. By nature, you’re a creator—a craftsman. This means you can embed countless abilities, and skill sets into objects without the rigid criteria that others in the Suits classifications must follow.”
Yozora tilted his head, confused. “I don’t get it. What’s so different about me.”
Zephyr glanced around before leaning in, whispering conspiratorially. “Your Keijo, under S.T.A.R.S regulations, is deemed legendary grade. It’s called Ars Imprintum.” He paused dramatically, raising a finger. “Ars Imprintum has one restriction: your understanding of how the ability, skill, or technique works.”
Yozora groaned, rolling his eyes, “That seems like a pretty big restriction!”
Zephyr sighed, his tone softening. “Zora, I’m about to tell you something your mother made me promise never to reveal, but given the circumstances, I think you need to know.”
He tapped his temple, his voice serious. “This technique is a bloodline ability of the Goldspire clan. It’s not something every member of the clan inherits. Long before you were even thought of, a great war tore the world apart. This war decimated clans, wiping out their bloodlines and techniques. Our clan, Zora, now consists of only you and me.”
Yozora’s expression shifted, his curiosity piqued.
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Zephyr continued. “The technique I speak of is called Neutron’s Gaze. It’s a rare gift you inherited, marked by the starry eyes everyone admires so much. I never inherited it, but you did. It’s a power with potential beyond anything I can teach you.”
Yozora blinked, stunned into silence as Zephyr’s words sank in.
Zephyr folded his arms, his tone steady but firm. “Its base form is an unhindered observation that allows you to see and manipulate the very core of all energy fragments and matter. It’s a penetration technique—a gaze that pierces through something, analyzing how it works or functions. This ability allows the user to create a counter or, in your case, use Ars Imprintum to either replicate or dismantle another’s ability or technique. Which brings me to how we’re going to train.”
Cracking his knuckles, Zephyr continued, “The first phase focuses on understanding and controlling Hindo. The objective is for you to become fully aware of your own Hindo. First, take a seat—you’re going to be there for a while. I’m going to strip you of all your senses by creating a shroud of highly condensed Hindo. Your job will be to focus on the rhythm and flow of your own Hindo until you can sense its intensity and fluctuations. Remember this one thing: don’t let the Hindo control you. You must control the Hindo as it flows through you. When the Hindo I cast over you no longer detects your presence, it will return to me.”
Yozora settled into a cross-legged position as the oppressive darkness enveloped him. The silence was absolute, so deep it felt tangible, pressing against his ears like a heavy fog. There were no external cues—no murmurs of the wind, no hum of distant energy, not even the sound of his own breath. He was alone, left only with the invisible hum of his Hindo, thrumming beneath his skin like an untamed heartbeat.
At first, he struggled. Every attempt to calm his thoughts and steady his Hindo was met with resistance. The Hindo surged unpredictably, flaring like a wildfire refusing to be extinguished. Frustration gnawed at him, each failed attempt tightening the coil of tension in his chest. Zephyr’s words echoed faintly in his mind: “Control it; don’t fight it.”
Time lost all meaning. Hours or minutes—he couldn’t tell—slipped by as he plunged deeper into the void of dense Hindo. Slowly, painstakingly, the turbulent torrent of his energy began to settle. The thrumming dulled to a whisper, then to a faint murmur, and finally… nothing.
For a fleeting moment, Yozora thought he had succeeded. But doubt crept in like an unwelcome shadow, shattering the silence. His Hindo flared to life once more, breaking his fragile concentration. A frustrated exhale escaped him, his shoulders sagging slightly.
This wasn’t just a test of skill; it was a battle with himself—a struggle to silence a core part of his very being. Yet, Yozora knew he had no choice. To master Kakusu, to shield himself from Tuners and their relentless perception, he had to erase his presence entirely.
He closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath. “This isn’t about crushing my Hindo. It’s about letting it fade into the void, becoming nothing. In short, Kakusu is the art of vanishing from perception?”
His breathing slowed as he sank into the depths of his mind. “Become the flow of water in a river. Move like blood pumping through each ligament. Breathe, and let the ocean take you.”
A profound stillness washed over him. For the first time, his Hindo—the ever-present hum that had once been inseparable from his identity—vanished. He couldn’t feel it anymore. He had become… nothing.
The silence no longer felt oppressive. It felt like home.
Zephyr, silhouetted against the faint glow of his own Hindo, smirked as he watched Yozora stir. “Already done Zora, Well done,.”
Yozora stood, his eyes calm. “The first phase is complete. Let’s keep pushing, old man.”
Zephyr let out a hearty laugh. “Complete when I say complete, pup! Now, you need to practice dampening and amplifying it at will. We’ll start with a game of hide and seek.”
Yozora smirked, brushing off the challenge. “I could do that in my sleep.”
Zephyr grinned sarcastically. “I figured you’d say that, so you’ll also be wearing screamer weights. These weights are designed to emit a piercing sound at any sign of Hindo residue. I’ve set them to trigger only if you leave any residue after activating Kakusu. And just to make things interesting, they’ll not only scream but shock you and increase in weight each time you slip up. Now, go hide.”
Meanwhile, T.LAC was wrapping up the first phase of his training.
Sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed, he focused intently, his thoughts racing. Blair watched him with amazement, her expression betraying a mix of curiosity and awe.
“I can feel every atom within the blades now,” T.LAC murmured to himself, his voice calm yet tinged with wonder. “It’s such an odd sensation. By sending small amounts of Hindo through the blade, I can shape and form it into whatever I want. But it seems I’m limited by the amount of material already present in the blade.” His thoughts spilled into spoken words.
“Instructor Selene,” he continued, addressing her directly, “am I correct in thinking that I can’t create atoms from thin air to increase the amount of material for a given item I’m touching? For example, I can transform the blades into an axe, then reinforce it by condensing the atoms within and enhancing it with Hindo reinforcement. However, if I make the axe too large and spread the atoms too thin, the result would be a massive but ineffective weapon. Is that right?”
Selene smiled, her expression proud yet playful. “Yes, T.LAC, that’s absolutely correct. Augmenters can only manipulate what’s already there. But I want you to think outside the box. What’s always all around us? This method, by the way, was originally your idea.”
T.LAC’s mind raced. “Atoms, molecules, and other elementary particles are always around us,” he said quickly. “Atoms are the fundamental building blocks of matter that form molecules—the combinations of atoms.” Twirling his fingers as he thought aloud, he continued, “Atoms can be broken down into their constituent parts. This method would involve harnessing the natural properties of molecular bonds and utilizing the released atoms to create or extend objects, like a blade, by reassembling them into a desired structure. But right now, my Hindo levels wouldn’t allow me to sustain this process for long. And there’s the issue of material dependence. The availability of certain elements would limit what I can do. For instance, air provides abundant nitrogen and oxygen atoms but lacks heavier elements like iron—not to mention the risk of destabilizing the surrounding environment.”
Selene regarded him thoughtfully, her mind briefly wandering. “I see why Mara, Zora, and he are friends… smart kid.” She coughed into her hand, feigning a casual demeanor. “Nerd,” she muttered teasingly before continuing. “That’s correct, T.LAC. You’ve completed this portion of your training far faster than expected. That means we have time to move on to your Keijo, Raimu, and Kakusu. As you are now, you should be able to manifest your Toro technique, Raimu. Yours is called Hōjō no Shōkō (Radiant Palms of the Bejeweled Orb). Now repeat after me: Rensa, Uchikudake! Hōjō no Shōkō.”
T.LAC took a deep breath and focused. “Rensa, Uchikudake! Hōjō no Shōkō!” (Chain together and Shatter! Radiant Palms of the Bejeweled Orb!).”
The air around him began to crackle with electricity, faint arcs of light dancing across his skin. Small orbs started to materialize before him—translucent and ethereal at first, then solidifying one by one.
T.LAC’s eyes widened as he took in the sight. The beads hovered in midair, each glowing with an almost celestial brilliance. Their colors shifted and danced like an aurora in the night sky.
“I’m an anime character… let’s goooo,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the hum of energy filling the room.
As if responding to his words, the beads began to move, scattering into the air in an intricate, hypnotic pattern. They pulsed with energy, forming glowing designs that flickered in rhythm with his heartbeat.
The Hindo around him grew denser yet warmer, wrapping around his body like a protective second skin. T.LAC felt alive—more alive than ever before. The beads finally settled, arranging themselves into a necklace and bracelet around him. Each bead glowed with a distinct hue, representing different elemental properties or molecular alignments, red for heat, blue for water, green for life/earth, a kaleidoscope of untapped potential.
Two of the beads bore engraved insignias: one depicting twin blades, the other a bow. He touched the bead marked by the twin blades.
The beads rapidly gathered, elongating into two elegant, symmetrical swords. Their hilts shimmered with solidified Hindo, while residual beads orbited them, glowing faintly. He then touched the bow insignia, and the beads aligned to form a sleek, radiant bow. Additional beads hovered in the air, serving as ammunition.
A small smile crept across his face as he clenched his fists, the power coursing through him. There was so much to learn, so much to master—but in that moment, T.LAC knew one thing for certain.
“I must master my Raimu. Mara, we’re coming for you soon. Please, wait a little longer.”
image [https://share.icloud.com/photos/045vE8hoFdTdJ1s8DG_zhNWGw]