The one part of me that’s still clean.
For the first time in days, something warm flickers beneath my ribs, small, but real. Not joy. Not yet. But a spark.
I type slowly.
WREN
You can definitely do space buns. And the green shadow
Dinner is a yes
Love you
Five seconds later:
LARISA
OMG YAYYYYY
YOU’RE THE BEST
I’m making a sign
It’s AMAZING
you’ll DIIIIIE
A smile tugs at my mouth before I can stop it.
Something settles inside me. Not healed. Not fixed. Just…steadier.
Kieran and Reed and Isabelle don’t get to take this from me. They don’t get to take Larisa’s night. They don’t get to take anything.
I sit up, pushing the blanket aside.
The room suddenly feels too small. My body needs motion. My mind needs something I can control.
Aunt Dana’s voice surfaces, unbidden, “Discipline is how you survive.”She meant school, rent, responsibility. But maybe she also meant this. When everything else falls apart, you go back to what you know. Back to what you can control.
I need the dojo.
The training hall—our makeshift campus dojo—is five minutes away. When I step inside, the world shrinks to something I can hold: bare feet on polished wood, the faint scent of disinfectant and old sweat, the muted thump of a girl practicing in the far corner.
No comments. No stares. No rumors. Just breath and pattern. Just me.
Senpai isn’t here. Good. I don’t want questions. I bow tothe almost empty space, roll my shoulders back, and take my place.
I inhale. Exhale. And begin.
Heian Sandan.
My hands shake through the first sequence. Slow at first, because my body feels like it’s made of splintered glass. Then sharper. Cleaner.
The second sequence is steadier.
Feet planted, hips rotated, spine aligned with a precision that feels like coming home.
The shapes pour out of me—knife-hand blocks, front kicks, turns snapping like metronome clicks. My breath moves with each sequence. My focus tunnels. The pressure starts to ease around the edges.
