Jōki:The Forsaken Gift

Sasha had never liked being in a different class from Luka.

Her stomach twisted with unease as she glanced over her shoulder, watching him walk toward the kindergarten wing. The other kids were already whispering again, their eyes following him as he passed.

She clenched her fists.

She hated this.

But she had no choice.

Biting her lip, she turned away and forced herself to walk to her own classroom.

Luka entered the kindergarten room, a bright, open space filled with color.

The walls were painted with murals of animals and forests, and the ceiling had a digital panel displaying a slow-moving sky, complete with floating clouds. At the front of the class, a holographic projector hummed softly, displaying today's lesson plan.

There were several small wooden tables arranged neatly, each paired with a chair designed for a child's comfort. Nearby, a group of students clustered together, whispering.

Luka ignored them.

The teacher, a kind-looking woman named Ms. Valka, turned from the front desk as he walked in. She gave him a gentle smile.

"Good morning, Luka."

He nodded in response.

Her smile remained, but there was something careful about the way she looked at him, as if she wasn't sure how to approach him.

"Please find an empty seat. We'll be starting soon."

Luka moved toward an open desk near the window. As he passed the other children, the whispers grew louder.

"Why doesn't he talk?"

"He never laughs either. Isn't that creepy?"

"My mama said I should avoid him."

Luka reached his desk and pulled out his chair.

He didn't react to their words.

He had learned a long time ago that responding only made it worse.

Instead, he sat down, resting his hands lightly on the table.

He could still feel their eyes on him,Still hear them whispering.

But he remained as calm and silent as the sea outside.

The other children were already engrossed in their tasks,one sketching on a tablet, another stacking colorful blocks into a precarious tower, and a girl humming a soft nursery rhyme to herself.

Luka glanced around, his dark eyes lingering for a moment before drifting toward the large window that dominated one wall of the room.

Through the glass, the island stretched out below, a patchwork of rustic buildings nestled among lush greenery. Beyond the rooftops, the sea sparkled under the morning sun, its waves rolling gently toward the shore. Luka's gaze, however, was drawn upward, to the sun itself. Its brilliance filled the sky, casting a golden glow over everything it touched.

He knew he shouldn't stare directly at it,his vision blurred slightly, and his eyes began to water,but he couldn't look away. There was something mesmerizing about the sun,something that stirred an odd, unspoken longing deep within him.

(Maybe if I were like the sun)he thought, (people would notice me. Maybe then I'd be important.)

"Hahaha"

A burst of laughter pulled him from his thoughts.

Luka turned toward the other children, watching as they chatted and played, their voices bright and carefree. They were so full of life and noise,so different from him. He had never understood why.

Why they laughed. Why they whispered. Why they looked at him like he was something strange.

He lowered his gaze to his hands, resting quietly on the desk.

Why am I not like them?

.

.

.

The sun was already dipping lower in the sky by the time Luka and Sasha made their way home, the warm afternoon light stretching their shadows long against the cobblestone streets.

The town had begun to wind down,the fishermen tying up their boats, the shopkeepers closing their stalls, and the lingering scent of fresh bread wafting from the bakery.

As they reached their house, the comforting aroma of spices and simmering broth drifted through the air.

Luka stepped inside first, his bare feet silent against the wooden floor.

In the kitchen, Agata stood at the stove, stirring a pot of stew, her braid draped over her shoulder. She glanced back as they entered, a smile already forming on her lips.

"There you two are," she said, her voice warm. "How was school?"

Sasha practically bounced as she dropped her bag by the door. "It was amazing, Mama! We learned about jōki today, and they taught us how to manifest it! I can't wait to awaken my own jōki! Maybe I'll be super strong like Papa!"

Luka slipped quietly into a chair, listening but saying nothing.

Jōki.

That word again.

It was something that everyone else had, something that let them do things he couldn't. But when the teacher had explained it today, telling them how jōki manifested through emotions, Luka had quickly realized—

He couldn't feel it.

Because he had no emotions to draw from.

It was just another thing that set him apart.

Agata turned to Sasha, her smile widening. "Of course, sweetie. When I was your age, I'd already awakened my technique."

Sasha's eyes widened with excitement. "Wait,you have jōki? What's your ability, Mama?!"

Before Agata could answer, a sudden clatter interrupted them.

Luka had accidentally knocked his plate off the table.

It shattered against the floor.

Silence.

Luka slid off his chair, kneeling to pick up the pieces. His small fingers brushed over a sharp shard, and a thin line of red bloomed across his skin.

"Luka!"

Agata was already moving before he could react, her arms scooping him up and setting him on the table.

"Let me see."

She took his hand in hers, her brows furrowed in concern.

Luka stared at his own bleeding fingertip, watching as the small cut sealed itself almost instantly, the skin knitting back together as if it had never been injured.

It was already gone.

Agata exhaled in relief, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "You're always getting hurt, my love."

Luka blinked up at her.

He wasn't surprised.

Because this had happened so many times before.

The bare feet on rough ground. The scraped knees. The cuts that never lasted.

He had never thought much of it,only that every time he got hurt, Mama would always be there, her hands warm against his skin, whispering soft reassurances.

"Mama has healing jōki," she would always say. "That's why I can take care of you."

But Luka had begun to notice something.

She never healed Sasha this way.

She never healed Papa.

So why did his wounds always close on their own?

Agata sighed, her shoulders relaxing as she smiled down at him. "Yes, sweetie," she said, turning back to Sasha. "My ability is healing. That's why I can take care of Luka no matter how many times he gets hurt."

Sasha's eyes sparkled with admiration. "That's so cool, Mama! I thought Luka was just... you know, special."

Luka glanced at his mother.

She was smiling as she always did.

But something about it felt... different.

Agata chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from Luka's forehead. "He is special. And no matter what, he'll always be my baby." She kissed his forehead, her touch lingering for a moment. "Speaking of special, how was school today, Luka?"

Sasha's excitement faltered.

She glanced at Luka, her earlier energy fading into something quieter.

Luka saw the shift in her expression. The hesitation. The worry.

He turned back to Agata.

If I tell the truth, will Mama be sad again?

He didn't want that.

So he nodded. "Fine," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Agata's smile softened, though her eyes held something deeper. Something tired.

"It's okay, Luka." She squeezed his hand. "I know they treat you differently. But you don't have to change for anyone. You're perfect just the way you are."

Luka's chest tightened.

He didn't understand why Mama's words made him feel this way.

But it felt warm.

Like the sun.

"Yeah, Luka!" Sasha grinned, nudging him playfully. "And your big sis will always play with you, no matter what!"

Luka looked at her.

Then at his mother.

His expression remained neutral, unreadable.

But something stirred inside him.

It wasn't happiness.

Not exactly.

But it was close.

And for the first time, Luka wondered...

Maybe he didn't need to be like the sun to be loved.

.

.

.

Years had passed, and Luka was now ten years old.

He still lacked emotion. That hadn't changed.

But other things had.

He was taller now, his features sharper, his dark hair longer than before. And though his face remained unreadable, his speech had improved. He talked more than he used to, his once-silent thoughts now shaping into quiet, careful words.

More than anything, Luka had grown... curious.

The forest stretched endlessly before him, the earth cool beneath his bare feet. The salty scent of the ocean mixed with the crisp, earthy aroma of damp leaves, carried by the gentle breeze that rustled through the canopy.

Luka walked slowly, his steps light, barely making a sound.

He liked the silence here.