The sun began to rise over the horizon, its first rays illuminating the dew clinging to the blades of grass. Across the village, its inhabitants had already begun their daily duties.
Deep within the forest, the sound of wood striking wood echoed between the trees.
A crimson-haired boy swung his wooden sword with fervor, his breathing ragged as he glared at the trunk before him.
He brought the sword down with his entire body, then pulled it back and followed through with a horizontal slash. His movements were forceful, each strike accompanied by the dull thud of wood against bark.
Finally, he stopped, panting as he struggled to catch his breath. His gaze drifted toward the horizon, where the rising sun heralded the beginning of another day. Sweat covered his face and body, trailing down his ivory skin.
He looked down at his hands. Thick calluses covered his palms, yet his fingers trembled from exhaustion. Blood from his palm stained the sword's hilt.
He gritted his teeth.
"Dammit."
He drove the wooden sword into the dirt before making his way deeper into the forest. A short distance away, a pond lay nestled among the trees. He knelt beside it and washed his face, running his wet hands through his hair.
The boy still possessed the unmistakable features of youth, his face yet to lose the softness of childhood. Blood-crimson hair fell in unruly locks across his forehead, some strands clinging to his damp ivory skin. A thin scar ran across his forehead, a pale mark standing out against his otherwise youthful complexion. Beneath his crimson hair rested a pair of peculiar orange eyes, reminiscent of the last light of dusk. Their vivid color lent an unusual intensity to his youthful features.
A straight nose sat above his lips, while his cheeks retained a faint roundness, save for the bruise darkening one cheekbone. Its purplish hue suggested it had been inflicted only recently.
He possessed a lean, wiry frame, shaped by years of sword practice and frequent brawls with the other children. His shoulders were still narrow, his limbs retaining the proportions of a boy who had yet to grow into his body. Nevertheless, beneath his skin lay the beginnings of practical musculature, particularly along his arms and forearms, developed through countless hours of swinging a sword.
His hands, however, betrayed the true extent of his training. Calluses had formed across his palms and along the bases of his fingers, but repeated friction against the sword's hilt had left the skin cracked and raw. Several wounds had reopened, leaving fresh blood seeping through the damaged flesh. His scraped knuckles bore fading marks from previous fights, remnants of bruises and abrasions that had yet to disappear completely.
His grey tunic was dirty and worn, its fabric damp against his slender frame, doing little to conceal the hardships of his daily routine.
Leaning over the water, he studied his reflection.
The face staring back at him belonged to a boy of twelve, perhaps thirteen at most. Blood-crimson hair, tied back to keep it out of his way during training, fell slightly past his shoulders. A few unruly strands had escaped their binding, framing his ivory-skinned face and vivid orange eyes.
Dark bags rested beneath his eyes, evidence of the sleep he had sacrificed to his relentless training. He brushed the loose strands from his forehead, his gaze lingering on the scar above his brow before shifting to the bruise spreading across his cheekbone.
For a moment, he examined himself in silence.
Then he straightened, water dripping from his chin. He wiped his face with the hem of his tunic before glancing down at his palms.
Fresh blood had begun to seep through the damaged skin once more.
He frowned at his hands before letting his gaze fall upon his reflection again.
Without another word, he rose and retrieved his wooden sword. Then he set off toward the village, beginning with a light jog before accelerating into a sprint.
A thin layer of fog hung over the forest, slowly dispersing as the sunlight filtered through the trees. The boy raced between the trunks, his footsteps pounding against the earth. As time passed, his breathing grew heavier, and his legs began to ache, but he pushed onward.
Eventually, the trees thinned, revealing a clearing beyond which a modest village came into view. Rolling hills surrounded it at a distance, their slopes illuminated by the rising sun.
The boy picked up his pace.
He entered the village as its inhabitants went about their morning routines. A few glanced at him as he hurried past, but he paid them little attention. Despite this, his ears betrayed him.
"Look how dirty he is." A woman remarked sympathetically.
"A year in the woods, and the chief still isn't taking him back in?" another woman asked curiously.
"Truly how unfortunate." another woman remarked, though Kenji heard no sympathy in her tone.
"I heard Takahiro is awakening, and Yume is already showing signs." The other added.
"My son told me Kenji's body is barely gathering any." Another added.
"I'd say this is a good lesson, Wasn't he arrogant before." One said with more satisfaction in her tone.
"Don't say that." One rebuked.
"It's doing him well clearly lowering that attitude and temper he has." The woman continued unapologetically.
His destination lay farther ahead, in a house separated from the others, standing somewhat apart from the rest of the settlement.
He raced toward it, pushing his lungs and legs to their limits. Upon reaching the cottage, he shoved the door open and burst inside.
Panting, he looked around.
The cottage was considerably larger than most of the village's houses. Inside, a young woman with earthy brown hair and matching eyes was occupied with her morning chores. She turned at the sudden intrusion, startled to find Kenji standing in the doorway, one hand gripping the handle as he anxiously searched the room.
"Goddess, Kenji! You scared me half to death. I thought you were some kind of beast—"
"W-Where is he?" Kenji interrupted anxiously, his eyes locking onto hers.
The woman paused. Her expression softened.
"He left with the others for the examination. They departed before dawn."
Kenji gritted his teeth, his hand tightening around the handle of his wooden sword.
"Oh. Good to know." His gaze turned to the floor.
He turned toward the door.
"Wait!" she called after him. "You can come inside and have something to eat. I still have some bread from yesterday. It should be fine."
"I'm fine, Selene. I-I have to get to work now. I'm probably already late."
He kept his gaze lowered as he stepped outside and closed the door behind him.
Kenji made his way back through the village, heading toward the fields where the other children were gathering for work. They collected baskets, and while some headed toward the fields, Kenji joined several other children and adults venturing into the nearby hills to forage for herbs, wild fruits, and berries.
He felt their gazes, of course. They were far too familiar by now. Some held pity, others barely concealed their amusement, while a few were simply indifferent. Those, at least, he could appreciate.
As they spread across the terrain, Kenji carefully scanned the undergrowth for anything worth collecting. He crouched beside a cluster of herbs, gathering them into his basket, when he heard footsteps approaching from behind.
His body tensed instinctively. He adjusted his stance and glanced over his shoulder.
Upon recognizing the approaching figure, he relaxed.
"Yo, Kenji!"
"Yo," he replied, his expression impassive.
The boy approaching him had a short buzz cut and a cheerful smile. He waved as he came closer.
"You ready? Today's the day!"
Kenji turned to look at him properly.
"...Yeah."
"I'm so excited! Sure, I'm not awakening today, but I heard Master Ray is coming back with three people who've already awakened. Apparently, he's been training them up north, by the pool."
Kenji looked away, gritting his teeth. His grip tightened at the mention of the pool, an unpleasant memory stirring in the back of his mind.
"Yeah."
He turned back to his work, scanning the terrain for more herbs and fruits. When he spotted a ripe fruit hanging from a nearby tree, he climbed up to retrieve it.
"They're so lucky to awaken this early," the boy continued. "By the time the next examination comes around, they'll be taken to the mainland."
Kenji reached the branch, plucked the fruit, and leaped back down.
The boy glanced at his own hand, turning it over thoughtfully.
"Honestly, I think I'll awaken when I'm eighteen or twenty at this rate. Hashi is taking its sweet time gathering inside me."
Kenji dropped the fruit into his basket and looked at his companion.
"Listen, Randy. We need to gather all the herbs and fruits before the beasts start coming this way. Let's split up."
"Oh, sure! See you back in the village, Kenji!"
Randy waved before heading off in another direction.
Kenji watched him leave for a moment before returning to his work.
---
After some time, everyone returned to the village and delivered their baskets to the storage cottage.
Kenji received a few fruits as payment for his work. He thanked the woman in charge with a respectful bow before setting off toward his hideout in the forest.
He had barely gone any farther, when a familiar voice caught his attention.
"Randy, why are you still talking to Kenji?"
Kenji slowed his steps.
"Err, because he helped us out when Collin and his goons were bothering us, remember?"
"Yeah, but Collin went north with Takahiro and Natalie. They're going to awaken. Do you really want to be picked on when Collin comes back as an Awakened?"
"Well, no, but—"
"Randy, we both know Kenji isn't going to amount to anything. He's not going to leave this village. He'll stay here like the rest of us. And hanging around him brings nothing but trouble because of his little grudge with Collin and Natalie."
The girl scoffed.
"So stay away from him. Unless you want to get beaten up every day, too. A beating from a regular human is way different from one that comes from an Awakened."
Kenji stood still, listening to every word.
He looked toward the group and spotted Randy standing among several girls. One of them had been speaking, her expression cold and dismissive.
Their eyes met. For an instant, something stirred within Kenji, threatening to surface. An emotion, perhaps. A feeling, or even a memory. He suppressed it before it could take shape.
He was getting better at this.
She neither flinched nor showed the slightest concern that he had overheard her. If anything, her expression suggested that she simply didn't care.
Kenji stared at her for a moment before turning away.
He had no intention of wasting his time on gossip.
He had a far more important event approaching, and he couldn't afford to lose focus now.
With that thought, he continued toward his hideout.
A little more training before they arrive will do me more good.
He had work to do.