Ever since that day, he'd been trapped within the deepest folds of his own consciousness—wandering aimlessly through the vast, unending plane of his mind's eye.SE rushed into his cracked core only to seep out of his fractured SS like water through a woven basket. The skies above swirled violently, a chaotic blend of color like a painter's palette gone mad. Some corners of this mental world were jagged, steeped in bruised purples and venomous blacks. Others were tranquil, painted in soft hues of sea blue and moonlight white, a tender reminder of still harbors and sleepless, star-soaked nights.
Only one thing kept his core from collapsing entirely: a golden egg. It rested in the center of his mind's eye, silent but ever-watchful. It greedily absorbed SE, even more than when he'd stayed with that ravenous chimera ant queen. But unlike her, the egg didn't consume for itself. It devoured SE with purpose—to destroy what remained of his unstable core and rebuild it stronger.
Itekan, however, remained lost.
He didn't know how to mend the boundary of his SS. He walked the boundless expanse of his spiritual plane, thoughts tumbling in disarray like the kaleidoscopic storm overhead. He remembered what he'd overheard between his father and Headmaster Kime: this was something he had to resolve himself. But how? He couldn't even figure out where to begin.
His physical body had healed long ago. But he couldn't wake. His consciousness was stuck here, drifting through the silent corridors of his own soul.
With no better option, he sat down—legs crossed, spine straight—and began pulling SE toward him. If he could stop the overspill, perhaps he could give his spiritual sea time to repair. But nothing changed. SE continued leaking, slipping through every crack like water through broken glass. He didn't know how long he sat there—hours, days? Time held no weight in this place—but each attempt ended in failure. Frustration burned in his chest like a fire with no wood to feed it.
It wasn't until another "day" passed that something stirred.
A familiar voice called out to him.
"Hey, what's up?" Itekan asked with a tired smile.
"Brug-guhh-tak-na-ni," the egg replied, its voice as incomprehensible as ever—and yet perfectly clear to Itekan. The words weren't human, but he understood them, as if meaning bypassed language entirely.
"I know, buddy. Just a little longer. I'll figure something out," he replied, a rare laugh escaping his lips. Not long ago, he couldn't even feel the creature inside the egg, let alone talk to it. Now, they shared conversations. Strange, slurred conversations—but real all the same.
"Haguga-ito-naku-te," the egg mumbled.
Itekan's eyes widened.
"Wait! You're a genius!" he burst out. Laughter bubbled up again. It wasn't the kind that came from joy—but from breakthrough. From understanding.
The egg had sparked something—an idea, a revelation, a path forward.
"Oh! One more thing," he said, tilting his head thoughtfully. "I can't keep calling you 'buddy' forever. You need a name."
A gurgling slush of incoherent syllables came in response, but the meaning was unmistakable: it wanted one.
"How about… Himipo?" he offered.
The egg gave a low, disapproving growl. That was a no.
"Okay, okay. Togira?"
A low, contemplative rumble followed.
"Togira it is," Itekan grinned.
He stood and walked to the egg, placing his palm against its cracked shell. "Okay then—start the process."
The cracks across Togira's shell began to glow faintly as golden light stitched them closed, like threads weaving a broken tapestry. It was beautiful—and humbling. He was learning not from a teacher or a scroll, but from something unborn.
Togira had shown him something vital: the SS was not separate from him. It was part of his mind's eye—an extension of his will. That meant anything inside it could be influenced by him. If he truly accepted that, he could begin to shape it. Shape the SE. Shape the cracks. Shape the chaos.
This was the essence of what Professor Tedorinzu had tried to teach them: that true mastery of SE meant accepting the SS as an extension of the self. Itekan had been fighting it, trying to force it to heal. But it wasn't about force. It was about harmony.
He closed his eyes and focused. He imagined the cracks along his SS like scars on skin. Not something to erase, but something to guide into healing. He reached—not with hands, but with thought. With will. He pictured golden threads of SE weaving through the fractures, sealing them gently.
He didn't push the energy; he guided it, like coaxing a river to shift its path rather than damming it entirely.
At first, the SS resisted. The cracks stayed. The flow leaked. But he remained patient. Steady.
And then—bit by bit—it began to respond. The overspill slowed. The light grew steadier. The sea calmed.
He let out a long, shaking breath.
It wasn't perfect yet—but it had begun.
---
Two Days Later
Kutote strolled down the polished hallways of the school clinic, hands in his pockets, red spirit eye softly glowing. Along the way, he passed several healers and their aides, nodding politely. It had been four days since the incident. Avery had woken already, though his healing rate was a joke compared to Itekan's. The poor guy was still holed up in recovery.
But Itekan… Itekan had remained unconscious.
The door creaked open, and there he was. Itekan lay still, expression peaceful. No injuries. No bandages. No bruises. Just stillness.
Kutote didn't plan to stay long. He was already surprised he kept visiting. He told himself it was guilt, or maybe obligation—after all, Itekan had saved his life more than once.
But deep down, he wasn't so sure.
He sat beside the bed and activated his red eye, scanning for SE fluctuations. He hadn't used his normal vision in days. If the rumors were true—if Itekan's SS was involved—then only the red eye could tell him what he needed to know.
He blinked.
Something was different.
The wild, uncontrollable SE that had been leaking like a ruptured dam was… quieter. Less intense. More refined. And most importantly—
It had nearly stopped leaking altogether.
He shot up from his chair and bolted to the door.
"Healer!" he barked into the hall, voice sharp. "Get in here!"
Meanwhile, he leaned close to Itekan's body, pressing an ear lightly to his abdomen—the location of the SS in the human body. He focused hard, trying to pick up on the subtle whirls and vibrations.
"Uhm—" a groggy voice murmured.
Kutote jerked back like he'd touched lava. He leapt across the room, slamming against the door like Itekan had just coughed up COVID-19.
"Uhm—were you, uh… resting on my—" Itekan's voice was cracked, slow, but working. "I didn't mean to frighten you…"
Kutote nodded awkwardly, avoiding eye contact as the healer rushed in.
"You good?" he asked, just before slipping out the door.
Itekan grinned and gave a thumbs-up. "I'm great."
The healer barely let him breathe before beginning the standard barrage of SE fluctuation checks, muttering numbers and terms under their breath.
Kutote paused at the door and glanced back one last time. Itekan looked up, watching him go, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
'Guess he's warming up,' Itekan thought, turning to face the healer with renewed focus.
Spiritual Energy (SE)
Spiritual Sea (SS)
Spiritual Signature (SST)
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