The private floor of Mizushima Memorial Hospital felt wrong in its emptiness. The usual bustle of nurses, the squeak of wheels on linoleum, the quiet beeping of machines - all of it muted and distant, contained to the floors below. Here, in this sterile liminal space, even the fluorescent lights seemed to hum at a different frequency.

Security guards in dark suits stood at strategic points, their earpieces occasionally crackling with coded updates. A faint scent of sage and antiseptic hung in the air - the latter from hospital protocol, the former from protective wards carefully hidden behind pristine ceiling tiles.

In Room 601, Hiroki Tsukishiro dreamed of fire.

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"Rise and shine, matchstick. You've got visitors."

Arkan's voice cut through the fog in Hiroki's mind like an annoying alarm clock. He tried to move and immediately regretted it - every muscle screamed in protest, like he'd run a marathon through a volcano.

"Shut up," Hiroki mumbled, his throat dry. "And don't call me matchstick."

"Oh, I'm sorry - would you prefer 'living lighter' or 'human torch'? I've got a whole list." Arkan's presence flickered with amusement. "Though after that little lightshow you put on, maybe we should upgrade you to 'walking disaster' or 'pyro prodigy.'"

Hiroki forced his eyes open. The hospital room swam into focus - all clean lines and muted colors, with sealed windows and what looked like inscription marks subtly worked into the doorframe. An IV drip next to his bed contained something that definitely wasn't standard saline - the liquid had a faint bluish glow.

"The arcane suppressants are just precautionary," came Takeshi's voice from the doorway. He stood there in what looked like a designer suit, not a wrinkle in sight despite everything that had happened. "Your core temperature was concerning the medical staff."

"More like freaking them out," Arkan chimed in. "You were practically a space heater with a pulse."

Takeshi moved into the room with measured steps, closing the door behind him. "How much do you remember of the incident?"

Hiroki tried to sit up, wincing. "Pieces. The fire. That thing - Voragos. Abeni was there..." He frowned. "Is she okay? And her friend?"

"They're both stable. Two rooms down." Takeshi pulled up a chair. "But we need to discuss what happened. What you did wasn't just impressive, it was impossible. Untrained Soul Smiths don't manifest abilities like that, especially not Forger abilities of that magnitude."

"Hold up," Hiroki raised a hand. "Forger? What are you talking about?"

"Oh, this'll be good," Arkan snickered. "Professor Stick-Up-His-Ass is about to give a lecture."

Takeshi's eye twitched slightly - he could hear Arkan too, Hiroki realized. "Soul Smiths generally fall into distinct classes based on their abilities and approach to Wraith energy. What you demonstrated - the manipulation of fire and lightning, the way you shaped it around yourself - those are hallmarks of a Forger."

"Ding ding ding!" Arkan chimed in. "Give the kid a prize! Though usually Forgers need, you know, actual training before they turn into living flamethrowers."

"The fact that you managed it instinctively..." Takeshi leaned forward slightly. "It suggests remarkable potential. Raw, untrained, but potential nonetheless. With proper guidance-"

"You're offering to teach me?" Hiroki cut in, skeptical.

"Not exactly. But I know people who can. The Crimson Hand-"

"Pass," Hiroki said flatly, sinking back into his pillows. "I didn't ask for any of this. The powers, the fighting, none of it. Besides you told us earlier that we ought to be wary of the crimson hand"

"Says the kid who literally lit himself on fire," Arkan pointed out helpfully.

"That was different! That was..." Hiroki trailed off, remembering the surge of energy, the way it had felt so natural, like something clicking into place. Like finally being seen.

"That was you," Takeshi said quietly. "Whether you wanted it or not, this is part of who you are now. And trust me - after what happened tonight, you're going to need to learn to control it. Because there are people who will have noticed. People who will come looking.The crimson hand are not typically kind of new soul smiths, but with your powers we might be able to convince them to provide you training and resources"

"Great pep talk," Arkan drawled. "Really bringing the doom and gloom. Why don't you tell him about the hospital food next? Really complete the horror story."

The beeping of the heart monitor was starting to drive Abeni crazy. She sat in the uncomfortable hospital chair, watching Tayo scroll through her phone, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach. Her friend looked so normal now - like the darkness and terror from hours ago had been nothing but a bad dream.

Maybe for Tayo, it was.

"My followers are going to freak when they hear about this," Tayo said, then quickly added, "Not that I'm posting about it! But like, getting jumped by some random thug? It's like something out of a stream drama."

Abeni's fingers tightened on her armrest. The fabricated memory felt cruel somehow - not just the lie, but how easily Tayo had accepted it. How the truth had been scraped away, leaving something neater, simpler.

"Yeah," Abeni managed. "Lucky we were nearby."

"Super lucky. Though..." Tayo lowered her phone, frowning slightly. "It's kind of weird that Tsukishiro was there too. Like, what are the odds?"

"Hiroki," Abeni corrected automatically, then caught herself.

"Right, whatever. The school weirdo." Tayo shrugged, then grinned. "Hey, maybe he's secretly your stalker! That would explain why he's always lurking around being all..." she hunched her shoulders, doing an exaggerated impression of Hiroki's usual posture.

"Don't."

"Aw, come on! I'm just playing. Though seriously, you might want to be careful. You don't want to get mixed up with him - you remember what happened to Kai when he tried being nice to him? Total social suicide. Ended up eating lunch alone for like, half a semester before people forgot about it." Tayo's laugh was light, casual. "I mean, there's a reason nobody talks to him. You don't want to end up like that, right? Being the class fr-"

"I should go check if the doctor needs anything," Abeni stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "You should rest."

"Abeni? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just... rest, okay?"

Abeni barely made it to the hallway before the memory hit her - that moment in the darkness, when she'd seen him. Not the Hiroki from now, all sharp edges and careful distance, but the boy she remembered. The one who'd shared his lunch with her when she was too shy to eat in the cafeteria. Who'd taught her stupid hand games and made up stories about the shapes in the clouds.

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The one who'd smiled like he meant it.

"We were just kids," she whispered to herself, pressing her palm against the cool hospital wall. "It doesn't matter now. None of it matters."

The words felt hollow, like the fake memories they'd planted in Tayo's head. Some things, Abeni was learning, couldn't be erased so easily.

The worst thing about private hospital floors, Abeni decided, was the silence. Every footstep echoed, every breath felt too loud. Which was why she noticed immediately when Takeshi's expensive shoes clicked against the linoleum behind her.

"Touching scene back there," he said, his tone casual but sharp. "Really heartwarming."

"Were you eavesdropping?" Abeni turned, forcing her voice to stay steady.

"Didn't need to. Your friend's voice carries." Takeshi leaned against the wall, somehow making the sterile hospital hallway look like a photoshoot backdrop. "Though I have to wonder - does it bother you more that she's mocking him, or that you used to do the same thing?"

"You don't know anything about me."

"Don't I?" His smile was precise, calculated. "The Kurogane Group owns half the real estate in this district. Including your old elementary school. The records were... interesting."

Abeni's eyes narrowed. "So what, you did a background check on me? On both of us?"

"Know your assets." Takeshi examined his cufflinks - probably worth more than her entire wardrobe. "Though I have to admit, I was curious about the golden girl who used to be friends with our resident outcast. The timing of your... social elevation was particularly noteworthy."

"If you're trying to make a point-"

"The Kurogane family," Takeshi cut in smoothly, "is extremely competitive. Especially with successors. Everything is a power play, every relationship a potential advantage." His eyes met hers. "Sound familiar?"

Abeni felt her chest tighten. "You're using him."

"And you're suddenly concerned? After what, three years of strategic invisibility?" Takeshi's laugh was soft, elegant, cruel. "At least I'm honest about my intentions. I need his power. The Kurogane name means certain... expectations have to be met." He tilted his head. "But you? You saw a shy, awkward kid and decided he wasn't worth the social cost. That's much colder, don't you think?"

"Shut up."

"Tell me - when exactly did you decide he wasn't worth defending? Was it after the first rumor? The second? Or did you just gradually fade away, hope no one would remember you were ever friends in the first place?"

Abeni's fists clenched. "You don't understand-"

"Oh, I understand perfectly. But here's what you don't get." Takeshi straightened, adjusting his already-perfect tie. "I might be using him, but at least I see his value. You? You threw away something genuine because you were scared of ending up like him. Alone. Invisible." His smile turned sharp. "How does it feel, knowing he's not so invisible anymore?"

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Finally, Abeni found her voice.

"If you hurt him-"

"You'll what?" Takeshi was already walking away, his steps measured, confident. "Pretend not to see it?"

When Abeni walked into Hiroki's room, he was sitting up in bed, looking significantly less like a human furnace. The arcane suppressants in his IV had turned from blue to a dull purple, which probably meant something important to someone who actually knew what they were doing.

"Look who decided to join the party," Arkan's voice echoed, though only Hiroki and Takeshi could hear it. "Little Miss Popular herself."

Hiroki's expression flickered - something between annoyance at Arkan and... satisfaction? Abeni couldn't quite read it, but it made her stomach twist.

"Now that we're all here," Takeshi closed the door with a soft click, "we need to discuss our situation. What happened tonight wasn't just a random incident."

"You mean the part where I turned into a human lighter?" Hiroki's voice was dry. "Yeah, kind of figured that wasn't normal."

"The Wraith you eliminated, Voragos, was a moderate-level threat." Takeshi pulled up the visitor's chair, his posture perfect even on cheap hospital furniture. "Its destruction won't go unnoticed. Especially given the... unusual method of its defeat."

"Unusual is underselling it," Arkan chimed in. "Kid went full supernova on that thing."

"So what?" Abeni spoke up from her position near the window. "We killed a dangerous Wraith. Isn't that a good thing?"

Takeshi's smile was patient, patronizing. "In this world, power draws attention. The Crimson Hand, the noble families, independent factions - they're all like sharks. And we just dumped blood in the water."

"We?" Hiroki raised an eyebrow.

"I'm offering you both an opportunity." Takeshi leaned forward slightly. "The Crimson Hand is the most stable faction in Neo-Kyoto. They have resources, training facilities, and most importantly, protection."

"You mean they have power," Abeni crossed her arms. "And you want to use us - use Hiroki - to get closer to it."

"Bingo! Give the girl a prize," Arkan laughed. "Though let's be honest, he mostly wants flame-boy here. You're just the backup dancer."

"I'm being practical," Takeshi's voice was smooth, unbothered. "Hiroki has raw talent that the Crimson Hand would value. You, Abeni... well, you show some promise. Consider your inclusion a courtesy."

Hiroki didn't quite hide his smirk at that, and Abeni felt something cold settle in her chest.

"And if we refuse?" she asked.

"Then you deal with what comes next alone." Takeshi stood, brushing invisible dust from his suit. "The noble families will have felt that surge of power. The Hollow Syndicate probably has agents already looking into it. And those are just the groups we know about."

"He's not wrong," Arkan muttered to Hiroki. "Much as I hate to agree with Mr. Perfect Hair here, we did kind of paint a target on your back with that lightshow."

"So what's it going to be?" Takeshi looked between them. "We can approach the Crimson Hand together, present ourselves as a unified front. Or..." his eyes lingered on Abeni, "some of us can fade into the background. It's a familiar strategy for some, isn't it?"

The room fell silent except for the steady drip of the IV and the distant hum of hospital equipment. Outside the window, Neo-Kyoto's lights glittered like stars, beautiful and cold and completely unaware of the power plays happening in this sterile room.

Finally, Hiroki spoke. "When do we start?"

In a dimly lit monitoring station deep within the Crimson Hand's headquarters, a young analyst jolted upright. Her screens were lit up with energy signatures - a massive surge centered in the warehouse district, unlike anything she'd seen before.

"Ma'am!" She called out, her voice tight. "You need to see this."

Her supervisor leaned over, eyes widening at the readings. "Get me Enforcement Division. Now."

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The Shizuma family's ancestral forge was never truly quiet. Even at this late hour, the eternal flame burned, casting dancing shadows on ancient walls. The current head, Shizuma Kaito, stood before an ornate sensor array, watching as crystalline shards realigned themselves.

"Interesting," he murmured, touching one fragment that glowed orange-gold. "A Forger's flame... but this resonance..."

His apprentice waited silently as the master studied the readings.

"Send word to our observers," Kaito finally said. "I want to know everything about this new flame."

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In the shadows of an abandoned shrine, a figure in a black hood knelt before a pool of dark water. The surface rippled, showing images of the night's battle - the explosion of fire, the death of Voragos.

"The boy's potential..." the figure whispered to seemingly no one. "It's just as they predicted."

The water stirred, and a voice like grinding glass responded: "Then perhaps it's time we accelerated our plans."

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High above the city in the Mizushima Tower, a woman stood at a window, watching the night sky. A holographic display showed various data streams, but her attention was fixed on one particular reading.

"Lady Mizushima," her aide approached cautiously. "The temporal anomalies during the incident..."

"I saw them." Her finger traced a pattern in the air. "For just a moment, when his power peaked... interesting."

"Should we inform the other families?"

"No." A smile curved her lips. "Let's see how this plays out."

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In a secret chamber beneath Neo-Kyoto's oldest district, members of the Obsidian Cult gathered around a black crystal. Its surface showed replays of Hiroki's battle, each burst of flame casting strange shadows on their masked faces.

"The vessels are failing," one member spoke. "But this boy..."

"Yes," their leader stepped forward. "Perhaps he's exactly what we've been waiting for."

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Back in the hospital room, Hiroki slept fitfully, unaware of the pieces beginning to move. Takeshi stood at the window, phone in hand, making quiet arrangements. Abeni had retreated to the hallway, lost in thoughts of the past.

And somewhere in the city's heart, ancient machinery hummed to life, responding to the night's events. The first tremors of change were spreading through Neo-Kyoto's foundations, invisible but unstoppable.

The Hollowing was coming.