Itsy Bitsy Spider

71. By and By

It was strange.

Unable to sleep—bright moonlight in his eyes, his side of the pillow too hot or cold, tossing and turning without getting comfortable—Lucky sat up, grabbed his jacket and crept quietly out into the hallway.

Funny, he mentally remarked as he slowly shut his room door. Normally he could never be silent if he tried.

Walking down the dim hallway and taking care not to stumble, he spared a glance down at his hand. He'd never noticed the thick heaviness of his aura until it was gone. But this light and clear feeling around him now almost felt like he was floating, carried up, like he'd shed an entire layer of clothing he never realized he'd been wearing. It felt so peculiar not being weighed down. He tried to surge his aura and gave a quick sigh. Before, it had taken so much effort to keep his Nen in check, to press it down in an attempt to keep it behaved. The easiness of it now was underwhelming as he expected to get more and was met with nothing.

Throughout his entire life, his aura had caused him nothing but problems. It had been his bad luck, his curse, but now that it was gone he almost missed its presence. He was glad he was finally free from its burden, but in its absence he was lacking something.

In the living room, he fumbled blindly around for the light panel and turned on the dimmest light possible, though he still had to squint when the bulb flickered on. Squeezing past the coffee table, his elbow bumped against a wilted flower in a vase. Hugging his jacket around him, he pulled on a pair of slippers and headed out into the night.

Maybe he was mistaken, but he felt a little chiller with half his aura gone.

It wasn't just the nature of his aura—or lack of it—it seemed his entire Nen itself had changed into something completely foreign. The weight and consistency aside, what before had been a murky, inky yet shining black had become almost as clear as water, and if it had color, as white as clouds. He could barely see it, pale wisps disappearing before his eyes. And the shape, the depth of it all. His aura used to take an untamed form, one that only added to his heavy load when he first strived to get it under control. Now it was quieter and without its original wild volume.

It had been painful then, when a few days back his Nen had been sucked away and then unexpectedly snapped in half, but he didn't feel any repercussions of it now. Just a little lighter, a little colder, a little more serene. Nothing too negative.

The sky was a picture with crisp resolution, and the stars clear and bright. Simple and beautiful, and nothing was ruining the mood or creeping up behind him to drag him back to a life of misfortune. He could stand still and gaze upward for ages and feel secure among soft melodies of crickets and rustling leaves. Safe.

He did feel strange without his former aura, and the uneasiness wouldn't stop. But if he wanted to, with his newfound freedom he almost felt like he could fly.

...But...

More than his freedom, more than his peaceful, white, gentle aura, he wished Feitan would come back.

(And somewhere else, maybe far away or perhaps closer than expected, someone else wished the same.)

As he kept standing in silence, the cold started to creep across his skin and seep into his bones. He clutched his arms and turned to head back inside. Kicking off his shoes and going across the room to turn off the lights, his eyes briefly landed on the small vase, its flowers blooming strongly with life.

He squinted before shuddering and brushing off the matter to hurry off to bed. Flicking down the light switch, he retraced his steps through the dark hallway.

...

That flower. He could have sworn...