🌿 ARC14：Until Our Steps Matched

The road we walked together was quieter than expected.

We spoke little. We didn’t try to dig deeper than that. We shared only what was needed, and left the rest untouched. That distance felt, strangely, comfortable.

But after walking for a while, I noticed.

Our footsteps were in sync.

At first I thought it was chance. But the third time, the fourth time, the same rhythm overlapped—and I understood it was adjustment. A little faster, a little slower. The difference was being filled in, bit by bit.

When I looked over, he let out a small breath.

“A habit. If you stand on the side that protects, you match your pace.”

It sounded like an excuse, and like a fact.

Protect.

The word was still caught somewhere deep in my chest.

“Who?”

I meant it lightly, but the answer didn’t come right away.

After a few seconds of silence, a low voice dropped.

“No one. Not now.”

He didn’t add anything else. The wind slipped through and filled the gap. I could tell there was a past there, but I didn’t have the right to dig it up yet.

We kept walking.

On the way, a small beast-shaped monster appeared. Too weak to call a real threat, but careless enough to get you hurt. We moved almost at the same time.

Light drew an arc, and his blade cut the air along a clean, wasted-less line.

It ended in an instant.

But right after it ended, a faint discomfort remained.

“Did you see that?”

When I asked, he answered without hesitation.

“A cut showed up.”

Something inside me went cold.

It wasn’t the monster’s attack. That tiny hollow born right after using light—the invisible loss that didn’t return, even when healed.

“So it really is there.”

The words fell like a private murmur.

He was watching me. But it didn’t feel unpleasant.

“Don’t force it.”

The single sentence landed heavier than I expected.

“I’m not forcing anything.”

I snapped back on reflex, and he didn’t press further.

Not pursuing it—somehow that made my chest stir.

Night came.

We sat around a small fire, its flicker stretching and shrinking our shadows. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was simply that nothing had been stepped into yet.

Staring into the fire, I threw the question out.

“Why do you stand in the role of protecting?”

This time, the pause was longer.

“Because I decided to.”

Vague. And yet I could tell it wasn’t a lie.

“Before you decided?”

After the fire cracked, a short phrase dropped.

“There was something I couldn’t protect.”

That was all.

But it was enough.

Couldn’t protect.

I knew the weight of that.

After a while, as I fed small branches into the fire, something struck me.

—I still didn’t even know his name.

“...Your name?”

I asked across the flames.

He lowered his eyes for an instant, then answered briefly.

“Lion.”

He didn’t add anything.

“And yours?”

The question came back without a pause.

“Lumia.”

Saying it out loud, something in my chest settled in a way I didn’t expect.

“Lumia.”

Lion repeated it once, as if confirming it.

That alone shifted the air, just slightly.

Without lifting our eyes, we kept watching the same fire. It wasn’t trust yet. But something close to understanding was quietly starting to sprout.

When the fire had grown small, the question returned—sudden.

“How far won’t the cut return?”

“I don’t know.”

I answered honestly.

“That’s why I’m searching.”

Lion gave a small nod.

“Then I’ll see it through to the end.”

As if that was the reason he was walking with me.

Someone saying they’ll see it through to the end.

Just that made my steps feel a little lighter.

Nothing had really begun yet.

And yet, something was definitely starting to stack up.

Our pace was already matched.

— Lumi🪄💕