On the planet Orengatua, a calm evening with twin moons and a wind rustling through flower fields. After their daily labor, people from different flower clans are heading back to their camps. Calm harmony. "Something starts to change in a world where bloodlines bind destinies, flowers define fate, and each petal holds power."

Cut to Group D's ruined fortress, a half-buried relic, fading into the sands of time.

OMIEKA a 7-year-old black boy, sits in silence, by a field of glowing flowers. He plays with a torn shirt sleeve tied around his wrist, as a remnant of his long-forgotten father, from the mysterious Group D.

OMIEKA(whispers):

"You were one of them weren't you? The protectors. But you never returned..."

As Omieka strolls deeper into a grove saturated in mist, he notices a dancing light orb and tumbles toward it, colliding with a strange glowing blue flower.

The flower hums. The air shifts.

Hunger pulls him from his thoughts, so he gently picks it up. Not knowing its origin, he eats it.

Silence.

Then- time slows. Wind hangs motionless. Trees pause mid-sway on this sunny day.

Elsewhere in the village, screams cascade up. A gigantic Beast of Orengatua claws its way out of the underground, uprooting trees. A shadowy mist follows, pouring into the village on the frantic feet of Villagers running for their lives.

People from Group B - Orengatsu burst into the frame but seem too far.

Then-an invisible force slams into the beast.

It gets charged out of the air...but no one sees who's to blame.

The villagers gather quietly. They survey each other.

Random Elder (stunned):

"What... what just happened? That wasn't a beast technique..."

The Blue Draconic Flower's aura flares over the top of the hill and fades into invisibility.

Omeka falls, dazed and aghast. His eyes glimmer an opaque blue color. Omeka hears

whispering. Fragments of Group D's past flashing into view.

His hand shakes.

Omeka (in shock):

"W-what did I eat...? What is happening to me...?"

The screen throbs again and fades to white.

Omeka awakens in the healer's hut. An elder with a woman kindness and a handful of children are taking care of him. They do not know what happened.

Meanwhile outside - flower scouts from different groups start investigating the shift in the earth and traces of energy.

Group A Leader (in the shadows):

"The Blue Draconic...someone has used it."

Group B Tracker:

"We must find out who before it is too late."

Omeka is quietly listening behind the door.

The village commemorates their survival with a lantern festival. Children run wild wearing paper masks. Omeka smiles for the first time, receiving a little flower bracelet from a girl.

> Girl:

"You are lucky. you came back from the mist!"

The OST is calming and sweet, while fireflies twirl about.

Omeka is now sitting on the same hill as the beginning.

He gazes at the moon with bewilderment.

A distant dragon silhouette crosses the sky. No one else can see it.

Mysterious voice (from the darkness):

"He has returned... The flower has chosen."

End Song plays.

In a post credit scene, a flowerbook in a far away temple is opened. One of its pages flutters to reveal and ancient prophecy.

The screen fades back to Omeka, still kneeling on the ground, holding the blue flower in his hands. His eyes are wide with disbelief as the blooming petals swirl around him in the soft light of the evening. The air crackles with energy, his heartbeat quickening as he realizes something has changed, but he doesn't know what.

.."Magnetic force emerges from the flower, moving outwards to create a radial bubble around him that consumes everything."

The draconic flower acts as a focal point and continues to produce vast amounts of power. A piece from the flower converges into an orb and stays within a limited training boundary, and captures and accelerates the share of Anurag energy into the third dimension.

"This layer of energy begins to siphon the Anurag into the molecular structure of the earth, pulling in the surrounding particle mass into the apex of the bubble - this also continues to absorb the power of the blue draconic flower, inducing ultimate fury can compel a serious emotion, an exasperated and draining three dimensional miracle."

The give and take of the residual energy he bore only leaves behind the bigger shells of the gas as it transforms remaining fragments in some solar level away from us.

"Scrutinized by our very own discretion can be notable when having great access to chemical wavelengths, I can only imagine how pleasurable it can be running things in a more involved but less efficient rhythm."

It is a mess of quantity, the weight travels a fine horizon to horizon dimension which spirals the outcome, like how one wave can greet another without no physical depth and creating three waves that resonance through initiation without elevation on the plane.

Omeka looks up, his expression full of confusion and fear. "What is this power? Why... why did it do this?"

The figure remains silent, eyes narrowed in contemplation. He looks around the destroyed landscape, his face hardening with a mix of concern and authority.

"Because of that flower, you're no longer just an ordinary child. But more importantly..." The figure steps forward, his eyes locking with Omeka's. "You're now a part of something much larger than yourself."

Omeka is stunned, unable to process the weight of the words. The world seems to tilt around him as the energy inside him begins to calm, though he still feels it, lingering deep inside.

The camera focuses on the blue draconic flower in Omeka's hand. The petals begin to glow softly again, as if responding to his emotions, flickering like a faint heartbeat.

In the background, a faint hum of a distant mechanical sound is heard. Omeka doesn't notice it at first, but it grows louder, and suddenly, he's pulled out of his thoughts as the ground shakes again.

Omeka's eyes widen in realization. Something is approaching. The figure seems almost too calm, watching the surroundings as if expecting it.

"There's no time to waste, Omeka," the figure warns. "You've drawn attention. The others will come soon, and you'll need to learn to control that power before it controls you."

Omeka slowly stands up, the blue flower still glowing in his palm. His body feels heavy, but there's an undeniable surge of power coursing through him now.

"Who... are 'the others'?" Omeka asks, his voice filled with a mix of dread and curiosity.

Before the figure can answer, a low, guttural growl fills the air. The ground shakes violently. Omeka looks around, and through the trees, something enormous begins to approach.

The camera shifts to reveal the outline of a massive beast, its form distorted by the approaching chaos. The figure steps in front of Omeka, placing a protective hand on his shoulder.

"Stay back," he commands. "This is not your fight yet."

But Omeka isn't listening. His body trembles, not with fear, but with the unrelenting pull of the power inside him. He steps forward, his eyes locked on the creature.

The creature roars, and the world around them seems to explode in a burst of chaos.

As Omeka gently pushed open the creaky wooden door to his small guest room, the world around him changed. The darkness of the old man's house faded away. A soft blue glow took over everything, and suddenly, he was no longer in the room.

He stood in a vast, endless space. The skies shimmered with moving stars, and the air felt heavy with silence, almost as if the universe had paused for him. In front of him stood a towering figure, unlike anything he had ever imagined.

The figure wore a majestic blue crown that pulsed with ancient energy. His body was made entirely of glowing blue stone, like a crystal monument come to life. Inside his chest, just behind where a heart would be, floated the same flower Omeka had eaten—the Blue Draconic Flower—radiating both terrifying and beautiful light.

The god slowly tilted his head down to look at the tiny child standing before him. His voice echoed across the dreamscape—not loud but eternal, as if it existed before time began.

"Yo, young soul, what are you doing inside me?"

Omeka's lips trembled. "W-Who are you?"

The god chuckled, a sound like distant thunder but oddly warm.

"I am Hashiranga. The divine spirit bound to the Draconic Flower. Long before you were born, I existed within the veins of this power. And now, it runs inside you."

Omeka stepped back, confused and scared. "I didn't know. I just ate it. I thought it was just a strange fruit—"

"And yet, you are now bound to me. Your fate has changed, little one. The world will now chase you, hunt you, fear you. And perhaps," Hashiranga paused, staring into Omeka's soul, "need you."

The space began to collapse, stars drawing closer and swirling into the flower inside the god's heart.

"Your journey begins now. But remember, power has a cost."

Suddenly, a blinding flash of blue light swallowed everything.

Omeka woke up, gasping, sweating, his hands shaking. He was back in the old man's house, lying on the simple bed. His chest burned as if something ancient had been written into his very skin.

Outside, the night wind howled.

And far away, in the shadows of the city, someone whispered:

"We found the scent. Someone has awakened the Blue Draconic."

Omeka blinked slowly, the divine blue light surrounding him like a warm ocean. Before him stood the towering figure—Hashiranga, the God of Power and Guardian of the Flowers. His stone-blue body shimmered with ancient energy, and his eyes glowed like twin sapphires. Inside his chest, protected by an intricate crystal heart, pulsed a familiar shape.

The same flower Omeka had swallowed.

The Sōryūka.

Hashiranga's voice echoed like distant thunder yet held an unusual calm.

"What you have consumed is not just a flower. It is a part of me. The eleventh. The lost one. The forbidden bloom of legends—Sōryūka."

Omeka took a step back, trembling.

"W-What do you mean... a part of you?" His voice cracked, eyes wide with confusion.

Hashiranga tilted his head gently, his glowing gaze softening.

"You carry inside you a fragment of my spirit. My burden. My legacy. The Blue Dragon Blossom was never meant to be touched by mortals. Yet, here you are. A boy of just seven, foolishly brave."

Omeka lowered his head. "I-I didn't know. I just ate it..."

The divine being stepped forward, resting his giant hand near Omeka's heart without touching him.

"You didn't choose the flower, Omeka. The flower chose you."

The air stilled. Omeka's chest felt heavy—not from fear, but from the weight of destiny.

"You must now face what lies ahead," Hashiranga continued. "Your body will evolve. Your soul will battle. And when the time comes, the world will turn its eyes to you. They will either kneel or fear."

As the dream began to fade, Omeka shouted, "Wait! I'm just a kid! I didn't ask for this!"

But Hashiranga's voice echoed as everything turned into a swirl of blue light.

"You may be just a boy now, but within you sleeps a dragon. Awaken wisely."

Omeka snapped awake, gasping, his face drenched in sweat. The night was still. The old man's home was quiet. But something inside him felt different.

He touched his chest. The warmth was still there.

The Sōryūka was alive inside him.

The morning sun filtered softly through the wooden slats of the old man's modest home. Omeka's eyelids fluttered open, his heart pounding—the vivid image of Hashiranga's voice still echoing in his mind.

"You have the Soryuka flower now," the ethereal figure had said. "Your journey into the new world begins."

For a moment, Omeka lay still, the silence around him buzzing with a strange energy. Slowly, he sat up and looked at his hands. A faint, shimmering glow hovered just beneath his skin, pulsing rhythmically like a heartbeat of its own.

He could feel it—a warm pulse spreading from the core of his being, a power unlike anything he had known. The air seemed thicker, charged with possibility.

"Is this the Soryuka flower's power?" Omeka whispered, his voice trembling with awe and uncertainty.

Outside, the old man's footsteps creaked on the wooden floor as he entered the room, sensing the change in the boy.

"Omeka," he said softly, "you've stepped onto a path few have ever walked. The new world is calling you, and it's waiting for you to unlock its secrets."

Omeka swallowed hard, the weight of destiny settling on his shoulders. He didn't yet understand what lay ahead, but one thing was clear: his life was about to change forever.

Omeka's eyes snapped open, the weight of Hashiranga's words still echoing in his mind. The faint glow of the Soryuka flower pulsed beneath his skin, a constant reminder of the power and danger now living within him.

He rose silently from the simple straw mat where he had slept in the old man's home. The old man was already awake, quietly preparing a small bundle of supplies. Without a word, he handed it to Omeka—a silent blessing for the road ahead.

Outside, the village of Floriuca lay peaceful in the morning light, unaware that their beloved boy was now marked as a threat.

Omeka took one last look at the small cluster of homes, memories flashing through his mind. At seven years old, he was already forced to leave everything he knew behind.

"I have to go," he whispered to himself. "There's no one here who understands the flowers... no one who can help me control this power."

His footsteps were light but determined as he set off toward the horizon. His destination was Khamarasca, a distant village whispered about as a place of hidden knowledge—the only hope for a child like him.

Unbeknownst to Omeka, shadows stirred in the distance. The group that branded him a villain in Floriuca had begun their relentless search.

"He's still out there," one voice said, cold and unforgiving. "We must find him before his power grows beyond control."

But Omeka's heart burned with new resolve. He was no longer the helpless boy from Floriuca. He was a bearer of divine power, and his journey was just beginning.

Under Sensei Kimichi's guidance, Omeka began the rigorous training that would shape his destiny. The master was strict but patient, pushing the boy to understand not only the raw power of the Soryuka flower but also the delicate balance that each of the ten mortal flowers represented. Every day was a challenge—mastering elemental control, learning to sense the subtle energies flowing through his body, and facing his inner fears. The connection to Hashiranga pulsed strongly within him, a source of great strength but also a tempest he struggled to contain. As Omeka's skills grew, so did the danger looming over him. The group from Floriuca, relentless and unforgiving, had dispatched their best flower-users to track him down. One dusk, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the village's shadows lengthened, Omeka found himself cornered in the ancient forest bordering Khamarasca. The attackers emerged silently, their eyes cold and determined to seize the boy carrying the forbidden power. But Omeka, though young, had learned much. Drawing on his newly honed abilities, he summoned a swirling vortex of blue flames crackling with draconic energy, a display of the Soryuka flower's essence. The forest lit up in an ethereal glow as Omeka fought not only to survive but to protect the village that had taken him in. Sensei Kimichi arrived just in time, his calm but powerful presence turning the tide. With a single gesture, Kimichi unleashed a wave of elemental force that dispersed the attackers and shielded Omeka. "Remember," the sensei said firmly, "true mastery is not just about power, but knowing when and why to use it." The battle was a harsh lesson but strengthened Omeka's resolve. He realized that his path would be fraught with danger, but with each challenge, he grew closer to unlocking the full potential of the divine flower within him. His journey was far from over, but for the first time, Omeka felt the steady flame of hope burning brightly inside.

The forest around Khamarasca was dense and silent, the kind of silence that gnawed at Omeka's nerves. Though the village was still asleep, danger lurked close. The group hunting him from Floriuca had tracked his every step, their determination as cold and unforgiving as the night itself.

Suddenly, a shadow moved swiftly between the trees—a lone member of the group, eyes sharp and deadly, stepped into Omeka's path. The air thickened with tension.

"So, the little villain thinks he can hide here," the attacker sneered, drawing a slender blade that shimmered with a faint flower-like glow. "Your power is dangerous, but not enough to save you."

Omeka's heart hammered fiercely. He was just a child, but the flower within him pulsed with ancient force—a power tied directly to Hashiranga, a fragment of a god himself.

The attacker lunged forward with lightning speed. Omeka barely had time to react. As the blade aimed for his chest, a brilliant blue light burst forth from Omeka's body like a sudden storm.

The light twisted and expanded, forming a swirling shield of draconic flames that crackled with fierce energy. The blade shattered against the radiant barrier, sparks flying through the night air.

Before the attacker could recover, the blue flames surged outward in a sweeping arc. The air sizzled with power as the flames engulfed the assailant. A strangled cry broke the silence, then nothing but smoke and ash where the attacker once stood.

Omeka staggered back, breathless and wide-eyed at the destruction he had caused. His small hands trembled, but the light inside him still burned strong, a raging river of divine energy.

From the shadows, more footsteps thundered. The rest of the group had arrived, their faces grim and weapons ready.

"Get him!" one shouted, launching a volley of flower-infused arrows.

Omeka dove behind a tree, the arrows thudding into bark and earth. His mind raced, the raw power within him swelling uncontrollably. The connection to Hashiranga was no longer a whisper—it roared, demanding release.

He rose, raising his hands. The blue flames erupted again, this time shaping into a dragon-shaped guardian that soared above the treetops, roaring defiance. The forest lit up with its radiant glow.

The attackers hesitated, fear flickering in their eyes. But they pressed on, their attacks coming faster and fiercer. Omeka countered with waves of elemental energy—water surged like tidal waves, wind sliced through branches, and earth rose to shield him.

The blue flames around Omeka flickered softly, a promise of the power yet to be unleashed.

Sensei Kimichi appeared at the edge of the clearing, his calm presence steadying Omeka's chaotic power. With a single command, Kimichi summoned a tempest of all the mortal flowers' energies, blending with Omeka's draconic flames.

The combined force blasted the attackers backward, scattering them into retreat.

Breathing heavily, Omeka looked at Kimichi, gratitude and determination shining in his eyes. "I won't run anymore. I'll face whatever comes."

The sensei nodded. "Good. Your journey is only just beginning, but today, you stood as a true master in the making."

The dawn light filtered weakly through the canopy as Omeka knelt on the cold ground, sweat dripping from his brow. Sensei Kimichi stood silently nearby, his sharp eyes watching every twitch of the boy's body.

"Focus, Omeka," the sensei commanded. "The flower within you is not just a power to wield-it is a living essence. You must become one with it, or it will consume you."

Omeka clenched his fists, the familiar blue flames flickering weakly at his fingertips. The connection to Hashiranga surged inside him like a storm trapped in a cage, wild and dangerous. He struggled to keep the energy steady, but each attempt threatened to overwhelm him.

"Breathe," Kimichi's voice cut through the chaos. "Control your spirit. Feel the flow of the elements and the pulse of the flower, not as a weapon, but as part of yourself."

Omeka closed his eyes, focusing on the rhythm of his heartbeat. Slowly, the flames steadied, shrinking to a gentle glow that danced over his skin like living silk.

"Good," Kimichi nodded. "Now, summon the dragon within."

A deep roar echoed in Omeka's mind, and the blue flames burst forth, shaping into a magnificent draconic spirit. Its eyes burned with ancient wisdom, and its breath crackled with divine fire. But the creature was unstable, flickering like a candle in the wind.

"Hold it! Do not let fear control you," Kimichi urged. "This is your essence and your strength. Command it!"

Omeka's arms trembled, sweat pouring down his face. The dragon swirled violently, threatening to vanish, but with a roar, Omeka forced his will upon it. The dragon stabilized, its form solidifying as it circled protectively around him.

Suddenly, the ground trembled. Kimichi raised his hand, and a test began, an elemental storm unleashed around Omeka: shards of ice, torrents of water, gusts of wind, and shards of earth swirling in a violent dance.

Omeka summoned his draconic flames to meet each element, weaving the power of the Soryuka flower with the primal forces. Flames met ice and evaporated, fire battled water in steamy clouds, and wind was sliced by earth's jagged claws.

Minutes stretched like hours as Omeka fought to maintain balance, sweat blurring his vision. His muscles burned, his spirit cried for rest, but he pushed onward, driven by the promise of control, of mastery, of survival.

When the storm finally ceased, Omeka collapsed to his knees.

As Omeka stood on the windswept cliff overlooking the valley of Khamarasca, the weight of his journey pressed heavily upon him. The sun dipped low, casting long shadows over the land, as the fierce light of the Blue Draconic Flower burned in his heart—a power both blessing and curse. His path had been shaped by loss, exile, and a relentless pursuit by the very group that once called him their own. Yet now, standing at the edge of the known world, Omeka understood that his true battle was just beginning.

Across this world, power was divided among four elite groups, each a force of nature shaping the fate of mortals. Group A, the Crimson Blades, ruled with flames of destruction and passion—warriors like Kael, Lyra, and Darius whose fiery might could raze battlefields and ignite hope alike. Group B, the Azure Guardians, commanded the waters of healing and illusion, led by Selene, Orin, and Mira, whose grace could calm storms and mend shattered spirits. The Verdant Sentinels of Group C protected the earth's enduring life—Taro, Yuna, and Fen controlling roots, leaves, and shadows of the forest, fierce and silent in their defense.

But it was Group D, the Obsidian Phantoms, who cast the longest shadow over the world. Shrouded in mystery and feared for their deadly mastery of the rarest and darkest flowers, their ten members—Kaida, Riven, Liora, Zephyr, Kain, Sora, Vex, Asha, Eryn, and Omeka himself—held powers born from the very essence of godly fragments; their presence a storm on the horizon.

He remembered the battles—the night when blue flames surged from his hands to strike down an enemy, the endless training under Sensei Kimichi's watchful gaze, and the storm of elements that tested every part of his being. But he also remembered the fear, the isolation, and the truth Kimichi had taught him: power without wisdom leads only to destruction.

Omeka inhaled deeply, feeling the flower pulse within his chest, a constant reminder that he was no longer the helpless boy who fled Floriuca. He was a force in his own right, a bridge between mortal and divine, shadow and light. Yet with great power came greater enemies and deeper mysteries. The other groups watched, waited, and prepared; the delicate balance of their world fragile and trembling on the edge of chaos.

With the first stars shimmering overhead, Omeka made a silent vow: he would master the Blue Draconic Flower, unlock the secrets of the 160 flowers beyond mortal reach, and uncover the truth behind Hashiranga's divine fragments. He would confront the hunters of Group D, forge his own path, and protect those who could not protect themselves. His journey was far from over—it was just beginning.

As the night deepened, the winds carried a whisper of power, of destiny, and of a storm yet to come. Omeka's eyes gleamed with determination. In a world ruled by flowers, where gods and mortals intertwined, the boy who had once been a fugitive was ready to become a legend.

But the question remained: what will you choose when power demands everything?

As the moon vanished behind a veil of clouds, an ancient voice echoed in the shadows: "The real battle begins when the flowers bloom in darkness."

The wind howled through the scorched training grounds of Khamarasca, where the soil still trembled from the clash of divine forces. The stars blinked behind drifting clouds, casting a silvery glow across the broken earth. Amid the silence, Omeka stood tall, shoulders broad, fists clenched, his breath steady like a warrior who had found his soul.

His body radiated with a strange stillness, but inside him, the Blue Draconic Flower pulsed, glowing brighter than ever before. The veins along his arms shimmered with threads of azure light, and from his chest, a faint flame of blue burst out in rhythm with his heartbeat. The ground beneath him cracked gently, reacting to the pure pressure of energy flowing within.

Sensei Kimichi watched him from a distance, his eyes wide—not with fear of the boy, but of what the boy had become. His once-fragile student, who had stumbled into his dojo with dirt on his face and pain in his eyes, now stood like a god walking among mortals. The flame of revenge, of truth, of revelation burned in Omeka's eyes. Something inside the master stirred—a memory of an ancient prophecy whispered through scrolls too dangerous to read aloud.

"You've grown," Kimichi finally said, his voice low, cracking just slightly.

Omeka turned slowly, his expression unreadable, but those glowing blue eyes spoke volumes. "They killed him," he said, his voice like thunder buried in ice. "The old man who saved me. The only family I had. They wanted to silence me before I bloomed."

A heavy silence fell between them.

Omeka looked at his own hands as blue petals slowly spiraled out of his chest and vanished into the air like mist. "But they were too late. I've awakened."

Kimichi stepped forward, his usually calm eyes flickering with something rare—hesitation. "You're no longer a boy," he whispered. "You've become something this world may never understand. A bridge between creation and destruction, between heaven and hell."

Omeka's lips parted slightly, and a soft, sad smile crept across his face. "I never asked for this power, Sensei. But I'll carry it." He paused. "And I will destroy those who used me, those who feared me."

There was a pause, then Sensei Kimichi did something unexpected. He knelt before Omeka and lowered his head. "Then let your master be the first to bow before the new storm."

Omeka's breath caught. The fire in his eyes flickered—not with rage, but with emotion. The boy inside him stirred.

"I wouldn't be here without you," he said softly. "You trained me like a son. You believed when no one else did." He extended a hand. "Stand, Sensei. Walk with me, even if the world burns."

Kimichi rose slowly, his old eyes shimmering. "Then let the world burn, if it means you'll bloom."

The Blue Draconic Flower flared one final time that night, bright enough to bathe the mountain in light. In that moment, the prophecy began its final verse.

The god-flower had chosen its bearer. Vengeance had found its garden to grow in.

The night wrapped around the cliffs of Khamarasca like a dark, velvet shroud. Stars scattered across the sky like distant flowers blooming in the vastness of space. The wind carried a cold whisper, rustling the leaves and scattering petals from the nearby ancient sakura trees.

On the edge of the cliff, overlooking the valley below, sat Omeka. His legs dangled freely, the sharp rocks far beneath. The faint blue glow of the Soryuka pulsed against his chest, a heartbeat in the stillness. His breaths came slow and measured, yet inside, a storm raged.

Tonight was different. He wasn't training, wasn't fighting. He was alone - with only his thoughts and the restless wind.

The day had weighed on him. Sensei Kimichi's words echoed in his mind: "Power that answers only to instinct... is power that devours its master."

Omeka clenched his fists tightly, feeling the faint spark of the flower inside him flicker wildly. The Soryuka wasn't just a source of power - it was a force that had started to grow beyond his control. At times, it awakened violently, reacting to fear or anger without his permission. He had seen its fury tear through the air during training, almost hurting those he cared about.

What if I become no different than those in Group D? The thought struck him hard. What if this power destroys me... or worse, destroys the people I want to protect?

His heart ached with doubt and frustration. Omeka wasn't a reckless boy anymore, but neither was he a god. He was caught between worlds - part human, part something ancient and divine. Thirty percent of Hashiranga's essence flowed in his veins, a gift and a curse tangled together.

I didn't ask for this flower, he whispered to the night. "I just want to use it for something real. For something that matters."

The cold wind tugged at his clothes, as if reminding him the world was watching, waiting. He looked up at the crescent moon hanging low, its silver light bathing the cliff in pale glow.

The silence around him was almost sacred, a rare moment of peace before the coming storm. His thoughts drifted to the Scrolls of Floral Awakening he had found earlier that day - ancient writings that promised a way to evolve the flower spirit into a weapon, to tame the rage instead of letting it control him.

He needed that control.

A sudden chill brushed over his skin, and he stiffened. The Soryuka inside him flared sharply - a warning. He tensed, ready for a threat that didn't come.

Then, a hand - warm and gentle - rested lightly on his shoulder.

Omeka's breath hitched. The flower inside him surged instinctively, ready to strike a potential enemy down in an instant. But something was different this time. The deadly pulse did not come.

He slowly turned.

There, standing quietly behind him, was a girl no older than himself. Her hair shimmered in the moonlight, flowing softly like a gentle river. Her eyes glowed a faint, calming green - an aura of peace radiated from her presence, like a balm to his restless soul.

She smiled softly, a kindness in her gaze that cut through the cold night. "What are you doing out here," she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper, "carrying a flower that wants to cry?"

For the first time, Omeka's storm inside him faltered. The flower inside did not see her as a threat. It did not lash out.

He blinked, caught off guard by her calm bravery.

This was a moment unlike any other - a moment where power met peace, and a boy wrestled with the fate written in his blood.

Omeka did not yet know who this girl was, or why she could stand where others could not. But the questions swirling in his mind would soon spiral into something far greater - something that could change the path of his journey forever.

Omeka's eyes narrowed slightly, tension crackling in the air as he glanced at the girl. His voice was low, cautious, almost defensive.

Omeka:

"Who are you? What are you doing here? I didn't see you anywhere before."

He pulled his shoulders back, trying to make himself look bigger, stronger - like the part of him that held 30% of Hashiranga himself. "You shouldn't be here. This flower inside me... it kills anyone who threatens me. If you wanted to hurt me, you'd be dead already."

The girl smiled softly, unbothered by his words, her gaze steady and kind.

Girl:

"I'm not here to fight. I don't fear your flower."

She reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "My flower is different. It's called Iyashi no Hana - the Healing Flower. It's meant to soothe pain, not cause it."

Omeka's eyes flickered with surprise, mixed with suspicion.

Omeka:

"Healing flower?"

He stared at her, trying to read the truth in her calm face. "No one with a flower like mine ever lets anyone get close. You could have been destroyed the moment you touched me."

She nodded, a small laugh escaping her lips.

Girl:

"I know. That's why I came. I wanted to see if your flower really was as fierce as they say - but also if it could be calmed. I feel the anger inside you... but I don't see a monster. I see someone scared to lose control."

Omeka's fist unclenched slowly. The tension in his shoulders softened just a bit.

Omeka:

"It's hard. I don't want to hurt anyone... but sometimes it just happens. I feel like the flower's power is taking over me - not the other way around."

The girl took a step closer, her green eyes glowing with quiet strength.

Girl:

"You're not alone. The flower inside you may be wild, but it's part of you - not the whole of you. I've spent my life learning how to heal, how to bring balance. Maybe I can help you learn to control it, instead of fearing it."

For the first time that night, Omeka's lips twitched into a faint, almost reluctant smile.

Omeka:

"Maybe... maybe I need that. Someone who understands what it's like."

The girl's smile deepened.

Girl:

"Then don't run from it. Embrace it, but learn to guide it. You carry a great power, but power without control is a curse."

Omeka looked back out at the valley below, the weight on his chest feeling lighter - if only just a little.

Omeka:

"What's your name?"

She hesitated, then softly said:

Girl:

"Call me Hana."

Omeka:

"Alright, Hana... I'll call you that."

He shifted, looking at her closely, eyes narrowing. "But here's the thing - I'm almost a god now. Thirty percent of Hashiranga himself runs in me. And I never saw you before. My mom's a farmer, my father's already gone. I grew up just with her. So... how do you know me? Why haven't I seen you around?"

He frowned, the confusion twisting his brow. "You look... like a kid. Like me. But how can you be here, acting like you know me when I don't even know you?"

Hana's eyes softened, but there was a strange calmness in her gaze - almost like she had expected this.

Hana:

"I understand why you'd feel that way."

She took a slow breath, steadying herself. "I've been watching you for a long time, Omeka - longer than you might realize. The world you live in is bigger than you know. There are powers and people moving behind the scenes."

Her voice dropped slightly, almost a whisper.

"I am part of something older. A part of the balance between power and peace. You carry Hashiranga's blood, yes - but so do I, in a way."

Omeka's eyes widened, a flicker of disbelief mixed with curiosity.

Omeka:

"What do you mean, 'in a way'? Are you saying you're... part god too? You said your flower is healing, but how does that connect to me?"

Hana smiled gently, a small glow flickering around her fingertips.

Hana:

"The Iyashi no Hana - it's a gift, just like your flower. Different, but connected. Both come from the same ancient source: the spirit of life that flows through this world. Some call it God, others call it nature's will. Whatever you call it, it's real."

She stepped a little closer, sincerity shining in her eyes.

"I don't just know you because I watched - I know because I'm part of your story. We're linked by the flower's power. Maybe more than you realize."

Omeka looked away for a moment, silence hanging between them. The wind picked up, rustling the grass.

Omeka:

"So you're saying you're here to help me... because of that connection? But why now? Why after all this time?"

Hana's expression grew serious.

Hana:

"Because the world is shifting, Omeka. Darkness grows, and those who misuse power will rise. You're not just a boy with a flower - you're the key to something bigger. I was sent to guide you before you lose yourself to the rage inside."

She reached out her hand again, this time more openly.

Hana:

"I don't want to fight you. I want to walk beside you. If you'll let me."

Omeka hesitated, then slowly nodded.

Omeka:

"Alright... Hana. Maybe I do need someone like you."

---Awesome! Here's the continuation with a bit more tension and deepening of their bond - showing Omeka's inner struggle and Hana's patient understanding:

Omeka kept his gaze fixed on Hana's outstretched hand, feeling the faint warmth radiating from her. The blue glow of his Soryuka flickered, still restless inside him.

Omeka:

"I've been fighting this storm inside myself for so long. Sometimes I feel like it's winning. Like I'm becoming the very thing I hate - reckless, dangerous, a weapon nobody can control."

He let out a shaky breath.

"You say you want to help, but how? How do I stop this fire inside me without losing who I am?"

Hana's eyes shone with quiet strength.

"By learning to listen - not just to your power, but to your heart. You're not alone, Omeka. The flower's rage is a force, but it doesn't have to be your master."

She lowered her voice, gentle but firm.

"You need balance. Control. And sometimes, you need someone to remind you that beneath all this power, you're still human."

Omeka's fists unclenched slowly, the tension easing just a bit.

"Maybe... maybe that's why you didn't die when you touched me. Maybe you're not just some random healer - you're a sign. A chance."

Hana smiled softly, a flicker of hope lighting her features.

"Exactly. And I'll be here when you're ready to take that step."

The night deepened around them, the stars blinking silently as Omeka finally allowed himself to hope.

---

The next morning, as dawn painted the sky with streaks of gold and rose, Omeka found Hana waiting at the temple's edge, her green eyes bright with determination.

"Ready?" she asked.

Omeka nodded, the weight in his chest a little lighter with her presence beside him.

Their mission was urgent: rumors spread that Group B, masters of poisonous flowers and traps, had seized a sacred garden where the next Scroll of Floral Awakening was hidden. If Group B unlocked its secrets, the balance of power would tip dangerously.

As they trekked through dense forests and winding paths, Hana shared pieces of her story.

"I wasn't always this calm," she admitted. "Once, I was reckless, like you - angry and lost. But my flower... my Iyashi no Hana saved me. It healed not just others, but my own broken spirit."

Omeka glanced at her, surprised by the vulnerability she showed. It made her feel even more real, more trustworthy.

"We have to move carefully," she whispered. "Group B's traps aren't just physical - they mess with your mind, poison your thoughts."

Omeka's jaw tightened. "Good. I was hoping to test if I've really gained control over this storm inside me."

As they neared the garden's edge, shadows twisted and vines slithered like serpents. The real challenge was about to begin.

---

---

The air grew thick with tension as Omeka and Hana crouched behind a thick cluster of ferns at the edge of the sacred garden. The scent of blooming flowers mixed with an underlying menace-Group B's poisonous traps were everywhere.

Omeka glanced at Hana. "You ready to shake things up?"

She nodded, her eyes sharp. "Remember, you draw them out. I'll tear them apart."

With a deep breath, Omeka stepped forward, letting the blue flames of his Soryuka flicker fiercely. The guards patrolling the garden stiffened, their heads turning as if sensing the approaching storm.

Like a beacon, Omeka let his aura blaze - a fierce challenge. The guards rushed toward him, their poisonous petals ready to strike.

Hana moved silently behind them, her hands weaving through the air as thorny cactus plants erupted from the earth, their spines sharp and cruel. The vines tangled and tore at the guards, breaking their formation and forcing them apart.

"Now, Omeka!" Hana hissed.

Omeka's eyes burned with cold fury. In one swift motion, he unleashed a wave of concentrated blue fire, crushing the nearest guard's skull with brutal precision.

Another guard lunged at him, but Hana's cactus vines whipped around its legs, tripping it to the ground. Omeka finished it with a swift strike.

The battle was fierce but coordinated - Omeka's raw power and Hana's precise control weaving a deadly dance.

As the last guard fell, Omeka turned to Hana, breath heavy but victorious.

"Not bad for a healer," he smirked.

She grinned back. "And you're not so bad for a god-in-training."

Their mission was clear - protect the scroll, and stop Group B's poison from spreading further.

But deep in the shadows, unseen eyes watched their every move.

---

---

As Omeka and Hana caught their breath, the night around them thickened with silence. The last echoes of battle faded, but something unseen lingered in the shadows.

High above, perched on a twisted branch, a cloaked figure watched with sharp, calculating eyes. Their golden-black flower glimmered faintly in the moonlight, a sinister contrast to Omeka's blue flame.

A cold smile crept across the figure's lips.

"So, the child of Hashiranga grows stronger... and not alone anymore."

The figure whispered to the night. "But strength is only the beginning. Soon, the true test will begin."

With that, the watcher melted back into darkness, leaving only the rustle of leaves behind.

---

---

The wind howled softly through the cold mountain path as Omeka and Hana walked side by side, the blue Soryuka inside Omeka pulsing gently in sync with the healing energy radiating from Hana's flower. Both were silent, tired... but calm.

Omeka glanced at her.

"You good?"

Hana nodded. "Yeah. You?"

He smiled faintly. "Wasn't expecting my night to end with a cactus ambush, but I'm still breathing."

They both laughed quietly as the old wooden gates of their hidden village came into view. The moonlight bathed the temple roofs in silver, and the scent of burning incense danced through the air. As they stepped through the entrance, all the guards bowed without questioning them - something had changed. Omeka felt it.

---

Inside, Sensei Kimichi knelt beside a small firepit, his back to them as the flames crackled.

"You're back early," he said without turning around. "Was it done?"

Omeka stepped forward, bowing. "Yes, Sensei. We defeated the Blossom Watchers... but something happened. I wasn't alone."

Sensei Kimichi raised an eyebrow and finally turned around. His face was worn, aged with wisdom, but still sharp.

"What do you mean... not alone?"

Omeka gestured behind him. "Her. Hana."

Kimichi's eyes widened.

"Hana?"

"Yes. She helped me."

Kimichi's heart began to race. "What did she look like?"

Omeka blinked. "Same age as me. Green eyes. Hair like wind. And... the flower inside her doesn't kill - it heals."

For a moment, Kimichi just stared - mouth slightly open, eyes trembling.

"That's... impossible," he muttered. "Hana... she disappeared two years ago. She was one of our youngest guardians, gifted with the Iyashi no Hana - the healing flower. She was protecting the village from a forbidden gate at the valley's edge... and never returned."

Omeka tilted his head. "But she's right-"

Before he could finish, a shimmer of pink petals appeared in the air behind him.

A blossom burst - soft, glowing - filled the dojo.

Out of it... stepped Hana.

Graceful. Silent. Alive.

Kimichi stood slowly, his eyes beginning to water. "Hana...?"

She smiled gently. "It's been a while, Sensei."

He dropped to his knees.

"I thought you were gone. We searched for you. Prayed for you. Mourned you."

"I know," she said softly. "I was trapped... inside the Garden of Withered Souls. Time flows differently there. I fought to return."

Kimichi's voice cracked. "Two years... and you're still just a child..."

"Because I had to come back... exactly as I left. I needed to find the one who could control the Draconic Flower without letting it consume him."

She looked at Omeka, who blinked in surprise.

"That's why you came to me?"

She nodded. "You're not just carrying a flower, Omeka. You're carrying the soul of a god."

Kimichi stood slowly, composing himself.

"Then... fate has brought you both together. And the war we feared may already be watching."

---

---

Omeka sat silently at the edge of the temple stairs, knees pulled to his chest, chin resting on them. The moon above spilled silver across the valley, casting long shadows from the sakura trees. It was quiet. Too quiet.

He wasn't meditating. He wasn't training.

He was... just existing.

His voice cracked in the stillness as he looked up at the stars.

> "Why, Father...?"

"Why did you leave me protecting this world alone...?"

His fingers dug into the stone steps beneath him.

> "You called yourself a protector, a guardian of this planet... But the ones you left behind? They treat your son like he's cursed. Like I'm just... a monster with a flower growing in my chest."

A drop of something warm slipped down his cheek. He wasn't sure if it was rain or a tear. Maybe both.

> "You believed in this world. I'm starting to wonder if it was ever worth it..."

Just then, footsteps broke the silence behind him.

Gentle.

Not threatening.

His sensei appeared first, holding a small lantern. The warm glow lit up his old, kind face. Beside him stood Hana, quiet and calm, holding a wooden bowl of stew with steam still rising from it.

"Omeka," Sensei Kimichi said softly, "it's dinner time."

Omeka didn't move.

"I'm not hungry."

Hana stepped forward, her voice just above a whisper.

"You'll freeze if you sit here all night."

Omeka wiped his face quickly with his sleeve and looked away.

"I'm used to it."

Kimichi sighed and sat down beside him. Hana stood silently for a while, then quietly sat on Omeka's other side, placing the bowl between them.

"Do you know why your father entrusted this world to you?" Kimichi asked, eyes locked on the moon.

Omeka didn't answer.

"Because he knew the world would never accept someone like you at first. Just like it didn't accept him. But still... he believed you would teach it how to love again."

Omeka's voice cracked.

> "Then why didn't he stay?"

"Why did he leave me with a power that kills people when I just want to protect them?!"

The wind howled through the trees for a moment, like the world itself was holding its breath.

Then, for the first time, Hana spoke gently.

> "Maybe... your flower kills because it feels your pain too."

"Maybe it just wants to protect you... the only way it knows how."

Omeka turned toward her slowly, his breath shaky.

She placed her hand over the glowing pulse on his chest.

> "It's hurting. Just like you."

Silence.

Omeka looked down, voice barely audible.

> "Do you think... I can still be good?"

Kimichi smiled. "You're already better than you think, Omeka."

And that night, they didn't train.

They didn't talk about war or flowers or destiny.

They just sat together.

Three souls under one sky.

Sharing warmth, silence... and stew.

---

---

The night air grew colder as Omeka sat silently by the stone steps of the temple. His arms were crossed, eyes lost in the moonlight, chest still glowing faintly with the pulse of the Blue Draconic Flower. His mind was heavy with sorrow... and loneliness.

Behind him, Sensei Kimichi and Hana stood patiently.

"Omeka," Kimichi called out, "your meal's ready. Come eat before it gets cold."

Omeka didn't turn.

"I'm not hungry, Sensei," he said, barely above a whisper.

Kimichi sighed.

From behind him, Hana gently stepped forward with a bowl in her hands. She sat down beside Omeka and quietly placed it near him. Her soft eyes looked at his face, but she said nothing at first.

Kimichi looked at both of them, then turned with a quiet nod.

"I'll give you two some time. I'll eat with the others."

As Sensei walked away, Hana remained beside Omeka - silent, steady... kind.

A moment passed.

Omeka broke the silence with a strained voice.

> "You came out here too...?"

Hana smiled softly, though her tone was calm and light.

> "You weren't at the table. I figured the stars had more company than we did."

Omeka gave a short, dry laugh. "I guess they're the only ones that listen."

She didn't respond immediately. Instead, she gently pushed the bowl a little closer.

> "Eat. You need it more than the moon does."

He shook his head.

> "Not hungry."

She paused.

Then, to his surprise... she pulled out her own bowl.

And instead of eating, she quietly set it down beside his - untouched.

Omeka blinked. "Aren't you eating?"

She tilted her head and smiled.

> "I already did."

He looked at her, suspicious. Her hands were clean. The food was untouched. But her expression was honest - or at least, trying to be.

He frowned. "Liar."

She looked away, hiding the small flicker of emotion in her eyes.

> "Then eat, so I don't have to lie again."

The night wind brushed past them. Somewhere in the distance, their teammates were laughing and sharing food around a fire. But out here, it was quiet - just Omeka and Hana, both with full bowls... neither taking a bite.

A small bird landed nearby, picking at the ground. Hana watched it for a moment, then said softly:

> "If you fall apart, Omeka... this flower inside you might fall apart too."

"And then what'll protect you when I'm not around?"

He looked at her - really looked. Her eyes held something unspoken. Not pity. Not duty. But something... warmer.

He lowered his gaze again.

> "Why do you care so much?"

She didn't answer.

Instead, she smiled.

> "Because someone has to."

He said nothing. But when he looked back at his bowl... something in him shifted.

He took one slow bite.

Hana didn't eat a single grain that night.

And no one would ever know - not Sensei, not their friends, not the village - that she stayed hungry, just so he wouldn't feel alone.

--

The morning fog still clung to the mountains as the first rays of sunlight lit the training grounds. The air smelled of dew and wildflowers, and the faint chirping of birds echoed across the stone terraces.

Omeka stirred from his slumber, rubbing his eyes. A soft hum beside him told him Hana was already awake, her hands neatly folding the sleeping mat.

But then-

"Get up."

A calm but commanding voice echoed from behind the sakura trees.

Sensei Kimichi stood there, arms crossed, hair tied back, wearing his old battle robe. His eyes - sharp as ever - held both warmth and fire.

> "Today... we forge warriors."

Omeka stood up quickly, startled. "S-Sensei? You're training us again?"

Kimichi didn't smile. He only nodded.

> "The village has entered a dangerous time. You two... are no longer just students. You're protectors now."

Hana stepped forward, eyes determined.

> "We're ready."

Kimichi's eyes softened - just a bit.

> "Then follow."

He led them up the narrow forest path to the Shinro Terrace - an ancient platform carved into the mountain, surrounded by tall bamboo and a small waterfall. Here, the air felt sacred. Even Omeka's flower pulsed slower, almost respectful.

"First lesson," Sensei began, "You do not fight with power. You fight with rhythm."

He tossed each of them a long bamboo staff.

> "Let the flower inside you match your heartbeat. Not your rage."

They began slowly. Movements. Poses. Balance.

Omeka swung hard, struggling to stay fluid. Hana, graceful as ever, moved like a petal in the wind - but she stumbled when her thoughts drifted to Omeka.

Kimichi saw it.

> "Hana. Eyes on the opponent, not on your heart."

She flinched, but nodded.

Omeka tried to copy her form but grew frustrated.

> "This is pointless. In real battle, I'll just use my flower!"

Sensei's voice cracked like thunder.

"Then you'll die."

Omeka froze.

Kimichi walked up, staring straight into his soul.

> "You think instinct will save you? The moment your emotions control the flower, you are no longer the wielder - you are the weapon. And weapons... break."

Omeka looked down. His fists trembled.

> "I didn't ask to become this..."

Hana stepped beside him and quietly placed her hand on his.

> "You didn't. But you are."

A silence passed between them. Kimichi turned away, giving them a moment.

Then:

> "Again. Both of you. Until your soul becomes your stance."

They trained until the sun stood high.

Sweat dripped. Muscles burned. Hana fell once, scraping her hand - Omeka helped her up. Omeka lost balance - Hana caught him without hesitation.

By the end of the day, their staffs moved in rhythm. Not perfect. Not polished. But honest.

As they sat by the waterfall, panting, Kimichi walked over and dropped two cups of mountain water beside them.

> "Tomorrow, we start again. But for now... rest."

Omeka looked at Hana.

Hana looked at Omeka.

Their hands brushed for a second - no words. But the bond between them was stronger now... not just as teammates.

As something more.

---

---

🌸 Scene: The Divided Training

The afternoon sun shimmered over the stone terrace. Sweat dripped from Omeka's brow as he slammed his fists into the wooden post again and again, his flower pulsing violently in his chest.

Hana, meanwhile, sat still on a smooth rock nearby - eyes closed, legs crossed, hands resting on her knees.

Calm. Silent. Untouched.

Omeka's face tightened with frustration. His heart was pounding like a war drum, his arms sore from strikes, and still... Hana hadn't moved an inch.

> "But Sensei...!"

He finally snapped, dropping into a crouch, panting. His voice cracked as he looked at Kimichi, standing with arms behind his back.

> "It's not fair. I'm out here crushing my bones training Heart and Roar. And she's just-just sitting there! Doing meditation! What is this, huh? I'm training for war, and she's napping!"

Sensei Kimichi didn't flinch. He waited until the echo of Omeka's voice faded into the mountain winds before speaking.

> "She is not napping."

He walked slowly toward Omeka and knelt beside him.

> "She is healing."

Omeka furrowed his brow. "Healing? That's it? We're supposed to protect a village, a planet. How is sitting still going to save anyone?"

Sensei's eyes narrowed, not with anger, but with deep understanding.

> "Because peace... requires more strength than destruction ever will."

Omeka blinked.

> "You, Omeka, carry a flower born from wrath. A Blue Draconic bloom. Its instinct is destruction. You must train your body because your power will not listen to reason. You must become its master."

He turned his gaze to Hana.

> "But she... she carries the Iyashi no Hana. A healing flower. Her strength lies in stillness, in balance. If she loses that inner peace, her power vanishes. She does not strike to kill. She stays calm... to protect."

Omeka turned to look at her again. Her face was still and gentle. But now... he noticed something different.

Tiny sparkles of light pulsed from her body, like flower petals dancing in the air. The aura around her was cool, soft... yet powerful. It reminded him of his mother, the way she used to hold him when he was scared. Safe, yet strong.

Omeka lowered his head.

> "...So we're two sides of the same flower."

Sensei smiled faintly.

> "Exactly."

Hana finally opened her eyes and turned her head toward him.

> "I may be sitting still, Omeka... but I'm holding the storm inside me too. Just like you are."

Omeka exhaled. The tension in his shoulders loosened. For the first time, he understood.

Different powers. Different paths.

But one purpose.

They were not rivals.

They were balance.

---

After their intense day of training, Omeka and Hana sat beside the fire near the temple, the mountain winds now quiet... like they were listening.

Sensei Kimichi stood in front of them, silhouetted by the moonlight, arms folded behind his back. His voice dropped into something softer, older - a tone that came not from his mouth, but from his memories.

> "You've both made progress. But you must understand something..."

He looked up at the full moon, his eyes reflecting its glow.

> "There are flowers far beyond even your comprehension."

Hana tilted her head. "You mean... stronger than Blue Draconic and Iyashi?"

Kimichi nodded slowly.

> "Yes. Among them... exists one. A flower not of power or peace... but of divine judgment.

The Sanctuated Flower.

Known in ancient texts as Seinaru no Hana (聖なるの花)."

The moment he said it, a strange, glowing wind brushed over them - as if the flower itself heard its name.

Omeka leaned forward, curiosity and caution in his eyes.

> "What does it do?"

Kimichi turned, his voice echoing slightly as he began walking slowly along the edge of the cliff.

> "They say it shines like the moon itself... calm, beautiful... but when threatened, it can burn with the light of ten suns.

It does not heal. It does not destroy.

It judges.

It exposes the soul of any being it touches. And if it finds darkness too deep... it ends that soul in silence."

Omeka's eyes widened. "And who... who carries that flower?"

Kimichi stopped.

His face darkened with awe... and a trace of fear.

> "Only one.

A warrior forgotten by time.

A lone samurai who once stood at the edge of the world...

and chose to walk away from all kingdoms."

He turned back toward them.

> "He is known as Tsukihana - The Moon Blossom Blade.

No one knows his true name.

No one has seen his face in years.

But if the Sanctuated Flower ever blooms again...

he will return."

Omeka swallowed hard. The thought of someone who could judge his soul made his heartbeat quicken.

> "Would... would it judge me too?"

Kimichi looked directly into his student's eyes.

> "That depends, Omeka...

on what you do with your power."

Silence fell.

Hana reached for Omeka's hand subtly under the night's cover - not romantic, not dramatic - just a quiet promise: Whatever comes, we face it together.

And above them, the moon burned brighter than it had all week.

---

The campfire crackled as Sensei Kimichi finished speaking, his voice echoing into the still mountain air.

> "The Sanctuated Flower is sensitive... sacred. It must only be touched, let alone used, by the Tamurai -

Warriors like Ishiya, Toki... divine bloodlines, chosen by the gods themselves.

And even they fear it.

For if one dares to eat that flower...

they are cursed with immortality.

And trust me, children...

immortality is no blessing.

It is the longest, cruelest punishment for those who carry regret."

His words hung in the air, heavier than any silence that came before.

Omeka looked down at his hand - the one glowing faintly from the Blue Draconic Flower within him. He clenched it.

> "Then what am I?"

"A mistake?" he muttered under his breath.

Kimichi said nothing more. He stepped away into the shadows, letting the weight of the story settle into their young souls.

Hana turned to Omeka quietly. Her eyes reflected the firelight, soft and steady.

> "You're not a mistake, Omeka," she said gently. "You're... proof. That not all power is born from bloodlines or destiny. Some is born because the world needs it."

Omeka didn't respond immediately. His heart felt torn - between the boy he was, and the force inside him trying to bloom into something terrifying.

> "I just... I didn't ask for this," he whispered.

"My mom's a farmer. My dad died protecting a planet that doesn't even protect me.

I don't know who I am anymore. I don't want to be a god. I just want... to be understood."

Hana leaned in closer. Her voice was a whisper, but it struck like lightning.

> "Then stop trying to be something you're not.

Start being something the world's never seen."

Omeka looked up.

Their eyes met.

And for that single moment... the pain, confusion, and fear dissolved into a silent bond.

She didn't need to say "I believe in you."

He didn't need to say "Thank you."

They just knew.

A breeze passed through the trees - carrying with it the scent of unknown flowers, some peaceful, some deadly, and one... maybe... divine.

The stars blinked softly above.

Omeka lay back on the cool grass, staring at the sky, and Hana laid beside him, arms crossed behind her head. Not too close. Not too far.

Just enough to be real.

> "You think we'll ever meet that samurai?" he asked, half-smiling.

> "Maybe," Hana replied.

"But when we do... let's make sure we're strong enough to face him without fear."

Omeka closed his eyes, letting the night wrap him in silence.

> "Deal."

---

🌸✨

End of episode