Unspoken worries

Luka carried his fish carefully, gripping it by the tail as it dangled lifelessly in his small hands. It wasn't big,just enough for a meal but he still looked at it with quiet curiosity.

He had caught it.

By himself.

He wasn't sure if he should feel something about that.

But Papa had patted his shoulder when they left the pier, his voice warm with approval. "Good catch, kid."

That was enough.

They finally arrived home.

The scent of smoked herbs and simmering broth filled the house when they stepped inside.

In the kitchen, Agata stood over the stove, stirring a pot, her braid lazily draped over one shoulder. The soft glow of the evening lanterns bathed the room in a golden light.

She looked up when she heard the door open.

"Oh, you're back!" Her gaze flicked to Luka, then to the fish in his hands. Her eyes softened. "And you caught dinner, I see."

Luka walked over to her, holding up the fish without a word.

Agata chuckled, drying her hands on her apron before kneeling in front of him.

"Look at you," she murmured, gently taking the fish. "Your first catch."

Luka watched as she examined it. She didn't say much, but the way her lips curved into a soft smile told him that this was... good.

He thought back to the rabbit in the forest. To what Papa had told him.

(We don't kill for fun. We don't waste what we take.)

The fish wasn't wasted. It would feed his family.

Maybe that was what made it different.

"Where's Sasha?"

Demid's voice broke the silence as he set down his fishing gear near the door. His usual relaxed posture shifted slightly, his brows knitting together.

Agata sighed, setting the fish aside.

"In her room. She... hasn't come out since this morning."

Luka blinked.

That was unusual.

Sasha always made noise.

She always talked too fast, laughed too loud, moved too much.

But lately...

She had been quieter.

Luka walked to the hallway, stopping in front of Sasha's door.

The wooden frame looked the same as always, but something about it felt different now,like an invisible wall had gone up behind it.

Knock knock.

He knocked once.No answer.

He knocked again.

Still nothing.

He turned the handle, but it wouldn't budge,it was Locked.

Sasha never locked her door it was strange for Luka.

"Sasha," he called, his voice steady.

No response.

Inside, he could hear the faintest rustling. A small movement, like shifting blankets.

She was there.

Luka stood still, pressing his palm lightly against the door.

He had heard Mama and Papa whispering last night.

"It's been three years, Demid. Three years, and still no jōki manifestation. She's trying, but it's hurting her."

"She's at that age, honey. It'll come."

"And if it doesn't?"

Silence.

Then Mama's voice, barely above a whisper—

"She feels like she's being left behind."

Luka hadn't understood at first.

But now, standing outside her door, feeling the weight of her silence, he thought... maybe he was starting to.

"Sasha," he said again. "Are you sick?"

Another small rustle from inside. Then, finally—

"...Go away, Luka."

Her voice was flat.

Not sharp, not teasing, not filled with the usual warmth and fire she always had.

Luka frowned slightly.

"...Mama made food."

A pause.

"I'm not hungry."

That was strange. Sasha was always hungry.

Luka tilted his head. "You're lying."

A dry laugh. Not a happy one.

"You don't even understand lying."

Luka pressed his forehead lightly against the door, his dark eyes unblinking.

"Why are you sad?"

This time, there was no answer.

Just silence.

Then—

"You wouldn't get it, Luka."

A long pause.

Then, so quietly he almost didn't hear it—

"You've always been different. But I'm the one who's falling behind."

Luka didn't understand why that made his chest feel tight.

But it did.

.....

That night, Sasha never came out of her room.

Luka sat at the dinner table, his plate in front of him, staring at the empty chair across from him.

Agata sighed softly, pushing her food around her plate. Her usual warmth was dimmed by something heavier.

Finally, she set down her fork and looked toward the hallway.

"I should talk to her."

Demid reached over, resting a hand on hers. "Give her some time, Agata."

Agata's lips pressed together, worry flickering in her eyes.

"I don't like this,dear . She's shutting herself away."

Demid exhaled through his nose, his fingers tapping lightly against the table. "She'll come out when she's ready."

Luka looked between them, then back at Sasha's empty chair.

Something about it felt wrong.

Sasha was always there.

She was the one who dragged him places. Who yelled at people for him. Who filled the house with noise.

But now, her door stayed closed.

Luka didn't like it.

Neither did Mama.

She stood up, wiping her hands on her apron. "No. She's my daughter. I'm not waiting."

Demid watched her go, rubbing the back of his neck.

Luka followed.

Agata knocked gently before opening Sasha's door.

Agata knocked gently before pushing the door open.

The room was dim, the only light coming from the small holographic stars on Sasha's ceiling ones she had kept since she was little.

Sasha lay curled up in bed, facing the wall, unmoving.

Agata walked over and sat beside her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Sasha, my love," she murmured. "Talk to me."

For a moment, there was nothing.

Then, in a small, quiet voice—

"I'm nothing, Mama."

Agata's heart squeezed.

She reached out, running her fingers through Sasha's hair. "Why would you say that?"

"Because it's been three years and still nothing," Sasha whispered. "Everyone else is awakening, Mama. Even kids younger than me. And me? I'm just... nothing."

Her voice broke on the last word.

Agata closed her eyes for a moment, steadying herself. Then, she took Sasha's hands in hers.

"Sasha... do you remember when you first learned to ride a bicycle?"

Sasha let out a bitter laugh. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just listen."

Agata's voice was soft, warm the same way it had been all those years ago, when she had knelt beside Sasha on the sidewalk, brushing dirt off her scraped knees.

"You were six. You begged your father to get you a bike because all the other kids had one. And the moment you got on it..."

Sasha muttered, "I fell."

Agata chuckled. "You crashed straight into the bushes."

Despite herself, Sasha's lips twitched. "It wasn't funny."

"It was a little funny."

A beat of silence.

Then, Sasha turned her head slightly, just enough for Agata to see her eyes tired, red-rimmed, but no longer completely empty.

Agata squeezed her hands. "And what did Papa do when you fell?"

Sasha blinked.

She could still remember it clearly,the way she had cried in frustration, convinced she would never learn.

And then—

Luka had walked over, tiny and quiet, and held out his own little hands to help her up.

And Papa had laughed, ruffling her hair, and said—

"It doesn't matter how many times you fall, kid. We'll always be here to help you get back up."

Agata leaned in, brushing a strand of hair from Sasha's face.

"Sasha, listen to me. Whether you awaken jōki or not... you are not nothing. You are my daughter. You are loved."

Sasha swallowed hard. "But what if I never awaken? What if I really am weak?"

Agata cupped Sasha's face gently, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Then we love you anyway."

Sasha let out a shaky breath, her chest tightening.

"But Luka..."

Agata nodded. "Luka looks up to you. And right now, he's watching you give up."

Sasha clenched the blankets beneath her fingers.

She had always been the strong one.

The one who stood between Luka and the world. The one who made sure he didn't feel alone.

But now... she was hiding.

Leaving him to wonder why.

The silence stretched for a long time.

Then, finally—

Sasha threw off the blankets.

She wiped her face quickly before standing, her steps slow but determined as she walked toward the door.

When she opened it, she found Luka sitting on the floor, back against the wall, waiting.

His dark eyes lifted to hers.

He didn't say anything.

Didn't ask why she had locked herself away.

Didn't ask if she was okay.

He just... looked at her.

And after a moment,She reached out.

Luka hesitated, then took her hand.

Sasha exhaled slowly, then gave him a small smile,not forced, not perfect, but real.

"Let's go eat, slowpoke."

Luka nodded.

And just like that—

The house didn't feel so quiet anymore.