Phantom Awakening

Vengeance Saga: Chapter 3

The days following the attack passed in a haze. The Academy was quiet, its once-bustling halls subdued, as if the weight of the tragedy lingered in every corner. Kujo moved through the days on autopilot, going through training exercises, meals, and routine checks without much thought, his mind consumed by the hollow ache Niko's absence had left behind.

It wasn't until Mira found him one evening, sitting alone on the rooftop where he'd often gone with Niko to watch the stars, that he realized just how much the loss was affecting him. She approached quietly, her footsteps soft, and without a word, she sat beside him, leaning against the edge of the rooftop railing.

For a few moments, they sat in silence, gazing out at the dimly lit Academy grounds. Kujo knew she was there for him, but the words to express his pain felt distant, just out of reach. Eventually, Mira spoke, her voice gentle but unwavering.

"I saw what you did to him," she said softly, referring to the attacker, her gaze steady as she looked at Kujo. "Rei told me. The others... they didn't know what to make of it."

Kujo nodded, not meeting her eyes. "I didn't even think. I just... I wanted him to suffer. It felt like... the only way to make it right."

Mira placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch grounding him, pulling him out of the spiral of guilt. "I understand why you did it, Kujo. He took something precious from you, something you can never get back. But vengeance doesn't heal—it just leaves more wounds."

Kujo clenched his fists, the familiar tension building in his chest. "But I failed him, Mira. I promised I'd protect him, and I wasn't there when he needed me most. I couldn't save him."

Mira's grip on his shoulder tightened, her gaze fierce. "You didn't fail him, Kujo. You gave Niko something he hadn't had in a long time—a family, a place to feel safe. You were his brother, and he loved you for it."

He looked at her, her words slowly breaking through the wall of pain he'd built around himself. "Then why do I feel like I let him down? Like I should have done more?"

"Because that's the kind of person you are," Mira replied, her voice barely a whisper. "You care, even when you think you don't. You loved him, and that's why it hurts so much. But Niko wouldn't want you to stay in this darkness. He'd want you to move forward, to live, even with the pain."

Kujo's gaze dropped, her words striking something deep within him. A part of him wanted to reject them, to cling to the guilt and grief, because it felt like a way of holding onto Niko. But he knew she was right. Staying in the darkness wouldn't bring Niko back—it would only drag him further into despair.

He closed his eyes, letting the silence wash over him, a silence filled with both pain and acceptance. Slowly, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small charm Niko had once found and given him—a simple metal ring tied to a worn string. It was all he had left of his brother, a small reminder of the bond they'd shared.

Mira looked at the charm, a soft smile touching her lips. "Niko wouldn't want you to let this break you. You can carry his memory, keep him with you, but don't let his death destroy the life you're still meant to live."

He nodded, feeling a faint spark of resolve stirring within him. "I'll try," he murmured, his voice steadying. "For Niko. I'll keep going... for him."

Mira's hand slipped into his, a quiet reassurance. "You don't have to do this alone, Kujo. I'm here, and so are Rei, Tessa, and the others. We're with you."

As they sat together, hand in hand, Kujo felt the weight of his grief lightening, just slightly, enough to breathe. He knew the pain would never fully fade, that the emptiness would always linger, but with Mira and his friends beside him, he felt a glimmer of strength—a reason to keep going.

And as he looked out at the night sky, the stars blinking softly overhead, Kujo made a silent promise to Niko. He would honor him, carry his memory forward, and build a life worthy of the love they'd shared. Because family didn't end in death—it lived on, in every choice, every step forward, and every moment of quiet strength.

For Niko, he would carry on. And maybe, just maybe, find peace along the way.