Cracks in the mask

Kai winced as the school bell rang, sharp and piercing, like it was mocking his pounding headache.

He moved slower than usual, his left leg stiff with every step. A bruised rib jabbed him every time he twisted in the wrong direction. His arm, bound tightly beneath his uniform blazer, throbbed in rhythm with his heartbeat.

He could barely carry his backpack.

Still, he walked through the gates of Langdon Secondary like nothing was wrong. Because that's what he had to do.

Because no one — not his classmates, not his teachers, and especially not his mother — could know the truth.

"Morning, Kai!" someone called out. He forced a smile and raised his hand in greeting.

The moment they passed, the smile vanished.

He adjusted the strap on his bag and hissed. Too much pressure on his shoulder. Every part of him hurt.

He'd barely slept the night before, even after patching himself up in secret and pretending to "trip on the stairs" when his mom asked what happened.

Now he was at school, barely able to sit upright, let alone think straight.

"Yo."

Zayn's voice came from beside him, more casual than usual.

Kai glanced sideways. Zayn looked… fine. Maybe a few faint bruises, but that was it. His posture was relaxed, his stride confident. He carried a textbook in one hand like it was a feather.

Kai hated how easy he made it look.

"Morning," Kai muttered.

"You alright?"

"No."

Zayn whistled. "Brutally honest. Nice."

Kai didn't laugh. He tried not to respond at all.

They walked into homeroom, where Kai collapsed into his seat like a sandbag. He immediately flinched as his ribs reminded him he'd made a bad choice.

Zayn sat in the desk beside him — one the teachers had reluctantly assigned after he "transferred in" under the story Kai and his mom had agreed on: a quiet, awkward orphan who'd been through enough and needed a place to stay.

Zayn had embraced the role a little too well, flashing an occasional sad look whenever someone asked questions. He could play pathetic when he needed to.

Kai had to admit — he was good at it.

But right now, all Kai could do was rest his head against the desk and try not to pass out.

"You sure you don't wanna skip today?" Zayn asked under his breath.

"If I skip, she'll know something's up."

"Your mom?"

Kai nodded.

Zayn leaned closer, voice low. "You can't keep this up, man. You're limping, you're hunched over like a grandpa, and you look like you got hit by a train."

"I did," Kai muttered. "Twice."

Zayn didn't laugh.

The teacher began the lesson, and Kai tried to focus — really tried — but the numbers on the board swam together, and the words in the textbook were unreadable. Every now and then, a dull ache in his side would sharpen, and he'd have to bite his lip to avoid making a sound.

He wasn't used to being this weak. This slow. This human.

Halfway through math class, he asked to go to the nurse.

She sent him back after checking his temperature and declaring him "a bit pale but fine."

The truth was stitched beneath his skin and bandaged over in private.

At lunch, Kai sat alone on the back steps behind the art building. Zayn joined him, two juice boxes in hand.

"You didn't eat your lunch," Zayn noted, handing him one.

"Not hungry."

"You need to eat to heal."

"I need painkillers and a week of bedrest. But sure, juice box it is."

Zayn raised an eyebrow. "Want me to zap you unconscious? Might be more effective."

Kai smirked, then winced. "Don't make me laugh."

For a moment, the two of them sat in silence, sipping juice and pretending the world wasn't burning behind them.

Then Zayn said, "You're mad at me."

Kai didn't respond.

"You think it's unfair."

Kai took another sip. "Isn't it?"

Zayn looked down at his bruised knuckles. "I get it. You're hurt, and I'm not."

"You're a Mamodo," Kai said flatly. "You bounce back. You're designed for this war. I'm just some guy with a book."

"You're not just some guy," Zayn said, a bit more serious now. "I can't use any spells without you. Doesn't matter how tough I am — without you, I'm powerless."

Kai didn't answer right away.

"I just…" he said quietly. "I can't afford to fall behind. If I do, I'll get us both killed."

Zayn nodded slowly. "Then let's train smarter. Not harder."

Kai gave him a look. "That's it? No argument?"

Zayn shrugged. "I don't want you dead. Kind of ruins the plan."

Kai blinked. Then chuckled despite the pain. "Okay, that's fair."

They sat a little longer, and this time, Kai's shoulders relaxed just a bit.

But beneath the quiet, beneath the juice boxes and jokes, the weight hadn't gone away.

He was still bleeding beneath the bandages.

Still hiding the pain from everyone he cared about.

Still pretending to be okay.

And deep down, he knew the next battle would come sooner than he was ready.

By the time Kai reached his front door, he was dragging one leg and leaning hard against the railing. His hoodie hid most of the bruises, but every motion reminded him of the battle—of Jikerdon, and what it took out of him.

His ribs ached. His arms were trembling. His vision still swam when he turned his head too fast.

Zayn walked beside him, completely fine.

Not even limping.

"Slow down," Kai muttered, wincing with every step.

Zayn paused at the door, glancing over his shoulder. "This is me slowing down."

Kai gave a breathless chuckle that turned into a cough.

He gripped the doorknob and forced himself to stand straighter before turning it.

Inside, the house was warm and smelled like sautéed onions. His mother's voice drifted from the kitchen.

"You're late again!"

Kai quickly kicked off his shoes and answered as steadily as he could, "Study group ran long."

He didn't wait for her to come check on him. Instead, he made a beeline for the stairs.

Too slow.

"Kai, wait."

He stopped halfway up, cursing under his breath, then turned to look down at her. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, holding a wooden spoon and frowning. Her hair was pulled into a tight bun, scrubs still on from her shift.

"You look pale."

"I'm just tired," he said.

Her eyes narrowed, scanning him. "You're limping."

"Football at lunch. Got clipped."

"Really." Her tone made it clear she didn't believe him.

Kai forced a smile. "I'm fine, promise."

Zayn appeared behind her with perfect timing, casually munching on an apple. "Hey, dinner smells incredible."

Her frown softened immediately. "Glad someone notices."

Kai used the moment to disappear upstairs.

He collapsed onto his bed, finally able to breathe without pretending everything was okay.

Every inch of him hurt. His back, his ribs, his legs… bruises layered over bruises. But it wasn't just physical.

It was Jikerdon.

The spell had worked—a wave of electromagnetic force that stunned the enemy Mamodo just long enough for Zayn to land the finishing blow—but casting it had drained him. His head still pounded from the residual pulse, and his fingertips tingled hours later.

"Never again without warning," he muttered into the pillow.

"You say that after every new spell," Zayn said, strolling into the room and tossing his jacket onto the chair. He looked like he'd just come from a jog—fresh, energetic, no sign of the brutal alley battle they'd barely survived.

Kai turned his head slowly. "How are you fine right now?"

Zayn shrugged. "Mamodos recover faster. We're built for this."

Kai pushed himself up with a groan. "Good for you."

"You should rest."

"I can't. I have homework, two overdue essays, and a quiz tomorrow in physics. I already got questioned once today in class."

Zayn frowned. "You're falling behind?"

"No," Kai said, a bit too quickly. "Not yet. But people are noticing I'm… off."

He remembered how Mr. Kent had paused during a lecture to ask if he was alright. How Sarah had offered him her notes when he didn't even realize he'd missed half the period. And how even Aaron—the class clown—had stayed quiet when Kai barely responded to a joke.

They saw the difference.

But none of them knew the truth.

Zayn sat on the windowsill, looking out at the quiet street below. "You're pushing yourself too hard."

"What choice do I have?"

Kai pulled his schoolbag onto the bed and started rummaging for his folder, trying to ignore the dull throb in his wrist.

"If I let the rest of my life fall apart, what's left? Fighting Mamodos in dark alleys while hiding everything from my mum?"

Zayn didn't answer.

Because there wasn't a good answer.

Kai opened his physics textbook, the diagrams swimming in front of his eyes. For a brief moment, he just stared at the page, brain refusing to process the text.

Zayn watched him for a long moment before finally speaking. "We need to train smarter."

Kai blinked up at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you can't keep getting wrecked like this. I'm healing faster, yeah—but you're human. If we keep fighting like we did today, one of these times…"

"You think I'll die," Kai said, flatly.

Zayn hesitated. "I think… we need to fight smarter. Not harder. That's what will keep you alive."

Kai let the silence stretch before replying.

"You said back in the alley that we're not ready. That I wasn't ready."

Zayn nodded. "You're getting stronger, but yeah. You're still figuring this out."

Kai looked down at the spellbook lying next to him.

Zaker. Rashield. Jikerdon.

He knew the toll they took. He remembered what it felt like to scream Jikerdon into the night, not knowing what would happen. To feel the surge of power ripple through the air—and through his own nervous system.

But he'd still done it.

And he would again.

"I'll get there," Kai said quietly.

Zayn leaned back against the window. "I know. That's what scares me."

Later that night, Kai sat alone at his desk.

He'd finished his homework, barely. Every equation bled into the next. Every minute dragged.

But he kept going.

His mother had gone to sleep. Zayn had passed out on the couch with the TV still on.

And Kai sat with the spellbook open in front of him, candlelight flickering against the gold-lined pages.

He flipped to Jikerdon, tracing the letters with a bandaged finger.

It had worked.

But he could feel it — they'd only scratched the surface.

There were more spells.

More enemies.

And if he didn't keep up, someone else might get hurt.

Or worse.

He shut the book and stared at the wall for a long time, letting the quiet stretch out.

Then, finally, he whispered to himself:

"No matter what it costs me… I'm not backing down."

The next morning, Kai woke to a world that felt like a furnace. His shoulder was stiff as iron, and each breath still echoed pain through his ribs. He'd barely slept—every throb reminded him of Jikerdon's cost.

But today there would be no hiding. No more slipping through school corridors half‑dead. Today, he and Zayn would train.

In the Abandoned Garage

They met in the dusty garage beneath Kai's house, the same place they'd patched up after the last fight. Tools hung on pegboards, and old car parts littered the floor—perfect obstacles for their customized drills.

Kai surveyed the space, mind already racing. "All right. We're going to start with mobility. I need to weave in and out faster than Terron's spikes."

He pointed to a row of rusty oil drums. "I've set up a slalom. I'll sprint through, then cast Zaker at each target pole. You'll follow immediately with a Rashield—we'll drill speed and timing."

Zayn nodded, stretching his arms. "Got it."

Drill One: Mobility & Timing

Kai weaved through five drums, reading each pole's rune and reciting "Zaker!."

Zayn followed in Kai's wake, raising his hand for "Rashield" the instant each bolt struck the target.

After three rounds, Zayn's shields caught every bolt, but Kai's second and third passes were slower. "I'm lagging," Kai admitted, panting. "My shoulder—"

"Rest," Zayn said. "We'll rotate."

Kai nodded gratefully and stepped aside.

Drill Two: Controlled Overload

Kai dragged a length of chain across the concrete, forming a rough circle. "In a real fight, energy can get chaotic," he explained, eyes bright despite his fatigue. "We need to channel it. I want to cast Jikerdon in a smaller radius, then immediately fire Zaker through it. That shock component amplified by the EMP will fracture armor."

He pointed to a steel barrel. "You stand here."

Zayn moved into position, braced against the wall.

Kai steadied himself, palm on his aching side. He forced calm, heart thumping in rhythm. Then:

"Jikerdon!"

A shimmering pulse expanded in the chain circle—powerful but confined. The air crackled.

Instantly: "Zaker!"

Kai's second bolt arced through the EMP field, striking the barrel and sending sparks dancing.

Zayn grinned, arms still charged. "That… felt right."

Kai allowed himself a small smile. "We need precision. Not just raw power."

Drill Three: Reaction & Strategy

Kai pulled a small remote from his pocket—a trick he'd rigged the night before. It triggered a spray of water from a broken pipe overhead, simulating environmental hazards.

"Okay," Kai said, voice steady. "Water conducts electricity. If a battlefield gets wet, spells can backfire. We'll simulate that."

He crouched by a puddle. "I'll distract you—toss a rock at you. When you catch it, immediately cast Rashield behind you to absorb the next bolt. I'll follow with Zaker, but you need to angle your shield so the bolt reflects off the water into the target."

Zayn raised an eyebrow, but Kai's confidence was infectious. He heaved a small stone at Zayn's chest. Zayn caught it, spun, and summoned his barrier just as the water spurted down. The shield wavered under the drenching spray, but held. Kai fired Zaker—the bolt ricocheted off the shield, struck the barrel precisely.

They repeated this five times. Zayn's shields grew sharper. Kai's aim tightened.

Rest & Analysis

They collapsed against a workbench, chests heaving. Kai drank water while Zayn rubbed his forearms.

"You're… incredible," Zayn said. "I've never seen someone think this fast under pressure."

Kai shook his head. "You're the one casting the spells. I just read words."

Zayn's smile was rueful. "Reading the right words at the right time—that's strategy. Most human partners never think that way."

Kai leaned back. "I'm learning. And I'll keep learning. Because if I don't… next time, Jikerdon might not be enough."

Zayn nodded. "That's why you're smarter than me."

Kai laughed tiredly. "And I bruise like paper."

Zayn placed a hand on Kai's shoulder, careful around the bandages. "Your intelligence is our edge. And you're stronger than you think."

Kai closed his eyes briefly. "Thanks."

The Next Step

Kai stood, swayed slightly, then squared his shoulders. "Next… we train my body. Not just spells."

He strode to a corner where an old tire lay. "Tire drills. Sprints. Push‑ups with one arm." He winced. "With this. You watch."

Zayn pulled himself up. "I'll time you. Let's get that human body doing magic, too."

As Kai began his first one‑armed push‑up, Zayn's eyes glimmered with pride and worry both. They had a long road ahead—no more luck, no more brute force. Kai's mind and Zayn's might had to blend into something stronger than either alone.

The bell on Kai's phone buzzed. School would start soon.

Kai stepped back, wiping sweat from his brow. "Better wrap this up before they miss me downstairs."

He offered Zayn a hand. Zayn took it.

They limped toward the exit of the garage, side by side—human and Mamodo, flesh and lightning—each charging toward the next battle with a respect for the other's limits and strengths.

Tomorrow, they would return to school with bruises and lies. But tonight, they had forged something new: a strategy as fierce and precise as any spell.

The corridor lights flickered as Kai limped into school, backpack slung low to relieve his shoulder. He paused at the entrance, taking a steadying breath. Yesterday's training still pulsed through his muscles—both the ache of push‑ups and the exhilaration of pairing Jikerdon with Zaker.

From the crosswalk, he'd watched Zayn vanish beyond the fence-line between their worlds, leaving Kai alone once more amid the ordinary. Now, between classrooms and lockers, Kai fought to stay present.

Morning Assembly

The bleachers creaked beneath him as he took a seat in the crowded gym. The principal droned on about upcoming exams, and for a moment, Kai's thoughts drifted back to the garage—oil drums, timed sprints, the metallic taste of Jikerdon still humming in his veins.

He caught sight of Zayn perched higher up, hood down for once, eyes scanning the crowd. Zayn looked… human. No crackling aura. Just a silent silhouette.

Kai tested his balance on one foot, then the other. The training had strengthened him: one‑arm push‑ups, chain‑drag runs, controlled Rashield drills. He felt the difference already.

When the assembly ended, Kai moved through the lines of students with quiet confidence. He greeted friends with a nod, hid his limp with a slight shift in his gait, and made it to his first class—English—without raising eyebrows.

English & Unseen Eyes

In Room 212, Ms. Hampton discussed metaphors. Kai sat near the front, pen poised. Every so often he glanced toward the window—and noticed the same figure: a slender teen in a dark hoodie, leaning against the wall outside, watching him.

Kai's heart skipped. He looked away, flipped his notebook open, and jotted a quick note to Zayn's phone: "Watcher at window."

Zayn replied instantly: "Noted."

Kai met the hoodie figure's gaze for a heartbeat. The figure's eyes flicked away, melting into the hallway crowd.

Ms. Hampton asked a question. Kai snapped back, hand rising. "The metaphor suggests transformation—like a seed pushing through soil into light."

She smiled. "Excellent."

But Kai's chest tightened. Someone was observing him.

Lunch Break Strategy

At midday, Kai and Zayn met behind the gym, where late‑spring breezes offered concealment.

"You saw him?" Zayn asked softly.

Kai took a bite of his sandwich—but barely tasted it. "Hoodie. Third period, outside the English window."

Zayn frowned. "He wasn't there yesterday."

"Which means—" Kai let the thought hang.

Zayn's eyes gleamed. "He's scouting us."

Kai's jaw set. "We need to draw him out."

They rehearsed a quick drill: Kai sprinted across the lawn, then called, "Zaker!"

Zayn's lightning flare lit a metal sculpture, sending sparks dancing. A flash of black hoodie appeared behind a tree, then vanished. Mission: success. But now they knew someone was following their every move.

Calculus felt easier than ever—because distraction had honed Kai's focus. He solved integrals with ease, breaking complex problems into smaller parts, much like he deconstructed enemy tactics in battle.

When Mr. Ivers called on him, Kai answered smoothly. "Substitute variables to simplify limits—then integrate step by step."

Mr. Ivers nodded appreciatively and moved on.

But at the window, the hoodie was gone. Every glance around the room felt charged.Kai and Zayn slipped out through the maintenance door. The courtyard was silent.

A figure emerged from behind a pillar—young, tense, eyes wary. No Mamodo glow. A small book peeked from under the hoodie.

"Kai Tamsin?" the teen asked, voice low.

Kai squared his shoulders. "Who are you?"

The teen glanced at Zayn. "I… I just watch. You fight. I learn. I'm not here to fight you."

Zayn crossed his arms. "Why follow us?"

The teen swallowed. "I want to understand. The Mamodo battles… they're changing things. I need to know who stands where."

Kai's pulse thundered. "So you're a spy."

"Not for some faction," the teen said hurriedly. "Just… curious. Afraid. And this is all I know."

Kai exchanged a look with Zayn.

"Then tell those you work for," Kai said quietly, "that we're not just shows. We're people, fighting to protect. And we won't be puppets."

The teen nodded, eyes wide, then backed away and melted into the shadows.

Kai watched until he vanished.

Home Again

Kai returned home in silence, each step echoing his exhaustion. In the kitchen, the scent of pasta greeted him.

His mother glanced up from the stove. "Long day?"

"Just… life," he said, offering a tired smile.

She set a plate before him and lingered. "You look pale."

"Just busy," he replied, heart pounding.

Zayn slipped through the door behind him, nodding at Kai before heading upstairs.

Kai ate slowly, every bite a reminder of the two lives he led: one under fluorescent school lights, another under the crackle of spells and the weight of secrets.

He placed his fork down and met his mother's eyes. "I'm okay. Really."

She didn't press, offering a small, worried smile.

Later that night, Kai lay wide‑eyed in bed, the glow of Jikerdon still pulsing in his mind. He'd pushed himself harder, trained smarter, but someone was watching.

Tomorrow, he'd be ready—both in mind and body. And next time the watcher came, Kai would be the one pulling the strings.