The village was restless that afternoon. Chickens darted between carts, the sound of hammers rang from the smithy, and smoke curled lazily from chimneys. It was an ordinary day, the kind of day Lino felt slipping further and further from his reach.
He carried a bucket of water from the well, arms aching from morning drills. His palms stung where the wood had bitten into them, but he held the weight steady until he reached the small path by the fields.
"Still trying to break yourself?" a voice called.
Lino stopped. Athi Gade was sitting on a low fence, her legs swinging idly. Her braid hung over one shoulder, dark against the pale fabric of her tunic. Her smile was small, teasing, but her eyes were sharp—too sharp.
"You watch too much," Lino muttered, setting the bucket down.
"I don't need to watch. I can hear you grunting half the time." She tilted her head. "What's the point of all this, anyway? You're always training until you can barely walk. Nobody else does that. Not even the hunters."
Lino wiped sweat from his forehead. For a moment he thought about lying, brushing her off the way he always did. But the words pressed out before he could stop them.
"I'm applying for the capital's academy."
The playful look slid from her face. "The academy?" she repeated, her voice quieter now. "Lino… that's for nobles. For people with names, not boys carrying buckets of water."
"I know," he said, meeting her gaze at last. His voice was steady, though his heart felt like it was trying to tear out of his chest. "But it's the only chance I have. If I stay here, I'll always be the same. My mother will always be the same. The academy is the only path forward."
Athi hopped down from the fence, her sandals crunching against the dirt. She stepped closer, close enough that he could see the furrow in her brow.
"You're serious."
"I have to be."
For a while, she said nothing. Just studied him like she was trying to solve a puzzle. Finally, she let out a small breath and shook her head.
"You're going to hurt yourself. Or worse. The capital isn't like here, Lino. People there don't care about boys who try hard. They only care about who you are when you walk through the gate."
Lino's fists tightened at his sides. "Then I'll make them care."
Athi stared at him, and for the briefest moment her eyes softened. Then she gave a crooked, almost sad smile.
"Stubborn as always." She turned back toward the village road. "If you're set on this, at least remember there are people here who'll miss you. Don't throw us away chasing something that may never want you."
He didn't answer, because he couldn't.
When she was gone, Lino stood for a long time, staring at the bucket at his feet. The water inside rippled faintly, reflecting a boy's tired face, a boy who refused to stop moving forward even when the world said no.
He picked it up and carried it home.
That night, as the fire dimmed and his mother's quiet breathing filled the cottage, Lino whispered to himself the words he hadn't been able to say to Athi:
"I won't stop. No matter what."