War, an ancient plague upon humanity, grew only bloodier when powers awakened within man. Then, one man rose, surging forth to separate the warring nations like quarrelsome toddlers. He laid down a fragile peace, yet grudges festered within the newly formed nations. When he finally died, his peace withered with him.
My nation fell first. That day, my soul was forever tainted by what I witnessed.
It's only a matter of time before the curse of war consumes the world again. I won't let it. I have a family to protect, and they will surely outlive me; my solution to war must endure beyond me, too. It's a colossal task, but, hey, someone has to do it.
The story begins with Moto in a sparring match. His opponent is quick. Moto throws a smoke bomb, a dense cloud blooming between them, and leaps into its cover. Boos erupt from his classmates , but one voice cuts through the jeers – his friend, Sheu, whose nervous cheer is barely audible. Moto grins at her, then launches back into the swirling haze, a quick kick connecting squarely with his dazed opponent's face.
The opponent thinks: "I'm not losing to powers this gross. But his smoke... at least it's good cover."
As Moto closes in, a low hum fills the air, growing into a sharp buzz – then, nothing. Moto's world goes black. He wakes to the roar of students cheering for the new kid, the teacher confirming the victory. Moto slams his fist into the ground.
"At this rate... No. Stay positive," he mutters, forcing himself up to shake his opponent's hand.
Next up is Sheu. Her opponent, Drake, is already on the field. He stomps, and the ground beneath him vibrates, throwing Sheu off balance.
"I should be in a higher-ranking school," Drake boasts.
Sheu, too nervous to use her wind powers against her own cousin, falters and loses the match. Afterward, Moto walks her home.
"I didn't think you'd lose," Sheu admits.
"Me neither," Moto replies, rubbing his arm. "Something about his punch was weird. Felt like lightning struck me".
Sheu scoffs. "Excuses".
"You're one to talk," Moto retorts with a playful jab.
Sheu's father greets them at the door, warmth in his eyes as he offers Moto shelter for the night. Moto politely declines.
"Luxuries are distractions," Moto states.
"Ah, let me guess," her father chuckles, "more quotes from your brother?"
Moto proudly nods.
"Well, I figured as much. Here's your supper, then," he says, handing Moto a wrapped meal.
Moto thanks him and slips into a nearby alley. It's surprisingly neat and quiet. He exhales a huge cloud of smoke, and rats and insects scurry from their hiding places, disturbed by the sudden disruption. He begins his nightly training session. From her window above, Sheu watches him. Later, he leaps onto the rooftop, his pillow tucked under his arm, and lies down, gazing at the stars.
"I lost today," he whispers to the night sky. "But don't worry, Amber. I'll get stronger. Strong enough to protect you from what's coming".
The next day at school, Moto spots the new kid. He leans into Sheu. "That guy never talks to anyone," he observes. Despite Sheu's quiet discouragement, Moto approaches Najo, extending his arm for an arm wrestle. Najo, visibly annoyed, turns to walk away. But then he spots Sheu behind Moto and stiffens, quickening his pace. Moto notices, a grin spreading across his face as he continues to pester Najo for days.
"You got a lucky shot on me," Moto insists. "But there's no way you're stronger".
Eventually, Najo caves and agrees to arm wrestle. Just as Moto is about to pin him, Najo unleashes a crackle of lightning, catching Moto off guard and winning the match instantly. People quickly notice. Rumors spread like wildfire: there's a lightning user in their low-level school. Lightning users are inherently powerful; they belong in elite schools, where training focuses on elemental abilities, not just physical prowess. Overwhelmed by the sudden attention, Najo bolts, leaving a bewildered Moto behind.
That night, word reaches Nawick, a tall man dining alone at a vast, empty table. The son of the Lightning Village head, he idly picks up his fork, coating it in crackling lightning to grill his medium-rare beef.
"Bring him to me," Nawick commands his spies. "I will assess him myself". Meanwhile, Moto, oblivious to the storm brewing, sees only an opportunity to learn from a stronger opponent. He seeks out Najo, intent on befriending him.