3 Years Later
Summer was drawing to a close, and Kenji had made the most of it.
Every day, he had met up with Yuki and Toru somewhere — at one's house, at the other's, at the park, by the river, at the beach once. Whole afternoons doing nothing, or almost nothing.
Ice cream that melted too fast. Splashes in the warm water. Laughter, silences, moments stolen from passing time.
Yuki had spent hours gardening, proudly showing the growth of her trees — the Roman umbrella pine was now taller than her, and the Florence cypresses formed a small path in her garden.
She had also changed her hairstyle, from pigtails to a ponytail which she tied with colored ribbons, and Kenji had noticed she changed them according to her mood.
"Don't you think I've grown too much?" she asked one day, twirling in front of him.
"You've grown. That's normal."
"But too much?"
Kenji had looked at her seriously. "You're fine as you are," he said.
She had smiled, and her cheeks had flushed slightly.
"Adorable..." he muttered to himself, seeing her blush.
Which made Yuki blush even more, having heard him.
Toru, meanwhile, had spent the summer drawing. Three whole notebooks, filled with sketches, plans, ideas. She drew everything — Yuki's trees, passersby in the street, clouds, the shields she imagined. The shield-shaped pendant was always around her neck, gleaming softly.
"You draw all the time now," Kenji observed one afternoon. "And better and better," he said with a smile.
Toru looked away and replied, "It helps me think," while looking at her notebook. "To visualize my shields before I create them."
"Is it working?"
"Yes." She smiled — that smile more confident than before. "I see the shapes in my head, and then I make them. It's easier."
There was also Rina, Kaito, Sora, and others. Summer had been filled with group outings, evenings at one another's houses, impromptu parties. Their circle had grown, and Kenji had learned to appreciate these new faces, these new voices.
But in the midst of it all, there were always Yuki and Toru. Like a fixed point, a landmark, and maybe even more, it was...
And then summer ended.
The alarm rang at 7:14 a.m., and Kenji opened his eyes immediately.
It was a habit he had kept — waking up precisely at the time he had set for himself, never oversleeping.
He lay still for a moment in his bed, looking at the familiar ceiling of his room. The morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and golden, drawing patterns on the wall.
He sat up slowly, ran a hand through his hair — still black, the colored streak had long disappeared, only reappearing during intense absorptions, and then for just a few hours. He glanced at the mirror on his desk.
Thirteen years old. He was a few centimeters taller, his shoulders had broadened, and his face had lost its last traces of baby fat. But it was still him. The same calm gaze. The same way of tilting his head slightly when thinking.
'First day of second year,' he thought.
He put on his uniform — dark jacket, white shirt, grey pants — with precise, economical movements. Then he went down to the kitchen.
Daichi was already at the table, devouring his breakfast with a vigor that hadn't changed over the years.
At sixteen, he had filled out — broad shoulders, muscles sculpted by a year of intensive training at Yuei. His hair was still as unruly, and he styled it with the same excessive amount of gel, but there was something new in his gaze. A budding maturity, a calmer confidence.
"KENJI!" he exclaimed upon seeing him, mouth full. "YOU READY FOR THE FIRST DAY?"
Kenji sat across from him. "Eat slower."
"IMPOSSIBLE." Daichi swallowed a huge bite, drank a gulp of milk to wash it down. "Seriously, you're not nervous? It's second year! The exams for the specialized tracks are next year!"
"I know."
"And you say 'I know' like it's nothing!" Daichi waved his fork. "At your age, I was already stressing about Yuei. I had nightmares. NIGHTMARES."
Kenji smiled discreetly. "You still stress."
"It's not stress, it's enthusiasm. It's different." Daichi leaned forward, elbows on the table. "You know what we did in training yesterday? Urban rescue simulations. With real victims — well, hyper-realistic mannequins."
"And?"
"And I succeeded! I was the best." Daichi beamed.
Kenji nodded, genuinely impressed. "That's good."
"Yeah." Daichi puffed up, then his expression softened. "But you're progressing too, right?"
"A little."
"It'll come." Daichi patted him on the shoulder — a bit too hard, as always. "You're my brother. You're going to become super strong."
Their mother entered the kitchen, a cup of tea in her hand. She looked at her two sons with a tenderness that hadn't changed.
"Daichi, let your brother eat in peace."
"I am letting him! He's the one talking to me!"
Kenji rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.
The walk to middle school had become routine, but this morning, something was different. Maybe the excitement of seeing everyone again. Maybe just that particular morning light.
Kenji walked at a steady pace, observing the familiar streets. The small park. Mr. Tanaka's shop, opening its shutters. The bus stop with its wobbly bench.
He passed students he knew, exchanged a few greetings. Familiar faces, names he was starting to remember.
Turning the corner, he saw them.
Yuki was leaning against the wall near the gate, her bag slung over her shoulder. Her ponytail was longer, more elaborate — she had learned to braid it, to slip colored ribbons in. She wore her uniform with natural elegance, and her eyes lit up when she spotted him.
"KENJI!"
She ran towards him and threw herself into his arms. Kenji hugged her back, a smile on his lips. She smelled of vanilla.
"You've grown," he said, releasing her.
"You too!" She stepped back to look at him, head tilted. "I just noticed you're almost as tall as Daichi now."
"Not yet."
"It'll come." She gave him a little pat on the arm.
She wanted to tell him about her achievements. "The Roman umbrella pine is almost as tall as me now. And I grew a bamboo wall last night, can you believe it? A real wall!"
Toru quickly joined them, seeing them. Her short hair was still as neatly styled, but there was something more confident in her posture, in the way she walked. The small pendant gleamed at her neck, visible on her uniform.
"Hi, Kenji," she said, jumping onto his back, arms around his neck.
"Hi, Toru," Kenji replied, already used to it.
They looked at each other for a second, then Toru let him go.
"You look fit," she said.
"You too. Did you change your hairstyle?"
"You noticed. How do you like it?"
"It suits you." She smiled.
Yuki interrupted by taking Kenji's arm. "You seemed different. Last night I called you, but you didn't answer. What were you doing?"
"I was drawing," said Toru, walking beside them towards the gate. "You, and Kenji."
"Can I see? Is it finished?" Yuki replied, surprised but excited.
"Almost. I'll show you when I'm done," she said with a wide smile.
Other students arrived, greeting them as they passed. Rina, with her bluish hair and easy laugh, who almost jumped on Yuki. Kaito, who came out talking about his chemistry experiments. Sora, who positioned himself a little apart but close enough to join in.
Kenji watched the group, a discreet smile on his lips. The circle had grown, but Yuki and Toru were still by his side.
"Shall we go?" asked Yuki.
"Let's go."
The day passed quickly. Math, science, history classes. At the lunch break, they gathered under their usual tree — a large cherry tree that reminded them of the one in Yuki's garden.
Kenji watched them all, sitting with his back against the tree trunk.
"What are you thinking about?" asked Yuki.
"Nothing. About now."
"You're weird," she said, smiling.
"I think 'unique' suits him better," added Toru.
"You've told me that before."
They laughed, that clear laughter that hadn't changed.
Rina looked at them, a knowing smile on her lips. "You're always like that, you three."
"Like what?"
"Like... I don't know. Close." she asked, then added, "It seems like you've known each other forever?"
"Since kindergarten," said Toru without looking up from her drawing.
"Kindergarten?" Rina's eyes widened. "That's, what, eight years?"
"Almost nine," Kenji replied.
"Wow." Rina looked at them with admiration. "You're lucky."
Yuki put an arm around Kenji's and Toru's shoulders. "We're stuck together. Impossible to lose each other."
Kenji tensed slightly, but didn't pull away.
Toru smiled and went back to her notebook.
The weeks passed, marked by classes, breaks, afternoons at one another's houses.
Yuki showed her progress — increasingly complex plant structures, walls, bridges, shapes that almost resembled architecture.
Toru kept drawing and training, filling notebook after notebook with shield designs, shapes, textures.
Kenji, meanwhile, continued his sessions with Bishop and his personal experiments with his Alter. Two to three times a week, after school, he took the path to the small house at the end of the cul-de-sac. To Bishop's.
That evening, Kenji arrived at Bishop's as usual. He knocked.
The door opened.
Bishop was there, but something was different. Kenji, who had observed him for 6 years, saw it immediately. A tension in his shoulders. A gaze that avoided his.
"Come in," said Bishop.
Kenji sat on the couch, as always. Bishop took his place in the armchair. Tea was already ready, placed on the table.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then Bishop said, "I have something to tell you."
Kenji looked at him. He didn't know how, but he understood.
"You're leaving."
Bishop blinked. "How do you know?"
Kenji shrugged. "I know you."
Bishop smiled — that rare, precious smile. "You're truly special."
He took a sip of tea, set down his cup.
"I've been called back to the United States. An old matter." He looked at Kenji. "I don't know how long I'll be gone. Maybe forever."
Kenji said nothing. His fingers tightened slightly on his cup.
"Do you remember what you told me, 2 years ago?" asked Bishop.
Kenji looked up.
"You told me about that day. In the park. With your friends." Bishop looked him straight in the eyes.
Kenji felt something tighten in his chest. He had never spoken of it again. No one knew, except Bishop.
"I'm proud of you, Kenji." Bishop leaned forward. "You've become strong. Stronger than I was at your age. But above all, you've understood what's essential. You know that real strength is about protecting, not destroying."
He paused.
"Never lose that."
Kenji felt a lump in his throat. He wanted to speak, but the words wouldn't come.
Bishop stood up, went to get something from his study. He returned with a small object — a dark, polished bracelet, with an inscription engraved on it.
"It's for you."
Kenji took the bracelet. It was heavy, warm. The inscription read, in English: "The real strength is in the heart."
"For you," said Bishop.
Kenji clutched the bracelet in his hand. He looked at it for a long time.
"I don't know what to say," he murmured.
"You don't have to say anything." Bishop placed a hand on his shoulder — that heavy, familiar, reassuring pressure. "You're ready."
Kenji looked up. "Will I see you again?"
Bishop smiled. "Someday, maybe."
They stayed silent for a long moment. Then Kenji stood up.
He took a step towards the door, then turned back. He looked at Bishop one last time — his scars, his grey eyes, that massive presence that had been his anchor for three years.
He approached and hugged him.
Bishop stiffened for a second, surprised. Then his arms rose and he returned the embrace.
"Go," he said softly.
Kenji left.
Outside, night had fallen. The streetlights illuminated the road with an orange glow. Kenji walked slowly, the bracelet clutched in his hand.
He passed the park where he played with Yuki and Toru. The bench where they sat. The tree they had climbed.
'He's leaving,' he thought.
But he wasn't alone.
When he got home, he found Daichi in the living room.
"You look rough," said Daichi, seeing him. He put down his phone. "Everything okay?"
Kenji hesitated. Then he said, "Bishop is leaving. For the United States."
Daichi looked at him. For a moment, his face became serious. He got up and came to sit beside him.
"He trained you for 6 years."
"Yes."
"He must be proud of you."
"He said he was."
"Then it's good." Daichi patted him on the shoulder. "You have what it takes to keep going."
Kenji looked at him. "You think?"
"I know. You're my brother."
Daichi got up to go to the kitchen, then turned back.
"Kenji."
"What?"
"He'll come back."
Kenji nodded.
That evening, in his room, Kenji opened his notebook.
Bishop's bracelet was placed on his desk, next to the photos of his friends.
He took his pen and wrote:
Bishop is gone.
He gave me this bracelet. "The real strength is in the heart."
I don't fully understand all the implications yet. But I'll keep the bracelet.
Yuki and Toru were here today. As always. As they have been for nine years.
Sometimes I think back to that day. In the park. To what I felt. I never talk about it, but I think about it often.
Now, I'm thirteen. I'm in my second year. Next year, the exams.
I know what I want to become.
A true hero.