A few hours passed.
Ao's eyes snapped open as a flood of harsh light overwhelmed his senses. A sharp gasp left his lips as he instinctively raised a hand to shield his face, his pupils contracting against the sudden brightness. The room around him blurred as his vision struggled to adjust, his heartbeat pounding like a war drum in his ears.
"Ugh…" he groaned, blinking rapidly. As his vision cleared, the details of the ceiling above him came into focus—a wooden roof, aged and worn, with old beams stretching across it. Hanging lanterns swayed gently with the air currents, their flickering glow casting soft, dancing shadows across the room.
Where am I? he thought, his mind sluggish as he tried to piece together his last memories. His gaze dropped to the white sheets covering his body, the stark contrast against his dirt-stained skin making him suddenly aware of his own existence. His fingers gripped at the fabric as a dull ache throbbed in his stomach, reminding him of the fight—of the blood, the pain, the desperation he had felt all in that small moment.
Then, it hit him.
The potions.
His breath hitched, panic setting in like a knife twisting in his gut. He tried to sit up, only for a firm yet gentle pressure to push him back down onto the bed. A warm, wrinkled hand pressed against his chest, grounding him.
"Relax, child. You're safe."
The voice was raspy but calm, carrying a familiar warmth that sent a wave of relief through him. His head turned, and his eyes widened as he met the gaze of an elderly woman, her lined face partially hidden beneath the shadow of her hood. The dim light reflected off her silver-streaked hair, and for a moment, he could do nothing but stare.
"…Grandma?" he croaked, his throat dry.
A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of Kori's lips. "Hmph. You took your time waking up," she muttered, reaching to adjust the bag of clear liquid hanging beside him. A thin tube connected it to his arm, the cool sensation of the intravenous drip barely registering against the chaos in his mind.
"Grandma… what happened?" His voice was hoarse, uneven. His memories were jumbled, fragmented like shattered glass. One moment he was fighting, and the next…
Kori's eyes studied him before she sighed. "You're still weak. Your main injuries have been healed, but your muscles need time to recover." She gestured toward the IV bag with her cane. "That should help."
It still didn't make sense. How did he get here? Where was Kuro? His heart pounded as the weight of realization hit him like a sledgehammer.
"The potions—!"
The words barely left his lips before a sharp thwack landed on the back of his head, firm yet not painful. The unexpected hit made him flinch, and before he could protest, Kori pushed him back down with surprising ease, her touch more of a guiding force than an aggressive shove.
"Enough of that," she grumbled, her tone carrying the same no-nonsense authority it always did. "I don't like yelling."
"But my mother—she needs the potion! I have to—"
"Your mother is fine." Kori's voice, though stern, had a softness to it. "Elana went to visit her. She'll make sure she's taken care of."
Ao's breathing slowed slightly, though his mind still raced. His mother was okay? But how? And if Elana was with her…
"Then… how did I get here?" he asked, voice quieter this time, unclear of what had just transpired.
Kori gave him a pointed look, her fingers idly adjusting the sheets over him as if he were still a child in need of tucking in, which to be fair, he was. "A woman brought you," she said simply.
Ao stiffened. "A woman?"
Kori nodded. "Didn't say much. Just handed you over and told me about Elana, then left."
His stomach twisted. A random woman? That didn't sit right with him. Then, Ao's eyes widened as more memories surged into his mind, crashing down on him like a tidal wave. The realization struck deep, cutting through his lingering exhaustion—he had almost killed someone. He had nearly taken a life out of pure, unbridled rage. His fingers twitched, and he slowly raised his hands in front of his face, staring at his open palms as if searching for answers in the lines of his skin.
His right-hand curled shut, clenching as if gripping the phantom weight of the blade once more. He could still feel the leather-wrapped handle pressed against his palm, rough and solid, the memory so fresh it sent a shiver through his body. He had been ready—no, willing—to drive it down, to end a life without hesitation. I almost… killed someone.
It wasn't what he wanted. Not really. But he had been so angry, so impossibly furious that all he had seen was red. Was it right? Did it even matter? They had attacked him first. They would have killed him without a second thought. They would have left his mother to die, robbed him of everything he held dear. A life for a life, he reasoned. That's fair… right?
Yet, as much as he told himself that, doubt slithered in like a whisper in the dark. He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing the heel of his palm against them. His head throbbed; his thoughts tangled in a chaotic mess that he couldn't unravel. I had no choice… right?
His fingers slid into his hair, gripping at the strands as he let out a shaky sigh. He was two years old. A child. And yet, he was already carrying the weight of decisions that grown men feared to make. Why can't I just have a normal life…?
Kori had been watching him carefully, reading his distress like an open book. She exhaled softly and reached out, placing a warm, calloused hand on his stomach, rubbing slow, gentle circles. The touch was meant to soothe, and in a way, it did, grounding him in the present.
"I don't know what happened to you," she murmured, her raspy voice laced with understanding. "But I'll tell you this, child. If you ever need help, I'll always have your back."
Ao blinked, caught off guard.
"You're a part of this village," she continued. "Which makes you a child of mine."
A lump formed in Ao's throat, but he swallowed it down, turning his gaze to the ceiling. He didn't know how to respond to that. He didn't want to respond to that. How could he? His emotions were too much.
Kori sighed again and gave his stomach one last soothing rub before retracting her hand. "You shouldn't be thinking so hard. You're a child, yet you look like you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders." She leaned back slightly, her kind eyes meeting him. "Try to relax. Get some rest, okay?"
Rest? How could he possibly rest? His body was still weak, his muscles ached, and his mind felt like it was caught in a vice. His mother could still be dying. He had nearly died himself. And worst of all—
He wasn't normal.
No matter how much he tried to blend in, to hide what he was, there was always a chance that one day people would see him for what he truly was. And when that happened, what then? Would they abandon him? Fear him? Hunt him? The uncertainty gnawed at him like a parasite, refusing to let him go.
Ao turned his face into the pillow, only covering half his face since he was laying on his back, exhaling slowly, eyes burning with unshed frustration. "This sucks…" he muttered under his breath.
Kori didn't say anything. She simply stayed by his side. And though it didn't fix everything—though it didn't silence the storm raging inside him—it made the world feel just a little less lonely.
Ao took a deep, ragged breath. His head pounded as if his thoughts were trying to claw their way out. He had been fighting to stay conscious, but now that he was awake, he almost wished he wasn't. The weight of everything that had happened pressed down on him, it was suffocating. He wanted to rush to Koi, to Shiro, to make sure Murasaki was safe like he usually do, to confirm his mother had gotten the potion—if it even still existed. But right now, all he could do was lay back and hope sleep would take him again, offer him some reprieve from the storm in his mind.
Sure, Ao was strong. At two years old, he had done things no child his age should be capable of. But what was the point? If his strength made him a freak? If the very people he wanted to protect ended up fearing him? If he became a monster in their eyes?
The sickness churned inside of him, twisting his gut into knots. His body tensed, his breath hitched—his stomach lurched, he couldn't hold back.
He shot up, barely able to clasp a hand over his mouth before a bag was shoved in front of him. He barely registered Kori's presence as he emptied his stomach, the sound of retching filling the room. His throat burned, his body trembled, and for a brief moment, he felt like he was suffocating.
Kori knelt beside him, steadying the bag, her face was as stern as ever, but in her eyes it was clear she felt something for Ao, it looked to be sympathy. "Damn, kid. Whatever happened to you must've been real bad. You've come to me with broken bones, torn muscles, internal bleeding— and now with this?" She shook her head. "This is something else."
Ao sucked in a shaking breath as another violent wave overtook him. He gagged, his stomach twisting mercilessly, forcing up whatever little was left inside of him. His body felt hollow. His limbs were shaking. He felt weak, disgusting.
His fingers clenched the sheets, the fabric bunched in his trembling grip. He was trying to ground himself, but all he could see when he closed his eyes was Rohn's unconscious face—bloodied, broken—because of him.
A fresh surge of bile rose in his throat. He wretched again, body shuddering as he spat out nothing but bitterness and acid.
Kori's sharp eyes narrowed as she observed him, her expression unreadable. She let out a slow sigh, the weight in her voice heavier than before. This isn't just from his injuries. Something is weighing on him… deeply.
She stood, moving toward a wooden counter where a small, old-looking cup rested. She opened her palm, a soft glow of energy shimmering around her fingertips. A steady stream of water materialized, filling the cup before the glow faded.
"You need to drink something," she said, walking back toward him. "You just emptied everything inside of you, and that's not counting the fact that you were already starving when you got here."
Ao barely moved, barely reacted which was odd since he would usually always look ecstatic at new magic tricks he saw. His breathing was still uneven, his shoulders still shaking. He looked up at Kori, eyes glassy, distant.
For the briefest moment, she saw the shadow of something darker behind his gaze. Not just exhaustion. Not just fear. But guilt.
She set the cup on the bedside table, watching him carefully. "Tell me what happened, boy," she said, her voice quieter now, but still as firm. "I need to know everything."
Ao hesitated, his hands slowly unclenching from the sheets. He looked at Kori again, but this time, it wasn't her face he saw.
It was his.
Rohn. Blood trickled from his mouth. Unconscious. Because of him.
His breath hitched. His stomach twisted violently once more.
Kori grabbed the bag again just as he hunched forward, dry heaving with nothing left to give.
Ao's breath hitched, his body trembling as he clutched his arms. His voice barely made it past his lips, weak and unsteady. "Kori..." he whispered, a raw desperation lacing his words. It was as if he wanted to cry, to release the storm raging inside him, but something—whether his own stubbornness or sheer exhaustion—kept the tears at bay. He refused to lift his gaze, refused to meet Kori's face. He couldn't.
He didn't want to see her expression, didn't want to see disappointment or judgment staring back at him. He was terrified—terrified of what he had done, of what he almost became. His fingers curled into the thin sheets beneath him, gripping them like they were the only thing anchoring him to reality. His breath was ragged.
"Am... am I a bad person?" The words spilled out, barely above a whisper, but heavy enough to weigh down the entire room.
Kori blinked, momentarily taken aback by his question. Of all the things she had expected from the boy, this was not one of them. "Bad person?" she echoed, confusion flickering across her weathered face. She hadn't been given the full story—not by the girl who brought him here, who had looked more shaken than anything, nor by anyone else. She hadn't even had the chance to check on Koi or Shiro yet aside from what the girl said involving Elana going over there to them. All she knew was that Ao had been hurt—badly.
But now, seeing him like this, curled in on himself, fighting back emotions that were too big for his small frame to handle, she knew it was more than just injuries. Something had changed in him.
"What do you mean, child?" Her voice softened as she moved closer, settling onto the edge of the bed by his feet. "Talk to me."
Ao hesitated. His fingers twitched, his mind screaming at him to keep it all bottled up, but he couldn't. The words burned his throat, clawing to get out. If he kept them in any longer, he feared they would consume him whole.
"S... Some people... they tried to take the potions I got from Elana," he started, his voice barely above a whisper. "They kicked me. Jumped me... but..." He choked on his words, his stomach twisting violently as the memory surged forward. He gagged, his body lurching forward, but there was nothing left in him to throw up. He clutched at the bag Kori had given him earlier, desperately trying to will the nausea away.
"I beat them... and I almost... I almost—" His eyes widened, his breath stuttering as the image flashed in his mind. The weight of the blade in his hand. The look of fear in the man's eyes. The rush of fury that had overtaken him, so strong it had nearly drowned him. He gripped the bag tighter, knuckles turning white as he dry-heaved, but nothing came up. All he could do was sniffle, his entire body wracked with tremors.
Kori's heart clenched.
She didn't know what was more shocking—the fact that someone in their village, a place where they all saw each other as family, had tried to rob him, or the fact that this small child had taken on grown adults... and won. But she knew that look. The haunted expression of someone teetering on the edge of something dark, they were like her own at one point in time.
She let out a slow breath, her gaze steady. "You almost killed him."
Ao flinched at those words as if they had physically struck him. Then, without another word, he lurched forward, burying his face into her chest, his small frame shaking against her.
Kori sighed, wrapping her arms around him, one hand gently resting atop his head. "Breathe, child. Slow, deep breaths. You're safe now."
He hiccupped against her, but no tears came. He wanted to cry. He really did. But the tears refused to fall, leaving him drowning in an unbearable weight that he didn't know how to carry.
Kori stroked his hair, her voice a gentle murmur. "Listen to me, Ao. You are not a bad person. You were protecting yourself. What they did to you was cruel, unforgivable even. You had every right to fight back."
Ao squeezed his eyes shut. "But..."
"But you made the right choice," she interrupted, her fingers tracing soothing circles on his back. "You didn't kill him. No matter how much someone wrongs you, taking a life isn't something you can undo. It stays with you. Changes you. You are better than that. You proved it tonight."
Ao stayed quiet, his breathing still uneven, but the storm in his chest seemed to lessen, just a little.
"You're strong, Ao," Kori continued. "But strength isn't just about winning fights. It's about knowing when to stop. When to walk away. And you did."
Ao wanted to believe her. Wanted to cling to her words like a lifeline. But the fear, the doubt, still lingered. Would it always be like this? Would he always be one step away from losing himself?
"Get some rest, child," Kori whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "You've been through enough for one night."
Kori's voice was low and steady, a soothing contrast to the whirlwind of emotions stirring inside Ao. "I've already informed your mother and father about your condition. They'll be here soon. But as for you, child… I can't let you leave just yet. Your body may be healed, but you still need food, water, and time—to recover, both physically and mentally." Her fingers combed through his tangled hair with practiced gentleness, the rhythmic motion meant to lull him into calmness.
But Ao clung to her, his small fingers twisting into the fabric of her robe. His knuckles had turned white from how tightly he held on. Though his breathing had slowed from ragged gasps to deep, shuddering inhales, he still trembled, as though trapped in the ghostly echoes of his ordeal. He barely registered her words. The weight of everything—what he had done, what he had almost done—coiled around him like iron chains.
Kori exhaled, a subtle yet deliberate sound of understanding. Her aged fingers traced gentle circles along his scalp, never once prying him away. He needed warmth, needed reassurance, even if his pride wouldn't let him say it.
I'll have a word with the woman who brought him here. The thought settled heavily in her mind, sharp as a dagger's edge. Who were those people? What kind of filth would set upon a mere child for a handful of gold? The notion soured her stomach. The village was a sanctuary, a place where the strong protected the weak, where family—blood or not—stood together. For three individuals, man or not, to attack a child so callously? It was a stain upon the very foundation she had helped build, and she would not let it stand.
Minutes passed, the only sound in the dimly lit room being the occasional crackle of a lantern's flame and the quiet rustling of fabric as Ao adjusted against her. Then, slowly, the tension in his body eased. His breaths deepened, steadied. A faint, almost imperceptible sound escaped his lips—soft snores, fragile in their innocence.
Kori chuckled softly, the sound barely a whisper in the quiet space. No matter how much he tries to act beyond his years, he's still just a child. She recalled, with a mix of amusement and tenderness, the way Ao would deliberately mispronounce words, exaggerating his speech just enough to appear as though he struggled with the demi-human tongue like the other children his age. But she had seen through him long ago. He wasn't fooling anyone—certainly not her.
Shifting carefully, Kori adjusted the weight of the small, sleeping coyote in her arms, taking the IV out of his arm. For someone as frail looking as she was, her strength remained impressive. With her cane in hand, she rose from the chair without a single waver in her stance. Ao stirred slightly but did not wake. Then, she exited the room to go check up on her other patients.