Meanwhile, back at Joki's cabin—
Dawn and Joki stared at the gust of wind swirling in the center of the room, its form weightless yet full of presence.
"…It's you," Dawn said softly.
His look of shock gradually shifted into a smile—the voice from before, the presence, it all clicked.
Joki glanced sideways. "Wait, you know what this thing is?"
Dawn stepped forward, his eyes locked onto the flickering mass. It twisted gently through the air, weightless yet alive.
"It's not just some thing. He's special."
As Dawn said that, the wind lifted high into the air, forming a spiral before descending again like a playful breeze.
Joki's brows furrowed. He was still clearly unsure of what he was witnessing.
Then came a voice.
"Friend… what… is my name?"
Dawn froze as the words brushed against him like breath in a storm. He blinked, stunned for a moment, then lit up.
"A name, huh? Hey, what about… Aerospace!"
Joki gave Dawn the most deadpan look imaginable. Then, unexpectedly, he burst into laughter.
"Aerospace?"
Dawn frowned. "Hey! What's so funny? It makes sense if you think about it! 'Aero' like wind, 'space' like outer space—Aerospace! It goes together."
Still laughing, Joki shook his head and walked toward the wind spirit, still grinning.
"Well, this thing does creep me out... but fine. Let's keep it simple. How about just Aero?"
Aero floated toward Joki in response. The gust playfully brushed against his shoulder, making Joki flinch and stumble back.
"Aero…" the wind whispered, "I think… I like that name."
Dawn smiled and sat down beside the spirit.
"Aero it is, then."
Joki couldn't help but take a moment to look at Dawn again. That smile—it wasn't forced. It was genuine. The kid who once only knew how to fight, who couldn't even trust another person, was now sitting calmly beside something no one could explain.
(He's grown so much... so fast.)
Joki's thoughts were interrupted.
"So…" Dawn said, eyeing Aero with curiosity. "Can I touch this thing?"
He reached out. Aero spiraled forward—then engulfed his hand. Before Joki could even react, Aero enveloped Dawn's entire body.
"H-Hey! What the hell's going on?!" Dawn shouted, twisting in place as letters began to form in the air beside him—crafted from streams of wind.
Joki's eyes widened. "Your Reiki… Emotional Quota… it's all displaying. I can see it."
"You're awfully calm about this!" Dawn snapped, still thrashing.
Then, just as quickly as it had begun, Aero vanished in a soft spiral of breeze—his final whisper lingering.
"Goodbye… friends."
Joki blinked, caught off guard. "He… considers me a friend too?"
"Well yeah," Dawn said, catching his breath. "Honestly, I don't think I ever would've met him without you. You saved my life. You're a hero, Joki."
The words hit harder than Joki expected. He looked at Dawn again, this time not with suspicion or confusion—but with respect.
(He was broken when we met… angry, closed off, filled with pain. But now—he's starting to look whole.)
Dawn noticed Joki staring. "You okay over there?"
"Huh? Oh. Yeah." Joki cleared his throat. "But let's get serious for a second. I think it's safe to say Aero is tied to your Reiki ability. That's strange, though. Usually, people awaken their Sakusei first."
Dawn tilted his head, confusion clearly etched onto his face. "Wait… you're saying Aero is an ability of mine? What's a Sakusei?"
Joki nodded thoughtfully, realizing his mistake. "Right, I never explained. A Sakusei is different from a Reiki ability—it's rare, special. Only certain people are born with it, while others gained it through terrible events after Reiki emerged."
Dawn's eyes widened, processing this revelation carefully. "So... you're saying I have one of these abilities? A Sakusei? But then, why can't I use it?"
"That's exactly the mystery," Joki said calmly. "It's within you—I can sense it clearly—but for some reason, it's blocked or dormant."
Dawn's expression shifted, his mind drifting into memories he'd buried deep. "Now that you mention it… I think I might've awakened it once, before I met you. There was a place—a facility, where they did horrible things to kids like me."
Joki's tone shifted immediately. "And you're just now telling me this?"
"I didn't know how to talk about it," Dawn admitted. "They tried to do horrible things. Things I don't like remembering."
Two Years Ago
Hopewell, Virginia
Rain poured outside an abandoned gas station. Dawn sat in the mud beside a rusted trash bin, biting into a half-rotten apple. His jacket was soaked. His fingers trembled.
Two men in all-black approached slowly.
"Hey kid," one of them said gently. "You need anything—?"
"Can you go away," Dawn snapped, not even looking up.
The two men laughed quietly. One crouched.
"You're clearly starving. Running and hiding takes a toll, doesn't it?"
Dawn's stomach growled violently. His vision blurred. He wanted to fight, to run—but his body ached too much.
"…You got food?" he asked, voice weak.
The man extended a hand.
"We'll feed you. Clean you up. Then send you on your way. Trust us."
Dawn hesitated—then, desperate, took the hand.
Darkness followed.
Five Hours Later
Dawn's eyes fluttered open. His head pounded.
The room was cold—too cold. Metal walls. Flickering lights. No windows.
He stood shakily, walking a long hallway lined with closed doors. The stench worsened with every step.
(It smells like… death.)
He saw a head poking out from the left. Hopeful, he approached.
"Hey, do you know where I am? I'm… hungry. I shouldn't have come here…"
He turned the corner and froze.
A boy lay slumped against the wall—dead. Two jagged rods protruded from his skull.
Dawn's body trembled.
Steps echoed down the hallway. Panic gripped his chest.
(Do I run? Where—?)
A man appeared, hands behind his back, face twisted into a disturbing smile.
"Dawn," he said, voice smooth and empty. "Do you know why you're here?"
Dawn bolted—but ran straight into three more scientists.
"I don't have anything you want," he pleaded. "Please… let me go…"
A hand grabbed his head—and slammed him into the wall.
Two Hours Later
Dawn woke up strapped to a machine. He couldn't move. Other kids lined the walls—crying, unconscious, or worse.
One was being injected with a clear liquid, his eyes rolling back.
"Let me out!" Dawn screamed.
The scientists turned. One smirked.
"You woke up quicker than expected. We thought slamming your skull might kill you. But I guess you're tougher than that."
The lead scientist walked over with a syringe.
"This compound heightens emotional response and muscular capacity. If it activates something in you… we'll extract the power. And give you a painless death as a reward."
"No! Please, I just want to go—!" Dawn thrashed. "I'm not special! Please!"
The scientist grabbed his arm, bringing the needle closer.
"If you don't struggle, it won't hurt much."
But Dawn twisted and gripped the man's wrist with all his strength.
CRACK. Bones shattered.
Another scientist rushed in and injected him—the entire dose.
"Sir! Are you okay?"
"…How much did you inject?"
"…All of it…"
The room fell silent.
Dawn's body twitched violently.
[Dawn's Reiki Percentage: 200%][Emotional Quota: Bliss]
His eyes flashed gold.
The restraints exploded.
Through the smoke, Dawn stepped forward—calm, cold.
"That's it!" one scientist gasped. "He's a—"
Dawn blitzed forward—his fist moved like a bullet—CRACK echoed as the man's head was ripped from his shoulders.
He didn't stop.
(No… I can't stay here. My heart's pounding. My body's… overcharged. I have to leave.)
He cocked his arm back, Reiki swirling into his fist—and punched through the wall.
Warning klaxons screamed. Red lights pulsed through the corridors—the facility had been breached.
But Dawn didn't stop running.
His golden eyes still blazed as he vanished into the darkness.