Morning sunlight spilled across the courtyard, glinting off the stone path where a small group of young healers gathered. Itsuki Nozomi adjusted the strap of her satchel nervously as she approached the group. Her long, flowing black hair swayed with each step, and the soft morning light made her ocean-blue eyes shimmer faintly. She wore a light gray sweater and a black skirt, simple but neat and in her right hand, she held her silver staff, a crimson crystal gleaming faintly at its center. As she arrived, one of the girls immediately stood to greet her with an enthusiastic smile. “It’s you! From the exams!” the girl said brightly. Itsuki blinked in surprise, then smiled in recognition. “Aira… right? Aira Tatsuki?” Aira nodded eagerly. “Yep! I was hoping we’d end up in the same group.” Aira was petite, her presence almost glowing. Her long pink hair flowed down her back, and her bright blue eyes radiated warmth and kindness. She clutched a silver and blue staff in her hands, a soft, healing aura pulsed gently from the gem at its center. The two immediately fell into easy conversation. Despite their short history, there was a mutual respect between them, a quiet bond born from their previous match in the one-on-one exams. As they talked, the soft sound of footsteps approached. They both turned. Yumi Kurosawa had arrived. She wore a flowing white top that fluttered lightly with the breeze and a pale pink skirt that matched the gentle hue of her eyes. Her long black hair fell gracefully past her shoulders, framing her face. She stopped a few paces in front of the group, her hands clasped together nervously. “Um…” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “G–Good morning, everyone.” The group fell silent. Yumi glanced down, fidgeting slightly, her cheeks faintly flushed. “I–I’m Y–Yumi Kurosawa… and, um… I’ll be your instructor for this week.” She took a shaky breath, forcing herself to continue. “I–I’ve chosen you all b–because… I see great potential in your healing abilities.” She tried to meet their eyes, but her gaze flickered away almost immediately. Even so, there was a quiet sincerity in her tone that made every word feel meaningful. “Our t–task for this week,” she continued softly, “is to assist a small village that’s been… um… struck by disease.” Itsuki straightened, her heart quickening. A healing mission. Yumi hesitated for a brief moment, clutching her hands tighter. “W–We won’t be able to… fully cure it. It’s a little beyond what our healing powers can do.” She paused, then offered a shy, reassuring smile. “B–But… we can slow the disease’s spread. E–Ease the pain. Bring the villagers comfort. That’s what this trial is about doing what we can… with what we have.” Despite her stutter, the group hung on every word. Yumi’s voice trembled, but the determination behind it was clear. Her kindness carried weight, a kind of quiet strength that didn’t need to be loud to be felt. She glanced up, gathering courage. “I–It’ll take about two days to reach the village. Once there, w–we’ll spend the rest of the week providing aid. The trial will end on the last day.” The group nodded in understanding, exchanging determined looks. Itsuki couldn’t stop watching Yumi. For someone so timid, so hesitant, she had a remarkable presence, one built on compassion, not command. Itsuki smiled faintly, her heart full of admiration. She’s nervous… but she still stands up for what matters. Yumi cleared her throat softly, twisting her fingers together. “A–Also, um… along the way,” she said, her words stumbling over each other, “p–please try to… talk to each other. I–Introduce yourselves.” Her voice dropped even quieter. “G–Getting to know one another will make our teamwork… um… smoother. A–and the journey… nicer, I think.” Aira smiled kindly at her. “Of course, Miss Yumi!” she said brightly. “We’ll get to know each other right away.” Yumi blinked in surprise, color rising to her cheeks. “O–Oh, um… th–thank you.” Itsuki laughed softly, the tension easing. “We’ll do our best.” Yumi gave a small, timid nod but her lips curved into a genuine, relieved smile. The group loaded their supplies onto a modest wooden carriage, the horses pawing restlessly at the dirt road. The air smelled faintly of pine and morning dew as the driver cracked the reins, and soon they were rolling along the forest path, wheels crunching over gravel and leaves. Inside, the group settled into their seats, the gentle sway of the carriage and the rhythm of hooves against the ground filling the silence. Itsuki sat beside Aira, while across from them were two unfamiliar faces: a blonde girl who smiled even before anyone spoke, and a tall, broad-shouldered boy who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. Itsuki offered a friendly smile. “I don’t think we got your names earlier.” The cheerful girl waved a hand, crumbs already on her sleeve. “Oh! I’m Linda!” she said between bites of a pastry. She held up what was left of it proudly. “I, uh, heal people through food!” Aira blinked. “Through food?” Linda nodded enthusiastically. “Yep! When people eat what I make, their wounds and fatigue recover! It’s, um, a bit unconventional, but… delicious medicine, you could say.” She giggled, taking another bite. “Though it doesn’t always taste great when I’m nervous.” Itsuki smiled warmly. “That’s amazing. Healing through nourishment… that’s beautiful.” Linda grinned. “Right? Food makes people happy. It’s kind of like magic, but it fills your stomach too!” The boy across from her shifted slightly, arms crossed. His short black hair and narrow eyes gave him a quiet, serious air. “I’m Kenichiro,” he said simply. His voice was low and calm, but carried a faint roughness, the kind that came from disinterest rather than malice. Yumi, sitting near the corner, looked up. “A–And your healing ability…?” Kenichiro shrugged, his tone flat. “Basic spiritual healing. Nothing special. I only used it during my exam because I was forced to.” The others glanced at one another, unsure how to respond. Kenichiro sighed, leaning back against the wooden wall. “Honestly, I don’t know why you picked me, Miss Yumi. There are plenty of healers better suited for this.” Yumi flinched slightly at the directness of his words, then looked down at her hands folded in her lap. Her voice was soft, but steady. “B–Because… healing isn’t just about power. It’s about intent.” She glanced up briefly, her pink eyes meeting his before quickly darting away. “You healed when it mattered… not for yourself, but for someone else. That’s enough.” Kenichiro blinked, then turned his gaze toward the window. “…I see.” The carriage fell quiet again, the only sounds the creak of wood and the rhythmic clatter of wheels. Linda broke the silence first with a loud crunch from a biscuit. “Sooo,” she said cheerfully, crumbs dusting her lap, “what’s everyone’s favorite kind of food?” Aira laughed softly. “You really don’t stop eating, do you?” Linda grinned. “Not when it’s for work!” Even Itsuki giggled, and soon the tension faded into gentle chatter. Kenichiro didn’t join in much, his eyes stayed fixed on the passing trees outside but the faint curve at the corner of his mouth betrayed the smallest hint of amusement. Yumi watched them quietly from her seat, her heart lightening as the group’s laughter filled the carriage. The second day of travel stretched beneath a pale sky, the endless road winding between hills and forests. The sun hung low, its light filtered through drifting clouds as the carriage rolled along the uneven dirt path. When they finally stopped to rest, the group climbed out, stretching their stiff legs and letting the wind wash over them. Kenichiro groaned, running a hand through his dark hair. “How far is this village, anyway?” he muttered, frustration sharp in his tone. “Feels like we’ve been riding for days.” Yumi, who stood a few steps away, turned nervously at his voice. “A–Almost there,” she said quietly, her words soft and uncertain. “Um… j–just a few more hours.” Kenichiro sighed, kicking at a rock before wandering off toward the shade of a nearby tree. Meanwhile, Linda had already unpacked her cooking supplies and was setting up a small fire, humming cheerfully. “No reason to complain on an empty stomach,” she said, stirring a pot with practiced ease. “I’ll have lunch ready in no time!” The smell of herbs and freshly grilled bread soon filled the air, blending with the rustle of leaves and the distant hum of cicadas. Itsuki and Aira found a spot near the carriage, sitting side by side in the grass. “So…” Itsuki began, brushing a strand of black hair from her face. “What made you want to be an adventurer?” Aira looked up at the sky, the blue of her eyes reflecting the same endless color above. “Honestly?” she said softly. “I didn’t.” Itsuki tilted her head. “You didn’t?” Aira smiled faintly. “My parents pushed me into it. My older sister, Rei, is part of a big guild called The Titans. They wanted both of us to follow that path.” “The Titans?” Itsuki repeated, impressed. “They’re one of the strongest S rank guilds.” “Yeah,” Aira said, her tone mixed with pride and melancholy. “Rei’s amazing. She’s strong, brave… everything I wish I was. I love her more than anything.” She paused, fingers idly tracing circles in the grass. “But I never wanted this life. I’m not like her. I just… didn’t want to disappoint them.” Her voice softened even more, almost lost in the sound of the wind. “Still, if Rei can do it without complaining, then I can do it with a smile. And if I can help people with my healing… then maybe that’s enough.” Itsuki listened quietly, admiration glowing in her eyes. “That’s… really brave, Aira. You might not realize it, but that’s the heart of a true healer.” Aira looked at her, a small blush coloring her cheeks. “Thanks, Itsuki.” Itsuki smiled back, resting her hands in her lap. “I guess I can share a little too. I’m from a place called Albis. It’s a city close to where we are going. It’s peaceful… quiet.” Her voice grew softer, tinged with longing. “My parents still live there, but my older sister became an adventurer a few years ago. She left, and I haven’t seen her since. I want to find her someday and bring her home, or… at least make sure she’s okay.” Aira’s expression warmed with empathy. “That’s a beautiful goal. I hope you find her.” Itsuki nodded. “I will. And if things ever get rough along the way…” Aira grinned, extending a hand toward her. “You’ll have me. I promise.” Itsuki laughed softly and shook her hand. “Deal.” The two sat in companionable silence for a moment, the air filled with the smell of Linda’s cooking and the distant chirp of birds. Then Itsuki glanced curiously at Aira’s staff. “So, your healing, it uses water, right?” Aira’s eyes lit up, happy to change topics. “Yeah! It’s pretty unique. Watch.” She lifted her palm, and a small sphere of water formed above it, spinning gently. “I can infuse water with different kinds of energy. If I focus spiritual energy, it becomes healing water, it restores life, mends wounds. But if I use regular energy…” She flicked her wrist, “…it becomes a weapon.” Itsuki’s eyes sparkled with fascination. “That’s incredible. You can fight and heal with the same ability.” Aira smiled sheepishly. “It’s tricky to balance, though. Too much combat focus and I drain myself before I can heal anyone.” Itsuki nodded. “I get that. My healing isn’t as flexible. I just channel spiritual energy through my hands, close the wound, and pray I don’t pass out halfway through.” Aira chuckled. “That’s still impressive. But yeah, healers who rely only on spiritual energy burn out fast especially if the wounds are bad. You’ll get stronger with practice.” Itsuki looked thoughtful. “Maybe… I can learn from your technique someday.” Aira grinned. “We’ll trade tips. You teach me calm under pressure, and I’ll teach you how not to faint after healing three people.” They both laughed, the kind of laugh that comes easy between people who already feel like friends. Linda’s voice called out suddenly, cheerful as ever. “Lunch is ready! If you don’t hurry, Kenichiro’s going to eat your share!” Kenichiro groaned from under the tree. “I don’t even like her food.” “Then more for us!” Aira shouted back, standing up and dusting herself off. Itsuki followed, smiling softly. “I’m really glad I ended up in this group.” “Me too,” Aira said, her pink hair fluttering in the breeze. They joined the others for lunch, laughter spilling out of the small clearing like sunlight through leaves. When the meal was done, they climbed back onto the carriage, hearts lighter than before. The wheels creaked back into motion, and the road stretched on carrying them closer to the village, and to the test that would define them all. By the time the sun dipped behind the trees, the carriage rattled into what remained of the village. Night crept in slow and heavy, draping the world in shadow. The air was still the only sound, the creak of the wheels and the soft clop of weary hooves. When they finally came to a stop, the group climbed out in silence. The streets were empty. Wooden shutters hung broken from their hinges, doors stood ajar, and the faint scent of smoke and sickness mingled in the air. A cold breeze drifted down the main road, carrying with it the echo of something lost, laughter, maybe, or memory. It felt like walking through a ghost town. Itsuki pulled her cloak tighter around herself. Even with the faint lantern light, the place felt hollow, like the soul had been drained from it long ago. Yumi stood at the head of the group, her expression calm but her eyes flickering with unease. “W–We’ll, um… set up camp here for the night,” she said softly, her voice trembling just enough to show her nerves. “T–Tomorrow morning, we’ll… we’ll begin helping as soon as we can.” No one objected. They unpacked their supplies quietly, setting up tents near the village square where an old fountain lay cracked and dry. The air carried a faint chill that sank into their bones. Even Linda, usually bright and chatty, said little as she stirred a small pot over the fire. Kenichiro sat nearby sharpening his knife not out of need, but to keep his hands busy. Yumi moved between them, checking their setup, her steps small and cautious. When she finally sat down, she looked toward the distant houses swallowed in darkness and whispered, “Please let us be enough…” No one heard her. They slept beneath a restless moon, their dreams haunted by the quiet of a dying village. A cold, gray dawn crept over the horizon. Mist blanketed the ground, rolling through the narrow streets like a living thing. The first light of day broke through the haze in pale streaks, washing the ruined homes in a sickly silver glow. The village was alive but barely. Figures emerged slowly from the fog, moving with sluggish, uncertain steps. Men, women, and children wrapped in tattered blankets shuffled toward the clearing, drawn by the sight of the newcomers. The stench hit them first. Acrid, sour, and heavy the scent of sweat, decay, and unwashed bodies. It clung to their clothes, filled their lungs, and made the morning air thick enough to taste. Itsuki pressed a hand to her mouth, her heart pounding. The sight before her was worse than she’d imagined. Lines of villagers sat slumped along the road’s edge, their faces gaunt and pale, lips cracked and dry. Coughs echoed through the square wet, rattling sounds that made her chest ache just to hear. Some wore makeshift masks torn cloth tied around hollow cheeks but most didn’t bother. Their eyes, ringed with exhaustion and despair, looked up at the group with the faint glimmer of something fragile: hope. Aira swallowed hard. “They… they look half-dead,” she whispered, voice trembling. Her blue eyes darted from one suffering face to the next. Itsuki couldn’t even answer. Her stomach turned at the smell, at the quiet groans that filled the air. She wanted to run to the first villager she saw and start healing, to do something, but there were too many. Everywhere she looked, there was pain. A mother cradled her coughing child. An old man sat hunched over a bowl of water too dirty to drink. A boy stared blankly at the ground, his hands trembling uncontrollably. Itsuki’s throat tightened. For the first time since she’d joined this trial, she wasn’t sure she could handle it. She looked down at her hands, the same hands that had healed wounds and soothed pain in her childhood and they trembled. What if my healing isn’t enough? Aira placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, offering a small, reassuring smile despite her own unease. “Hey,” she said softly. “We’ll do what we can. That’s what Yumi said, right?” Itsuki nodded slowly, her chest still heavy. “Yeah… what we can.” Yumi stood in front of them, the fog curling around her like a veil. She looked out over the sick and broken village, her lips trembling, but her resolve clear. Her hands balled into fists at her sides. “L–Let’s get to work.” They had divided their roles. Yumi, Kenichiro, and Itsuki would focus on soothing the sick, easing pain, and stabilizing their energy. Aira would provide healing water for them to drink, while Linda would distribute her restorative meals to replenish strength. Yumi turned to Itsuki, her voice steadier now. “Itsuki, could you help organize them? Have the elderly and children go first… and anyone too weak to stand.” Itsuki nodded, clutching her staff tightly. “Yes, ma’am.” She stepped forward, raising her voice as best she could. “Everyone, please line up in single file! Children and elders first, we’ll help you one at a time!” It took a few minutes, but the villagers obeyed, shuffling into lines that wound through the square. The air was heavy with coughing and labored breathing. Even the sound of footsteps seemed fragile here. When the first villager approached, Itsuki’s heart clenched. An elderly woman leaned heavily on a crooked cane, her skin blotched with rashes that climbed up her arms and neck. Her eyes were red and fever-bright, her breaths shallow and uneven. Itsuki knelt before her, forcing her shaking hands to still. “It’s okay, ma’am,” she said softly. “I’m going to do everything I can to help you, alright?” The woman gave a small nod. “I’m… I’m not ready to leave yet,” she rasped, her voice full of stubborn will. “Still got a garden to tend. A granddaughter to see married.” Her determination made something tighten in Itsuki’s chest. “Then let’s make sure you do,” Itsuki whispered, placing her glowing palms gently over the woman’s hands. Light began to spread, faint at first, a soft, silvery glow that pulsed with the rhythm of Itsuki’s heartbeat. She focused, guiding her energy into the woman’s frail body. But almost immediately, the old woman’s back arched, her breath catching in her throat. Then she began coughing, violently. Blood splattered across the ground, bright red against the gray stone. “I-! I’m-!” The woman’s voice was lost in the spasms. “Stop, please stop moving!” Itsuki cried, panic lacing her tone. Her energy faltered, flickering wildly in her hands. “I don’t understand, I’m- I’m making it worse-” Her breathing quickened. Her power, once steady, began to spiral out of control. The aura around her palms pulsed erratically, shifting from yellow to black. Then a firm hand rested on her shoulder. “Itsuki,” came Yumi’s voice, calm and commanding. For once, she didn’t stutter. “Keep your heart steady,” she said. “Don’t fight the sickness. Listen to it. Let your energy flow with it.” Itsuki’s eyes widened. She had never heard Yumi sound so sure, so grounded. She swallowed, took a shaky breath, and tried again. This time, she reached not with force, but with understanding. Her energy flowed gentler now, soft waves instead of crashing tides. And for a moment, she felt something: a faint spark, a trembling light deep within the woman’s chest. The woman’s spirit. Itsuki latched onto it instinctively, letting her own spiritual essence intertwine with that flickering flame. The glow around her palms brightened pure, steady, alive. Aira stepped back, shielding her eyes. “Itsuki? she’s glowing.” Tears welled in Itsuki’s eyes as she whispered, voice barely audible, “Come on… please…” The energy surged, not violently, but harmoniously. The sickly color on the woman’s face began to fade, the tremors in her hands stilled. Her breathing steadied. Then, a soft gasp escaped her lips. She coughed once, wet and final then drew in a clean, effortless breath. “I… I can breathe,” she whispered, disbelief and relief blending into tears. Her clouded eyes shone clearer now, and color slowly returned to her cheeks. Itsuki’s strength gave out all at once. She fell back onto her heels, gasping, trembling, a few stray tears slipping down her face. When Itsuki collapsed, Yumi immediately rushed to her side. Her pulse was faint but steady, her breathing shallow but rhythmic. Exhaustion had overtaken her completely. Yumi’s brows knitted in confusion as she turned toward the elderly woman. “H–How do you feel?” she asked softly, her voice trembling from both worry and disbelief. The woman, now sitting upright, wiped the last trace of blood from her chin and smiled faintly. “I… I feel wonderful. The pain’s gone. The fever too. I can breathe again.” Yumi blinked, stunned. “You… you mean the sickness is gone?” The woman nodded, color returning to her cheeks. “Your girl cured me.” Yumi’s heart skipped. “C–Cured?” That wasn’t possible. No healer, not even the most powerful ones in the world had ever cured a plague. Healing energy could soothe pain, slow death, stabilize life… but not eradicate disease. She looked back at Itsuki, still unconscious, her hands faintly glowing with residual light. How…? Yumi turned to the others, her voice quiet but sure. “Itsuki’s healing… it’s not like ours. She didn’t just slow the infection. She removed it entirely.” Kenichiro blinked. “Removed it? That’s-”“-impossible,” Linda finished, eyes wide. Yumi shook her head slowly, her pink eyes glimmering in awe. “It shouldn’t be possible. Not even my healing can do that.” She looked back down at Itsuki, her expression softening. “That’s why she passed out. She didn’t just use her energy, she gave part of herself.” The realization hung in the air like a quiet miracle. Yumi stood and faced the others, her usual timidness replaced with calm authority. “Keep going,” she said. “Tend to as many as you can. I’ll stay with her.” No one questioned her. Hours passed. The sun began to set beyond the rooftops, washing the ruined village in gold. The smell of herbs, food, and faint magic filled the square as the group worked tirelessly. When Itsuki’s eyes finally fluttered open, the first thing she saw was Yumi’s face hovering above her, soft, relieved, and smiling gently. “I–Itsuki,” Yumi whispered, setting a cool cloth on her forehead. “How are you feeling?” Itsuki blinked groggily, then slowly sat up, the world spinning slightly around her. “How are… the villagers?” Yumi blinked in surprise. “You just woke up and that’s the first thing you ask?” Itsuki smiled faintly. “They matter more.” Yumi’s heart warmed. She brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, her voice soft. “They’re stable. We’ve been healing all day.” Itsuki’s smile faded slightly. “All day? Without me?” She looked down, her hands trembling faintly. “I feel so useless… I only managed to heal one person before- “”Itsuki,” Yumi interrupted gently, her tone firm for the first time. “You didn’t just heal her.” Itsuki looked up, confused. Yumi smiled, a mixture of awe and pride shining in her eyes. “You cured her.” Itsuki blinked. “W–What?” “The woman you healed,” Yumi continued, her voice trembling slightly with excitement, “the sickness is gone. Completely gone. In all of recorded history, no healer has ever been able to remove a plague with energy alone.” Itsuki stared at her, stunned. “That can’t be… I just- I only tried to stabilize her.” Yumi shook her head. “You did more than that. Your energy reached something deeper, not just her body, but her spirit. It’s like you burned the sickness out at its source.” Silence fell between them, broken only by the distant sound of villagers murmuring in gratitude outside the tent. Yumi leaned closer, her pink eyes glowing softly in the dim light. “That’s why you fainted. You poured everything into her and she lived because of it.” Itsuki’s throat tightened. She pressed a hand to her chest, overwhelmed. “I… I didn’t even realize.” Yumi smiled warmly. “It’s something to be proud of.” For a long moment, Itsuki didn’t speak. Then she whispered, “I want to keep going.” Yumi blinked. “What?” “I feel weak,” Itsuki admitted, her voice trembling but determined, “but if I can save people with this power… then I’ll heal as many as I can before we leave.” Yumi hesitated. “You’ll be draining yourself again.” “I don’t care,” Itsuki said softly, meeting her gaze. “If it means saving lives, I’ll do it.” Yumi’s expression softened into one of quiet pride. “We already talked about it,” she said gently. “You’ll focus on the ones closest to death. Aira, Linda, and Kenichiro will stabilize the others. We’ll work together.” She paused, brushing her hand over Itsuki’s hair in a rare gesture of affection. “Tomorrow’s our last day here. Then we’ll return to Radiance. But before we leave… you’ll give this village something to remember forever.” Itsuki nodded slowly, resolve hardening behind her tired eyes. “Then let’s make tomorrow count.” Yumi smiled, that small, shy smile that carried all the warmth in the world. “R–Right. Rest now, Itsuki. Tomorrow… we’ll save them all.” Morning came softly, cloaked in gray mist. The cold air carried the faint scent of smoke and earth as the group assembled in the center of the village square. The faint cries of children and the rustle of weary footsteps filled the silence. Five villagers lay in the makeshift tent before them, five souls hanging on the edge of life. Itsuki stood quietly, her silver staff clutched tightly in both hands. She could feel the faint tremor in her fingers not fear exactly, but the weight of what was ahead. Five lives. Five chances. She didn’t know if she could do it again but she had to try. Aira stepped beside her, worry flickering in her bright blue eyes. “Are you sure you’ll be alright, Itsuki?” she asked gently. Itsuki smiled faintly, though her voice shook. “I have to be.” Yumi stood a few feet away, her hands clasped before her heart. She didn’t say anything but the small nod she gave spoke volumes. The first patient was a mother, barely older than Yumi, lying weakly on a mat. Her body was trembling, skin pale beneath the angry rash that spread across her face and neck. Her two small children knelt beside her, eyes wide and tear-streaked. The sight made Itsuki’s chest ache. The little boy clung to his sister’s arm, whispering, “She doesn’t look like Mama anymore…” Itsuki knelt down beside the mother, her heart twisting. “She’s still your mama,” she said softly. “And we’re going to help her, okay?” The children nodded, their small hands clutching each other for courage. Itsuki turned her focus to the woman. The fever burned hot under her skin, the corruption of the plague thick and heavy in her aura. Itsuki could feel the sickness trying to push back against her, almost alive. Her hands began to glow, soft golden light spilling between her fingers. “Please… just hold on,” she whispered. She guided her energy carefully this time, slow, steady, patient. The woman’s body trembled as the light seeped into her, the tension beneath her skin rippling like water disturbed by a stone. Then, little by little, the angry red rashes began to fade. The swelling receded. The pale, cracked skin healed over with smooth color. And then, for the first time in months, the woman’s true face appeared. Her eyes fluttered open, no longer clouded, but clear and alive. “My… my children…” she breathed. The little girl gasped. “Mama!” The two children threw their arms around their mother, tears streaming down their faces as she weakly embraced them back. Itsuki’s vision blurred, but this time not from exhaustion, from tears. She smiled through them, whispering, “Welcome back.” Yumi placed a hand over her heart, her voice barely a whisper. “That’s… incredible.” Itsuki stood, her knees unsteady but her resolve stronger than ever. “Next,” she said quietly. The next patient was a man whose breathing was so shallow it seemed each inhale might be his last. His skin was paper-thin, his lips cracked and pale. Itsuki closed her eyes and let her hands hover above his chest. Her energy felt weaker this time, thinner, stretched but she refused to stop. She steadied her heart, remembering Yumi’s words from before: Don’t fight the sickness. Listen to it. So she did. And somewhere within the dull hum of pain and fever, she found that spark again, faint, fragile, but still alive. She reached for it, willed it to burn brighter, and poured her spirit into his. The man gasped sharply, his back arching then exhaled, the sound long and deep, as if releasing months of pain. The color slowly returned to his face. The tremors in his hands stopped. And Itsuki didn’t collapse this time. Her body trembled, her breath heavy, but she stayed standing. The villagers around her began whispering, awe, disbelief, and hope all mingling in their voices. “She cured him too…” “She’s like an angel…” “The light goddess must have sent her…” Itsuki didn’t hear them. She was already moving toward the next patient, the golden glow returning to her hands. Behind her, Aira exhaled in amazement. “She’s really doing it.” Yumi nodded, her pink eyes shimmering with pride. “She’s… rewriting what healing means.” The hours slipped by like fragments of light between clouds. Itsuki moved from one patient to the next, her steps slower each time, her breathing more uneven but her resolve never faltered. Every cure left her weaker, yet her eyes never lost their glow. By noon, she had healed four of the dying. Each time, the transformation was the same, trembling stillness giving way to breath, color returning to lifeless faces, and a ripple of hope spreading through the watching crowd. Word had already spread across the village: the girl with the silver staff was performing miracles. Even the birds seemed to sing again. Now, only one remained. The villagers parted quietly as a frail old man was carried forward on a wooden cot. His silver hair framed a face that had once been full of strength, now worn thin by pain. Whispers rippled through the crowd.  “It’s Elder Hidenori…” “The leader of the village…” “Please, goddess, let him live…” Yumi’s hands clasped in front of her chest, her voice barely above a whisper. “Itsuki… this is the last one. You don’t have to-” “I have to,” Itsuki interrupted gently, smiling through her exhaustion. “He’s their leader. If I can save him… I can give them hope.” Her legs trembled as she knelt beside him, her silver staff clattering softly to the ground. The old man looked up at her weakly. “You’ve… done so much already, child,” he rasped. “Don’t… push yourself for an old man like me.” Itsuki shook her head. “You’ve guided these people your whole life. Let me return the favor.” Her hands hovered above his chest, light beginning to flicker at her fingertips, not steady this time, but dim, pulsing like a fading candle. The effort sent shivers up her arms, but she focused, her heart quieting into rhythm. The glow spread slowly, illuminating the creases of the old man’s face. His breathing grew steadier, the sickly gray of his skin fading to a healthier hue. The infection, thick and dark in his veins dissolved like ink in water. Around them, the villagers began to cry softly, whispering prayers of gratitude. The light intensified and with it, Itsuki’s exhaustion deepened. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her vision blurring, but she kept going until the last trace of sickness was gone. Then, just as the glow faded, the old man stirred. His eyes opened fully, clear for the first time in weeks. He took a deep breath, strong, whole. “I… I can breathe again.” A collective gasp filled the air, followed by a wave of cheers, laughter, and tears. The villagers surged forward, falling to their knees in gratitude. “She cured the elder!” “She saved him!” “She saved us!” Itsuki tried to smile, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “I’m… glad,” she whispered. The world tilted slightly, the sounds around her growing distant. “I did it…” Her vision dimmed, first the faces, then the light. Yumi darted forward just in time to catch her as she fell. “Itsuki!” she cried, cradling her in her arms. Itsuki’s hand twitched weakly before falling still. Yumi pressed a trembling hand to her forehead, still warm, still alive. She exhaled shakily, tears slipping down her cheeks. “You really did it,” she whispered. All around them, villagers knelt in prayer, murmuring thanks to the healer who had given everything for their lives. Above them, the gray clouds parted, and sunlight broke through soft and golden, washing over the square like a blessing. By dusk, the square had fallen silent again, not with despair this time, but with peace. The rest of the group worked tirelessly long after Itsuki had collapsed. Yumi directed them gently, her quiet voice guiding Aira’s hands, Linda’s cooking, and Kenichiro’s measured energy. Together, they tended to every remaining villager they could reach. When the final patient was seen, the air in the village had changed. The heaviness was still there, the smell of sickness and smoke still clung to the streets but underneath it, something new stirred. Hope. Yumi watched as the villagers gathered in the square, standing on their own again. Many still trembled, but their eyes shone with gratitude. She spoke softly to the others. “The plague will fade within two weeks,” she said. The words settled over them like sunlight through clouds. The villagers wept openly, thanking them one by one. They brought gifts, flowers, handmade charms, tokens of gratitude that none of the healers could bring themselves to refuse. Before the group departed, the people began to chant softly, voices rising into the night: “Blessed be the golden light. Blessed be the goddess of mercy.” It took Yumi a moment to realize they were speaking of Itsuki. By then, Itsuki was still sleeping soundly in the carriage, her pale face peaceful beneath the glow of lantern light. Yumi gently brushed a strand of hair from her forehead and whispered, “Rest well, goddess.” They left the village under a blanket of stars. The wheels of the carriage creaked softly against the dirt road, the night quiet except for the steady rhythm of the horses and the whisper of wind through the trees. Yumi sat near the window, her pink eyes reflecting the moonlight. The others were asleep, Aira curled up against Linda’s shoulder, Kenichiro slumped forward with his arms crossed. Then, suddenly, Itsuki stirred. She gasped softly, her eyes fluttering open. “W–Where…?” Yumi turned quickly, relief washing over her face. “Itsuki! You’re awake.” Itsuki pushed herself upright, wincing as a dull ache spread through her arms. “What… happened? The villagers-” “They’re safe,” Yumi said gently, smiling. “You did it. We did it. The village will be healthy again within two weeks.” Itsuki’s eyes softened with relief. “I… I wish I could’ve said goodbye.” Yumi looked down for a moment, guilt flickering across her expression. “I’m sorry. We had to leave sooner than planned. There’s… something we need to be back for.” Itsuki tilted her head. “Something?” Yumi’s smile turned faintly playful, though her voice stayed quiet. “Let’s just say… someone always insists on a grand finale for the exams.” Itsuki blinked. “Someone?” Yumi giggled softly, a rare, gentle sound. “You’ll see soon enough. Just be ready. They’ll need healers on standby.” Itsuki relaxed back into her seat, her exhaustion still heavy but her curiosity piqued. “You make it sound like a storm’s waiting for us.” Yumi looked out the window again, watching the dark treetops pass beneath the moonlight. “In Radiance,” she murmured, “there always is.” The carriage rolled on through the night, wheels whispering against the road, stars gleaming above like quiet witnesses. Inside, the group slept under the faint glow of lantern light, their faces peaceful, their hearts full. They were returning not as students, but as healers who had touched the impossible.