Chapter 14 – Ashes on the Pavement
Xavier stood alone, one hand in his pocket, the other loosely holding a worn sketchbook he hadn't opened in days. A crow watched him from a crumbling pole nearby, its black eyes glinting with that too-human stillness birds sometimes wore. He ignored it.
The city sprawled beyond the treetops. Ugly and honest. Steam bleeding from rooftops. Ambulances like angry veins. Sirens barely reached this far, but the smoke did. He could smell it when the breeze cut right—ash and sweat and engine oil. It made his throat tighten, but not in fear.
In longing.
Behind him, footsteps approached, slow and casual. Xavier didn't turn around.
"You're not supposed to be this close to the perimeter."
Keiko's voice always sounded like someone just waking up. Warm but slightly annoyed by the existence of morning. Or people. Or both.
"I'm not past the perimeter," Xavier replied without looking. "Just... looking."
She stepped up beside him. Didn't press further. Her arms were folded beneath her loose scrub jacket, sleeves rolled to the elbows. Her eyes flicked toward the city, then back to him.
"You trying to run?"
"No."
A pause.
"Liar."
He smirked but didn't deny it. His reflection in the distant glass of an office building caught the light for a second. He imagined walking there—just walking. No monsters. No sorcerers. No glowing-eyed spirits crying into the pavement. Just... people.
"I want to go down there," Xavier said quietly. "See how bad it really is. Maybe it's worse than this. Maybe not."
Keiko's gaze stayed steady. "You're not cleared. Not even close. You've got more lockdown levels than a special grade."
He finally looked at her. "You make it sound like prison."
She didn't answer.
The silence between them was uncomfortable. Not because of tension—but because neither of them really knew how to make small talk. This wasn't friendship yet. Just familiarity wearing borrowed shoes.
"You think I'm dangerous," Xavier said after a while.
Keiko tilted her head slightly. "You are dangerous. So am I. So is Gojo. That's not the problem."
"Then what is?"
"You don't know what kind of danger you are."
That stopped him.
She shifted her weight. "You bleed weird. You hum in your sleep. And the floor outside your room grows weeds when you're in a bad mood."
He blinked. "What?"
"Yeah. Tiny little white ones. I swept them twice. They came back."
Xavier looked away, pretending to laugh but feeling something crawl across the back of his neck.
"I'm not trying to destroy anything," he said.
Keiko raised a brow. "Didn't say you were. But balance doesn't care about intent. It just reacts."
Another silence fell. But this time it felt like they were on the same side of it.
After a few minutes, Xavier sat down on the concrete bench nearby. The sun was dipping just enough to light the corner of his jaw. Keiko joined him, a few inches apart. She pulled a protein bar from her pocket and broke it in half, tossing one end to him without asking.
He caught it.
"Thanks."
They chewed in rhythm for a while. The sounds of cicadas replaced any attempt at conversation. Finally, Xavier tilted his head toward her.
"Why are you still here?"
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You're clearly not the typical exorcist type. You patch people up. You don't look like someone who likes taking orders."
"I don't."
Keiko leaned back. "But I've got reasons. This place saved my brother's life. So I stuck around. Simple as that."
Xavier looked thoughtful. "Must be nice. Having a reason."
"You don't?"
He paused. "Not yet."
Keiko studied him for a long moment. Then she nodded. "That's fine. Sometimes it takes time. Sometimes it takes blood. You'll know it when you're kneeling in it."
"That's comforting."
"I'm not a comforting person."
"Yeah, I noticed."
They shared a small smile. The first real one.
Then the tone shifted.
From deeper in the trees—farther than footsteps should echo—a clicking sound rolled out. Like fingernails against wet tile.
Both of them froze.
Xavier stood slowly. The sketchbook in his hand tightened, the air around his fingertips growing faintly cold. Not sacred. Not cursed. Just... thin.
Keiko turned toward the sound, lips parting slightly. "That's not a bird."
"Nope."
The sound didn't come again.
"I'll report it," she said, half to herself.
Xavier looked past the trees. The city was darker now. A single ambulance stuttered through the avenue miles away. Its lights didn't feel hopeful.
"You're not running," Keiko said suddenly.
He turned to her, surprised.
"You came out here planning to go. I can see it. But you're not."
He hesitated.
Then nodded.
"I think something's waiting down there," he said. "Something I'm not ready to meet."
Keiko stood beside him. "That's growth, Xavier. Not weakness."
The wind shifted. The flowers on his right arm, hidden beneath the sleeve, pulsed faintly with warmth. He could feel it now—what they left behind. A mark. A memory. A promise.
"I'll stay," he said. "For now."
Keiko nodded. "Good."
Then, more softly:
"You'll know when it's time."