WHEN FIRE BLENDS WITH WATER

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."