A cold, gray dawn settled over the small village, where worn cobblestone streets and dilapidated houses bore silent testimony to unrelenting hardship. Pale sunlight filtered through a haze of fog, revealing hollow-eyed villagers who moved like ghosts. A foul stench lingered in the air, an acrid, sour odor that clung to clothing and hair, a reminder of the sickness that had ravaged the community. As Yumi’s group reached the main square, the scene that greeted them was bleak. Lines of people, bundled in tattered blankets, stretched along the edges of the clearing. Most wore makeshift masks that did little to hide sunken cheeks and trembling bodies. Their eyes, ringed with exhaustion, shone with equal parts fear and desperate hope. “They look half-dead,” Aira whispered, her water-blue eyes scanning the crowd. “Not half,” Yumi corrected in a hushed tone, “some might already be past that threshold. They’re just holding on by a thread.” Itsuki swallowed, heart twisting at the sight. Everywhere she looked were weary faces, cracked lips, and raspy coughs. She felt an overwhelming urge to help, but the scale of the suffering made her legs tremble. She couldn’t help but wonder if her healing would be enough. Yumi clapped her hands, the sound hollow in the damp air. “We’ll set up here in the center. Aira, Itsuki, you’ll handle direct healing. Linda, Kenichiro, distribute supplies and help maintain order. I’ll speak with the village elder.” They quickly laid out blankets on muddy ground to form a makeshift infirmary. Within minutes, an unsteady line of sick villagers shuffled forward, many supported by relatives or neighbors. Their muffled coughs and labored breaths echoed painfully through the still morning. A gaunt, middle-aged woman was the first to approach. Rashes covered her arms, and her eyes were bloodshot with fever. Aira went to work, using her water-based healing to alleviate pain and ease breathing. The woman’s trembling subsided a bit, but her cough persisted, raw and hacking. Exhaling, Aira turned to Itsuki. “Try finishing the healing,” she said gently, stepping aside. Itsuki knelt, pressing glowing palms against the woman’s chest, just as she had done countless times before. At first, the faint golden light spread under her hands… but then the woman lurched into a violent fit of coughing. Blood spattered onto the ground, and Itsuki froze. “It’s not working,” she whispered, eyes stinging. She poured more magic into the woman’s body, but the coughs kept tearing through her. The woman’s breathing grew ragged, as if she were teetering on the edge of death. A cold dread settled in Itsuki’s stomach. Don’t die. Please don’t die. She forced her magic deeper, feeling for the core of the sickness, but it was like a knot she couldn’t loosen. The woman’s eyelids fluttered; she sagged, face draining of color. Tears pricked at Itsuki’s eyes. She could feel the sweat beading on her temples. I can’t fail her, she pleaded silently. Aware of Aira’s worried gaze, Itsuki shut out everything, sounds of coughing, the smell of decay, and let her empathy guide her. She imagined what this woman must be feeling: the pain, the helplessness, the hope for a cure. All at once, Itsuki sensed a spark, an echo of the patient’s spirit calling out. She latched onto it, letting her own magic mingle with that desperate will to live. The golden aura around her palms flared brilliantly, so bright Aira had to step back. A tear slipped down Itsuki’s cheek. Come on… come on. In a sudden rush, the knot of sickness unwound like a snapped thread, releasing a wave of relief throughout the woman’s body. She coughed once more, wet and final, then inhaled clean air as though she’d just surfaced from drowning. “I- I can breathe!” the woman rasped, voice heavy with disbelief. Already, her eyes looked clearer, her trembling subsiding into mere shivers. Itsuki fell onto her heels, breath hitching in relief. She blinked away tears. “That’s… new.” She turned to Aira, voice quivering. “I’ve never healed anyone this completely before.” Aira’s shock melted into a cautious smile. “You just did. And you saved her.” The woman’s family crowded around, all talking at once, voices choked with gratitude. Itsuki managed a wobbly smile, but her heart pounded, this wasn’t just normal healing. She’d reached deeper than ever before. Word spread like wildfire. People who had once dragged themselves to the line now stumbled forward, buoyed by a glimmer of hope that Itsuki could do more than relieve symptoms, that maybe she could cure. A young boy was next, feverish and barely conscious, wheezing through each breath. Itsuki approached him hesitantly, still rattled by her near-failure. You can do this, she reassured herself. She pressed her hands lightly against his chest, recalling that inner spark of empathy. At first, nothing happened. The boy’s breathing stayed shallow, his face clammy. Panic tightened Itsuki’s throat, and her eyes brimmed with tears again. Please work. Then, it happened once more, a faint resonation of the child’s spirit reached hers. She poured her magic into that thread, letting compassion drive the energy. The golden glow flared, and the boy gasped, color rushing back to his cheeks. Within moments, he opened his eyes, blinking in surprise as if awakened from a nightmare. “Mom…?” he croaked, voice already stronger. His mother fell to her knees, hugging him fiercely, tears streaming down her face. Itsuki stared at her hands. Twice. She had completely eradicated the illness twice now. A part of her wanted to jump for joy. But then she noticed the deep ache settling in her bones, an exhaustion that clung to her spirit. She swallowed hard. This is taking more out of me than normal healing. Morning stretched into midday. More patients lined up, elderly, children, entire families plagued by the same dreadful sickness. Aira provided initial healing, easing pain and stabilizing them. When that wasn’t enough, Itsuki followed, pushing her empathic magic to its limits. Each time she succeeded, the crowd around them erupted in murmurs of wonder and relief. But as the sun climbed higher, lines of gaunt faces seemed endless, weaving around the edge of the square. Yumi returned from meeting the village elder, just in time to see Itsuki cure a bedridden woman. The woman stood moments later, removing her mask with shaking hands, tears of joy spilling down her cheeks. “It’s gone,” she whispered, voice cracking. “The sickness… it’s gone!” Yumi’s wide eyes locked onto Itsuki, her voice hushed. “You’re curing them,” she said in astonishment. “Not just healing, completely curing. That’s a feat I’ve never even heard of.” Itsuki’s shoulders sagged from weariness, sweat dampening her brow. “I-I don’t know how,” she admitted, face pale. “It just… happens. But…” She glanced at the seemingly unending queue, heart sinking. Already, her head felt light, her spiritual energy drained. I can’t keep this up for the whole village. Yumi placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “We’ll do what we can, but don’t push yourself to collapse. Even if you can’t cure everyone today, you’ve already saved so many.” Nodding, Itsuki forced a tight smile and turned to the next patient. Another success, another wave of relieved cries. But with each cure, her body’s strain intensified. Late afternoon sunlight filtered through the ragged rooftops, painting the square in dull gold. Aira rinsed her face in a basin, occasionally glancing worriedly at Itsuki. The young healer continued valiantly: a father whose lungs rattled ominously; a frail girl who couldn’t even sit upright. Each time, Itsuki paused on the brink of failure, panic momentarily gripping her, before that surge of empathy returned and the illness unraveled. Each time, the relief in the patient’s eyes spurred her on, but she felt herself unraveling with them. “Enough,” Aira whispered when the line finally dwindled. “You can’t go on like this.” Itsuki nodded weakly, acknowledging the pounding in her skull and the trembling in her limbs. The last patient for the day, a teenage boy, limped away, breathing normally for the first time in weeks. Yumi gathered the group, Aira, Linda, Kenichiro, around Itsuki, supporting her by the arm. “Today, we witnessed something extraordinary,” she said, voice rich with admiration. “Itsuki, you accomplished more than any healer I’ve known could do in a lifetime.” Flushing, Itsuki lowered her gaze. “I wish… I could have kept going,” she murmured, her voice thick with fatigue. “So many still need help, and I don’t have enough energy left.” Yumi shook her head. “You gave them hope. That’s more than enough for now. We’ll organize a schedule so you can rest, and Aira can keep supporting you.” As dusk settled, the flicker of lanterns lit the square. Villagers wandered out of their homes, coughing less, voices carrying faintly renewed spirit. People who had been bedridden only hours before now ventured to the streets, gingerly testing their reclaimed health. Itsuki stood apart from the group for a moment, staring at the restored faces and the silhouettes of families embracing. Even through her exhaustion, a profound sense of purpose filled her chest. She might not be able to save everyone today, but she had done the impossible, and tomorrow, she would strive to do it again. She pressed a hand over her heart, the faint residue of that empathic magic still warm in her veins. This is what I’m meant to do… Yumi’s voice cut through the low hum of the crowd. “Alright, everyone. We’ve worked miracles today, but we need to rest if we’re to keep going. Let’s find a place to sleep.” As they moved to make camp, Itsuki turned to catch one last glimpse of the quiet, lantern-lit streets. The sense of desperation no longer felt quite so overpowering. Perhaps it was still there, but overshadowed now by glimpses of hope. Itsuki smiled faintly, allowing her weary limbs to carry her to the makeshift tents. For the first time in a long while, she felt she’d made a genuine difference. Yet she knew the cost: her energy was not limitless, and hundreds more still needed her. I’ll do whatever it takes, no matter how hard, she vowed silently. They deserve a chance.