The first day with Marian Cross felt more like a nightmare than a new beginning.

Makoto followed the red-haired man through the dense forest, his legs aching and his bag digging into his shoulder. Cross didn't seem to notice—or care—about Makoto's exhaustion, moving at a brisk pace and occasionally taking swigs from the flask he carried.

"Keep up, kid," Cross said without looking back. "If you can't handle a walk, you've got no business being an Exorcist."

Makoto scowled, his fists clenching. He wasn't sure if he hated Cross's smug attitude or his apparent lack of empathy more. "You don't have to be so harsh," he muttered under his breath.

Cross stopped abruptly, turning to face Makoto with a raised eyebrow. "Harsh? You think I'm harsh now? You haven't seen anything yet."

Makoto opened his mouth to argue, but Cross cut him off, his tone sharper. "The Akuma don't care if you're tired or scared. They'll kill you without a second thought. If you want to survive, you'll have to toughen up."

Makoto swallowed hard, his anger deflating. Cross's words stung, but he couldn't deny their truth. He nodded reluctantly and continued walking.

They arrived at a clearing just before sunset. The space was wide and open, the grass flattened as though someone—or something—had been here before. Cross dropped his satchel and turned to Makoto, gesturing for him to do the same.

"First rule of being an Exorcist," Cross said, folding his arms. "Know your weapon."

Makoto frowned, confused. "I already know my weapon—it's my Innocence."

Cross smirked. "You don't know it well enough. Show me."

Makoto hesitated, then held out his hands. The familiar green glow flickered to life, and the wheel-like shape of his Innocence materialized, spinning slowly in the air.

"Not bad," Cross said, circling Makoto like a predator sizing up its prey. "But that's just its basic form. Innocence isn't some tool you wave around blindly—it's a part of you. Until you understand that, you're useless in a real fight."

Makoto bit his lip, his hands trembling slightly as he tried to maintain control of the spinning wheel. "How do I... understand it?"

"That's what we're here to figure out," Cross said. He pointed to a tree on the far side of the clearing. "See that?"

Makoto nodded.

"Hit it," Cross ordered.

Makoto frowned, unsure of what he meant. "You want me to throw it?"

"Did I stutter?" Cross shot back. "Throw it. Now."

Makoto sighed, then focused on the wheel. He willed it forward, and it spun faster, shooting toward the tree with surprising speed. But just before it hit, the wheel veered off course, missing the target entirely and slicing into the dirt instead.

Cross snorted, shaking his head. "Pathetic. That's what happens when you fight without focus."

"I'm trying!" Makoto snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface. "This isn't exactly easy!"

"Of course it's not easy," Cross said, his tone cold. "If it were easy, anyone could do it. Try again."

Makoto gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay calm. He recalled the faces of Mana, Lily, and the others—his reason for continuing. He raised his hand, the wheel glowing brighter as he sent it flying toward the tree once more.

This time, it hit its mark, slicing cleanly through the trunk.

Cross's smirk returned. "Better. But don't get cocky—it's still sloppy."

Makoto sighed, his shoulders slumping. "What do you expect from me? I don't even know what this thing really is."

Cross's expression turned serious, his smirk fading. "Your Innocence isn't just a weapon, kid. It's a part of your soul. Until you understand that, you'll never master it."

Makoto stared at him, his heart pounding. A part of his soul? He didn't fully understand what Cross meant, but the weight of those words settled heavily on his mind.

That night, Cross made camp at the edge of the clearing, lighting a small fire with a flick of his fingers. Makoto sat on the other side, his arms wrapped around his knees as he stared into the flames.

Cross didn't say much as he prepared a simple meal—bread, dried meat, and a flask of water he begrudgingly shared with Makoto. The silence between them was heavy, broken only by the crackling of the fire.

Finally, Makoto spoke. "Do you really think I can do this?"

Cross glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "What? Fight Akuma? Master your Innocence? Survive?"

Makoto nodded, his gaze fixed on the fire. "All of it. I... I'm not strong like Mana was. Or brave like Lily. I'm just me."

Cross leaned back against a tree, taking a long drink from his flask. "You're right—you're not like them. And you never will be."

Makoto flinched, his chest tightening.

"But that's not a bad thing," Cross continued, his tone softer than before. "You're not them, and you shouldn't try to be. You've got your own strengths, kid. You just don't know what they are yet."

Makoto looked at him, his eyes wide with surprise. "You really think I have strengths?"

Cross smirked, his sharp teeth glinting in the firelight. "I wouldn't waste my time on you if I didn't. Now get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be even harder."

Makoto nodded slowly, his heart feeling a little lighter. He curled up near the fire, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to him.

That night, Makoto dreamed.

He was back at the circus, standing in the center of the big top. The tent was dark, the seats empty, and the air thick with an eerie stillness. In the center of the ring stood Mana, his patched coat fluttering in an invisible breeze.

"Makoto," Mana said, his voice soft but clear. "Why are you hesitating?"

Makoto took a step forward, his chest tightening. "I'm scared," he admitted. "I don't know if I can do this without you."

Mana's gaze softened, but there was a sadness in his eyes. "You don't have to do it alone. Your friends may be gone, but their hope lives on in you."

Makoto blinked, tears streaming down his face. "I miss you."

"I know," Mana said, stepping closer. He reached out, placing a hand on Makoto's shoulder. "But you have to keep moving forward. No matter how hard it gets."

Makoto nodded, his voice trembling. "I'll try."

The dream faded, and Makoto woke with a start, the faint glow of his cursed eye illuminating the dark clearing. He sat up, his breath shaky but determined.

"I'll keep going," he whispered. "For all of you."

To Be Continued...