The days passed in a blur of fire and exhaustion.

Aiko had expected pain, but she hadn’t expected Mei’s training to push her past the limits of what she thought possible. Every morning began with a ritual—inscribing wards into the earth, meditating until her body ached, and learning to pull at the raw energy humming beneath her skin. And every night, she collapsed onto the cold floor of the ruined shrine, her limbs heavy, her mind tangled with half-understood incantations and whispered warnings.

“Again,” Mei’s voice rang out, sharp as the snap of a flame.

Aiko gritted her teeth and raised her hand, summoning the flickering essence of foxfire. The blue flames danced across her fingertips before sputtering out, useless. Frustration curled in her stomach.

“You hesitate,” Mei observed, watching with unreadable violet eyes. “Power does not wait for permission, little fox.”

Aiko clenched her fists. She could feel it—coiling within her like a caged thing, like something waiting to be freed. But every time she reached for it, doubt clawed its way in. What if she lost control? What if the fire consumed more than she intended?

A sigh came from behind her. “Maybe she needs a break,” Ryou said.

Mei arched a brow. “Are you her keeper now?”

Ryou ignored the jab and stepped forward, offering Aiko a waterskin. She hesitated for only a moment before taking it, their fingers brushing briefly. The touch sent a strange jolt through her, something unexpected and sharp. She looked up, meeting his gaze—calm, steady, unreadable—and suddenly she felt the weight of his presence in a way she hadn’t before.

“Don’t push yourself too hard,” he murmured.

She wanted to snap that she didn’t need his concern, that she wasn’t fragile. But the words stuck in her throat. Instead, she nodded, taking a slow sip of water to mask the way her pulse quickened.

Mei, ever the observer, smirked. “Careful, Ryou,” she mused. “The girl is fire, and you seem awfully drawn to the flame.”

Aiko scowled, pulling away from him. “I can handle myself.”

“I wonder.” Mei tilted her head, considering her. “Control is a fragile thing. If you do not master it, someone else will.”

The words lingered, pressing against Aiko’s chest. She set the waterskin aside and straightened. “Then teach me. No more hesitation.”

Mei’s expression flickered, something like approval hidden behind her smirk. “Good.”

Ryou stepped back, but Aiko felt his gaze linger on her as Mei began the lesson again. She told herself she didn’t care—but later, as she lay awake staring at the ceiling of the shrine, she realized the heat in her veins wasn’t just from the fire inside her.

It was something else entirely.