The morning sun hit the orphanage courtyard, casting long shadows across the cobblestones. Narukaze stretched, his muscles aching from yesterday's scuffle. Bruises marked his arms, his legs, and even his pride, but he felt… alive. That tiny spark from yesterday hadn't gone out; if anything, it had grown.
A group of children from the orphanage approached him, sneering. "Hey, roof-boy! You're gonna fall and die one day, you know?" one laughed. Narukaze didn't reply. He tightened his fists and followed silently — something inside told him he wouldn't run this time.
They led him to the training yard near the edge of the city. Even inside the walls, the higher-ranked kids liked testing the weaker ones. The courtyard wasn't dangerous, but it was a place where the weak got humiliated, where Narukaze often wished he could disappear.
"Let's see how strong you really are," one of the taller boys said, smirking. He lunged forward with a wild swing, clearly overconfident. Narukaze barely dodged, stumbling backward. His heart pounded, every bruise screaming, but he didn't stop.
Minutes felt like hours as he dodged and blocked with shaky movements. Every strike, every stumble, taught him something — not strength, not skill, but awareness. He was slow, weak, and clumsy, yet for the first time, he refused to let fear control him.
When the tall boy finally gave up, panting and frustrated, Narukaze collapsed to the ground. Covered in sweat and dirt, he laughed quietly to himself. It was small. It was nothing in the eyes of anyone else. But for him, it felt like a victory.
Looking past the city walls toward the ruined land beyond, Narukaze felt the pull again. That wasteland was dangerous, deadly, and forbidden. Monsters had torn through it, leaving ash and silence. One day, he knew he would have to face it. And when that day came, he wouldn't be the weak orphan he once was.
For now, he stood up, brushed off the dirt, and smiled. Step by step, he was moving forward.