CHAPTER 20

                                    

                                          
THE SHIBUYA INCIDENT PART 8
"Mom, I want to learn your cursed technique."
Your mother spat out the water she was drinking, a spray of droplets catching the light as they flew across the room. Unfortunately, your father was standing right in the line of fire, becoming an unintended victim. He wiped his face with a resigned sigh, but you were too focused to notice.
"Are you sure about this?"
Your mother gazed at you, taking in your eager expression. The light in your eyes, the way your lips curled into an excited smile, made it difficult for her to refuse. She sighed, a long breath that seemed to carry the weight of generations.
"Alright..." she finally conceded, the word drawn out as if it was pried from her reluctantly. You erupted into cheers, your voice bouncing off the walls.
You exchanged a high-five with your father, who shook his head but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Together, the three of you walked outside, the warm sunlight spilling over you as you stepped into the garden. The scent of fresh earth and blooming flowers filled the air, a sharp contrast to the tension hanging between you.
"To manifest the technique," your mother began, her voice calm yet serious, "you need to clear your mind completely and focus on your intent. Any distraction can cause time to distort, potentially merging alternative realities with our own. Be very careful." She ended her instruction with a soft smile, as if she hadn't just described something dangerous and complex.
"Got it—don’t fuck up," you replied with a wry grin.
"[F/N]!" your dad scolded, his voice sharp, but your mother hushed him with a gentle wave of her hand. She turned her attention back to you, her gaze intense but filled with encouragement.
You lowered yourself to the ground, crossing your legs and entwining your fingers in your lap. The world around you seemed to quiet as you closed your eyes, your body gradually relaxing. The rustling leaves and distant chirping birds faded into the background, replaced by the rhythmic beat of your own heart.
"If an image starts to appear in your mind—" your mother began.
"Like a really old stopwatch?" you interrupted, your voice curious.
A stunned silence followed. Your mother's breath hitched, her eyes wide in disbelief. It had taken less than a minute, but you had already begun to manifest the power of her ancestors. Her chest tightened with a mix of pride and apprehension.
"That's right," she whispered, the words barely escaping her lips. "You can use my family's technique."
Slowly, you opened your eyes and stretched your arm toward a flower beside you. The flower, once vibrant, was now wilted, its petals darkened and curled at the edges, life slipping away. Above your hand, a stopwatch materialized, its face old and worn, yet it ticked with an almost otherworldly precision. A soft glow began to emanate from your palm, casting a gentle light over the dying flower.
Your father watched, awe-struck, as the flower began to revive, its petals unfurling, color flooding back into them, the once drooping stem standing tall again. Time had reversed itself, the decay undone.
"Is that how you do it?" you asked, glancing at your mother. She nodded slowly, her eyes bright with pride, a small but genuine smile on her lips.
"Yes," she replied, her voice thick with emotion. "Exactly like that. Now, let's see how far you can push the technique."
---------------------------------------------------
"Nanami-san?" 
Your voice cut through the tense atmosphere, pulling Nanami’s attention away from the fierce battle unfolding between Mahito and Yuji. His sharp eyes softened slightly as they shifted to meet yours, noticing the determined expression on your face.