Let's stick together

Najo looks up from the floor and sees them—Moto and Sheu, standing at the door. His heart tightens. Shame coils deeper than even Ginimbi's cold rejection. In his mind, every friendship he'd earned was rooted in power—his lightning, his strength. That power is gone. And now, the people who once stood beside him are here. He expects distance. Disappointment. Abandonment.

Moto steps forward, his gaze unwavering. "What happened?" he asks, his voice low, filled with genuine concern. "Who did this?"

Najo says nothing, his gaze fixed on the floor, unable to meet their eyes.

Naomi steps in, her tone heavy with sorrow and self-blame. "It was Heather's sons. He won't speak about what they did… but he's lost his lightning. And Ginimbi cut him off."

Sheu drops to his side, stunned, her hand reaching out. "How could he just abandon you like that? You're his grandson!"

"I'm useless now," Najo whispers, his voice raw with despair. "I've lost everything. I am nothing."

Naomi wipes his forehead, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes. "This is my fault. I shouldn't have let you go back there. You were safe with me…"

Najo's pride fractures. He had risen fast—too fast—and now he's collapsed just as quickly. To hear pity from his mother and Sheu only deepens the wound. And Moto… says nothing.

Until he does. Moto's voice cuts through the despair, sharp and clear. "Get up, Najo. What kind of rival pities himself?"

Najo blinks, slowly lifting his head. Moto doesn't see weakness—he sees dormant potential.

"So what if they took your lightning?" Moto presses, a challenge in his eyes. "You think I'll just pass you while you lie there crying?"

Najo's eyes flare, a spark of his old fire rekindling. Moto's gaze is firm, seeing not a broken boy, but a future rival. "People are terrified of what you could become. So are you going to let them win?"

"But all that potential came from my lightning," Najo argues, his voice still hoarse. "What they did to me... it's irreversible."

"Says who?" Moto counters, a faint smirk.

"It's obvious."

Moto, frustrated by the defeatist talk, lifts his bandaged hand—the same hand that struck Gwen, the same hand that awakened his dangerous, true power. "They said I couldn't win that fight. But this hand says otherwise."

"But Ginimbi said I was done without lightning…" Najo murmurs, still clinging to the old narrative.

Moto's voice sharpens, piercing through Najo's self-doubt. "Then why do you need the approval of someone who tossed you aside the moment you changed?" That word—changed—hits Najo like thunder. Moto doesn't see someone broken. He sees someone shifting. Evolving.

Najo sits up slowly, quiet, thoughtful. Could it really be possible to rise again?

Moto turns to Naomi, his expression softening. "You did nothing wrong. Life throws chaos at all of us. Senseless violence. Injustice. It's why I won't stop. But my brother once told me—answers don't lie in safety. They lie in the unknown."

"I just wanted him to live a full life…" Naomi whispers, tears now flowing freely.

"He will," Moto reassures her, his voice firm. "Stronger than ever."

Naomi stares, a fragile hope in her eyes. "Return?"

"Yes. I've been assigned a mission in Sango. The King gave me permission to bring my friends—including Najo."

Najo looks up, wide-eyed. Even now, even like this—Moto still wants him beside him. Despite everything, his true allies are here. Sheu. Moto. Not Dope and Gango. This is what loyalty looks like. And he makes a silent vow to return it.

Naomi turns to her son, a soft, hopeful smile. "Do you want to go?"

Najo stands. His knees buckle and the breeze nearly throws him off balance—but Moto and Sheu catch him without hesitation, their hands firm, supportive. His voice is hoarse but firm. "I want to go."

Naomi prepares a feast for the three, emptying her pantry without a second thought. By the time they finish eating, Najo is standing on his own, a newfound resolve in his eyes. He hugs his mother, whispers goodbye, and together the three of them make their way to the gate of Nyika.

EXT. NYIKA GATE – NIGHT

[SOUND of distant city murmur. Wind whistling through the stone archway.]

Moto, Najo, and Sheu stand just beyond the massive gates. Behind them: everything they've known. Ahead: a narrow path toward hazy mountains, veiled in distance and silence. The air here feels different. Lighter. Sharper. But unfamiliar.

Sheu stops, glancing back at the gleaming brass and carved stone of the city. Sheu (quietly, a hint of bitterness): "Still looks the same from this side. All polished edges... hiding rot inside."

Najo kicks a loose stone, frustration brimming behind his quiet movements. Najo: "Rot? Yeah, I felt it. Deep down. Feels like they ripped something out of me… chewed it up and spat it out." His fists clench.

Moto steps ahead, gaze locked forward, a silent strength in his posture. Moto: "It was heavy. All of it. Pain, betrayal… losing something vital." He doesn't mention his own truths. The King learning his secret. The unstable power burning beneath his skin. But he carries it with him, a quiet weight.

Sheu: "My father… this city… the King… None of it adds up. There are secrets buried deep, and I'm going to find them."

Najo: "And I'm going to rebuild. Stronger than before. No one will tear me down again. Not witches. Not schemes. Starting over tastes like ash… but I'll swallow it."

Moto turns, his face now carrying the kind of quiet strength forged in fire. Moto: "Sango isn't a detour. It's the next step. Zen believes in it. So do I. Right now, alliances matter more than ever—and we can't afford to walk blindly." He meets their eyes, his gaze steady. "None of us are fine. Sheu, your heart's bleeding but your mind's razor sharp. Najo, they took your spark, but not your fire. And me… I'm still trying to find peace in a world built for war." He gestures to the winding road ahead. "Nyika broke us in different ways. But the world ahead? It won't be kind either. We need each other. That's the only way forward."

Sheu looks from Moto to Najo, her sharp edge softening, replaced by resolve. Najo lifts his gaze, that familiar fire rekindling in his eyes. Sheu: "Alone is how you get lost... or worse. You're right, Moto. My mission needs eyes… ears… and blades."

Najo: "Blades I still have. Even without Ore. Not useless yet."

Moto (smiling, a genuine warmth): "Never useless. Your will's stronger than lightning. And Sheu—your clarity cuts deeper than swords." He lifts his hand, palm up. "To Sango. To truth. To reclaiming what they stole. And to each other. No matter what's waiting out there."

Sheu places her palm atop his. Fierce. Determined. Sheu: "To each other. Whatever comes."

Najo joins them—hand firm, grip steady. Najo: "To each other. Always."

The moment holds. Three souls stitched together by pain, grit, and purpose.

Moto lowers their hands. "Alright then. The path waits." He walks forward. Sheu and Najo fall into step beside him. Together, they leave the broken gates of Nyika behind. And step into the unknown.