Leon stepped into the classroom, clutching the doctor’s note from earlier that morning. The hum of conversations and the occasional burst of laughter filled the room as kids darted between desks, showing off their growing powers to each other. Despite the noise, a faint optimism lingered in Leon's chest, bolstered by his parents’ words from earlier.
It’s just a matter of time, he reminded himself, taking a deep breath. He repeated it silently like a mantra.
Still, as he walked through the rows of desks, weaving around a girl levitating her backpack and a boy setting small sparks off his fingertips, a small, unwelcome thought began to worm its way into his mind. What if they’re wrong? What if I really don’t have a power?
He tried to shake the thought away, focusing instead on Mr. Grayson’s desk at the front of the room.
“Doctor’s appointment?” the teacher asked when Leon handed over the note.
“Yes, sir,” Leon replied, keeping his voice steady.
Mr. Grayson scanned the note, nodding before tucking it into a folder. “Take your seat. And Leon—try to focus today, all right?”
“Yes, sir.”
Leon nodded and turned back toward his desk. He walked slower this time, his gaze drifting over his classmates.
By the windows, a boy showed off his power to a small group, creating tiny whirlwinds that spun fallen leaves in playful loops. Across the room, a girl giggled as she produced a tiny flame on the tip of her finger, only to yelp when it grew too big. The others laughed with her, clapping as she managed to extinguish it.
Leon smiled faintly, but his stomach churned. He’d seen this every day since starting school—his classmates discovering and honing their abilities. Yet here he was, still ordinary, still waiting.
He reached his desk and slid into his chair, glancing down at his hands. Why haven’t mine shown up yet?
“Morning, sleepyhead!” Mila’s cheerful voice cut through his thoughts.
Leon looked up to see her leaning across the desk they shared, her braid falling over her shoulder.
“Morning,” he replied, forcing a small smile.
“You’re late,” Mila said, resting her chin in her hand. “Let me guess: you overslept because you were dreaming about flying like Aetherion again?”
Leon chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Not this time.”
Mila raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. Instead, she grinned and changed the subject. “Did you hear about Mr. Grayson’s coffee machine? It exploded this morning! Janitor said it looked like a mini volcano.”
Leon blinked. “Wait, really?”
“Yup!” Mila said, her grin widening. “And Mr. Grayson still smells like burnt coffee beans. I thought it was just me, but everyone’s been whispering about it.”
Leon chuckled, some of the tension in his chest easing. Mila always knew how to make him laugh.
“There,” she said triumphantly. “That’s the Leon I know. Much better.”
Leon shook his head, still smiling, but the small pang of doubt crept back in as he glanced at the other kids. Mila tilted her head, her sharp gaze catching the subtle shift in his mood.
“Okay,” she said gently, “what’s up? You’ve been kind of off since you got here.”
Leon hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his desk. “It’s nothing, really,” he said, his voice a little too quick.
Mila’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Leon—”
Before she could finish, Mr. Grayson clapped his hands.
“All right, everyone, settle down! Let’s get started.”
The class groaned, scattering back to their desks. Mila gave Leon a look that said, This isn’t over, but she didn’t press further as they opened their notebooks and the lesson began.
---
The midday sun bathed the playground in golden light, casting long shadows across the swings and jungle gym. Children darted around, their laughter mixing with bursts of crackling energy or flashes of light as their budding powers flickered to life. A boy to the left conjured a small whirlwind, sending leaves spiraling into the air, while another practiced balancing floating pebbles around his hands like tiny moons.
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Leon and Mila sat side by side on the swing set, their feet lazily brushing the dirt as they rocked back and forth. The rhythmic creak of the chains seemed to blend with the joyful chaos around them. Mila leaned back, her braid swaying behind her like a pendulum.
“Higher, Leon!” Mila called out teasingly. “Let’s see who can touch the clouds!”
Leon smirked, leaning back and pushing his legs forward. “Why? So you can chicken out when it’s your turn to jump off?”
“That was one time!” Mila said, narrowing her eyes in mock offense.
Leon chuckled softly, shaking his head. “One time too many. You looked like a pancake when you hit the ground.”
Mila huffed, kicking her legs harder to gain height. “I have graceful landings now, thank you very much. You’ll see when I win this time!”
Their banter drew a few glances from the other kids, but they didn’t care. For a brief moment, Leon felt lighter, as though he could push all the doubts from earlier out of his mind. Yet, as the laughter quieted, his thoughts began to creep back in like unwelcome guests.
He slowed his swing, his legs dangling idly. The chains groaned as his motion stilled. Mila noticed immediately, her grin fading as she watched her friend retreat into himself.
“Hey,” she said gently, twisting her swing slightly to face him. “What’s wrong?”
Leon glanced at her but didn’t answer. Mila bit her lip. She wanted to press him, but something in his expression told her he wasn’t ready. So instead, she chose another approach.
“Okay, don’t tell me yet,” she said brightly, looking around the playground. “But let’s play a game. Who do you think’s gonna get the coolest power in our class?”
Leon blinked at her, caught off guard. “What?”
“You heard me.” Mila gestured toward their classmates, grinning. “Like, look at Timmy over there. I bet he ends up being one of those heroes who can summon tornadoes or something. Can you imagine him in one of those big, shiny capes?”
Leon snorted despite himself, following her gaze to a boy struggling to control his small whirlwind. “Yeah, but he’d probably trip over it and knock out a whole city block.”
“Exactly,” Mila said, laughing. “And what about Lizzy? You think she’ll be the next Flame Guardian or just set her kitchen on fire?”
Leon smiled faintly, watching the girl in question struggle to keep a flame in her palm without panicking. “Definitely the kitchen thing.”
They continued for a few minutes, pointing out their classmates and imagining their futures as heroes—or not. Mila made sure to keep the conversation light, her goal clear: to distract Leon long enough to let him breathe.
Finally, after a comfortable pause, Leon broke the silence.
“Mila,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the playground noise.
She turned toward him, her swing still swaying slightly. “Yeah?”
He hesitated, gripping the chains tightly. Then, with a deep breath, he said, “I went to the hospital this morning.”
Mila stilled, her expression softening. “The hospital? Why?”
“They ran some tests,” Leon said, staring at the ground. “To see if I’ll ever get a power.”
“Oh,” Mila said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And... did they find anything?”
Leon shook his head. “Not yet. They said it could take a week or two. But...” He trailed off, his fingers curling around the swing’s chains. “I don’t know. What if I don’t have one? What if I never get one?”
Mila slid off her swing and stood in front of him, her hands on her hips. “Leon, listen to me.”
He looked up at her, startled by the determination in her voice.
“Even if you don’t get a power, it doesn’t mean anything’s wrong with you,” she said firmly. “You’re still Leon. You’re still smart, and kind, and, well, you.”
“But what if that’s not enough?” Leon whispered.
“It is,” Mila said, her voice softer now. “It’s enough for me. And it’s enough for everyone who really knows you.” She crouched slightly so they were eye level. “Powers don’t make someone a hero. You don’t need one to be amazing.”
Leon blinked, her words sinking in. A faint warmth spread through his chest, easing some of the doubt that had been eating at him all day.
“Thanks, Mila,” he said softly.
She grinned, straightening up. “Anytime. Now, come on! Let’s see who can jump the farthest off the swings!”
Leon laughed, the weight on his shoulders feeling a little lighter. “You’re so gonna lose.”
“Pfft, you wish!” Mila said, hopping back onto her swing.
Their laughter filled the playground, ringing out like music on a sunny afternoon as they soared off the swings, the world momentarily reduced to the joy of their carefree leaps.
Leon tumbled onto the grass, arms flung wide, grinning up at the sky as if he could touch it. “Next year, we’ll be graduating together. Can you believe it?” he said, his voice bright with excitement.
Mila eased herself down beside him, her own smile soft but steady. “Yeah... next year,” she replied, her tone light but carrying a fleeting tremor.
Leon, too lost in his dreams of the future, missed it entirely. He launched into a rambling list of plans—about their favorite teachers, their classmates’ quirks, and which powers might surprise them all by then.
Mila watched him, her chest tightening as she let his words wash over her. His enthusiasm was infectious, a spark she couldn’t bear to dim. For now, her only goal was to keep his grin alive.
“If only… if only things could stay like this forever,” she thought, her mind a swirl of bittersweet longing.
The school bell broke the moment, its sharp chime calling the children back to reality. A wave of giggles and hurried steps carried everyone toward the front gates. Mila’s parents stood nearby, waving warmly, their expressions proud and oblivious. Leon’s father lingered in the background, leaning casually against a lamppost, a faint smile on his face.
“Well, see you tomorrow,” Leon said, springing up and offering Mila a quick wave before jogging off.
“Yeah,” Mila replied, waving back with a practiced ease that didn’t betray the turmoil within. As she turned to join her parents, she took a slow, steadying breath.
For now, she’d guard her secret, tucking it away behind her smile. Leon didn’t need to know—not yet—that in just a few weeks, she’d be moving away, leaving the life they knew behind.