Akairo let out pained wheezes as he climbed up the now-dry concrete stairs of the parking lot.

He had been running for so long that the sun had sunk and risen again.

His lips were cracked and his head ached from dehydration but regardless he kept moving.

He eventually returned to Zabu who sighed as the boy crawled to his feet.

“Alright, my boy. That’s enough.” He said with a softness that almost numbed Akairo’s myriad aches.

He then grabbed the boy’s arm and helped him to his feet.

The two then made their way to Zabu’s place and while a few people they passed commented on Akairo’s worn-out appearance, the rest of them traded whispers about the Annihilation Events.

Upon entering his home, Zabu gently helped Akairo onto his bed where the boy sat.

Zabu then prepared some dinner with the many ingredients that didn’t manage to fit into the fridge all while Akairo wheezed.

Akairo raised his scarred hands and squeezed them as hard as he could.

The day had been long but he was determined to face many more long days for the sake of his goal.

The air was filled with the smell of caramelized onions Akairo glanced at Zabu to find him joyfully cooking away in front of the stove.

Any traces of the cold in his eyes was gone.

He even softy hummed as cooked, his foot lightly tapping on the floor.

Akairo found himself focusing on each tap and each hum as his eyelids fell.

He swayed from side to side while desperately trying to stay awake.

He hunched forward and before he knew it, he was asleep.

.

..

[Mmm? So this is him. The last one.] A voice thundered in the darkness beneath consciousness.

Akairo was deep asleep and yet he could feel his body as it grew hotter.

No! He cried internally.

He was in Zabu’s house and he didn’t want to burn the home of the person who helped him and so be fought as hard as he could to keep the ember in his heart calm.

The darkness trembled as another voice seeped in.

“Akairo.” The voice called ever so gently.

“Wake up.”

Akairo opened his eyes to find a concerned Zabu sitting in front of him.

“Are you alright?” He asked and Akairo nodded.

“It was... It was.. nothing.” He muttered before stretching his aching limbs.

Zabu weakly nodded before fetching everything he had cooked and Akairo genuinely couldn’t comprehend the several courses worth of food that Zabu had cooked.

“Eat up!” The man grinned while holding a single carrot which he loudly bit into.

Akairo took a deep breath and bowed.

“Thank you.” He said before beginning his feast.

At some point, tastes seemingly melded together as Akairo ate the sweetest of pastries and the spiciest of stews.

It all came to an end with Akairo lying on his back next to a pile of plates and bowls.

“Oouh.” Akairo sounded as he struggled through every breath.

Zabu simply chuckled while standing up.

He then washed all the used dishes and helped Akairo onto his feet.

“Come on. I’ll accompany you back home.”

All Akairo could do was nod as he was helped towards the door but he stopped upon noticing a certain pair of blades rested next to the stove.

Zabu noticed that Akairo was staring and so picked them up, revealing the finely made sheathes that housed them.

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“Beautiful, huh? These weapons are called Nandao. These two in particular are called Wrath and Glory and although I personally cannot use them, they are beyond precious to me.” Zabu said while gently running his hand over the side of the sheath.

“They look... Familiar- oh- why didn’t you use them in your fight?” Akairo wondered making Zabu sheepishly scratch the back of his head which had a thin layer of hair which was starting to grow back.

“Well, you’re not supposed to use weapons in the arena. I also just wanted to look cool.”

Akairo rolled his eyes prompting Zabu to put the Nandao down.

He then accompanied Akairo back to the Survivor Site where he bid the boy farewell.

Akairo waved back and made his way back to his tent where he collapsed onto his futon and fell asleep.

.

..

Akairo woke up with a yawn and the tent was filled with clicking noises as he stretched.

He was tired, yes but it wasn’t the worst thing ever.

Akairo wondered if Zabu was making him do what he himself did when he was a student.

He wondered who Zabu’s master was.

He wondered how fighters were able to manipulate Tal and whether mastering Tal would help him forever temper his fire.

He held onto these thoughts as he got up.

He then dragged his feet as he made his way out of the tent.

He entered the communal shower, washed up and wrapped himself in some fresh bandages before slipping back into his clothes which were undeniably dirty but he told himself he’d wash them later.

He exited the bath hall and while it usually looked like a strong summer breeze could topple him, something had changed. The way he was at this point made it look like he could at least withstand a moderately strong wind.

He then exited the site and slowly made his way to Master Zabu’s house since it was still quite early.

He thought back to what he had learnt about Tal Circuits.

He always had a vague grasp that it was used in everything from fuelling vehicles to actively propelling them.

And, according to his understanding and Zabu’s words, the way this worked was by using specific circuits that transferred raw Tal into one of the seven Elements.

Hovercars were fitted with engines that generated a downward force that lifted the vehicle and could move it in all directions.

Akairo understood this much and wondered if people worked the same way but this led to him wondering where people got their Tal.

He knew that Tal was in everything but if a person used up an arm's worth of Tal, how would simply sleeping get it back?

He eventually arrived at Zabu’s house and, after greeting him, he shared his thoughts.

“The metabolic processes in the body steadily refill the Tal which is lost. People also naturally absorbed Tal as light bathes their bodies and as they breathe.”

Akairo nodded while following Zabu down to the parking lot.

The two arrived at the parking lot and Akairo’s eyes narrowed upon seeing some cleaning tool.

“You have exactly one week to clean this place and make it a suitable dojo. I’ll get someone to take care of the cars but you’ll take care of the rest of the junk."

Akairo’s heart sank.

“I-is this part of my training?” he asked but Zabu didn’t respond.

Akairo let out a deep sigh before starting what would become five days of strenuous manual labour.

He hauled hundreds of Kilometres of rubble and scrap metal out of the parking lot and every now and then, some men men who worked at a scrap yard would come and take the junk away.

Akairo’s entire body was drained of all its vigour day in and day out as he pushed his back, hands, arms, shoulders and more to their limits.

Not even the gloves Zabu bought for him were enough to keep him from developing calluses or getting new scars and bruises.

However, no matter how tough it got, he never gave up.

He would cry a little after some days when he returned to his tent but he would also be among the first to wake up and sometimes he would walk past Zabu’s house and go straight to the parking lot where he would work up until the sun sunk into the horizon.

.

..

The final day of cleaning eventually came and Akairo swept some of the last dirt out of the lot and put it into a trash bag.

It was a parking lot so there was no way he could make it squeaky clean but it was an improvement from before.

He then walked up to Zabu who stood in the center of the now empty space.

“Very good. Come. I’ll make you some lunch and you can eat while I do the final preparations here.”

Akairo nodded before followed Zabu back to his home where he was given a sandwich and told to wait ten or so minutes.

He was instructed to return to the lot when the time elapsed and he did so to find seated within, on a wide rubber mat, Zabu only he had a pair of boxes in front of him.

Akairo entered the lot but Zabu didn’t acknowledge him up until he reached the mat.

He then looked up at the boy and warmly grinned.

“I couldn’t help but notice how lame you looked as we trained so I got you something. Sit down.”

We? Akairo wondered with knotted brows but he complied regardless.

He sat in front of the dark grey boxes and watched as Zabu opened one of them.

He raised an eyebrow upon seeing that it held a set of clothes and a pair of sports shoes.

Akairo glanced at Zabu who was still grinning.

“Go on.”

Akairo wanted to ask why he went through all the trouble but he also knew that Zabu had his own goals. Ones which, fortunately, aligned with Akairo’s and so he grabbed the two-piece dark grey tracksuit, looking it over in the process.

It was made from a surprisingly heavy material and was tight around the wrists and ankles.

Akairo actually looked forward to wearing something other than his old worn clothes but the garage didn’t offer much privacy and so he voiced his concerns.

“W-what? Don’t tell me you’re shy. Aren’t you a man? Men don’t feel self-conscious so get changed!” Zabu snapped with eyes that were a little too wide.

“Alright but only if you turn around.”

Zabu’s facial expression visibly dimmed.

“Fine.” He scoffed before turning around.

Akairo curtly nodded before removing his clothes.

His hair had grown quite long and so it hung messily over his ears.

He slipped into the tracksuit and felt a wave of happiness wash over him as the new fabric rubbed against his skin.

He wore the shoes that Zabu had also gotten for him and this completed the set.

He spotted a strange symbol on the jumpsuit’s breast and it was a red flame.

“What is this?” He asked prompting Zabu to turn around.

“Ah... That is obviously a fire... Which represents your fire alignment... I thought it would be obvious.” He sighed as he stood up. He had his eyes locked on Akairo’s messy grey hair and although he seemed visibly bothered by it, he didn’t say anything.

“Oh- I see.”

“Yep. That there set is highly resistant to wear and tear, fire resistant to a pretty high degree and it’s machine washable, so yeah. I got you a few pairs which you’ll take home and cycle through.” Zabu explained while walking towards the stairs.

“You know the drill. Start running.”

Akairo nodded before beginning what would be an uninterrupted seven hours of running.