Jōki

One of them a man with silver-rimmed glasses smiled. "Exceptional."

Sasha blinked. "What does it say?"

The woman ignored her, flipping through her clipboard.

"We'll need to move her to the main facility for further analysis," she said. "There's potential here."

Sasha tensed.

"What does that mean?" she asked, louder this time.

"It means," the woman said, scribbling something down, "that you'll be given an opportunity."

Sasha glanced at Luka. Her grip tightened on the chair's armrests.

She was afraid.

Luka could tell.

Even if he didn't understand emotions, he understood that.

"Release her," the tall soldier ordered.

The restraints unlocked. Sasha immediately stood up and backed away from the chair, rubbing her wrists.

The woman barely looked at her.

Instead, she turned to Luka.

"And the boy?"

"He's untested," the soldier said.

The woman nodded to one of the assistants. "Put him in."

Sasha moved first.

She stepped in front of Luka, shaking her head. "Wait—"

The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air. Luka sat motionless on a cold metal examination table, his small hands resting in his lap as doctors and scientists bustled around him.

Electrodes clung to his skin, wires trailing from his arms like vines, but Luka didn't flinch. He didn't feel fear. He didn't feel anything at all.

His test results had confused them.

"0.0?" one scientist murmured, staring at the holographic display hovering in front of her. "That's… impossible. Even non-awakened individuals have at least a 0.5 Jōki presence in their system. But this kid—nothing. It's like he's a void."

A man in a military uniform, his chest lined with medals, crossed his arms. "Run it again."

The machine hummed as another scan passed over Luka's body.

Silence.

Then—

"Still zero," another doctor whispered.

Murmurs spread across the room, uncertainty shifting between them like a disease. Luka sat in the center of it all, unbothered, detached. He didn't understand what was so strange.

A different doctor frowned. "If he has no Jōki at all, then how is he even alive?"

"Forget that—look at this." One of the assistants tapped furiously at the screen. "His cells are regenerating at an inhuman speed. We tried to draw blood twice, and each time, his body closed the wound before we could extract a proper sample. His body… it's adapting."

The general, standing at the far end of the room, exhaled sharply. He stepped forward, his voice carrying a firm authority. "Enough. Stop the tests."

The scientists hesitated.

"But, sir, we still don't understand—"

"I said stop." The general's tone brooked no argument. "Whatever this kid is… he's not military material."

Luka blinked. Not military material?

The murmurs grew louder, but the general turned away. His expression was unreadable as he walked toward the glass window overlooking the rest of the survivors—the orphans of the island. His eyes settled on Sasha, who sat amongst them, her small hands gripping the sleeves of her borrowed jacket, her face pale from exhaustion and grief.

"Check the others," he ordered. "See if there are any other potential Jōki users."

Then, without looking back, he made the decision that shattered everything.

"As for the boy… separate them."

Luka didn't react.

But Sasha did.

The moment the soldiers came for him, she knew.

"NO!" Her voice rang out through the sterile halls as she leaped from her seat, shoving past the officers. "Luka! LUKA!"

Luka turned, watching as his sister fought against the men trying to restrain her. Tears streaked her face, her hands trembling as she reached for him.

"You can't take him! You can't!"

A soldier held her back as she screamed, her small body thrashing with all the strength she had.

"Luka!"

Luka only stood there, staring. His mind processed the situation logically—Sasha was upset. Sasha was in distress.

But he still… felt nothing.

No sadness. No anger. Not even fear.

The only thing he could focus on was the way her hands reached for him.

She had always reached for him.

She had always been there.

And now…

A final, desperate cry tore from Sasha's throat.

"I WON'T GO WITHOUT HIM!"

Luka saw the panic in the soldier's eyes as they struggled to hold her back.

Then a sudden burst of blue energy exploded from her body.

The air vibrated. Lights flickered. The force sent the soldiers stumbling backward as the very ground beneath them cracked from the sheer pressure of it.

The energy lashed out uncontrollably, whipping through the air like a storm. Sasha's breath was ragged, her body trembling violently from the overwhelming force surging through her.

The soldiers reacted immediately.

"Get her under control!"

A tranquilizer dart shot through the air.

It struck her in the neck.

She gasped.

Luka watched as her body collapsed.

The soldiers caught her before she hit the ground, her unconscious form limp in their arms.

"SASHA!" Luka's voice came out instinctively, but he didn't feel panic. He didn't feel grief. He just knew—she was slipping away from him.

A cold voice echoed through the hall.

"Get the girl on the second room. Now."

"SASHA NOOO!"

****

Luka woke up gasping.

His body jerked, his breath ragged and uneven. His head pounded, and a cold sweat clung to his skin. The dream—the memory—was already fading, slipping through his mind like sand through fingers.

He tried to sit up.

His hands pressed against something rough—a concrete floor. The air was damp, thick with the smell of oil, metal, and something burnt. The dim glow of neon lights flickered above him, casting eerie shadows across the walls.

This… wasn't the orphanage.

Luka's fingers twitched as he pushed himself upright, his legs weak beneath him. His clothes were different. No longer the simple, tattered orphanage uniform but a thick black jacket that didn't belong to him.

He felt… heavier. Like he had been asleep for days.

Before he could process it, a voice broke the silence.

"Bad dreams?"

Luka turned sharply.

A man leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. His entire face was hidden behind a dark metal mask, reflecting the flickering neon above. The mask had no visible mouth—just smooth, cold steel—but Luka could feel the smirk behind it.

"Where am I?" Luka's voice came out hoarse.

The man pushed off the wall and took a step closer, the heavy boots of his trench coat clicking against the floor.

"Somewhere safe," he said casually. "For now."

Luka's heart pounded as he glanced around. It looked like an abandoned bunker—metal walls, scattered weapons, and a small table stacked with tech and old papers. He didn't recognize this place.

He didn't recognize this man.

"…Who are you?" Luka asked.

The man tilted his head, amused. "We'll get to that."

He turned and gestured toward the doorway. "For now, let's get you something to eat."

Luka didn't move. His mind was still foggy, pieces of memory missing.

The orphanage. The ship. Sasha screaming. The transport.

"How… did I get here?" His voice was quiet.

The man paused. He seemed to study Luka, as if deciding how much to say.

Then, he let out a short chuckle.

"That's a long story, kid."

And with that, he walked out of the room, leaving Luka with no choice but to follow.