"Heesung, I swear I've got it this time," I said, bracing myself for another attempt at a cartwheel.

"You said that last time," Heesung replied, crossing his arms as he watched me fall flat on my face—for the seventh time. "Maybe you should stop before you break your nose. Again."

"I'm fine," I muttered, brushing dirt off my face. "I'll get it."

Our backyard was our sanctuary. After school, we'd spend hours out here, talking, playing, or just being together. Heesung was my twin, my best friend, and my constant companion. We did everything together, and I planned to keep it that way.

Life at home was perfect—or close enough. Our dad, Itzuki Tsukumo, was the world's No. 1 ranked hero, a living legend. Mom was just as incredible, though in a quieter way. She was kind, beautiful, and selfless—the type of person strangers stopped on the street to admire. People always told her she should be a model, but she'd laugh it off, saying her family was all she needed.

I looked like Mom—well, almost. She had striking white hair and blue eyes, but my hair was jet black, and my eyes were an even darker shade. Dad said his eyes were green before his awakening, and Mom's had turned blue after hers, but neither of them could explain why I looked so... ordinary.

And maybe that was the problem.

I was ten years old and still hadn't awakened. Heesung had awakened when he was seven after falling out of a tree and breaking his arm. His vibrant green eyes and the spark of green fire in his palm marked him as something special. Everyone said my turn would come, but I wasn't so sure.

If I didn't awaken, what would that mean for me? For my family? I couldn't stand the thought of being the powerless daughter of the strongest hero in the world.

"Hey," Heesung said, breaking the silence. "Don't worry about it. You'll awaken soon. Maybe when you least expect it."

"Maybe," I said, though the doubt lingered.

I glanced up at the sky, imagining the beam of light from the explosion that had shattered the atmosphere years before I was born. That same light had given people like my parents their powers. Maybe I wasn't like them. Maybe I wasn't meant to be.

But then, why did I feel this pull—this sense that something inside me was waiting, just beneath the surface?