Hunter and hunted. Predator and prey. Friend and enemy.

All it took was perspective.

Two groups advanced through the gathered clusters of children sat upon the gravel around the various crates of crisp bread. Their motives were kept secret, but their faces said it all. Guards on the sidelines near the deadwood weapons rack, containing everything from Shuriken to the Naginata spear staff, watched from afar. Careless yet intrigued by the confrontation to occur between them. A clash of the future pillars of Paladinian power.

Their target: three boys secluded from the rest of the household. Off to the side near the border wall that stretched up toward the sky, Shoma, Kono, and Eiko huddled together and ate their portion of the rations. The hand-prepared coar smoked in the open Sun was roasted over an obsidian-splinted fire to flavor the toughened meat. All its juices were sent up as an offering to the Sun in a billow of smoke. All meals were indebted to the Sun. To give thanks was a Paladinian ritual, a practice of the utmost importance.

The bread was hand-needed by maidens dedicated to their beliefs within Harion’s temple. They served their time assisting the warriors with blessed meals until they were granted the role of priestess. A rare opportunity that few usually became able to see come to fruition. 

Whoosh—thud!

Food was placed upright in their laps, and idle conversation filled the diced air around the three companions. Within the background, subtle instructions and swift movements from Takeo were demonstrated to the children who dared to learn more. Each spar only lasted a few mere seconds, their bodies pinned to the ground and will split in two. It was nothing more than a display of their weaknesses, informing each child in monotone detail where they went wrong.

The three boys were too distracted by the casualties to notice Monterio and Isao as they strolled up behind them. Lost in their own humor of the fellow children who willingly stepped up to fight to only be pummeled into the earth. One after another.

“Look, look! That’s Shizu!” Eiko said attentively, tapping Kono on the shoulder and pointing at the next boy giving his respects to Takeo.

“Oh yeah, it is,” Kono responded with a quick nod, interest locked on Takeo’s fluid motions.

Shoma followed their engrossed stares and joined in on the watch party for the upcoming brawl between Takeo and Shizu. Their fight is about to commence.

Shizu by basic standards was just an average boy in the household, eyes a prominent castleton green with white freckles that decorated his face like paintbrush bristles had been flicked. Yet he was marked with all white hair, the lack of gold streaks a prominent belief of him being a child untouched by the Sun. Those with such a trait were associated with the distant Paldinians of the north. They clung to the cold lands abandoned by the chosen disciples of Amaterasu.

Yet here he stood prepared and eager to fight, to become a warrior for the clan that cast him aside at birth. One of the very few who earned the marked child status years after birth. Favored by his village’s chieftain for a personal destiny, not of his own, his adopted bespoken son.

Standing directly opposite Takeo, they each struck their hearts and shifted into their opening stances. Respect given and earned.

An overseer was present to judge and preside as a third-party arbitrator for the fight. In a way, he was the referee, the designated placeholder of the Sun to enlist equality. His face was painted a vibrant scarlet contrasting the dull coar hair robes draping over his body. Clutched within his right hand was a small carved coar horn. Lifting it to his lips, he sucked in a heft swig of air and bubbled his cheeks. Letting it all out at once the notion was made to all those participating in the match. The time to strike was now.

Bwaaaeee!

Whoosh-whoosh! Whiff!

Shizu charged off the whistle and lunged toward Takeo with a right jab, faking him out as he spun into it and swung his foot around. Both motions were interlinked, a two-part assault sent in Takeo’s direction. The finisher a spiral high kick aimed for Takeo’s head, for the win.

Clap!

But it never made contact. Grabbed mid-air, Takeo redirected Shizu’s momentum with a simple yet graceful sweep of the boy’s last standing leg. Shizu toppled over with the assistance of Takeo’s left palm, face sent down into the cold stone with a forceful thud. All it took was ten seconds for Takeo to subdue the boy.

Three longer than the last fight.

Bwaaaeee!

“Holy moon. Kono, did he-”

“Teacher, just-just, wow. He didn’t even move.”

“Mhm,” Shoma mumbled to the other two in agreement. 

They watched Takeo help Shizu to his feet and lean in close. A few obscured words were exchanged, followed by a traditional bow from a smiling Shizu. Like the wind, he made his exit off the spar stone and joined the others.

The next child was already on his way up.

“Yeahhhh, I’m glad I didn’t go,” Kono muttered uneasily, diving back into his coar meat.

“Makes sense since you couldn’t even last a second,” Eiko coughed up with a wry smirk that poked at Kono’s self-confidence.

“What’d you say?”

“Who knows, right Shoma?”

Shoma remained silent, unfazed by the expected outcome of the five or so fights they had just watched unfold. His shallow and sunken remained entranced by the sequence of pathetic displays of strength that ensued. Fight after fight that all had the same foreseeable end in sight. Loss.

Yawning from onsetting boredom of the inevitable, Shoma rolled his attention back to then have it interrupted by a light tap on his left shoulder.

“Hey,” Monterio muttered in a harsh tone.

Shoma glanced back at Monterio through the corner of his left eye. Looking him up and down, a moment of recognition was all he needed before brushing off the interaction. Monnterio’s request for conversation was sidelined within an instant. He held no respect for the boy, not even a wink of recognition shown. Nothing but an abhorrent yawn.

Monterio stomped around and stopped right in front of Shoma to take up his entire view of focus. Unable to peek around Monterio’s presence, Shoma laid his sappy gaze onto the shorter boy. Isao lingered behind Shoma, watching and waiting for what he and Monterio had discussed to unravel. Their targets were boxed in.

“I said hey,” Monterio repeated menacingly, arms crossed over his chest.

Shoma said nothing, silence all he had to offer as he leaned over to look around Monterio.

“Listen to me.” Annoyance built up within Monterio’s chest, pressing forward with a shake of his fists. Inches away from Shoma.

“So? Shoma doesn’t want to talk to you,” Kono said adamantly.

“Yeah,” Eiko added with a narrow-minded nod.

Eiko’s tongue tightened, words coiled up as Monterio flashed a glance of ferocious bloodlust. A brief vile shudder rippled across Eiko’s skin, his hair left standing on end. Kono kept himself out of the conversation, hands glued to his sides. Fear grappled at his chest, Isao and Monterio’s presence one of violent supremacy. A visceral sensation that left them both speechless.

Yet Shoma didn’t budge. Setting down his crumbled chunk of bread in his lap, Shoma popped his neck and heaved a hefty sigh.

“What?” Shoma lazily mumbled under his breath, leaning back away from Monterio.

His sunken stare lined with shallow bags under his eyes only held disinterest. Too worn out from the morning’s activities to put up a fight, to start a confrontation in the middle of the camp. So Shoma gave in and listened.

“Your Shoma, right?” Monterio questioned with a pensive squint.

“Mhm.”

“Right,” Monterio muttered with a short grunt glancing over to Isao with a cocky smirk. “We want to ask you something, that’s all.”

“Just you,” Isao said gravely as he shifted forward behind Kono and Eiko, placing one hand on each of them. 

The two recoiled at his touch, both left wincing as he squeezed their shoulder blades with the stab of his filed nails. Almost piercing the skin, the sharp sting ran down their backs and grasped at their lungs for a panicked release. Yet they hid their internal misery. Kono batted away Isao’s hand and rose to his feet, bread in hand. Eiko tried to be more nonchalant about it. Rolling Isao’s hand off, Eiko passed an innocent friendly glare at each of them.

“Like I would get up, but I’m already eating and-and I wanted to see them—” Eiko couldn’t finish as Isao snatched the sliver of coar meat left in his hand.

Cranking open his jaw, Isao shoved the rubbery sliver of meat into the gaping hole of his mouth. He chewed it slowly, mouth open and teeth exaggerating the motions until Isao gulped it down in full. Eiko’s eyes widened at the sight, baffled by what he had just witnessed. It was a power move, a subtle yet effective, sign of disrespect. Heated, Eiko popped upright and shoved Isao back. His face was burnt tinted a light coral red from anger. His stomach was left in knots, growling at the bit of sustenance taken from him.

“Hey! That was my—”

Boof! Thud!

There was no time to react. With a sudden aggressive thrust, Isao shoved Eiko into the gravel. Thrown back a few feet by his fierce strength, all anger within Eiko ran for the hills. Unbreakable trepidation filled its place, the boy’s face becoming warped by the immense power flexed upon him. Paler than usual, Eiko wobbled back upright and eased away from Isao to Kono. Petrified by what he might do. Yesterday was enough of a reason to fear them.

“Teacher said we’re here to—” Kono relented in a lapse of judgment as he charged forward.

Swoosh—bop!

His efforts received a swift jab to the stomach. In seconds Kono’s lunch and breath were forced out from the sheer ferociousness of Monterio’s strength. Toppling over from the strike, Kono collapsed onto the gravel beneath their worn soles. No bones were broken, but his pride was all but destroyed. The victim of an unforeseen incident that left him curled up on the floor in a pool of his own mistakes. 

“Go,” Monterio grunted aggressively at Kono and Eiko.

Both were more than eager to comply as they hastily scampered off. Kono dusted off a couple of chunks of throw-up that clung to his training kit. Yards ahead, Eiko had already put as much distance between himself and Monterio as he could, more so focused on their lives than their gear. To fight was to lose.

“You know what Kono, I think I want to go join them,” Eiko muttered briskly, tilting his head toward Takeo and the other children.

Wham!

In that very instance, a short-haired boy met his end as Takeo body slammed him down against the stone. It was brutal. A brief muffled cry was heard, a fair warning for their choice to flee. Still being beaten in ten seconds seemed better than being mutilated for ten minutes.

“Sure,” Kono muttered reluctantly, disappointed in his weakness. But what else could he do?

Kono shoved Eiko off of them as they walked over to the sparing stone. With the two forced out of the conversation, Shoma found himself left to deal with Isao and Monterio. To talk.

Under the late noon Sun, Monterio’s shadow fell upon Shoma, eyes interlocked in a one-sided scuffle for dominance.

Isao just stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, a loyal guard dog for Monterio. That’s all Monterio saw him as, a piece in the bigger game ahead. A pawn. Everything that surrounded Isao’s goal to rise was quickly tossed aside to serve another. Plans put on a detour as revenge spiraled within his mind. A vengeful lust that locked onto Daisuke from afar. His arch enemy.

“What do you want?” Shoma cut in over the dense silence.

“Want? We just want to talk.” Isao said in a chummy tone with a hearty shrug.

He chuckled at his own form of pathetic humor, something that ticked Monterion off in the moment. With a single flick of his finger against Isao’s chest, the boy obediently stepped back and fell still. His entire behavior flipped, personality sequestered beneath Monterio’s brutality. 

Shoma was just left to wander in confusion. The duo themselves were the last he’d imagine seeing together, mouth slightly ajar as his sheen green eyes rolled between them.

“Listen.” Monterio shifted forward and licked his lips. “I want you to do something for me.”

“Why would I?” Shoma cut back as he shifted off the ground, revealing his full height over the squeamish brawler.

The question threw off Monterio as he scoffed and slyly glanced back at Isao with a little head shake.

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“Yesterday,” Shoma replied without hesitation.

The fight.

Monterio’s decimation of Daisuke. Face bloody and bruised, he recovered relatively quickly more so due to the pristine cellular composure of Paladinians. Their bodies were able to mend themselves faster than other species of man. Forced to do so to regenerate their radiated exterior skin that burnt up beneath the vindictive judgment of the Sun. But light welts and darkened outlines of where Monterio’s knuckles struck Daisuke could be seen from across the grounds, markers of the devastation brought upon him. To look such a way was embarrassing.

Glancing at him from across the way, Montiero snickered at the walking reminder of the entire confrontation. The boy nothing more than pathetic in his eyes.

“Monterio?” Isao asked tensely with a light tap.

Snapping out of the haze, Monterio smacked Isao’s hand and recentered onto Shoma.

“That’s fair . . . but what about him?” Monterio said gravely, pointing to none other than Kiyo.

The only soul Monterio feared.

Shoma followed Monterio’s finger to the inseparable duo. Stepping around a few people and being held up by a boy asking Kiyo about the fight, they tried to get by as fast as they could. Others' wonder continued to block the way, every child was eager to learn Kiyo’s secret. Amazed by his display of strength, how he needed only two precise punches to put Isao on his knees.

Isao scowled at the sight, a faint tension clutched in his worn palms. His role as a lackey was brought on by the dignity Kiyo stole. This place one established off of one's strengths. Weakness was not something handled lightly, a reason for banishment from Harion.

“He’s the real problem,” Monterio claimed, shifting closer to Shoma.

“How?”

“This whole thing. This place, it's just a game.” Isao said breezily with a slight smirk.

“Quiet.” Monterio shot back.

Isao clamped his mouth shut as Monterio drug him back down to his level in their group with a single word. The boy a mere listener in this exchange.

“He’s hiding something . . . something dangerous.” Monterio relented sternly, a string of fear rising across his forearms.

Shoma did a double take back from Kiyo to Monterio, his face unchanging with each glance. Unable to read Kiyo’s soft composure, there was nothing at face value to fret about. He was just a shy and tempered boy who defended his friend. Nothing less and nothing more.

“So what?” Shoma asked with a careless roll of his eyes.

Monterio smacked his lips and looked around in the sky for a moment. His plan was crumbling, with no legs left to stand on as the gap between himself and the enemy fastened. With a minute left, he had to jump to drastic measures. Everything was centered on Shoma’s decision. A simple yes or no.

The brief yelp of a child from the spar stone was heard behind them, carried over by a dry breeze on a cloudless day. Sun sat above in the open vast blue sky shining down on them.

“Join them, act like a friend, do whatever I don’t care but join them. Tell us whatever he tells you, like a spy.”

“Why should I?”

“Do it, or those two will have bigger problems than a stomach ache . . . Lasting problems,” Monterio said ruthlessly as he gazed at Shoma with broadened eyes. There was no hint of sarcasm or humor in his tone. Only violence.

Swoosh—boom!

Eiko was up next as he met Takeo in the center. The fight was witnessed from a distance by Shoma and Monterio. A speedy and brutal match-up as Takeo elbowed in Eiko’s first chest strike, clasping his head within his left hand in a single perfected motion. Pinning Eiko onto the stone ground, his left cheek grated against the slated surface.

Thud!

“I’d choose your next words very carefully,” Monterio muttered with a sinister sneer.

Shoma considered it while he watched his friends from the sideline. In the heat of the moment, his imagination took over. Eiko and Kono were both subdued by an imaginary axe overhead, hands and feet bound. Descending from the skyline, it swiftly cut through them without a single hesitation. Their screams were silent, fear abhorrent, and grief deafening.

Yet while it was imaginary it was all the more real. This sharpened threat was now hanging over their heads from Monterio, yet Shoma’s hands were the ones holding it above them. His compliance was a necessity for Monterio to figure out Kiyo. To beat him.

“Tick-tock, Shoma.” Monterio egged on with a wry chuckle.

But if Shoma became another obstacle, so be it. Monterio had no bounds, no restrictions, and no reasoning for compliance. Everyone was either his follower or those to be steamrolled. Strong or weak, there was no in-between in his eyes.

But would Shoma let the handle go or carry the burden? Yes or no?

“Fine. I’ll do it,” Shoma murmured.

“What was that?”

“I said I’d do it.” Shoma relayed with a bit of tenacity.

“Good.” Monterio smiled and let out a muffled spit of laughter. “Meet tonight, high moon. Our house backside.”

Monterio switched his gaze back to Kiyo with a wayward glance over his shoulder, the impending time bomb almost within earshot. Each step he took was firm and direct. Purposeful, yet that only further terrified Monterio.

“Push me,” Monterio whispered toward Shoma with his back fully turned to Kiyo.

The request was an odd one in Shoma’s mind as he looked down on Monterio with a slanted glare. Isao scooted closer to Shoma’s left side and did a little hand role, a timer for Monterio as Kiyo closed in on them. Now only a few steps behind.

“Just push me.”

Monterio insisted.

Without another word, Shoma thrust Monterio back a few from himself. The shove drove strain into Moterio’s heels as he planted them into the ground to refrain from falling back. This unaccounted strength was a brief surprise to Monterio that drove shock across his crinkled face. A rough tension that drew out a gasp for air.

The feeling was short-lived as a new presence grappled at Monterio’s shoulder. It’s held over him severe, heated, and vigorous hate he found similar to his own.

Kiyo.

Flicking back around, Monterio laid his eyes on the source. No fear was present in his face, only earnest resentment.

“Backoff,” Kiyo muttered aggressively, eyes narrowed in Monterio.

“We’re just talking. That’s all.” Isao said sarcastically with a plastic smile.

He leaned over and slung his arm around Shoma, a silent claim over him as one of their party. The grab was forceful enough to shake Shoma as he stood there and took it. He knew his role now, to resist it was futile. Shoma’s entire self-purpose was held down by his bond with his friends.

He was no more of a pawn than Isao.

“See?” Isao commented.

Shoma just stood there in Isao’s forceful embrace, genuinely uncomfortable with the unwanted contact, especially from someone who just threatened his friends. Face split by a noticeable twinge, Daisuke stepped forward and grasped onto Isao’s shoulder.

“Leave him alone,” Daisuke barked between clenched teeth.

In an instant, Isao threw up his hands and strolled up to Daisuke. Almost a head taller than him, Isao rolled his eyes down to glare at the squeamish Daisuke with a crooked smile on his face.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” Isao taunted with a light shove against Daisuke’s chest.

Bam!

But Isao’s over-arching fear found itself beaten in, cockiness cast aside by a sharp jab from Kiyo’s fist against his ribs. Stumbling back from the blow, he bent forward and winced at the pain. Air knocked right out of his lungs.

“You decide,” Kiyo muttered soullessly, the gleam of his pure yellow eyes visible through his bangs.

Attention shifted away from the quivering Isao to Monterio, unfazed by Kiyo’s words. Both stare the other down. Daisuke and Isao were on the sidelines watching the stress build, prepared to engage if needed.

Swoosh-whiff-whiff-thump!

Silence rolled in with the wind. Only the background noise of conversations, weapons clanking together, and Takeo pulverizing another student with wise fists.

Silence settled in over the dense atmosphere. Everyone simply awaited the next move of the other, if action was the next course to be taken. Shoma was stuck in the middle of it all. Yet he wanted no part in it at all. The only things he cared about were the two knuckleheads stumbling his way. Returning from their session with Takeo, Kono and Eiko were beyond exhausted as they limped toward the group.

Kiyo curled his rage into his fists, prepared to take them both on if necessary. A simmer of steam brewed from his knuckles as the radiance within him was driven into his hands. Face emotionless and unreadable. Waiting for Monterio’s response.

But Monterio had already gained enough from what he could see. Eyes drawn to Kiyo’s clenched fingers. Seething beneath his skin, a glimmer of aggravated radiance sparked to life the greenish blessing entrapped within the boy’s sullen body. A hint of Kiyo’s strength that he bore witness to. Enough for now.

“Isao. We’re done here.” Monterio ordered as his behavior flipped on its head, and reverted to the collected composure he usually held.

Isao bent back upright and nodded as Monterio turned to leave. Slow with his exit, Monterio walked off to the weapons rack. While he held all the cards needed for the plan, his mind was completely blank. He couldn’t get past the reality of what he had seen firsthand. The small release of energy in Kiyo’s hands. What was that?

“Have fun being losers, losers.” Isao retorted with a blow of his tongue as he trailed off behind Monterio.

With that, Kiyo drew the energy back into his body. Leveling himself out as it diffused through his system, able to relax as a warm breath crept out of his mouth in a single bitter exhale. Head hung in exhaustion, almost on the verge of letting his radiance loose. Kiyo’s control over it was still shaky at most.

But he was getting better.

Daisuke waited until the mischievous set were far enough to no longer be an issue and then set his focus on Shoma. Right hand extended, he offered a link of aid. Of friendship.

“You okay?” Daisuke asked considerately with a worrisome smile twisted on his lips.

“I’m good,” Shoma replied without a break in the conversation, no care given to Daisuke’s concern. Unsure of how to treat them with the weight of the deal on his mind, Shoma politely nodded his head. The situation grew a tad awkward between them as no one spoke. Well to be fair, no one knew what to say after such a thing. Kiyo was too drained to speak between the light panting for air that raptured his chest. The heat from within rising as the energy simmered down. So all that passed between the three were misdirected gazes and stagnant air.

A lifeless conversation.

Someone had to step it to revive it.

“That was awesome!” Eiko shouted with a sudden burst of joyful energy that riled up from his sore stomach.

Kiyo, Shoma, and Daisuke looked over with a sigh of relive as Eiko and Kono arrived. Both were still reeling in awe from what they had witnessed from the sideline. Their mouths gaped open and eyes broadened with interest that locked onto Kiyo and Daisuke.

“You both just came over and just-then he-and you were like-just—bam they’re gone!” Kono gargled out in a mesh of ecstatic jubilation.

“Isao was like—‘What are you gonna do?’ Then you just punched. You full-on punched him. And you—you never even flinched when you said that stuff.” Eiko chuckled as he recreated the event with Kono, both infused with the reenactment.

His mind was easily impressed by the acts as he came from a humble cherapple farming village, Hundraike. Not one to know much about conflict.

“Yeah, I guess,” Kiyo stammered out with an awkward smirk.

“And thanks for yesterday,” Daisuke added happily with a contagious smile. Eiko and Kono instantly bowed their heads and accepted the gesture. Shoma nodded and nothing more, his mind caught up with the task Monterio laid upon him. Each was lost in their avenue, but a mask of momentary joy remained plastered over their faces. For some it was forced, others genuine. All except Kiyo. He was done with this interaction, exhausted by it.

Tapping Daisuke on the shoulder, he motioned his head back to their spot with a tug at his gear’s sleeve. Overcome with fatigue, hoping to get a minute in before the next set of training began. Just a moment alone with his friend.

“Hey wait, wait, wait—wait.” Eiko leaped in front of the duo with spread-out palms. “Hear me out, do you both want to join us?”

“Join you?” Daisuke questioned as he shifted his focus from Kiyo.

“Yeah, you know, like a real squad,” Eiko added with wild gestures.

“Squads are in sizes of five.” Kono iterated amicably, tipping his head side to side.

They both turned back and gazed at the set of friends in front of them. All kind and honest faces await their response. Shoma was on the fence as Monterio’s words echoed through his mind. This was the best scenario to take place. Not his doing if they were to join somehow made it less stressful for him. Looking for any way around it at this point.

Around the guilt.

Regardless, the decision rested on Daisuke and Kiyo. Both passed a brisk glance toward each other and then back to the trio. Kiyo tried to convey his honest opinion, to ditch them but the words found no ground to stand on. In the face of Daisuke's joy, there was nothing Kiyo could muster to say. Their minds only began to drift apart. To differentiate.

“I think—” Kiyo started shyly.

“Sure!” Daisuke jumped in as he lunged toward them with open arms.

Kiyo watched from behind as his friend bridged the gap between the groups. Strangers he had no interest in, that did not know the life he had lived, people he was resilient to acknowledge. More aimless souls Kiyo would be forced to learn about; their lives, stories, families, and desires to share. People, he would become inclined to protect. Just liabilities Kiyo had no desire to deal with. They were just bystanders and nothing more in his eyes. Props to the life he lived.

But Daisuke changed all of that. The only one to reach out to him in his life. To genuinely care.

How could he leave him?

Eiko over zealously pat Daisuke on the back and roped him into the conversation with a pearly grin. Behind them Kiyo lingered in isolation, hesitant to take the steps into knowing these three people he would soon have to call friends. Yet the choice to join was made for him as Daisuke waved him over. His smile was enough to convince Kiyo. Certification that this was it, there was no going back now. They were a part of this group.

Whatever the cost.

Bwaaaaeeee!

All the children looked toward Takeo on the sparing stone with his coar horn in hand.

“Arise. We still have Sunlight to dwell in.” Takeo commanded.

An afternoon full of combat training ahead.