Blink: Ethereal Fury

The Weight Of Regret

Benji stayed in the dimly lit training room long after Tao left. His body ached from the hit, but it was nothing compared to the pain gnawing at his chest. The weight of Tao's words settled over him like a shroud, suffocating him, wrapping tighter with every breath he took.

He tried to blink the tension away, to focus on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, but the silence only amplified the guilt. How many times had he replayed that moment—leaving them behind, teleporting away—thinking that he had no choice? That running was his only option?

The flickering lights overhead cast distorted shadows against the walls, and for a brief moment, Benji saw his younger self in the reflection. The boy who had trained relentlessly in the temple, the boy who believed he could take on the world. That boy was long gone, replaced by someone fractured—someone who had failed in the most important moment of his life.

He clenched his fists, forcing himself to focus on the present. This wasn't the time to wallow in self-pity. Tao wasn't the only one who needed him, and there was still time to prove that he could make things right. He couldn't afford to spiral any further. Nemesis was out there, and with every second that passed, the threat grew larger. The stakes were too high.

But even as he tried to shake the dread, Benji couldn't ignore the truth. Tao had been right—he had shattered the bond they once shared. Their friendship was a broken thing, something he couldn't mend with words alone. He needed to earn it back, not just for Tao but for all of them.

With a deep breath, Benji straightened his posture and turned toward the door. As it slid open, the cool air from the corridor brushed against his skin, and with it came a renewed sense of determination. He might have failed before, but that didn't mean he had to keep failing.

The base was eerily quiet as he made his way through the corridors, his steps slow, deliberate. In the back of his mind, he wondered where Daichi and Mira were, what they must have been thinking. Had they felt abandoned too? How much had they changed in the time since he left? The questions swirled in his mind, but he pushed them aside for now. One thing at a time.

As Benji rounded a corner, he almost bumped into Mira. She was moving swiftly, her face set in a hard expression. The two stopped in their tracks, the tension between them thickening in the air.

Mira's bright blue eyes, usually full of light, now carried a hint of something darker. She crossed her arms, her posture defensive. "I see you talked to Tao," she said, her voice quiet but firm.

Benji nodded, unsure of how to start. "I tried."

"And how did that go?" Mira's tone was sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade.

Benji didn't flinch. He'd expected her to be angry, and she had every right to be. "It went as well as you'd expect."

Mira sighed, the weight of her frustration settling between them. "You know, Benji, when you left... we thought you were dead. We thought you were *gone*. And even when we found out you weren't, it didn't make it any easier. We had to deal with everything falling apart, and you weren't there."

Her words, though softer than Tao's, carried just as much weight. Benji had to fight back the wave of regret that threatened to pull him under again. "I know," he whispered, his throat tight. "I'm sorry."

Mira studied him for a long moment, her gaze searching his face for something—an answer, maybe, or a sign that he understood the depth of what had happened. She opened her mouth to say something but closed it, hesitating. There was something in her eyes, something she'd kept hidden for a long time. Finally, she spoke again, her voice quieter. "Sorry isn't enough, Benji. You can't just walk back into our lives and expect us to forgive you because you feel bad."