An employee of the Akira was waiting for Luke outside the dojo. The female Japanese woman in pristine black uniform reminded him of Mrs. Roberts, her gray hair held in a bun and her face as serious as they came. She bowed slightly to him.

"Honored guest, I am a maid of the Akira family. Can I show you to your room?" she asked.

"Yes, please," Luke replied. Going to his room was just what he needed.

She led him back to the living room, climbed the stairs, and walked the corridor to the end. They passed by Luke's grandad room. The door was open and they could see his grandad and Mr. Akira talking in a low voice there. Luke wanted to talk to his grandad, but that could wait until he had seen his bedroom.

His room was right beside his grandpa's. Unlike the rest of the house, it was a proper American bedroom, albeit much more luxurious than he was used to. It had a king size bed, clear-cut mahogany furniture, including a comfy-looking armchair, and white curtains on the walls. It even had a door that led to a private bathroom.

To Luke, that was the stuff of fairy tales.

"Mr. Akira asked me to deliver dinner in your room tonight," the maid said. "It should be here in about thirty minutes. I'll leave it outside and knock on your door twice. Breakfast will be served at 7 AM tomorrow at the dining room. What time would you like to be woken up?"

Wake him up? "Don't worry about that, I can wake up alone." It would feel very awkward to have an unknown person care for him like that.

"As you wish. Another maid will be waiting for you outside at 6:55 AM to bring you to the dining room. Good night, honored guest." She bowed a little and left without further word.

Luke was left alone in the huge room. He could start trying to feel mana right away, but to be honest, he was famished and the promise of food wouldn't let him concentrate. Since he had to wait for half an hour until the food arrived, he decided to use the time to talk to his grandpa.

Mr. Akira was still there. The old men were talking in rushed voices, and Luke's light knocks on the door startled them. Mr. Akira stood up at once and nodded to Luke. "Please, come in. I was about to leave." He turned to Arthur. "We'll have time to discuss these things while we're away."

Luke's grandad nodded, and Mr. Akira left, closing the door behind him. Luke approached his grandad's bed, where the man was sitting, and sat in the armchair in front of it. "Grandpa," he said.

"Hi, son," Arthur replied with a very tired voice. Talking for so long had left him exhausted.

"I... I feel we should talk... But I don't know what to say," Luke admitted.

His grandad gave him a weak smile. "Don't grief... before I go." He extended his thin arm and Luke grabbed his hand. "Son, tell me about... Your suffering the past... two years."

Luke gulped. He hadn't been thinking straight when he shouted that to his grandad. Now, it seemed it was time to put all the cards on the table.

Kind of.

"It's nothing, really," he said. "Just a little bullying here and there. I was exaggerating a bit because I was feeling bad about your situation." Even now, thinking about his grandad's imminent death filled him with regret.

"I'm dying, son. Tell me... the truth."

Luke clenched his teeth. That was fair. Telling lies to a man who believed he was dying made him the worst kind of scum.

Part of him told him it would be a mercy to lie if his grandad was about to die anyway. It was better to let the man go without worries. That same part also told him his grandad wouldn't die, Luke would save him, so there was no point revealing those things.

However, he still felt like a big hypocrite for accusing his grandad of being a huge liar while lying about his life too.

So he decided to tell more. Not everything, of course. Definitely not what Davis had done earlier today. But enough for Arthur to understand the extent of the bullying he suffered.

Luke sighed. "It started small. A push here, a foot that made me trip there. Some practical jokes and laughs here, some off-hand offenses about my financial situation there. Nothing big. Then, one day, the bully's girlfriend partnered up with me for a school project. That day, he beat me for the first time."

He anxiously wriggled his fingers with each other. Talking about that was opening old wounds that had never closed. He had learned to ignore them, and they didn't hurt if he didn't look.

"It was the first time I broke my nose." He laughed a bit. "I don't even know how it's not all crooked up by this point. I went to the school's clinic and told the truth, and it became something big. The cops were called and took my statement. I'm surprised they didn't call you. The next day, they told me there wasn't enough evidence. The day after, the school rules changed so only attempt murder or maiming should be reported to the police.

"That was the first show of power from Jackson's family. But I was unconvinced and insisted on the school investigating it. A teacher, Mr. Smith, took my side. A few days later, the cops had him in for some corruption scheme. It was a big scandal."

"I remember... it," his grandad said.

"There was no energy left to investigate anything else while the school dealt with the backslash. Mr. Smith sent me a letter saying he was sorry and that I should just leave the school. He made an agreement with the prosecutor and just skipped town. I waited for a while and tried to get another teacher to investigate, and even found one after a couple months. He resigned the day after for unknown reasons. That same day, I took another beating.

"No one investigated it." His eyes were filled with tears. "That's when I understood I couldn't go against Jackson at all."

He kept silent for a while, thinking about what to say. He had never revealed the truth before.

"By then, I tried to convince you to move out, but the school said we had to be in this school district to keep the scholarship and you chose not to. I felt too ashamed and didn't want to tell you the truth. Also, I was worried something might happen to you if you decided to make a fuss out of it, like it had happened to the teachers. I didn't want to lose you. I also... I wanted to have the good education there. For mom. I wanted to make her proud. I all I had to do was take a few beatings for that..."

Tears rolled from his eyes. He wasn't crying, but there were just too many emotions bottled up. They were overflowing.

His grandad clenched Luke's hands. "I'm proud of you," he said. "To protect me... and to protect your dreams... you did what you believed... you had to. Thank you... son."

And those words made the emotion overflow become sobs. His grandad's gratitude and acceptance made a world of difference for him.

"But I've learned recently... that secrets are never... the right call," Arthur continued. His voice was a bit blurry and Luke was surprised to look up and see the man also crying. "Isao convinced me... that I was wrong. My secret made me suffer... in silence. Your secret made you suffer... in silence. Everything could be better... if we had talked... to each other."

Luke had repeated to himself time and time again that he was doing what was best. That there was no alternative. Now, it only took a few words from his grandad for him to be utterly convinced that he had been a fool.

The comparison helped too; they were both idiots.

"Your bully... has been transferred. He won't... trouble you anymore."

The words slammed into Luke like a truck. "What?"

"The Akira family... is very influential. Compared to them... the Jacksons are nothing."

That... that couldn't be true. That made no sense. How could it be? How could a congresswoman and a judge just let their child, whom they spoiled so much, be forced to change schools?

"Son, you have... warrior blood. Your mother and I... fought for the environment." They had been lawyers who spent most of their money fighting off big companies. "Your father fought... for the weak." He had been a nurse in a nursery house. "For you to bow down... to your enemies... I can only imagine... how hard it was."

That spark returned. That tiny spark that he had just quenched not even ten minutes ago was back. The thirst for justice, the fire to make things right, it demanded release.

This time. just this time, Luke didn't immediately put if off.

"Never do that... again. Fight like a warrior... die like a warrior. That's how your parents... died. That's how our family... is supposed to die." He had a new cough fit. "I had also... forgot that. Tomorrow... I'll start... fighting again."

Those words resonated with his soul.

To fight to the end and die like a warrior...

He could feel how true that was.

It came with other implications, of course. What if other people were endangered because of that? The answer came with a wave of heat from his heart.

He just had to burn the opposition to ashes.

Luke suddenly felt very weird and conflicted. What was that? What was going on? That's not who he was. He was a weakling, less than human, a cockroach. How could he yearn for confrontation so much? How could the thought of a fight make his blood burn?

Why didn't he recognize himself, and why didn't his muscle memories seem to want to act?

His grandad's voice took Luke from his musings. "We can talk more... tomorrow. I'm tired."

Luke nodded absentmindedly. "Good night, grandpa." He stood up and went to his room.

Thirty minutes had not gone by yet, but his dinner was already waiting for him on a room service trolley, covered by a steel dome. He pulled it into his room and sat to eat on the armchair.

Below the dome he found a beautiful shrimp risotto. Bountiful too; there was a lot of food in the plate. There was also grape juice to drink in a crystal jar.

His stomach grumbled at the amazing sight and smell, and he ate like a starving man.

= - = - =

"Rhwrr," Luke burped after drinking the last of the juice. He then laid his back on the armchair, patted his stomach, and closed his eyes.

He had just finished eating and drinking everything. He couldn't remember the last time he had tasted something so delicious. He even thought that life might not be so bad after all.

All he wanted to do now was to sleep, but his grandad's health couldn't wait.

After a very brief rest, still sitting comfortably, he focused inwards.

It was time to feel mana.