Questions All Around

The walk out of school felt like a blur.

Not because it was quick. Not because the campus was small.

But rather because Riku didn't care.

He didn't care about school. He didn't care about the fact he could very well be throwing his future away. 

He didn't even care that he almost died minutes earlier. 

His legs moved on autopilot, but everything around him — the classrooms, the chattering students, the distant sound of announcements — felt like static. Just empty noise. Background textures in a world that suddenly felt paper-thin. 

Akio walked ahead, silent, unperturbed, and confident. As if something like this was of common occurrence to him. 

Riku followed him. Not because he trusted him—not yet anyway.

But because there wasn't anything else waiting for him anymore. It's not like he could go back to the life he had before what just happened. 

Eventually, they made it off campus — away from the rooftop, the teachers, the test, the classmates who had no idea their world had tilted sideways.

They walked past the residential rows near the base of the hill, where Riku's apartment wasn't far off. The sun had risen higher, but the shadows around him still felt off—like they knew something he didn't.

Akio hadn't said much. Only glanced away once and kept his eyes forward, as if tracking something invisible. 

Riku shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling the residual heat of the mark on his palm. It still ached, but it was dulled—like the pain had been absorbed, not cured.

He glanced up at Akio.

The guy didn't look all that old. Maybe eighteen or nineteen at most. Around his age, most likely. He was tall, lean, broad-shouldered. Built like the kind of guy some girl would tell you not to worry about. He could probably punch you 10 times over before you blinked. There was power coiled in those muscles. Power that didn't feel real. 

His uniform — or what looked like a modern school jacket modified with reinforced lining — shifted with practiced ease. Colored in red, which almost resembled rust, along with some slate gray accents, he looked like a character ripped from the novels Riku would constantly bury his head in. There were small patterns sewn into the cuffs. Symbols. Riku didn't recognize them, but they made his skin crawl.

Akio exhaled, speaking more to himself than to Riku. "You're leaking Mantra from your Gate already… no wonder they picked up your scent. That shouldn't be happening yet."

Riku blinked. "Huh?"

Akio glanced sideways. "Oh, nothing. Just talking out loud."

"Right." Riku looked away, jaw clenched. 

They turned down another alley, the kind that winded behind the apartment blocks like forgotten veins. Akio paused, his eyes scanning the narrow space like he was seeing something Riku couldn't.

"Too many traces here," he muttered again. "Residuals from the Construct, probably. You said your apartment's nearby?"

"Two streets over," Riku said. "Why?"

Akio didn't answer directly. He raised his hand, fingers brushing the air, then frowned. "No good. Was that mark on your hand there since this morning?"

"Yeah, it was. What's it to you?" Riku retorted. 

"Damn it... Your apartment is a no-go. It probably has residuals of your Mantra and that place is probably marked now." Akio said. 

Riku tensed. "Marked? Like cursed?"

"Sort of. You've left an echo — a scent of sorts, spiritually speaking. Constructs are drawn to that, especially the kind that linger between layers. It's how they hunt."

"You're telling me… I can't even go home now?"

"Not until we suppress your emission. Your Gate's still unstable."

There it was again. That word.

Gate.

"What the hell does that mean?" Riku asked, voice rising a notch. "You're talking about a bunch of shit I haven't even heard of, expecting me to understand!"

Akio stopped.

Riku's breath was sharp now. His shoulders tense. "You've got all this lingo, all this training, and I don't even know what I am. Why me? Why now? I didn't ask for any of this!"

Silence stretched between them for a moment.

Finally, Akio turned around. He didn't look angry. Just… tired.

"You're right," he said calmly. "You didn't. And I'm sorry for that."

Riku's jaw twitched. He looked away, the adrenaline slowly bleeding from his limbs.

Akio stepped a bit closer, his tone gentler now. "Look, I don't have all the answers either. But I do know one thing—if we don't get your Mantra under control-"

Riku snapped back. "You keep saying that word! Mantra! What even is it?"

Akio looked at Riku for a long second. Then, finally, he sighed.

"Alright. Let's slow down. No promises that you'll understand it all, but I'll do my best."

He walked over to the crumbling stone edge of the alley and sat down on it, motioning for Riku to do the same. Riku hesitated—half still vibrating with frustration—but eventually sat too.

Akio leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Okay. Let's talk like normal people for a sec."

Riku raised an eyebrow. "I'd love that."

Akio nodded, then stared off into the distance for a second, thinking.

"Mantra… isn't like magic. Not really. It's not something you learn in a book or shoot from a wand or whatever," he said. "It's more like… energy."

"Energy," Riku echoed flatly.

"Yeah. Well, that's a bit vague, so I'll simplify it even further. Mantra is... it's an energy that's in everything we know. The air, plants, trees, and more importantly, humans."

"All humans?" Riku asked. 

"Yep. All humans. No matter the age, no matter the location, have this energy within them." Akio replied. 

"Then why hasn't every person I know started acting like a student of Hogwarts?" Riku retorted. 

"Hey, first of all, ouch. Second of all, not everyone can awaken it. Only a select few in the world can even realize they have it in the first place. And you just so happen to be said few."

Riku let out a dry chuckle. "Great. Just my luck, huh?" 

"Look, I know you feel like you've been cursed. That your life has been beating you down without letting you get up. But the sooner you realize that this your life now, the better things can be. You can be one of us-"

"I don't wanna be! I was happy, you know? Failing my classes, talking about my shitty school, gossiping about girls, and reading novels was what my life was! I was an average guy! Now, I'm supposed to now be some shaman and fight demons?" Riku's throat felt dry from many things.

Frustration, desperation, anger, and most of all, fear. 

Fear of the unknown. 

Fear that his life would no longer be as simple and mundane as it used to be. 

Akio was quiet for a long moment.

Not the kind of silence that avoided confrontation—but the kind that let it hang. That gave space for someone's pain to actually exist. When he did speak, his voice was low and steady.

"I get it," he said. "More than you think."

Riku glanced at him, eyes still burning with too many things to name. "You don't even know me."

"I don't have to. You think I woke up one day and said, 'Hey, I'd love to live a life of rituals, apparitions, and ancient constructs that scream in your skull?'" He gave a dry laugh. "No. I wanted to be a chef. Dead serious."

Riku stared. "A… chef?"

"Yeah. Sushi, mostly. It's peaceful. Sharp knives, fresh fish, steady rhythm. Nothing tries to eat you halfway through."

That somehow broke a crack in Riku's armor. He huffed through his nose, a half-laugh escaping despite himself. "That's the weirdest therapy I've ever heard."

"Try it sometime... It helps." Akio chuckled. "Point is, none of us asked for this. But if you're born with a Gate—and it starts opening before you're ready—it doesn't matter what you want. You'll get pulled in. Or crushed."

Riku looked down at his hand. The mark had dimmed now, but still pulsed faintly beneath his skin, like a second heartbeat. "You keep saying that word. Gate. What is it, really?"

Akio reached into his jacket, pulling something out: a scroll-shaped talisman wound with silver string. A faint shimmer ran across it like ripples on water.

"Before I explain that," he said, "let me seal your emission. You're leaking Mantra. And if we don't contain it soon, we'll both be in for a rough night."

Riku hesitated. "What does that mean—seal it?"

"It's temporary," Akio said. "Think of it like bandaging a wound. Your Gate is open—but not controlled. Mantra's leaking out, and that draws things to you. Constructs, worse than the one on the roof. Some of them don't just kill—they erase."

"Lovely." Riku said.

Akio muttered something under his breath—a phrase in a language Riku didn't understand—and tapped the talisman lightly to Riku's marked palm.

The symbol glowed. Briefly. Sharply.

And then—

Silence.

Real silence.

Not the absence of sound, but the absence of pressure. That weight behind his eyes, that invisible claw dragging down his chest—it was gone. Like a lens had finally clicked into place.

Riku exhaled, slow and shaky.

"That... That felt nice. Much needed. What the hell was that, though?"

"Celestial Conch-grade seal. Not full containment, but enough to stop the bleed. Thank God the Doctor gave me one before I left." Akio replied. 

"The Doctor?"

"Dr. Renjiro Tsukimura," Akio repeated. "Our lead researcher. Former combat instructor. Full Mantrik."

"Is he the leader of your... operation?"

"More or less." Akio said. "But he isn't the leader of our Order... Although, given his power, he could take control whenever he wanted to."

"Is he super strong?"

Akio looked at him, giving a look that made it look like Riku asked a question even a toddler would know the answer to. 

Riku blinked. "Okay, okay. So, he's that kind of strong?"

Akio gave a nod so solemn it could've been a funeral gesture.

"Strong doesn't begin to cover it."

There was no arrogance in his voice. No awe either. Just truth. A statement of fact that carried the weight of something seen. Survived.

"He's the kind of person who changes the rules of a fight just by entering it."

A strange weight settled into Riku's chest. For all his confusion, that sentence stuck in his brain like a splinter.

"He's gotta be like 90 years old or something, right?"

"He's 32." Akio said it like it didn't subvert all expectations Riku had. 

Riku choked. "32?!"

Akio chuckled. "He's a genius in what he does. The thing about him is... you feel like you've known so much about the guy, but at the same time you know so little. But beyond all of that, he's the best in our line of work. No one comes close. There's not even a single ounce of Mantra leaking from his Gates, even when he relaxes."

Riku fell quiet again, letting the silence stretch as they both sat there on the edge of the forgotten alley.

The wind shifted slightly. Distant traffic. The caw of a crow overhead. But nothing felt real anymore — everything felt like an imitation of normalcy.

Finally, he asked, "So… this Gate. What is it, really? You said you'd explain it."

"Right. Well, a Gate is… a metaphysical locus. A convergence point in your soul and body. Think of it like a valve or a seal — one that keeps your Mantra aligned and contained. It resides in different parts of the body, depending on the person." 

"And when it opens?" Riku asked.

Akio looked over his shoulder. "It leaks. And when it leaks, everything changes."

He gestured to the talisman.

"Normally, a Gate stays dormant. Quiet. Your body lives with the Mantra sleeping inside it, like a deep-sea current. But once the Gate stirs — once it begins to open — that current surges. It floods your veins, distorts your senses, and it really can mess you up if you have it open for too long. Consider yourself lucky that yours was like that for so long."

"Wow... way-to-go me, I suppose." Riku said, his voice oozing sarcasm and bitterness. 

Akio stepped closer, voice lowering with clarity.

"Your Gate is currently unstable, Riku. That mark on your hand? That's not just some cursed branding — it's the sign that your Gate's threshold is reacting to external force. Something is trying to bring it open before you're ready."

Riku looked at his palm again, the faded glow of the Mantra seal still resting faintly beneath the skin. A question itched at his mind.

"Why me?"

Akio's eyes softened. "I wish I knew."

There was no forced sympathy. No cliché. Just truth. It hurt more than comfort would have.

"Come on," Akio said after a beat. "We have somewhere we need to be."

Riku looked up. "Where?"

"The shrine."

Riku's froze. His blood went colder than ice itself. He wanted to bolt. Leave Akio behind and pretend none of this was real.

Akio noticed his gait and put his hand on his shoulder. "I know you don't want to go, but if you want to figure out why this is happening to you, then our best bet is to start there. We solve this issue, then incidents like today won't happen again. And if they do, you can defend yourself, and you won't need to rely on some douche like me to save you."

Riku looked down. The thought of even going near that shrine made him want to puke, but at the same time, given everything he saw, what was he to believe in anymore?

So, just like that, Riku followed again.

Still unsure.

Still afraid.

But with every step, he wished he'd get closer to the life he once had.

And the thought of that wish coming to pass, was all he needed for now.