Chapter 1

Six years later.

Kusho's thoughts, softly narrated:

There's a kind of quiet I like. Not the total silence of nothing, but the kind you get walking alone before sunrise. Birds haven't started. Cars are still sleeping. It's like the world's pretending it doesn't see you yet.

That's my favorite time.

September air always had a crispness to it in Montrosier, a small city placed against the edge of the Pyrénées. Mist hovered above old brick rooftops. The smell of dew and street bread drifted down quiet avenues as Kusho sat at the breakfast table, staring at toast he hadn't touched.

Dr. Étienne Moreau folded his newspaper and smiled gently across the table.

"Are you ready for your first day in high school, Kusho?" he asked.

Kusho looked up, blinked once, then nodded.

Étienne chuckled. "Always such a talker."

Kusho tilted his head slightly.

"I'll take that as a yes," the doctor said, standing up. He walked over, straightened Kusho's collar, and brushed a bit of lint from his shoulder. "You've grown. I'm really proud of you, you know."

Kusho didn't answer. He just looked at Étienne for a moment longer, then grabbed his bag.

"Don't be late," the doctor called as Kusho slipped on his shoes and stepped outside.

Kusho didn't say goodbye. He rarely did.

But he did pause.

Just for a second, before the door closed, he looked back, then left.

The walk to Lycée Jean Fournier was long enough to clear your thoughts, short enough not to feel like a journey. The streets were lined with leaning townhouses and creeping ivy. Window boxes overflowed with geraniums. An old woman swept her doorstep, pausing to nod at Kusho as he passed. He nodded back.

In Montrosier, everyone knew each other, or liked to think they did.

He liked a lot of things that quiet people liked. The way sunlight touched the pavement. The feeling of soft socks. Empty corridors. The hum of machines.

He didn't remember everything from the day he appeared here. But he remembered enough.

Enough to know he wasn't like the others.

Not just because of what he could do, but because of what he had done. Things in the shadows of Montrosier. Little anomalies. Old ruins that shouldn't exist. Creatures that walked like people but weren't. Kusho had seen them. Sometimes, he had stopped them. Quietly. Without thanks.

He didn't want thanks.

He just wanted to walk.

But fate rarely lets you walk in peace.

He rounded a corner and bumped into someone, a very solid person.

The boy turned. Sharp jaw. Buzzed black hair. Scowl.

"You."

Kusho blinked.

"Nothing to say?" the boy snapped.

Kusho stepped aside, intending to walk past.

"Of course you don't remember," the boy muttered. "Rich. You save someone's life in a flash of light and pretend it didn't happen."

Kusho paused.

He did remember perfectly. A gang attack it was chaotic. A flash of red and teeth and something worse. And then Renji Lafargue, a member of a gang, was watching.

Kusho didn't turn.

Renji followed. "You think I'm scared of you? Huh? Some kind of freaky prodigy with starry, weird eyes and a blank face?"

Kusho kept walking.

Renji's voice dropped behind him. "I'll remember you. Whether you want me to or not."

The school was an old building, renovated just enough not to be charming anymore. The walls were clean. The windows are modern. And the air still smelled like chalk.

Kusho walked into his new class. He felt eyes on him immediately.

There were twenty-five students. A girl with short red hair chewed her nails. Two boys near the window were comparing sneakers. Someone was already asleep at the back or he was pretending to be.

There she was. Yui Moreau. Or Yulienne Moreau for the relatives.

He remembered her eyes before her name. Dreamy. Wide. Always looking past the moment. She had her sketchbook open, humming something soft.

She looked up.

Her pencil stopped.

"You…" she said. Her voice was quiet but full of sudden light.

Kusho nodded.

She smiled.

"It seems that we meet again, Kusho."

Kusho sat at the desk behind her.

"Seems like it."

She blinked. "You talk now?"

He nodded.

Yui giggled and turned around, doodling something quickly. Maybe it was him.

Then Kusho heard Renji's footsteps, which he remembered easily.

He froze when he saw Yui and Kusho speaking. His jaw twitched. He said nothing. Just walked past and dropped into the desk behind Kusho.

Kusho sat still. He could feel it. The tension in the air between them. He could feel that Yui's heartbeat was a little too fast, and Renji was holding his breath.

Both of them. In love. 

Both of them. In denial.

He said nothing. 

The class was boring. Geometry and introductions. The teacher had a crooked tie and a hoarse voice. He mispronounced two names and knocked over a stack of books. People laughed politely.

"Let's make it quick," he said, glancing at a clipboard. "Tell me your name, favorite subject, and something fun that you have or do."

"Camille. History. I collect snail shells."

"Mathis. PE. I do parkour."

"Élodie. Biology. I have three rabbits."

When it was Yui's turn, she smiled softly. "Yulienne Moreau. I like literature. I… draw dreams."

There were some confused looks. She didn't elaborate.

Then it was Kusho's turn.

"Kusho," he said.

The teacher looked up. "And your favorite—"

"Literature."

"…Right. And something fun?"

Kusho was quiet. Then, "I like writing."

The teacher scribbled something down and moved on.

When the bell rang, the three of them left at the same time. No one asked for it, but they just ended up walking together. Down a quiet road.

Yui kicked a pebble. "That class isn't too bad."

Renji grunted. "It was hella boring.."

Kusho didn't react.

Then they saw a small wooden box placed beneath a street bench.

"What's that?" Yui asked.

Renji grabbed it, and opened the latch.

Inside fifteen cards. Each one is marked with a different flower, etched in gold. The box smelled faintly of wax and ozone.

Kusho's examined it, and instantly, by experience and intuition, he knew that shape. That aura. That signature.

An artifact, old and dangerous.

"What do you think it is?" Renji asked.

"I'll show it to Dr. Étienne. He's good with odd things."

Renji stared. "Right. The town doctor."

But he handed the box over.

Kusho slid it carefully into his bag.

They walked on.

That night, in his room, Kusho sat cross-legged on the floor. The box sat in front of him. Closed now. Still.

He didn't open it yet.

He just stared at it.

Then, says softly. "I thought I had more time."