The old freight yard was dead silent by dawn, the skeletons of rusted trains casting long shadows across cracked concrete. It was a place where dreams were once shipped in steel crates, now left to rot under a sky that had forgotten their names.
Kaz stood in the center, arms crossed, the early morning wind tugging at his shirt.
"You're late," he said.
"I'm old," Seamus replied, stepping into view from between two abandoned cars. He tossed off his jacket, revealing a lean frame with wiry muscle. His violet eyes gleamed in the cold light. "But I'm still fast."
Before Kaz could respond, his father vanished.
Boom—! Kaz barely ducked, leaning back as a shadow-drenched fist passed right where his head had been, looking up Seamus was like a towering fortress.
"Lesson one," Seamus said, dissappering and materializing behind him, "Don't wait for the fight to start. Start the fight."
Kaz turned, flames flickering around his fists he threw out a kick sending a wave of infernal flames at his dad.
"You're gonna regret that," he smirked.
They clashed. Flame against shadow, heat against gravity. The air around them warped as Kaz's black fire roared to life, shooting tendrils of heat that melted steel beams. Seamus wove between the blasts like smoke, one hand casually deflecting flame, the other launching precise strikes that threatened to crush bone.
"You're still fighting angry," Seamus growled, catching Kaz's wrist mid-punch. "You burn. But you don't wield."
With a twist of his hand, Kaz's fire was redirected—coiling into a spiral around Seamus's arm before dissipating into nothing.
Kaz staggered back, panting.
"Then show me," he spat. "I'm tired of holding back."
Seamus's expression shifted. He raised a single finger condensing dark energy around it.
"Good."
Hours later, Kaz limped into school bruised, scuffed, but grinning. His muscles ached, but something had clicked. Seamus had shown him how to shape the flame—not just expel it. He'd formed a whip from it, a small shield, even a flare that pulsed to disorient.
It wasn't just power. It was art.
In the courtyard, he spotted Shin, sitting alone under a tree, sketching quietly into a battered notebook. Kaz noticed, for the first time, how threadbare his uniform was—frayed collar, faded sleeves—and his backpack looked like it had survived a bombing.
Kaz walked up and tossed a wrapped meat bun at him.
Shin caught it, wide-eyed. "What's this?"
"Breakfast," Kaz shrugged. "Come with me after school."
Shin blinked. "Why?"
Kaz grinned. "Because you look like a character in a sad anime. And I'm gonna fix that."
The shopping trip was… awkward.
Kaz dragged Shin through three different clothing stores downtown, haggling, picking out jeans, shirts, even a decent jacket. Shin didn't argue—just followed, quiet, cautious.
As they waited for the cashier, Shin finally spoke.
"Why are you doing this?"
Kaz shrugged, leaning against the wall.
"My mom used to say, 'The fire in your chest is only useful if it keeps someone else warm too.'"
Shin looked at him. "Was she nice?"
Kaz's smile faded slightly. "She was everything."
Silence settled between them—but it wasn't uncomfortable.
When they stepped outside, Shin glanced at his reflection in a shop window. For the first time in a while, he didn't look like a ghost. More like a kid.
"Thanks," he mumbled.
Kaz just tossed him the bag of snacks. "Keep the receipts. I'm not good at pretending to care—if I'm doing this, I mean it."
Shin looked at him longer this time, eyes narrowed slightly. "You're weird."
Kaz laughed. "Takes one to know one."
Later that evening, Kaz sat behind the wheel of a new black sedan, the engine purring like a dragon with manners. His old car had been torched during the chaos at Westwood last week. This one had military-grade tech under the hood—courtesy of Uncle Sean's connections, surprisingly.
He rolled up to Amy's place just as she stepped outside, hair tied up, a canvas bag slung over her shoulder.
"New ride?" she asked, sliding into the passenger seat.
"Felt like an upgrade week."
She smirked. "Trying to impress me?"
"Is it working?"
"No."
Kaz grinned and hit the gas.
They ended up at the west-side park—less crowded, more open. The sun was dipping below the skyline, bleeding gold into the clouds. Amy dropped her bag and stretched, eyes never leaving Kaz.
"So, you've been ghosting me," she said.
"Training," Kaz replied. "Dad's got me learning new tricks."
"Oh?" She cracked her knuckles. "Show me."
He blinked. "Here?"
Amy had already dropped into a fighting stance.
Kaz sighed, stripping off his jacket and stepping forward. "Fine. But if we break anything, you're paying for it."
They circled each other slowly. Then, like lightning, Amy struck. Fast jabs, sharp kicks—more disciplined than Kaz remembered.
He blocked, weaving, heat rising in his veins.Amy threw a punch at Kaz which he easily dodged and then BOOM ,pink flames erupted from her arm catching kaz off guard, when she feinted left, he flicked a wrist—snap!—a black flame whip cracked the air, catching her off-guard.
She dodged, rolled, came up swinging.
They moved like fire and wind—wild, instinctive, but in sync. Amy used momentum, Kaz used heat. She grazed his ribs. He scorched her sleeve. Back and forth, faster and harder until both were panting, sweat dripping.
Then—Amy tackled him. They crashed into the grass, her straddling him, pinning his wrists.
"Still cocky?" she whispered, breath hot on his cheek.
Kaz's eyes smoldered. "Always."
And then she kissed him.
It wasn't soft. It was fire meeting fire—raw, desperate, like they'd been holding it back too long.
Hands wandered. Hearts pounded. The city faded.
For a moment, nothing else existed but the space between them.
Eventually, they broke apart, foreheads pressed together.
Amy exhaled. "You've changed."
"So have you," Kaz replied.
She stood, brushing herself off. "I'll beat you next time."
Kaz chuckled, sitting up. "You can try."
That night, Kaz sat in his room, shirt half-burned, lips swollen, a fresh spark behind his eyes.
Things were shifting.
His powers were growing. His connections, deeper.
But so were the shadows.
And in the far distance, something darker than fire waited.
Watching.
Waiting.