The morning mist clung to the rice paddies as Ren made his way through the fields. His bare feet sank into the soft earth, and the cool air brushed against his dark hair. He reached the edge of the field and looked out over the small village nestled in the valley. Smoke curled from chimneys, and the sound of distant chatter drifted on the breeze. It was a peaceful scene, but Ren felt no peace. His blue eyes, usually so bright, were clouded with a coldness that seemed out of place in his youthful face.
Ren was an anomaly in his village. While most young men dreamed of attending the prestigious Beast Academy, he was resigned to a life of farming. His snake, Shiro, was small and weak, a stark contrast to the powerful beasts that others wielded. It was a source of shame, a constant reminder of his failure to live up to his family's legacy. He glanced down at his left hand, where the red snake symbol pulsed faintly. It was a reminder of his family's legacy, a legacy he felt he was failing to uphold. Ren sighed and turned back to the fields. He had work to do, and the weight of his family's expectations pressed down on him.
He thought of the other boys his age, already training with their fearsome beasts, preparing for the Academy's entrance exams. Ren had no such prospects. Shiro, his white snake, was barely longer than his arm, and its venom was as weak as water. It was a cruel twist of fate, a joke played by the gods. He was strong, agile, a natural leader – but without a powerful beast, he was nothing.
Ren's village was nestled in a valley between two mountain ranges. The land was fertile, perfect for growing rice, but it was also a place of danger. Wild beasts roamed the forests and mountains, and only skilled beast tamers could keep them at bay. Ren's father had been one such tamer, a respected man in the village. But he was gone now, killed by a rogue beast when Ren was just a boy. The memory still burned in Ren's mind, a constant reminder of his own powerlessness.
He reached the center of the field and knelt beside a small patch of rice shoots. Shiro was curled up in a basket nearby, its white scales shimmering in the morning light. Ren reached out and gently stroked its head. "We'll find a way," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "We have to." He didn't know how, but he refused to give up. There was a fire in his belly, a burning desire to prove himself, to show the world that he was more than just a farmer's son with a weak snake.