Makoto woke to the sound of chirping birds and the soft rustle of wind through the inn's open window. He stretched, wincing as the aches and bruises from last night's battle made themselves known. Timcampy was perched on the windowsill, its wings folded neatly as it stared out at the bustling street below.
"Good morning, Timcampy," Makoto said with a small smile. He reached out to scratch the golem's smooth surface, and it chirped softly in response.
As he dressed and gathered his things, Makoto felt a strange sense of calm. For once, the air didn't feel heavy with the threat of Akuma, and the inn's quiet atmosphere was almost comforting.
Still, something felt... off.
Makoto found Cross downstairs in the inn's small dining area, sipping a cup of coffee with an unusual seriousness about him. He wasn't lounging or grinning, and his ever-present cigarette was missing. Instead, he stared into his cup, his expression distant.
"Master?" Makoto asked hesitantly, sliding into the seat across from him. "Is something wrong?"
Cross glanced up, his sharp eyes meeting Makoto's. For a moment, he didn't say anything, and the silence felt heavier than any Akuma fight Makoto had faced.
"We're done here," Cross said finally, setting his cup down. "You're heading to the Black Order."
Makoto blinked, the words taking a moment to register. "What? Wait, you mean—"
"I'm not coming with you," Cross interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. "This is where we part ways."
Makoto's chest tightened. "But... why? I'm not ready yet!"
Cross leaned back in his chair, his smirk returning, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "If you're waiting to feel ready, you'll be waiting forever. You've learned everything you need to survive. The rest is up to you."
The streets outside the inn were alive with activity, but Makoto barely noticed as he followed Cross toward the edge of town. His mind raced with questions, doubts, and a growing sense of dread.
"Master," Makoto said finally, breaking the silence. "Why now? I mean... I know I've gotten stronger, but—"
"You're stronger than you think," Cross said, cutting him off. "You've got more fight in you than half the Exorcists I've met. But you're not going to grow if you keep relying on me to clean up your messes."
Makoto frowned. "I don't rely on you that much..."
Cross raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Kid, you've got good instincts and stupid luck. But if you don't start trusting yourself, you're going to get yourself killed."
Makoto looked down at the ground, his cursed eye faintly glowing beneath his bangs. "I just... I don't want to mess up."
"You will," Cross said bluntly. "And that's fine. What matters is how you handle it."
Makoto nodded slowly, though the knot in his chest didn't loosen. "What about you? Where are you going?"
Cross smirked, pulling out a fresh cigarette. "Got some loose ends to tie up. Don't worry about me."
Makoto wasn't sure whether to feel reassured or more concerned.
When they reached the outskirts of town, Cross stopped and turned to face Makoto. Timcampy hovered between them, its small body glowing faintly in the afternoon light.
"Take care of the golem," Cross said, nodding toward Timcampy. "He'll guide you to the Black Order—and keep an eye on you."
Makoto blinked, startled. "Wait, Timcampy's staying with me?"
Cross nodded. "He's more useful to you than he is to me right now. Besides, he likes you for some reason."
Timcampy chirped, landing on Makoto's shoulder and nuzzling against his cheek. Makoto smiled, though the weight of the moment made it bittersweet.
"Thank you, Master," Makoto said quietly, bowing his head. "For everything."
Cross chuckled, ruffling Makoto's hair in an uncharacteristic show of affection. "Don't get sentimental on me, kid. You've got work to do."
Before turning to leave, Cross reached into his coat and pulled out a small, leather-bound notebook. He handed it to Makoto, his expression serious.
"Keep this," he said. "It's got notes on Akuma, Innocence, and the Earl. Might come in handy."
Makoto took the notebook, his fingers brushing against the worn leather. "Master, I—"
"Don't," Cross interrupted, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Just keep moving forward. That's all you need to do."
Makoto nodded, clutching the notebook tightly. "I won't let you down."
Cross turned, his coat billowing behind him as he walked away. Makoto watched him go, the ache in his chest growing with each step.
"Goodbye, Master," Makoto whispered.
With Timcampy on his shoulder and the notebook in his bag, Makoto began walking down the path that would lead him to the Black Order. The road stretched out before him, winding through rolling hills and dense forests.
As he walked, his thoughts swirled with memories of his time with Cross—the training, the lessons, the chaos. Despite his gruff demeanor, Cross had taught Makoto more than he'd ever expected, and for that, he was grateful.
Timcampy chirped, drawing Makoto out of his thoughts. He smiled, scratching the golem's head. "Guess it's just us now, huh?"
The golem chirped again, its wings fluttering in agreement.
Makoto took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The path ahead was uncertain, but he knew one thing for sure: he wouldn't stop moving forward.
To Be Continued...