It happened overnight.
His Kineta Art had pushed his cellular system too far. Combined with prolonged malnutrition, blood loss, and pain suppression—his body simply stopped.
His muscles locked. His spine refused to respond. His nerves felt like melted glass. He couldn't walk. Couldn't even sit up.
Ryo was paralyzed.
They relocated to an abandoned villa near the outskirts of Sector 13. A once-holy place, it was overgrown with vines and hauntingly quiet. Perfect for hiding.
And here, Lysa became everything.
---
Their new life?
It was far from glamorous.
Lysa cooked. Cleaned. Fought. Nursed.
She washed Ryo's wounds daily, reinforced his spine with Thanatos tech she didn't fully understand, and fought off attackers who sniffed out their location.
She also raised the seven children they'd saved—orphans left behind after shrine cleansings.
> "I used to kill people for a living," she muttered while changing a diaper. "Now I make rice soup and wipe baby ass. Great."
But deep down, she didn't mind.
Each child had their quirks:
Keji, the eldest, tried to be a protector like Ryo, even mimicking his stare.
Mira, the silent one, followed Lysa everywhere and tried to draw sigils in the dirt.
Yuna, only three, called Lysa "Mama Rai."
The youngest, little Tao, was born sickly. Lysa often curled beside him at night, using weak pulses of lightning to regulate his heartbeat.
> "If I ever find your real parents," she whispered once, "I'll kill them for leaving you."
Ryo, though immobilized, still held presence.
He taught Keji and the others how to breathe when scared. He instructed Mira on how to hold a blade with just his words. He couldn't move, but he was still their core.
Some nights, Lysa would lie next to him and whisper:
> "I don't know if you can hear me in there, but I'm keeping us alive, alright? You just rest. I got the storm now."
---
But darkness loomed.
Ryo's condition worsened. His heartbeat slowed. His eyes stayed closed for days at a time. Whatever was eating him from the inside wasn't stopping.