Jōki:The Forsaken Gift

The next morning, the first light of dawn crept into Luka's room, painting the walls in soft hues of gold and pink.

Luka lay awake,staring at the ceiling,he hadn't slept much.

His mother's voice still echoed in his mind,fragile and breaking.

("...But what if he never loves us back?")

He blinked up at the ceiling, his mind turning over the words, but no answer came.

He didn't know what love felt like.

But he knew something had been wrong last night.

He didn't understand emotions the way others did, but he could sense the weight of them, like a shadow hovering just out of reach.

The soft clatter of boots echoed through the house,Papa leaving for work. Luka heard the brief murmurs of his parents' voices, the familiar shuffle of Demid adjusting his belt, and then the door creaking open.

Then silence...

The world was waking up, but inside his room, everything remained still.

Luka pushed aside his blanket, his small feet touching the cool wooden floor. He moved to the window, pulling back the curtain.

Outside, the island stretched before him, caught between two worlds,one of tradition, where oil lamps still flickered and wooden houses stood sturdy against time, and another creeping in at the edges, where metallic structures gleamed and distant airships traced thin lines across the sky.

The people of Svyatoslav clung to the past. But not everything stayed the same.

Luka's gaze drifted to the marketplace, Outside, the village stirred with early morning life. Fishermen hauled in heavy nets from the docks, merchants arranged their stalls, and children ran through the streets, their laughter carried by the wind.

Luka's gaze lingered on a man unloading crates from a cart. Each box was stacked high with sacks of grain far too heavy for one person to lift.

And yet, the man hoisted them effortlessly, as if they weighed nothing at all.

Luka blinked.

Another fisherman near the shore moved with impossible speed, darting between boats faster than his legs should've allowed.

A woman in the market swung a wooden staff through the air, demonstrating a technique to a group of younger villagers. When she struck the ground, a gust of wind rippled outward, scattering dust and leaves in a perfect circle.

Luka watched it all without reaction.

This was normal.

People could do things he couldn't.

He had never understood why.

A soft knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.

"Luka, sweetheart," Agata's voice called gently. A moment later, she stepped inside, her loose braid draped over her shoulder. "It's time to get up."

Luka stared at her, his expression as neutral as ever.

For a moment, he wondered if the sadness he'd sensed last night had been a dream. Her smile seemed normal now, though there was a faint weariness in her eyes.

Agata walked over to him, her hand gently brushing back his messy hair. "Did you sleep well, Luka?" she asked, her voice tender.

He nodded silently, his gaze drifting back to the window.

Agata exhaled softly. "That's good." Her fingers lingered against his cheek for a moment before she pulled away. "Come downstairs soon, okay? Breakfast is ready."

She turned to leave, but before she could take a step

BANG!

The door slammed open as Sasha barreled into the room.

Agata sighed, though a small smile tugged at her lips. "Sasha, slow down. Give him a moment."

Sasha rolled her eyes playfully. "Mama, we don't have a moment! The bell's going to ring soon!" She grabbed Luka's hand, pulling him toward the dresser. "Come on, slowpoke! Let's go!"

Luka allowed himself to be pulled along, his movements unhurried despite her urgency.

Sasha was always loud, always full of movement. She spoke with her whole body,waving her arms, scrunching her nose, shifting her weight every few seconds. She was light and warmth and noise.

She was... different from him.

But she never left him behind.

By that time they left the house,the island was coming alive around them,shopkeepers setting up their stalls, fishermen hauling in their morning catch, and the distant hum of conversation filling the air.

The buildings they passed were a mix of old and new, their rustic charm untouched by the encroachment of modern technology. The islanders preferred it that way, their lives simple and grounded in tradition.

A butcher carried an entire side of beef over his shoulder, the weight barely making him stumble. Nearby, a merchant casually lifted a crate twice the size of his own body and set it down without struggle.

Sasha barely noticed any of it.

Luka did.

They reached the town square just as a young apprentice blacksmith swung a hammer against a metal plate. The force of the impact sent a shockwave through the ground, rattling the crates nearby.

People didn't react like it was strange.

Luka had once asked Mama why people could do these things. She had smiled softly and said, "Because of jōki, my love."

He had nodded.

But he still didn't understand.

As they neared the school, the chatter of children grew louder.

The school stood at the edge of the island, its wooden structure reinforced with modern metal beams a compromise between tradition and progress.

Luka and Sasha slowed as they approached, their breath coming in short gasps.

The moment they stepped into the yard, the air changed.

The usual chatter quieted,eyes turned toward Luka.

A hush spread through the group of children, and then the whispers started.

"Look, it's him."

"The weird boy."

"I heard he doesn't even have jōki. That's creepy."

"Maybe he's not even human."

Sasha's hand tightened around Luka's.

Her entire body tensed, her usual playfulness replaced with something colder.

"Shut up," she snapped, her voice cutting through the murmurs.

The group stilled.

A boy near the front,older, taller crossed his arms. "It's true, though. Everyone has jōki. Even babies can use it when they cry. But he—" he nodded toward Luka, his expression wrinkled with something between confusion and unease. "He doesn't have anything."

Luka remained silent.

Sasha's jaw clenched. "So what?" she shot back. "Maybe he doesn't need it."

The boy scoffed. "That's not how it works."

More whispers. More stares.

Sasha turned to Luka, her expression softening. "Don't listen to them."

Luka wasn't listening. Not really. He heard the words. He just didn't feel anything about them.

But he felt Sasha's grip tighten around his hand.

And after a brief hesitation, his fingers curled just slightly around hers.

A silent acknowledgment.

Her face lit up not with happiness, but with a quiet kind of determination.

"Come on," she murmured. "Let's go inside."

Luka followed.

Luka and Sasha had almost reached the school doors when a familiar voice called out.

"Luka. Sasha."

They both stopped in their tracks. Standing near the entrance was Mr. Rada, the school's head instructor. He was a tall man with neatly combed dark hair, square-rimmed glasses, and an expression that always seemed one part thoughtful and one part intimidating. He wore a long, reinforced coat, a sign of his status as both a teacher and a trained jōki user.

Behind him, the school stood tall,a mix of old-world craftsmanship and creeping modernization. The structure itself was made of sturdy wood and stone, its foundation untouched by time, but the metal reinforcements lining the windows and the occasional flicker of digital displays hinted at a world moving forward. It was a place where tradition and technology met reluctantly.

Mr. Rada's sharp gaze softened slightly as the siblings approached. He studied them both for a moment before speaking.

"A word, please."

Sasha stiffened beside Luka, she nodded and pulled him forward.

Mr. Rada's eyes flickered toward the schoolyard, where a few children still lingered, whispering behind their hands. He let out a quiet sigh before returning his attention to Luka.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, his voice calm but probing. "Has someone been bothering you?"

Sasha hesitated, shifting on her feet, but Mr. Rada's focus remained on Luka. He had seen how the other children treated him. The whispers, the stares. He wasn't ignorant to it.

"Luka?" His tone softened. "Are you okay?"

Luka nodded,It was easier that way.He didn't fully understand emotions, but he recognized the way Sasha's face looked when she was worried. And he didn't want her to worry.

Mr. Rada studied him carefully, as if trying to decipher something unspoken. Luka met his gaze with his usual blank expression, unmoved, unreadable.

Sasha's grip on her brother's sleeve tightened. "It's fine, Mr. Rada. They were just being stupid. I handled it."

Mr. Rada sighed. "Sasha, handling it doesn't mean taking on everything alone."

She opened her mouth, ready to argue, but he raised a hand before she could.

"I know you want to protect him," he continued. "That's a good thing. But Luka also has to learn how to stand on his own."

Sasha glanced at Luka, then back at Mr. Rada. Her lips pressed into a thin line. "I just don't want him to be alone."

Mr. Rada's expression softened. "He's not. Not as long as he has you."

Sasha didn't look entirely convinced, but she sighed in reluctant agreement.

Mr. Rada straightened. "Alright. Head inside. The morning bell's about to ring."

Luka and Sasha both nodded. As they turned toward the school entrance, Sasha leaned closer to her brother and whispered under her breath.

"If anything happens, Luka, you come straight to me. Okay?"

Luka didn't answer right away. He simply gave a small nod,just enough to reassure her.

Sasha wasn't reassured.

But before she could say more, the bell rang.

Time to separate.