Return to the Unknown

A searing flash of light gradually ebbed, leaving Toshi to find himself once again within the cavernous confines of Ikaris' cave—a place draped in the familiar embrace of darkness. The damp stone walls, slick with moisture and accented by the erratic dance of flickering torches, seemed untouched by the passage of what felt like a lifetime; as though the past fifteen years had evaporated into nothing. As his heightened senses slowly reassembled, his keen eyes fixed on Ikaris, who now sat in quiet majesty upon his ancient stone throne. Yet, today, an unsettling shift in his demeanor was unmistakable.

Gone was the perpetual, condescending smirk that Toshi had long come to expect from him.

Instead, Ikaris regarded him with a look imbued with unforeseen gravity—a serious, almost contemplative intensity that stripped away the usual veil of arrogance. Before Toshi could gather his thoughts to speak, Ikaris' measured voice cut through the charged silence.

"Took you long enough, didn't it?" Ikaris remarked, his tone twining both amusement and impatience.

Toshi's eyes narrowed into slits of steely defiance, his voice chillingly cold. "So what? It's not like you ever cared about me."

Stepping forward, arms crossed tightly as though guarding the raw edges of his heart, Toshi pressed on, "And why would you?"

For a long, weighted moment, Ikaris remained silent. Then, with a deliberate cadence that resonated against the damp stone, he said, "Listen, Toshi. Just because you view the world and its people in a certain way does not mean reality abides by your beliefs."

A harsh scoff escaped Toshi. "I don't care for the particulars of the world. What I do care about is who you truly are—and that isn't something that will change."

A deep, pained sigh rumbled from Ikaris, a sigh so laden with regret that it seemed to echo centuries of sorrow rather than his usual self-assured tone. Toshi, ever perceptive, caught the subtle shift immediately: Ikaris—who had only ever displayed amusement and condescension—now bore an unmistakable heaviness, an inner turbulence that made even him hesitate.

"Toshi," Ikaris spoke softly now, his voice almost a whisper against the backdrop of stone, "what you seek… you are not yet ready to comprehend. But when the time arrives, when you finally embrace the truth, you will discover that your abilities will evolve beyond what you now possess."

At the sound of these words, Toshi's fists clenched instinctively. He felt the coarse bandages wrapped around his right arm—not merely as a covering but as a restrictive shroud that chafed against his arm. As he flexed his fingers beneath the layers, the faint, otherworldly glow of Energy persisted, a dim ember yearning to be unleashed.

"What the hell does that mean?" he demanded, his voice strained between anger and desperate curiosity.

Ikaris rose deliberately, his towering form casting a long, foreboding shadow upon the cave floor. "Now… I'm sending you to Earth. It is there your answers are waiting to be found."

Toshi's grip tightened further, his voice a blend of incredulity and defiance, "And why in the world should I follow your orders?"

With an expression that betrayed nothing of his inner workings, Ikaris replied evenly, "Because she wished for you to be there. Or at least… that was her wish."

At those words, Toshi froze. His heart skipped, and a deluge of questions cascaded through his mind. "How do you know her?"

Ikaris did not offer any further explanation. Instead, his voice softened into a cryptic murmur: "You'll find your answers soon enough. But remember—when your journey takes you to Earth, you must conceal that burning arm of yours. Let them believe that you are nothing more than human."

Before Toshi could press for more, the surrounding light suddenly gave way to an all-encompassing darkness.

Yet this was not the mere absence of light. It was an endless void—a profound nothingness so deep that Toshi felt as though existence itself were being devoured by an insatiable abyss.

And from within that boundless void, a voice materialized.

"Ru?"

Toshi's breath caught in his throat as his eyes widened in disbelief. That voice—ethereal, achingly familiar—stirred something deep within him.

"Ru—Ruma?! Is that you?" he shouted, his cry reverberating through the infinite emptiness.

In response, she appeared—a luminous presence emerging from the darkness. The woman who had once been his guide, who had illuminated his path with the secrets of Energy, now stood before him. But she was not here to instruct him as she once had.

"Ru… remember this," she intoned softly, her voice a soothing balm against the harsh aftermath of his doubts. "Ikaris is not your enemy. He holds no desire to harm you."

Her words carried no trace of uncertainty or fear—only a resolute calm.

"He only wishes to protect you… and everyone else," she affirmed.

In that moment, Toshi's vision began to blur as the crushing darkness shattered like fragile glass. Time stretched out, his mind racing to grasp the revelation: protect him? Ikaris? The very man who had once toyed with his fate and allowed him to suffer?

There was barely time for his thoughts to settle before—

He fell.

A roaring wind surged past his ears as his body was propelled downward, crashing violently into the unknown. The impact scattered fine dust motes into the air like shimmering stars, the force rattling his bones until the agony became a distant whisper.

When Toshi finally opened his eyes, he was greeted by a vast new panorama.

Fields. Endless fields of golden crops, each stalk ablaze in sunlight, stretching into the infinite horizon.

Above, the sky spanned clear and boundless, a brilliant canvas of blue against which the gentle aroma of earth and ripened harvest spread in the warm, embracing air. The sun's heat, far gentler and more familiar than the oppressive burn of torment, wrapped him in a comforting glow.

Struggling upright, his breath mingling with the murmuring winds, Toshi's mind swirled with the remnants of his recent experiences. As he surveyed the bountiful land, a curious sensation crept up his spine—a sentiment both eerie and inexplicably intimate.

He clenched his fists, careful to hide the bandaged hand beneath the long, flowing sleeves of his robe, and let his eyes wander over the endless fields. A whisper, soft and questioning, slipped from his lips.

"Why… does this place feel so achingly familiar?"

A pause stretched into silence.

Then, his breathing caught anew, and his trembling fingers felt the wet trail of something sliding down his cheek.

He reached up, touching his face in disbelief.

Tears.

His eyes widened with dawning realization and a mix of wonder and sorrow. "Why… am I crying?"

Another silent moment ensued. The gentle rustle of the wind among the golden crops continued unabated, yet within him, a tempest of unacknowledged memories and raw emotion surged.

Memories that had long been buried clawed at the recesses of his mind, demanding recognition, while his heart pounded a fierce, rhythmic cadence, echoing with an ache that was both foreign and achingly familiar.

Exhaling sharply in a mix of resignation and wonder, Toshi finally whispered, "Am I… truly crying?"

And in that fragile moment, as if summoned from the depths of his forgotten past, those memories began to whisper their long-held secrets once more.