Shadowed Threads

Part 13: Threads of Attachment

For a second, I consider letting the silence drag on, making him stew in it a little. But something about the way he says it—awkward, sincere, not quite an apology but close enough—makes me sigh instead.

"You didn't mean anything by it," I mutter, kicking a loose stone at my feet. "It's not like you asked to be cruel or anything."

Takuto finally glances at me, and I catch a flicker of something in his eyes. Maybe guilt. Maybe just understanding. Either way, he nods.

A beat of silence stretches between us before he clears his throat. "After the ceremony," he says, shifting topics with the same precision he always does, "we could train since neither of us has anything else to do."

I raise a brow, smirking slightly. "Training? On Family Weekend?"

Takuto gives me a pointed look. "Unless you had something better in mind."

I snort, shaking my head. "Not really."

He nods, the conversation settling into something less heavy, though the awkwardness still lingers at the edges. But somehow, I don't mind it as much.

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Our huffs and grunts echo throughout the training room, a rhythmic exchange of blows and near-misses. The space is filled with the flicker of light and shadow clashing against each other, illuminating the walls with fleeting bursts of energy. We move in tandem, as dancers caught in a dangerous waltz, each step calculated, and each attack met with a swift counter.

Takuto weaves light into sharp daggers, mimicking the twin blades he usually carries, and with a flick of his wrist, he sends them hurtling toward me.

I dodge, barely, my body moving in a way that surprises even me. My reaction time is improving. I recover quickly, turning on my heel and allowing a steady stream of shadows to sprawl across the training room floor like ink seeping into the cracks. With a stomp, jagged spikes of darkness burst upward, aiming for Takuto.

He pivots sharply, barely evading the attack, but as he lands, his foot skids against the ground. He winces.

"Come on, team leader, you're slacking," I taunt, a smirk tugging at my lips.

Takuto exhales sharply, rolling his shoulders as we begin to circle each other. Our movements are measured and deliberate. His amber eyes stay locked onto mine, unwavering.

"Don't let it get to your head, Arisu," he warns, pointing at me.

I swat his hand away, rolling my eyes. "You sure? Pretty sure I almost had you there."

Takuto scoffs. "Almost doesn't count."

He lunges, faster than I expected. In an instant, he's right in front of me, too close, and I barely manage to pull up a wall of shadows between us. His light shatters through it like glass, dispersing my defense with infuriating ease.

I stumble back, but before I can fully recover, he's already moving. His leg sweeps beneath me, knocking my feet out from under me, and before I can react, my back hits the mat with a breath-stealing thud.

Before I can scramble up, Takuto is already there, pinning me down. One hand presses against my chest, holding me in place, while his other hand, crackling with light, hovers just above my throat. His weight shifts slightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind me that I lost.

"You're still hesitating," he murmurs, his breath warm against my skin. "Holding back."

My breath hitches. His gaze is sharp, searching, and for a moment, the fight is forgotten. My heart is hammering, but I'm not sure if it's from exertion or something else entirely.