28

Kamo stood at the cliff's edge, where the cave opened over black stone and the cavern's chill pressed in at his back. The stone underfoot sweated damp, barely visible in the dull reflection from the pool under a waterfall far ahead. 

He stepped off and gravity accepted him, fast, but his mind outpaced the fall. The air thickened, refusing to let the moment blur. He measured the distance as a formality—sixty meters, give or take. The updraft clawed at him as he dropped, arms pulled wide. Kamo shut his eyes.

Inside, there was only black—a vacuum, silent except for the tidal drag of his own breathing. Years of meditation made the darkness feel familiar, but not safe. He focused on the breath, one after another, as the seconds refused to move. Time went soft, then slower, the body in freefall but the mind settling deeper.

Pressure built behind his eyes. The internal world began to orbit, gravity shifting until he felt himself suspended between invisible weights. Kamo determined he must've been in the space where he'd always feel the constellation while meditating. The familiar sun and a moon vied for dominion, neither seen nor needed, just forces gnawing at the edges of sense. In the stretch between, two figures resolved: himself, and Hikari—locked in a standstill, each presence as sharp as cold iron, neither making the first move. The border between them flickered—a hard margin, void shading to a distant, eternal flame.

Kamo's lips curled, annoyance heating beneath the calm. He spoke, the words plain, biting into the emptiness.

"If you can read my thoughts, you understand how serious I am. You threatened to kill me over your hatred. But are you willing to die for it as well?"

Hikari didn't turn. While it was custom in Kamo's interactions with others, how frequently Hikari ignored him made Kamo's patience fray. The void pressed in—an amplifying sense of gravity stabilizing his being. Several moments dragged by, with Kamo hanging in silence as if still expecting Hikari to answer. The two were playing a game of chicken, but Hikari didn't intend to participate in Kamo's antics.

His lip rose further, flexing his cheekbone in a nasty snarl. 

"Tch."

Kamo's eyes snapped open and the cave rushed back—dark stone below. The air felt thinner, the drop nearly spent. With his eyes open, the world resumed its pace. A streak of black followed his descent, collapsing into the cliff's narrow shadow. He vanished within it, then slid from the cliff's black edge into the gloom at the oversized rim of a pond, reappearing upright, straight-backed and composed on the mountainside.

The stunt left his hands trembling, not from fear but from a spike of raw focus. He realized, with detached clarity, that chasing growth like this was madness—how could a fire user have saved him from that fall? Rationality reasserted itself.

Across the water, the pond's surface caught many gasps of horror, as well as faint laughter—Ketsuen's scattered, unwinding figures. Many hadn't noticed the drop, but those nearby couldn't have ignored it if they tried.

Most of the groups lounged on the wide stone lip that edged the pond. The pond itself shimmered with thin reflections, the falls beating a soft, persistent rhythm that filled gaps between conversations. 

Nagitsu left the others and crossed the stone alone, his steps unhurried. He stopped a few meters off, not blocking Kamo's view of the water. He carried a flat stone in one hand, rolling it over his knuckles—absent gesture, or maybe a sign he'd been trying to pass the time too.

"Is this some extreme form of training?"

Kamo glanced over. Nagitsu held a smooth black stone, thumb tracing the chipped edge, using it as a prop or a pretense. Kamo shrugged, dry.

"You could say that."

Nagitsu didn't push further. The others, at varying distances, wore a mixture of reactions—one or two glanced away, pretending to refocus on the game; No one invited Kamo to sit.

He stood apart, observing the group like a naturalist with no stake in the experiment. The scene was almost cute—people half-trying for normalcy. He didn't resent them exactly, but didn't want to partake in the softness peace could breed.

"You planning to join?" Nagitsu's tone was flat, not quite an invitation but leaving the door open.

Kamo glanced past him at the group. Scattered laughter drifted up from the game they were playing. A couple of heads turned his way, only to look off as soon as his eyes met theirs.

He shrugged. "I'll watch."

Nagitsu rolled the stone, waiting. He seemed content with silence, not pressing for more.

"You know, everyone thinks they're the outsider here."

"This again?"

"Wasn't gonna lecture you, relax"

Kamo didn't answer. A beat passed. The pond surface rippled as a harrier toad slid from a crack between the stones, white-marbled, hooked jaw and predatory stillness. It paused between them, unbothered by either presence. The softish scales across its muscular legs resembled underground feathers. The toad pulsed faint red, catching the cave's strange light, then lunged for the water and vanished with a low splash.

A few voices called out at the sight, a thin spike of excitement before they returned to their routine. Nagitsu watched the ripples fade, then pocketed his stone, expression unreadable.

That was when another burst of excitement came from one of the cave's engineered tunnels. Ren's silhouette appeared first, Fūre beside him—lantern light chasing their shadows over wet rock. Ren looked uncertain, gaze shifting from Kamo to Nagitsu to the pond group, never settling.

Fūre's eyes tracked Kamo immediately. He didn't speak, just nodded for them to come.

Ren's voice cut through the air before he was even visible, trailing out from the tunnel with the kind of anxious volume that didn't suit the cave's natural hush. "Did I do something wrong? Does he hate us?" He wasn't asking for attention—he was asking because he genuinely didn't understand. The uncertainty was obvious. Fūre let him finish, his own pace steady as he crossed the wet stone.

Kamo caught the exchange from a distance and let the smallest smirk show.

The approach of Fūre and Ren cut through the low hum around the pond. Most of the group stilled, out of respect or confusion. Fūre carried his authority in silence; people responded to that more than any order he gave.

Ren moved less certain, shifting his weight from heel to heel, as if hoping to blend into the shadow of the taller man beside him. He eyed Kamo, searching for any sign of hostility, then looked to Nagitsu, as if hoping for an easier answer.

Fūre didn't waste time. He let his gaze linger on Kamo for a long moment, unreadable, then on the group, then back to Kamo. "Since you're all here, walk with me."