Chapter 10 – Fragments in the Ring
The sky was bruised purple when Gojo led Xavier across the empty practice grounds. Cracked tiles lay underfoot, and the air smelled of damp earth and old leaves. A handful of students and two instructors watched from behind a thin cordon of rope, their expressions a mix of curiosity and caution.
Gojo stopped at the center of the ring and turned to Xavier. "No weapons tonight," he said. "Just you and your feet. Show me what you've learned."
Xavier gripped the short wooden staff he'd been given, knuckles white. He nodded once and took a stance, trying to recall the awkward drills from earlier. Gojo stood opposite him, arms folded, blindfold in place.
"You ready?" Gojo asked, voice low.
Xavier swallowed. "Yeah."
Gojo moved first. He advanced slowly, step by step—each motion deliberate, almost casual. Within seconds he had closed half the distance. Xavier tensed, planted his staff vertically in front of him.
"Relax," Gojo murmured. "Breathe."
Xavier tried, but panic spiked when Gojo flicked his wrist and simulated a strike. Xavier turned away, spinning the staff to block. The wooden pieces struck together with a crack that rang through his bones.
"Good reflex," Gojo said. He straightened and gestured to the crowd. "Who's next?"
No one stepped forward.
Xavier lowered the staff, chest heaving. The world felt too loud, too close.
Suddenly, something inside him unclenched. It wasn't light or heat. It was… a quiet pulse, like water settling in a jar.
The staff snapped in two, and an invisible wave rippled through the ring. Lanterns flickered. The students staggered as if a gust of wind had slammed into them. Gojo took a step back, eyebrows lifting.
For a moment, Xavier saw white. Then he was elsewhere: standing on a steel deck with ocean spray in his face; standing in a forest ringed by twisted trees; then in a chamber of pure white light, where every breath echoed in his ears.
A voice whispered—a single word he'd never heard before—and stabbed through him like glass.
He collapsed.
Back in the courtyard, petals drifted up from the ground. Ash fell from the trees. A low-grade spirit beyond the bamboo flickered, then crumbled to dust without being touched.
When Xavier opened his eyes, he was on his knees, sweat cold on his skin. Gojo knelt beside him, hand on his shoulder.
"You okay?" Gojo asked.
Xavier swallowed, mouth dry. "I… think so."
Gojo helped him to his feet. "Lesson two," he said quietly. "Never lose the ground beneath you."
Later, Xavier found a quiet corner of his room and sketched what he'd seen: a naval railing, a crown of petals, a faceless shape in light. None of it made sense, but each image burned on the page.
Outside, the campus lights pulsed like a heartbeat. Deep in the old oak grove, a single flower unfurled its petals in the dark, answering a call no one else had heard.
The storm was already here.