Jōki

The air smelled like smoke and blood.

Luka stood still.

The ground was covered in ash and charred debris. Buildings that had once been filled with voices and life were now silent, blackened skeletons. The wooden stalls from the market,where his mother used to take them to buy bread,were shattered, bodies slumped over them. Some were still smoldering.

The sea breeze carried the stench of burning flesh.

Luka didn't react.

He wasn't sure how to.

His mother had died.

His father had died.

Everything that had once been his home had been reduced to nothing.

He should feel something. Anger? Sadness? Despair?

But he just… stood there.

Sasha, on the other hand—

She was breathing too fast. Her chest rose and fell in frantic, uneven movements. Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely hold the knife she had stolen from one of the fallen soldiers.

She still hadn't let go.

Luka tilted his head slightly, watching.

What did it feel like?

That suffocating, twisting pain that made Sasha's eyes red, that made her grip things too tightly, that made her voice tremble when she spoke—

Why couldn't he understand it?

Before he could think too deeply about it, the gunfire stopped.

BOOM!

The ground trembled.

Luka turned his head in time to see figures emerging through the smoke.

A flash of blue energy.

And the Onix's head exploded.

Sasha flinched as the massive body collapsed, twitching violently before going still.

His ears rang.

What…?

Then—a voice.

"Found them!"

Soldiers.

They moved in formation, their boots crunching over the debris. Luka saw their weapons glowing with the same blue light that had killed the Onix earlier.

One of them, a tall man in a dark uniform, stepped forward. His long coat swayed as he surveyed the ruined village, his face shadowed beneath his helmet. He turned his head slightly, as if listening to something over his earpiece.

Then his eyes landed on them.

Sasha tensed, stepping in front of Luka instinctively. The movement was so fast that Luka barely registered it.

The man studied them closely.

His gaze flickered to Sasha's trembling hands, still gripping the bloodied knife. Then to the Onix corpses scattered around them.

To Luka, something in his eyes shifted.

"You're the one who awakened," he finally said, his voice neutral.

Sasha's grip tightened. "How do you—?"

"We saw it from the sky," he answered. "Jōki eruptions like that don't go unnoticed."

Sasha blinked. "Sky?"

Luka turned his head slightly and saw it—

The ship.

It was hovering just beyond the smoke clouds, its metallic surface reflecting the fires below. It was massive, sleek, with flashing blue lights and spinning turbines keeping it afloat.

A military airship.

The man took a step closer, tilting his head. "Are you the only survivors?"

Sasha hesitated.

Luka looked around again. The realization settled in his stomach like a rock.

It was just them.

Then—

Rustling.

A small movement in the debris.

Luka turned just in time to see another child stumble out from behind a collapsed house.

A girl. Younger than Sasha. Her face was covered in soot and dried tears, her small hands clutching a piece of her ruined dress. She was shaking.

Behind her, more movement.

Two.

Three.

Four.

More children.

They stepped out hesitantly, eyes wide, faces pale.

Not a single adult.

The soldiers stiffened.

Luka blinked. There were more?

He wasn't sure why that surprised him.

Of course there were.

The Onix hadn't spared the strong. They had left behind the weak.

The ones who couldn't fight back.

Sasha let out a sharp breath. She looked like she was about to collapse.

Luka simply watched.

The tall soldier turned away from them, speaking into his earpiece. "We have survivors. Mostly children." A short pause. "No. No adults."

Luka didn't know what was being said on the other end, but whatever it was, the soldier's expression darkened slightly.

After a moment, he turned back to them.

"Round them up," he ordered.

His men moved immediately.

Two soldiers reached for the closest child—a small boy, barely six years old. The kid flinched at the touch, his breath hitching, his tiny hands gripping the torn fabric of his clothes.

The soldier crouched down, speaking in a softer tone. "It's alright. We're taking you somewhere safe."

The boy didn't respond.

None of them did.

They let themselves be led away without a word.

Not crying.

Not resisting.

Just walking.

Luka and Sasha weren't approached. The tall man simply gestured for them to follow on their own.

Sasha finally let out a breath and dropped the knife. It hit the ground with a soft clink.

They walked.

Past the burning remains of their home.

Past the shattered streets.

Past bodies they recognized.

Luka stepped over the corpse of the market vendor who used to sneak him extra bread when his mother wasn't looking.

His body was half-buried under rubble. His hand was still outstretched, as if reaching for something.

Luka tilted his head.

Sasha grabbed his wrist.

"Don't look," she whispered.

Luka turned away.

The military ship loomed ahead, its ramp extending as soldiers herded the children inside.

Luka took one last glance at what was left of the island.

It was already unrecognizable.

---

The military ship was colder than Luka expected.

The moment they stepped inside, the noise of the outside world was swallowed by the low hum of machinery. The walls were smooth and metallic, lined with glowing blue panels that pulsed faintly. The air smelled sterile—like metal and something faintly artificial.

The other children were led to a separate section of the ship. Sasha, however, was pulled aside.

Luka didn't like that.

His fingers twitched as he watched the soldiers separate them.

Sasha looked back at him, her face tight with exhaustion and nerves. She didn't resist, but her eyes held a silent plea.

*Don't let them take me alone.*

Luka didn't move.

He just stared at the soldier gripping her arm.

The tall man from earlier—the one in charge—noticed. He glanced between Luka and Sasha before giving the soldier a short nod.

"Let the boy go with her."

The soldier hesitated but then released Sasha's arm. She immediately walked over to Luka, gripping his wrist too tightly.

The warmth of her hand was damp with sweat.

Luka didn't pull away.

The man led them down a corridor, his coat swaying with every step. He barely looked back as he spoke.

"You'll be taken in for processing," he said. "Tests, identification, a few scans. Basic procedure."

Sasha swallowed. "Tests for what?"

"Jōki potential."

Sasha stiffened slightly.

Luka remained silent.

He already knew he didn't have it.

But he didn't say anything.

The hallways stretched on, all of them identical. No windows, no way to tell how much time had passed. Luka only knew they were moving because the soft vibration beneath his feet told him the ship was in motion.

At the end of the corridor, a door slid open.

The room inside was white. Bright, clinical. It smelled even stronger of metal and chemicals.

Machines lined the walls—some large, humming with faint blue lights. Others were small, covered in panels and screens filled with numbers Luka didn't understand.

A group of men and women in lab coats stood waiting.

One of them—a woman with sharp eyes and tied-back hair—held a clipboard. She barely acknowledged Sasha before focusing on the tall soldier.

"This is the girl?" she asked.

"She awakened on the battlefield," the soldier confirmed.

The woman's expression didn't change.

She turned to Sasha.

"Sit."

Sasha hesitated, but the woman pointed to a metal chair in the center of the room. Thick wires curled around its base, attached to a machine that pulsed softly behind it.

Luka didn't like it.

Something about this place felt wrong.

Sasha sat.

The moment she did, metal restraints locked around her wrists and ankles.

She flinched.

Luka took a step forward.

A hand landed on his shoulder.

He turned.

The tall soldier shook his head slightly. A silent warning.

Luka looked back at Sasha.

She was breathing too fast.

"It won't hurt," the woman said flatly.

Then she pressed something on a panel.

The machine behind the chair whirred to life.

Luka watched as thin, glowing wires extended, attaching to Sasha's skin. They pulsed—once, twice—then a sharp beep filled the air.

Numbers appeared on the screen.

The scientists leaned in.

Luka couldn't read the data, but the way their expressions shifted, the sudden interest, the nods of approval—it was clear.

Sasha had strong Jōki.