Duaka sat on the couch of his derelict home as he fed the pigeons. Dozens of them flew in through the balcony.
He liked their company, and they seemed to like his. He greeted them by their names as they gathered around him. To his cousins and friends, they all looked the same.
The morning breeze drifted in through the window as his cousin Drakon entered through it, wearing his Yotogi outfit and mask and carrying a bag of groceries.
"If you don't like the door, you can come in through the balcony like the pigeons do," Duaka remarked.
"The roofs are my roads, cuz'. I am yet to grow wings." Drakon laughed, "Maybe you could teach me a flying waza. After all, you know every waza there is."
"You cheeky bastard," Duaka chuckled, "You know I couldn't perform a waza to save my life. Besides, there is no such thing as a flying waza."
Drakon dropped the bag of groceries on the wooden table with a heavy thud. "A man can dream. Anyway, I brought more than just bread. I got some real protein today."
Duaka got up and rushed to the table, grabbing a box of chicken breast, "Wow, I didn't know Yotogi got paid. How were you able to afford this?"
"Only the temple donations." Drakon hesitated, "I saw your dad at the harbor today, he asked about you and told me to bring you the chicken."
"What? Why the hell would he do that?" Duaka snapped, "He barely has enough to get by and he's splurging it all on chicken he's not even gonna eat?"
"You know he wouldn't let me refuse," Drakon unpacked the rest of the groceries, "It was a whole month of rations."
"He's an idiot," Duaka muttered, staring at the raw chicken like it was a corpse. "A proud, starving idiot."
"Yeah?" Drakon shrugged. "Then what does that make you? You're just going to sit here getting high and jacking off?"
"Shut up."
"No, really. I want to know," Drakon pressed, his voice firm. "He didn't trade those rations so you could starve out of spite, you know? Do something with your life."
"Like what?" Duaka scoffed at the attempt.
"Fucked if I know! You're older than me. A grown-ass man," Drakon shouted, "Become a plumber, I don't know."
"I'm barely eighteen." Duaka kept going through the groceries, with his head down.
"It's been two years... You used to have a plan," Drakon said more quietly after a pause, stepping closer. "Back when she was still—"
"Don't."
The room went silent.
Duaka shivered, the pigeons grew quieter. His voice came out as a low, ragged whisper.
"...Falkor."
Drakon leaned back slightly, a sharp glint in his eyes, "There it is."
"Everyone thinks it's nothing but a fairy tale, Drakon," Duaka said, looking at him from the corner of his eye, "No one believes it exists."
"It existed for her," Drakon countered sharply, "She witnessed it. Walked those forests, meditated in those temples."
Duaka listened and stared at the wall.
"I don't even know where it is... No one does," Duaka paused, "Only she did."
"So? Find it."
"How? I have no power, no strength." Duaka lamented, "And most importantly, I'm completely broke. I wouldn't make it five steps past the gates."
"You're Her son. Figure it out."
"You know that being a Tokken is the only thing that pays these days. If only I had finished my training back then I-"
"Well, what the hell are you waiting for?" Drakon shouted, "Hopefully that's enough chicken to carry you through the Testing Grounds."
Duaka looked up, his grip tightening on the table, "The Testing Grounds? Drakon, I'm a dropout. The Academy won't take me back."
"They have little say in the matter, you know more than half the idiots in there. And anyone can challenge for the rank. You taught me that."
Duaka scoffed at the idea.
"Two weeks," Drakon said, knocking on the table with a ration, "That's how long you'd have to get your shit together. Two weeks to the Testing Grounds."
Duaka looked at the ration Drakon had slammed on the table.
"One of these keeps you fed for three days, a Tokken can make fifty times that from a single mission," Drakon pointed at the ration on the table, "I've met people who say they can give you passage to Falkor for five hundred. Ten lousy missions."
Duaka's eyes glimmered, but then he looked down in silence.
"Whatever, suit yourself. I am going for a run," Drakon said as he climbed out the window. "Five steps past the gate... You wouldn't make it five steps past the balcony."
"You don't even need five steps. It only takes one step... Isn't that what Falkor's religion was all about?" Drakon looked at Duaka from the nearby roof, "We could race through the east block. To where you taught me how to climb."
Duaka kept going through the groceries, soaking in Drakon's words.
"Or keep sitting around, feeding pigeons for the rest of your life."
Drakon looked at Duaka's stomach.
"Getting fat like a duck for Christmas."
Duaka tightened his jaw.
"...Fuck you."
Duaka grabbed his black jacket.
And climbed out of the window.