On the outskirts of Feril, far removed from the encroachments of modernity, lies a realm both more joyful and more tragic—a world woven into the very fabric of Ariella's shattered heart, known as the 'Slums of Feril.'
This vast expanse is encased within towering walls, so high that the sun's gentle embrace is but a distant memory, forever obscured from those who dwell within.
Beyond these barriers, skyscrapers loom, consuming the scant rays of sunlight that dare to reach the earth.
As the afternoon sun hung languidly in the sky, farthest from the azure sphere, a yellow and red taxi descended, its metallic form glinting against the backdrop of the day.
The door swung open with a flourish, revealing two figures stepping into this unfamiliar terrain.
"Where are we?" Elara inquired, concern etching lines across her brow. Ren chuckled, a playful grin dancing on his lips. "I'm going to kidnap you," he teased.
Elara's eyes widened in alarm, her voice faltering, "Ki-kidnap?!"
Ren erupted into laughter at her startled reaction, clutching his belly. "I'm joking," he whispered, amusement lingering in his tone.
"Ren!" Elara exclaimed, her cheeks and ears flushed with embarrassment.
"Sorry, sorry," he replied, his sincerity shining through. "We're heading to a very special place today," he said, a genuine smile illuminating his face.
With a resigned sigh, Elara followed him as they approached the imposing structure before them, a narrow alleyway forming on its side.
Together, they traversed the cramped alley, barely wide enough for a single person to pass. "Where are we even going?" she complained, but Ren remained silent this time.
Upon emerging from the alley, Elara froze, her gaze fixated on the scene before her, glimpsing through a fractured gap in the wall.
It was a chaotic tableau: crumbling buildings, warped lampposts, flickering stop signs, and homes constructed from discarded iron plates and polycarbonate sheets. Starving figures moved like shadows through the debris.
"Isn't this the Slums of Feril?" she asked, confusion mingling with a multitude of questions. "Yes," Ren affirmed.
"But we learned that places like this no longer exist—forgotten corners of poverty, shunned by technology." Her voice softened, the weight of her realization settling in.
"Yes," he replied, anger lacing his tone. She fell silent as they stepped through the breach in the wall.
They walked along the cold, litter-strewn roads, navigating a landscape rife with decay. Elara absorbed the sights: densely packed houses, desolate playgrounds, stagnant pools of water, and skeletal figures slumped against the pathways, their clothes draped like forgotten relics on power lines. Diesel cars sputtered to life, a testament to a world still clinging to existence.
Her gaze fell upon a long line of people, mostly women, some clutching small children, their frames gaunt and fragile. They shuffled toward a delivery truck, a lifeline of weekly provisions.
"What is all of this?" she murmured, grappling with the stark reality of a life so foreign to her own.
"We're here," Ren announced, pulling her from her reverie. She glanced at a dilapidated shop before her, the sign only partially intact, 'Takoy-' the only legible fragment.
The sliding glass door creaked open, reminiscent of a rusty engine. Ren stepped inside first, holding the door for Elara, who hesitated, her heart pounding as she surveyed the exterior. "Is it okay?" she whispered.
"Of course," Ren assured her, his warm smile easing her apprehension as she crossed the threshold. "Wait," she gasped, astonished.
Inside was a stark contrast to the world outside—clean and vibrant, with rich wooden furnishings that hinted at tradition. The floor gleamed, its scars telling tales of countless years.
Most tables were empty, the establishment quiet save for a tall figure behind the counter, a chef with a light brown mane tucked beneath a hat.
Ren approached the counter, a smile brightening his face. "Your order," the man said, his deep voice resonating with authority.
"A large plate of takoyaki straight from hell," Ren replied. At the mention of that familiar order, the chef turned, surprise flickering in his eyes.
"Ren?" he asked, recognition dawning. "Yes, it's me! How are you, Mr. Takeda?" Ren's expression softened, a nostalgic reunion after years apart.
"What brings you to the slums?" concern etched in the lines of Takeda's face. "I came for your handmade takoyaki. What other reason could there be?" Ren answered with a grin. "Very well, then sit wherever you like," Takeda gestured toward the sea of empty seats.
Ren beckoned Elara, encouraging her to choose a spot. She nodded and settled at a table by the window, eager to observe the world beyond.
"Hey, miss girlfriend," Takeda called to Elara.
"Sh-she is not my g-g-girlfriend, you idiot shrimp head!" Ren stammered, his face aflame with embarrassment.
Elara, too, concealed her crimson cheeks behind her fingers, her mind racing. "G-girlfriend?!" she thought, scolding herself as she struggled to regain her composure.
***
Ren sat at the table beside Elara, the tension in the air palpable, as they both averted their gazes, their heads turned in opposite directions.
Finally, Elara broke the silence, her voice trembling as she asked, "How did you find this place? It seems Mr. Takeda knows you well."
A smile spread across Ren's face, nostalgia washing over him. "Before the Calamity, twelve years ago, my father, brother, and I would come here every weekend for Mr. Takeda's takoyaki."
He took a long drink of water, continuing, "He and my father were good friends."
"I was just a small child, so my memories are faint, but during the Great Revolution, we moved to Hemsworth. My dad wanted him to come with us, but he refused to leave the shop, and they never met again," Ren explained.
Intrigued by his story, Elara asked a question that had been on her mind. "How did you know how to enter the Slums?"
Ren smirked, gesturing toward a takoyaki poster hanging at the far end of the room. "I just wanted to eat them, and I found a way to get here," he chuckled as he spoke.
"You certainly are something," she sighed, captivated by his tale. Just then, a rich, spicy aroma wafted through the air, causing both of their eyes to sparkle with anticipation.
Mr. Takeda approached, bearing a platter of golden-brown takoyaki drizzled in spicy sauces.
"Can you handle spicy food?" Ren inquired, a teasing grin on his face.
"A little," Elara replied, her resolve unshaken.
"Both of you, eat your fill and don't hesitate to ask for seconds," he urged, his grin wide and welcoming.
As soon as the plate was set down, they dove in, eating with a fervor that suggested they hadn't tasted food in years. The few other customers around them looked on in amazement, as if witnessing a friendly competition.
Moments later, the plates began to empty one by one, and they gulped down water. "It's spicy!" they exclaimed, yet their mouths refused to stop. Finally, the last plate of seafood-infused takoyaki arrived.
With only five pieces left, an unspoken challenge emerged: whoever ate three would be the winner. Though they hadn't planned a contest, the atmosphere turned playful, drawing the attention of the few patrons nearby.
As Ren raced for his third, his gaze caught the glistening red of Elara's lips, stained from the spice, sending an unusual warmth to his cheeks. He blinked in surprise just as Elara snatched the third piece first.
"Hehe," she grinned, claiming victory in their silent game. "Ah," Ren exclaimed, momentarily defeated. As they locked eyes, the true heat of the spices began to hit them both. "Water!" they cried out in unison.
***
"Thank you, Mr. Takeda, the takoyaki was delicious," Elara expressed, her gratitude evident. Takeda smiled, pleased by the compliment.
"Here's the money for the food; it was as good as ever," Ren said, handing over cash. "I didn't say you had to pay," Takeda replied, bemused. "You know my dad would disown me if he found out I ate here for free." They shared a laugh.
Elara stood by the door, waiting for Ren to finish his conversation. "How are Ridge and Ryu?" Takeda asked.
"As good as always," Ren responded with a light chuckle.
Noticing Elara at the door, Takeda leaned closer to Ren, whispering, "She's a good girl." Ren looked at him, confusion etched on his face. "Just don't do anything stupid to hurt her," Takeda warned, his expression serious.
"I know," Ren replied, his gaze steady and resolute.
"Both of you, come back whenever you like," Takeda called out as they left.
***
"Sorry," Ren said, glancing at Elara, who looked confused. "Why?" she asked, concern threading her tone.
"I brought you to the Slums without asking," he murmured.
"I don't mind; I'm happy to have seen this hidden side," she replied, her face lighting up. "And I love the takoyaki! When are we coming back?"
"Anytime you want," Ren said, his tension easing at her joy. Suddenly, he noticed a group of people eyeing them with hostility. "This isn't good," he thought, grabbing her hand and pulling her into a run.
"What's happening?" Elara questioned, startled by the sudden movement.
"Nothing," Ren replied, reluctant to share the truth. But he couldn't hide it any longer. "Most people in the Slums aren't like Mr. Takeda. They envy people like us, and some could act on that envy," he explained as they reached the exit.
"Sorry," Ren said, feeling ashamed of the situation. Elara smiled and playfully pinched his hand. "Idiot," she teased, her smile brightening the moment.
As a taxi descended from the sky with a loud chime, it marked the end of a whirlwind day.
***
Outside the gates of the institute, a boy stood alone in the fading evening light.
"I forgot to take my bag!"
It was Ren, who had left behind his bag containing all of his belongings.