Phantom Awakening

Niko Saga: Chapter 9

The Academy grounds had fallen silent as the night wore on, the echoes of laughter and music fading into the stillness. Prom had ended, students retreating to their dorms or lingering in groups, chatting under the dim glow of lanterns. Kujo, however, had slipped away from the crowd, drawn to a quiet place he often went when he needed space to think—the Academy's rooftop.

He climbed the narrow stairwell, pushing open the creaky door that led to the roof, and stepped out into the cool night air. The stars stretched endlessly above him, their faint light illuminating the Academy grounds below. Kujo leaned against the railing, taking in the silence, his mind drifting back to memories he'd tried to keep buried.

Tonight, surrounded by people who accepted him, by friends he'd never expected to have, Kujo couldn't help but remember where he'd come from. It had been years since he'd felt part of a family, since he'd felt anything close to belonging. His thoughts drifted to Riku, his older brother, and the home they'd once shared—a place that was now just a shadow of his past.

In his mind, he could still see Riku as he'd been, strong and confident, always looking out for him. Riku had been the one who taught him, pushed him, and encouraged him to master his powers. But he'd also been the one Kujo had hurt most deeply. And in the wake of that fatal mistake, everything had shattered.

He remembered that day too vividly. The moment he lost control, the crushing weight of metal closing in around Riku, his brother's shocked eyes meeting his as he realized what was happening. And then... silence. The realization had hit him like a hammer, a grief so intense he'd thought he would collapse under it. But worse than the pain was the reaction of his family.

After the incident, they'd barely looked at him, their gazes filled with something more than sorrow—something closer to fear. They'd stopped calling him by his name, as if stripping him of his identity would ease their own grief. And then, one day, they'd made the decision, the one that had changed everything. He'd been asked to leave, to go somewhere he could "control himself." Somewhere he wouldn't be a danger.

For years, Kujo had convinced himself he didn't need them, that he could survive alone. But there were still nights, like tonight, when the weight of that abandonment resurfaced, tugging at him like a wound that had never fully healed.

Kujo closed his eyes, his fists clenching against the railing. He wondered if his family had been right to let him go, if maybe, by staying away, he'd saved them from further hurt. After all, he'd been dangerous then, barely in control of the power he now wielded with precision. But the isolation had left him scarred, a quiet void within him where emotions should have been.

"Couldn't sleep?"

The voice jolted him out of his thoughts, and he turned to see Mira standing at the entrance to the rooftop, her expression soft and understanding. She took a few steps closer, her gaze fixed on him as if sensing the heaviness in the air.

"I saw you leave," she said, leaning against the railing beside him. "Figured you might want some company."

Kujo looked down, his voice quiet. "You don't have to stay. I just... needed some air."

Mira gave him a faint smile. "Maybe I don't have to, but I want to."

They stood in silence for a moment, the only sound the faint rustling of leaves from below. Mira glanced at him, her expression thoughtful. "You looked... far away tonight. Like you weren't really here."

Kujo sighed, his fingers tightening on the railing. He knew she could see through him, the walls he tried to keep up slipping away in her presence. "I was just... remembering," he murmured. "My brother. My family. What happened after..."

Mira's expression softened, and she waited, giving him space to speak if he chose to. He found himself telling her things he'd never voiced aloud before, the words coming unbidden.

"They kicked me out after I... after I lost control. They couldn't look at me the same way after Riku died. I don't blame them, but... it still feels like I lost everything that day. Not just my brother, but any sense of home." His voice faltered, and he looked away, the vulnerability settling heavily on him.

Mira reached out, resting a hand on his shoulder, grounding him in the present. "You didn't lose everything, Kujo. Maybe your family didn't understand, but... that doesn't make you a monster. You were a kid, trying to figure out powers that most adults can't even handle."

Her words were soft but steady, and Kujo felt the weight of her hand on his shoulder, warm and reassuring. It was a small gesture, but it meant more than he could express.

"You have a new family here," she continued. "Rei, Tessa, and even me. You're not alone anymore."

Kujo let her words settle, the warmth of her presence washing over him, pushing back the cold memories. He looked at her, a faint smile breaking through his usual stoicism. "Thanks, Mira. I... I never thought I'd feel like I had a place again. But maybe... maybe I do here."

Mira smiled back, her gaze soft and unwavering. "You do. And whatever's in your past... you don't have to face it alone."

They stayed there on the rooftop, sharing the silence, the weight of the past easing just slightly under the light of the stars. And for the first time, Kujo felt a sliver of hope that he might one day be able to leave the shadows of his past behind, with Mira and his friends beside him.