Asylum

To See the Cherry Blossoms Bloom

Kya Carter

I came back to consciousness after what felt like years of excruciating pain. My body doesn't feel weak, as it's been resting for quite some time now. My inner clock tells me it's sometime that could be classified either as extremely late at night or extremely early in the morning. My mind tricks me into thinking my back is still in pain, but I know it's really okay, if not a bit numb. Nothing wakes me up in particular, so I suppose my body is done healing.

My eyes flutter open, and the first thing I'm staring at is the nameless Sage I usually train with. Relieved, she smiles. "Kya," she annunciates with precision. "Can you hear me?"

I nod and clear my throat.

"That's great. How's your vision? Are you seeing double? Anything hazy?"

I pick apart her facial features. She's one of the younger Sages I've seen around; maybe between the ages 35 and 40. Her eyes are a crystalline hue and her skin shows no signs of wrinkling. Her light pink lips are curled into a hopeful smile and her light orange hair hangs in a braid. For some reason, it reminds me of Monsieur Petit emphasizing the lightness of my hair. Which reminds me of Alistair, who is really Xavier. I cringe at the memories of him, and the Sage asks if I'm in pain.

"No," I assure her. "Just recalling the past few days. My vision is fine."

"Perfect. Can you move your fingers for me?"

I look to my right hand, previously limp at my side, and flex my fingers one by one, mesmerized as each one curls into my palm. I start to move the fingers on my other hand when I realize I'm already holding something; the gloveless hand of Ren, who sits in a bamboo chair asleep, his figure slouched over and his head resting against the edge of my bed. I stare at him, and for some reason, the first thing that pops into my head is, you're going to get back problems like that.

"Kya?" the Sage repeats. "Can you move your fingers okay?"

I nod again. "I can," I strongly affirm, which makes Ren's brows furrow in his sleep. Tentatively, I ask, "How many more drops until the markings reach the moon?"

Frowning, she answers, "Two."

The number hangs in the air like a dark storm cloud, following me around and waiting for the opportune time to unleash a disaster. I wish the answer was a larger number – not because I plan on using my dark strain often, but because it's only two mistakes away from putting all my friends in danger. As if Reaper hasn't done that already. Reaper. "What of Reaper?"

"No word of her or her whereabouts," the Sage reports.

I shudder, imagining if she were prowling the dojo grounds, already willing to strike us again. "Thank you for everything," I gratify, giving her a smile. Then I shift my eyes to Ren. "How long has he been here?"

"Hours," she chuckles. "We had to lock him out during our initial session with you. Your body was ceasing and we couldn't work in the room with all the panic and Master Walker. You woke up briefly, though I doubt you'll remember. We had to heavily sedate you beforehand when you didn't stop shaking for a half hour. Your body needs to rebuild energy and that couldn't happen when it was all expended on the trembling. Though when you woke up that first time, we decided to let him in. He hasn't left since."

"I see," I acknowledge, absorbing the sensation of Ren's hot hand. It's very rarely been ungloved. The one time I can remember is when he took them off during the Swap, when Cerberus stripped me of my power by using it against me. Smiling, I realize that not much has changed: fight with Cerberus, he uses my power, Ren is at my side, repeat.