The First Reflection, I

The morning after the garden, the world felt thinner.

The clocks ticked louder than usual. Footsteps echoed longer. Even the sunlight seemed diluted—stretched across the floorboards like it was unsure if it belonged here.

Shuji hadn't said much since I returned the evening before. He took one look at me, nodded once, and returned to his ledgers. But I could tell something had shifted. He moved slower, more carefully, like he was waiting for the world to lurch sideways again.

I finished my tasks early. Delivered a repaired pocket watch to the merchant by the riverside. Wiped down the entrance panels. Inspected the mainsprings on three timepieces awaiting return.

But by midmorning, I found myself near the edge of the Tachibana estate again.

I wasn't planning to go inside.

I wasn't planning anything at all.

Just standing.

Then I heard a voice behind me.

"You don't learn, do you?"

I turned.

Kanzaki Tatsuya.

This time, he wasn't dressed for polite company. His sleeves were rolled. Sword at his side. His eyes held no warmth—only something sharpened and coiled.

"She isn't here," he said.

"I wasn't looking for her."

He stepped closer. "Then why are you standing like a thief?"

"I'm not."

He tilted his head, gaze fixed on me like a hawk. "People like you don't just stand near families like the Tachibana. They wait. They watch. They take."

"I've taken nothing."

He looked me up and down, then past me toward the garden wall. "No, Not yet."

His hand moved.

Not to draw fully—but just enough to let the blade whisper out an inch or two of steel.

"Do you want to test that?" He asked.

I didn't move. My heart beat once—hard.

"You're not going to draw that blade," I said quietly.

And I don't know why I said it.

But he did.

Steel flashed.

I ducked instinctively—barely. The blade sliced the air near my shoulder.

I stepped back, heart pounding, and raised my hands. "Are you insane?"

"You came here uninvited. You whispered to a woman who isn't yours. And you think your dreams make you special?"

He struck again—faster this time. I dodged. Barely.

The third swing came without hesitation.

And time skipped.

***

Everything slowed.

The air thickened. My thoughts untethered from the present, pulled toward something deeper. Tatsuya's blade dragged through space like it was caught underwater. His expression distorted for a breath—eyes widening, not from rage, but confusion.

Behind him, something flickered.

A vision.

A battlefield.

Tatsuya, dressed in black, covered in blood, not his own. A broken sword in his hand. His mouth moved, but no sound came. I felt the ache in his chest as if it were mine.

And then it all snapped back.

***

I stumbled two steps back, breath caught in my throat.

The blade never touched me. I was standing where I hadn't been—seconds earlier.

Tatsuya stared at me, chest rising. The anger was gone.

"What…?" His voice cracked. "You moved. I didn't see it—how did you…?"

He took another step forward, blade still loose in his hand.

But I could see it now—he wasn't charging. He was afraid.

"I didn't do anything," I said, but even I didn't believe it.

A long silence passed between us.

Then a voice rang out behind the trees.

"Enough!"

Shuji.

He emerged from the path, sleeves dusted with sawdust, jaw set.

Tatsuya flinched, just slightly.

"This doesn't concern—"

"It concerns me when you draw steel on a boy without a blade," Shuji said flatly.

Tatsuya sheathed the sword with a hard snap. "He doesn't belong here."

"Maybe. But neither does whatever's chasing him."

Tatsuya lingered for a breath, then turned sharply and walked away.

I stood there, shaking.

Shuji approached and laid a hand on my shoulder.

"We need to talk," he said.

And that was when the wind shifted.

Like something had followed me home.