Kai stirred under the blanket, the morning sun dragging its fingers across his face. For a moment, he was disoriented — blinking up at the familiar cracks in his ceiling, the smell of toast floating faintly through the air. His body felt different. Not weightless, not painless — but lighter. The sharp stabs in his ribs had dulled to an ache, and the throbbing in his arm had faded to a whisper.
He sat up slowly, glancing down at himself. Bandages were gone now, replaced by fading bruises and a few angry, jagged scars. He ran his fingers across them absentmindedly. They felt alien on his skin. Permanent.
Still, he was breathing. Still, he was here.
He swung his legs off the bed and sat there for a long moment, listening to the small noises of the house — the clinking of plates, the buzz of the kettle. Life moving on.
Finally, he stood, wincing a little, and padded toward the kitchen.
Maddy was already at the table, kicking her legs back and forth as she shoveled cereal into her mouth with practiced efficiency. She glanced up at him, her mouth half-full, and gave him a smirk.
"Morning, zombie," she said, voice muffled.
Kai snorted — actually snorted — before catching himself. He shook his head and moved to the fridge, pulling out the milk carton.
"You're one to talk," he said, pouring himself a glass.
Their mom turned from the stove, flipping a pancake onto a plate. She wore her work scrubs already, hair tied back, but there were faint lines of exhaustion under her eyes. She worked long hours — she always had — but lately, she seemed to linger more at home, stealing time wherever she could.
"You're up early," she said, studying him over her shoulder.
Kai shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."
That was technically true. Sleep had been hard ever since the fights started — flashes of lightning, crushing blows, the scent of scorched earth — but today... it was quieter inside his head.
His mom set a plate of pancakes down in front of him. "You feeling okay?" she asked, in that way that was casual but not really casual at all.
"Yeah," Kai said, stabbing a pancake with his fork. "Better than I have in a while."
She watched him for another beat, like she wanted to say something more, but then just nodded and turned back to the stove.
Across the table, Maddy was still staring at him.
"What?" he asked.
She grinned. "You're actually, like... not being a complete grump for once. It's kinda weird."
Kai rolled his eyes and tossed a grape at her. She squealed and dodged, nearly knocking her cereal bowl over.
Their mom sighed, but there was a tiny smile at the corner of her mouth. For a fleeting second, it felt like how things used to be — before everything cracked open.
Before Dad disappeared.
Before Kai started carrying the weight of two worlds on his back.
The bus rumbled along, the worn seats creaking as Kai leaned his head against the window, watching houses blur by. School used to be an anchor, something boring but predictable. Now, after everything — battles, injuries, the growing tension between realities — it felt oddly distant. Like he was pretending to be someone who hadn't seen what he had.
Still, pretending was part of survival.
When he stepped through the school gates, Kai noticed it almost immediately — a shift. Not in the air, not in anything obvious. In the way people looked at him.
He caught snippets:
"Hey, isn't that Kai?"
"He looks... different. Taller maybe?"
"Thought he was always sick or something."
He hunched his shoulders, wishing he could shrink into his hoodie. It wasn't just imagination. His posture was different now, more grounded. His face had sharpened around the edges, some childhood softness scraped away by hardship. There was a tiny scar on his jawline that hadn't been there before, barely visible but noticeable if you looked closely.
Even teachers seemed to double-take.
In Literature, Mrs. Halberg peered at him over her glasses when he handed in an assignment — on time for once — and gave a small, approving nod. It made Kai feel strangely uncomfortable. He hadn't realized how low the expectations had sunk.
In the halls, a few classmates he'd barely spoken to — not friends, just familiar faces — greeted him with quick nods or cautious smiles.
Was this what Zayn meant when he said, "You're stronger than you realize, Kai. It leaks out, even when you try to hide it."
Still, not all attention was welcome.
At lunch, a group of jocks lounging by the lockers tossed glances his way. One elbowed another and muttered something under his breath. Kai caught the word "freak" and set his jaw, forcing himself to walk past without reacting.
Maddy had warned him that popularity wasn't just admiration — sometimes it was provocation.
He ate lunch on the edge of the courtyard, under the same gnarled oak tree he'd sat by before. Only now, it didn't feel like hiding. It felt like... choosing.
He opened his battered copy of The Outsiders, letting the familiar words drown out the noise. A couple of pigeons strutted nearby, pecking at dropped sandwiches. The air smelled like wet grass and cheap cologne.
For the first time in a long while, Kai thought: Maybe I can survive this.
Even with everything lurking beneath the surface — magic, Mamodos, secret battles — here, for a few hours, he could just be a boy with too many scars and too much to think about.
He could breathe.
The worst part about getting stronger, Kai realized, was that you couldn't hide the damage.
Physical Training was scheduled for the last two periods, and today, the teacher had cheerily announced, they'd be doing swimming. Indoor pools are open again! she'd said, like it was a cause for celebration.
Kai sat stiffly in the locker room, staring at the duffel bag on his lap.
He hated swimming days even before. Now?
Now he dreaded them.
Most of his injuries had healed after weeks of Zayn badgering him to rest and bandaging wounds with military precision. But scars remained — faint but visible — jagged white lines tracing his ribs, a slant across his shoulder, a thinner mark across his left forearm.
They'll ask questions, he thought grimly.
I'll have to lie again.
He stayed seated long enough that most of the other guys were already changed and goofing around before he moved. Every second he delayed felt like tightening wire around his chest.
When he finally peeled off his shirt and changed, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.
His body was still slim but more toned now — shoulders a bit broader, core more defined from the physical exertion Zayn demanded during their trainings. But the scars... they stood out against pale skin like whispered confessions.
"You coming, Kai?" someone called from the door.
"Yeah," he muttered, slinging his towel over his shoulder and hurrying after them.
At the poolside, the bright fluorescent lights made everything worse. The water gleamed invitingly, but Kai kept his head down, shoulders hunched slightly forward, trying to make himself smaller.
He could feel eyes on him.
One or two kids were already whispering, casting sidelong glances at the marks on his arms and sides. He overheard snatches:
"Was he in an accident?"
"Maybe he got mugged or something..."
"No way — he's probably lying about it."
Kai clenched his fists.
He hated how they made him feel — like a spectacle, not a person. Like some broken thing they could poke and prod with their words.
Still, when the coach barked orders, Kai moved.
He slipped into the water — and if he was heavier now, if his body dragged slightly from the fatigue that never seemed to fully leave him, he didn't let it show. He pushed forward, stroke after stroke, carving a path through the pool.
In the water, nobody could see the scars.
In the water, nobody could ask.
And maybe, just for a few minutes, he could pretend they weren't there.
By the time Kai dragged himself out of the locker rooms, the afternoon sun was slipping lower, painting long gold slashes across the pavement.
His limbs ached from the swim, and his mind buzzed with half-formed excuses for why he'd looked so roughed up. Thankfully, no one had pressed him yet. For once, he'd kept his head low and survived another day.
The walk home was uneventful. Trees whispered overhead. The early spring breeze tugged gently at his jacket. A few kids from school biked past him, laughing about something Kai didn't catch. He jammed his hands into his pockets and kept walking.
When he opened the door to his house, the scent of warm food hit him immediately.
"Kai!" Maddy's voice rang out from the living room. "You're late!"
Before he could even answer, she was there — peeking around the corner, her hands still smudged with pencil marks from whatever project she'd been working on.
"You look like you almost died," she said bluntly, wrinkling her nose.
"Thanks," Kai muttered, kicking off his shoes. "Good to see you too."
But there was no bite in the exchange. Only familiarity. A thread of warmth weaving itself between them.
Their mother, from the kitchen, called out, "Dinner's almost ready! Wash up first."
Kai obeyed, trudging upstairs. He caught a glimpse of himself again in the bathroom mirror. His hair was damp from swimming, clinging to his forehead. There were faint bruises along his ribs — not from today, but from past fights. Healing, but not forgotten.
And yet... he didn't look hollow anymore.
There was something steadier in his reflection. A small, almost reluctant hope.
Maybe it was the concert. Maybe it was seeing Maddy laugh so much these past few days. Maybe it was just surviving long enough that the scars started to feel less like failures and more like... reminders. Of what he'd fought for.
He washed up quickly and returned downstairs.
At the dinner table, the three of them sat together — a rare occurrence before all this began. His mother placed bowls of curry in front of them, her movements graceful despite the obvious fatigue from long hospital shifts.
"So," she said, sliding into her seat, "how was school?"
Kai hesitated — just for a second — before answering honestly.
"It was... okay."
Not great. Not terrible. Just okay. And somehow, that was enough.
Maddy launched into a story about a project at school, wildly exaggerating her role until Kai rolled his eyes and their mother laughed.
For the first time in a while, Kai let himself smile — a real one, not the careful, guarded half-smirks he usually wore.
He ate slowly, savoring the food, the warmth, the safety.
For all the battles ahead, for all the lies he still had to keep...
There were still these small, stubborn moments.
And Kai clung to them tighter than ever.
Later that night, the house had fallen into a comfortable quiet.
Maddy was in her room, her voice muffled as she talked to her friends over some group call. Kai's mom had retreated into her study, poring over paperwork from the hospital. The only sounds were the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards and the soft hum of appliances.
Kai sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the book on his desk.
It wasn't a schoolbook. It was the book — the one tied to Zayn, to the tournament, to everything that had turned his life upside down.
His fingers traced the edges almost absently. His injuries had mostly healed now, but the weight he carried wasn't something any amount of time could erase.
A light tap on the window broke his thoughts.
He looked up sharply.
Zayn crouched outside, grinning in that mischievous, catlike way of his. Despite everything, Kai couldn't help but huff out a laugh.
He got up and slid the window open. "You know we have a door, right?"
"Yeah, but this is more fun," Zayn said, swinging himself inside with practiced ease. He landed lightly, like a stray breeze.
Kai shook his head, stepping back.
"You're going to get me grounded one of these days."
"Wouldn't be the worst thing," Zayn said, plopping onto the floor. His golden eyes gleamed in the dim light. "You could use a little slowing down."
Kai scoffed, sitting back down.
For a while, they just sat there in silence. Comfortable. Familiar.
Then Zayn spoke, quieter.
"We need to start preparing."
Kai nodded. He knew what he meant. The past few weeks had been a rare calm, but the tournament wouldn't wait. There were other Mamodos out there — stronger ones, smarter ones. And soon, they'd come looking.
"I know," Kai said. His voice was steady, even if something inside him still twisted at the thought.
Zayn leaned back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling.
"You're stronger now. We both are. But..." He hesitated. "The next ones we face won't hold back."
"They never did," Kai muttered.
Zayn smiled faintly, bitterly. "True. But now, they'll be desperate."
The longer the tournament went on, the fewer Mamodos would remain. Those who survived would fight harder, more viciously.
No more easy wins. No more lucky escapes.
Kai closed his eyes briefly, letting the weight of it settle in.
He thought of Lina and Laura — barely scraping through their own fight.
He thought of how close he and Zayn had come to losing, more times than he wanted to admit.
"Then we'll be ready," Kai said finally, opening his eyes.
Zayn tilted his head, studying him.
For once, he didn't joke or tease. He just nodded.
A silent agreement.
They stayed like that for a while longer, two silhouettes in the dark, listening to the distant sounds of the night.
Outside, the world kept turning.
Inside, a storm was slowly brewing — one that neither of them could avoid forever.
But for tonight, at least, they had a sliver of peace.