Gray’s confession hung in the air like smoke from a dying fire.

  He stood there on the porch, arms still burning from the fight, tears cutting clean tracks through the dust on his face.

  His voice had cracked on the last words, but he didn’t take them back.

  Rebecca’s eyes filled instantly. She almost cried — her lips trembled, one hand rising to cover her mouth. For a moment the strong, quiet woman who had held their broken family together looked like she might break right there.

  Then she steeled herself. She always did.

  “I will teach you magic,” she said softly.

  Gauis’s head snapped up.

  “Let’s wait more,” he said instantly, voice low but firm. “He will be turning 15 soon. If your path is not with aura, then it will be with magic. This journey will be hard, but Rebecca and I will be here to help you.”

  Gray felt the helplessness rise again — hot, choking, worse than any wound.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “I won’t wait anymore,” he said, voice raw. “I will learn.”

  Rebecca stepped closer. Her hand gently touched his cheek, cold fingers against his tear-streaked skin.

  “Gray… it is a must that someone who wants to start learning magic is at least 15 years old. The body needs to be mature enough to handle the structure of mana. Forcing it earlier can break the circles before they even form.”

  Gray’s jaw clenched. Pain flared up his injured arm again, but he ignored it.

  “I don’t care,” he said. “I’m done being weak. I’m done watching you two suffer because I can’t protect you.”

  Rebecca looked at him for a long moment. Her eyes were wet, but her voice was steady.

  “Fine,” she said at last.

  “You need to recover first. I will train you the way we were trained — with my best knowledge. But you listen to every word. No shortcuts. No pushing past your limits.”

  Gray nodded once, sharp and determined.

  He turned and walked back inside the hut, each step sending fresh pain through his arms and side.

  Tamemoto was still sleeping on the mat, small chest rising and falling unevenly, a fresh bandage across his chest.

  Gray knelt beside him. The younger boy’s face was pale, lips slightly parted.

  Blood had dried at the corner of his mouth.

  Gray reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from Tamemoto’s forehead.

  “I promise,” he whispered, so quietly only he could hear it.

  “I won’t let anyone hurt you again. I’ll get stronger. No matter what it costs.”

  The pain in his arms flared again as he sat there, but Gray didn’t move. He stayed beside his brother, staring at the river through the open doorway, the weight of his vow settling deep in his chest like a second heartbeat.

  No more waiting.