I woke to tools clanging, voices through the open window, and carts creaking down the path. I just lay there, listening. Everything seemed sharper. Louder. Even the faint rustle of leaves outside sounded right next to me.

My chest felt tight and uneasy, but I pushed it aside. Maybe it was just one of those mornings.

Sitting up, I stretched and felt an odd lightness in my body, like I wasn’t entirely grounded. I shook my head, trying to brush off the thought, and pulled on a shirt.

When I reached the forge, the heat hit me like it always did—a thick wave of smoke and metal that clung to my skin. Satoshi was already at work, sorting through tools. He didn’t even look up.

“You’re late,” he said.

“Sorry.” I grabbed a hammer and moved to the anvil. I liked the rhythm of working steel, which forced me to focus. If something was bothering me, the forge usually burned it away.As I lifted the hammer and struck, the steel ingot gleamed on the anvil—once, twice. The blows rang out steady, but on the third strike, my arm jerked. The impossibly heavy hammer felt strange in my hand one moment and feather-light the next.

When the hammer hit, the steel shattered.

I froze. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Ever.

Fragments scattered across the workbench and clattered to the floor. In one piece, I saw my reflection, distorted but clear enough. For a split second, my eyes flickered… blue.

“Renjiro?” Satoshi’s voice sliced through the fog in my head, startling me.

I blinked rapidly, realizing my hand was still clutching the shards of broken metal. “Yeah,” I croaked, clearing my throat. “Dropped something.”

Satoshi raised an eyebrow, but his hammer didn’t pause mid-swing. “You alright?” 

“Fine.” I swept the shards aside into a pile, though my hands wouldn’t stop trembling. “Just tired.”

The rhythmic clang of his hammer filled the silence, and I thought the conversation was over. But then he set his hammer down, turning to me with that measured look he always gave when he had something important to say.

“You’ve been focused lately,” he said. “More than I’ve seen in years. Taking the craft seriously.”

I hesitated, my throat tightening. “Yeah.” After the cave… after whatever had happened there, nothing felt real. My mind couldn’t pin anything down except fragments. A blur of shadows. A flash of crystal. Then Kaelan’s face was pale, shouting my name. Everything else was a blank.

“Hey.” Satoshi’s voice softened. “ You’ve come a long way. A month ago, you couldn’t finish a blade without my help. Now? You’ve got people waiting in line for your work.”

I let out a shaky laugh, trying to hide the unease twisting in my gut. “Guess I’ve had a good teacher.”

Satoshi smirked faintly. “Maybe.” He folded his arms, leaning against the anvil. “But it’s not just me. You’re the one putting in the work. I’m proud of you, Renjiro.”

His words hit me harder than I expected. I set the broom down, staring at the floor.

“Do you think... Do you think my parents would be proud?”

The air seemed to shift. Satoshi straightened, his smirk fading into something more serious. His hands gripped the edge of the anvil. “Your parents…” he said slowly.

“They would be proud of the man you’re becoming. I know that much.”

“Yeah?” I asked quietly. “You think so?”

Satoshi nodded, but something was distant in his eyes, as if he were looking past me. “As I’ve told you before,” he said carefully, “you came to me from the orphanage. You didn’t come with much—just that name and a stubborn streak a mile wide. I took you in because I saw something in you, Renjiro. Something strong. And you’ve done nothing but prove me right since.”

I hesitated. “But… what about them? Why did they leave the village? Do you think they’re still out there? Somewhere?”

Satoshi’s expression tightened. “I don’t know,” he said at last. “The outside world isn’t kind. You know that as well as I do. But if they are… they’d be proud too. Proud of the man you’re becoming.”

I couldn’t think of anything to say. The questions in my head—about the cave, the crystal, my parents—swirled together into a storm I couldn’t push away. 

“I need some air,” I mumbled, stepping away from the workbench. Satoshi didn’t try to stop me. He just nodded, picking up his hammer again.

As I slipped outside, the cooler air hit my face like a splash of water. I leaned against the forge wall, staring at the sky. The restlessness was still there, but now it carried a weight I didn’t know how to shake.

They’d be proud. Satoshi’s words echoed in my mind. But all I could think was, would they?

And what if I never found out?

Stepping outside, I leaned against the doorway, dragging in deep breaths. The tightness in my chest eased a little, but not enough.

That’s when I saw it.

An eagle perched on the fencepost across the way. It was larger than any I’d seen before, its feathers dark and sleek, its golden eyes locked onto mine.

For some reason, I couldn’t look away.

Slowly, I tilted my head, squinting at it. Then it tilted its head, too, copying me exactly.

“What…?” I muttered under my breath.

I tilted my head the other way. The eagle mirrored me again as if mocking me. A nervous laugh escaped before I could stop it.

Then, without warning, the bird let out a sharp cry, spread its wings, and launched into the air. 

Something pulled at me. I can’t explain it, but suddenly, I had to follow.

The pursuit appeared surreal, as if I were not entirely in command of my body. My legs propelled me forward with unprecedented speed, each stride remarkably buoyant, as though the ground scarcely made contact with my feet.

The eagle soared ahead, gliding effortlessly. I pushed harder, the air rushing past me as the world blurred. My breath came quick and sharp, but I didn’t stop.

When the bird landed on a boulder at the edge of the village, I staggered to a halt as my chest heaved.

It just stared at me as though waiting for something. Then it took off again, its cry echoing across the trees.

Something inside me snapped. I bent my knees, muscles coiling tight, and jumped.

I flew.

The wind rushed past, lifting my hair, and for one breathless second, I felt weightless. Then gravity slammed me back down. I hit the ground hard on the other side of the boulder, rolling until I stopped.

Pain flared through my shoulder, but I barely felt it. I stared up at the sky again, gasping for air.

I gradually sat upright, my hands clutching the grass beneath me. The expansive field extended in all directions. My body experienced an unusual sensation—not one of weakness, but rather a profound sense of vitality. 

I pushed myself to my feet, swaying slightly as I took a deep breath. My legs felt… powerful like coiled springs waiting to be unleashed. The memory of the leap burned in my mind—the rush of air, the impossible height.

I glanced around, making sure no one was nearby, then crouched low. Just try it again, I thought. My heart pounded as I focused. I dug my feet into the ground, inhaling sharply. Then, with a burst of energy, I pushed off.

The world tilted as I soared weightlessly again, the wind rushing against my skin. The leaves of a nearby tree brushed my fingertips. But just as quickly, gravity yanked me back. I landed hard, stumbling and falling to one knee. 

The impact jarred through me, but I barely noticed. My lips parted in disbelief as I stared at the ground.

Did I do that?

My breath quickened as excitement replaced hesitation. I stood again, positioning myself further back, scanning the field for another spot to aim for.

This time, as the wind whipped past, I sprinted forward faster than I ever thought possible. The ground blurred beneath me. With every step, my confidence grew until I finally pushed off again.

Up. Higher this time. Weightlessness filled me, and the freedom of soaring felt untethered. 

I landed again, rolling to absorb the shock. My knees ached, and my palms stung from scraping against the ground, but I didn’t care. 

Without thinking, I leapt again, spinning slightly in the air, laughing as the wind and the world blurred. The joy and the sheer impossibility of what I was doing made my chest feel too confined to contain it all.

When I finally stopped, I stood in the middle of the field, gasping for air. The grass swayed around me like silent witnesses to my discovery. My heart thundered in my chest as I wiped the sweat from my brow. 

I couldn’t believe it. My body buzzed with energy, but my mind reeled. My legs still felt like they belonged to someone else.

“What is happening to me?” I whispered, staring down at my hands.

The wind carried no answer, only the sound of leaves continuing to rustle nearby. But as I stood there, I couldn’t resist feeling a strange mix of fear and exhilaration.

Whatever was happening… I wasn’t the same Renjiro I had been yesterday.