Kaizen sat squeezed into the corner seat of the mana-bus, looking less like a prestigious academy student and more like a tortoise that had decided to pack its entire house for a weekend vacation.
He had spent the last hour raiding the general store with his newfound wealth, buying thermal underwear, climbing rope, rations, and a winter coat thick enough to survive an ice age.
The problem wasn't the cost; the problem was the physics.
His backpack was swollen to the point of bursting, towering over his head and pressing him against the window like a sardine in a tin can.
"My back," Kaizen groaned, shifting his weight and feeling a sharp pop in his lumbar region. "I need a chiropractor. Or a new spine."
He looked around the bus, trying to ignore the stares of the other passengers. They weren't looking at him because he was handsome, and they certainly weren't looking at him because he was famous.
They were looking at the pan.
