One of five.

That is all that would get the privilege of becoming Sun Warriors. Five seats were all that were available for thirty-five marked children. The rest were to be set at lower positions, forced to spend years climbing a system built against them. Unable to reach the peak of Paladinian society, able to one day ascend past the skies and join the heroes captured in the heavens above.

Stars next to the almighty Sun, endless praise delivered to them for their grand achievements in the life they gave to the clan. To Amaterasu, able to dwell forever at her side.

Kiyo fell in line to achieve such a prominent place in Paladinian society.

Yet no cheer or joy nestled within his mind as he processed the thought. Told he was already above his peers, but held back by the single thing he had become attached to.

Daisuke.

As they walked back to join the rest of the house, Takeo informed the five to keep this information under wraps. The cost of outing themselves and the process would only come back to diminish their chances. They’d actively become a target for all those around them, one of the few people in their way of achieving every child’s end goal.

Kiyo let the warning pass through his mind, focused on Daisuke's Part in all of this now. Left behind due to his current incapability to surpass any of the other four seats. Kiyo’s only connection past Ronin to his people. The prophecy was meaningless in his eyes without Daisuke there.

His friend was the very one who convinced him not to run away. To flee from the Sunretsu clan, and live on his own free from their control. From their prophecies and reigns over his life. From his father.

Daisuke was his only tether back to reality. His only friend. A brother.

A lifeline.

“Kiyo!”

Daisuke rushed out from under the awning the second he spotted Takeo coming in from afar, a sure sign for the five children trailing behind him. Kiyo, at the back, attempted to avoid any interaction with Shin as much as possible. Stuck thinking about if he should loop Diauske in on their process. Not a celebration but a warning of what was to come.

A peek at what lies ahead.

All five children dispersed back to their formed groups, Takeo heading off to the temple once he saw them return safely. The days end nearing as the Sun descended behind the western wall of Harion, night lurking in its wake. Such a time was an escape from the decision sitting right in front of Kiyo, smiling with curious anticipation for him. For his growth.

“What was all that?” Daisuke asked with a slight squint against the dying light.

Monterio brushed between them, paying no attention to their presence as he stormed into the house with vicious strides. Emotionless on the outside, yet enraged by Kiyo’s placement at the ceremony. The heritage he brought with him. Son to one of the greatest warriors ever known to man.

His father’s name was a weight he was forced to bear against his will, doomed to walk the world with that name over his shoulders. Living a life granted to him by his bloodline.

All Kiyo wished was not to do it alone, broken up by indecision as Daisuke stood there in clueless anticipation. The division between personal baggage and unrelenting worry muddled Kiyo’s mind. One option left to lunge toward, desperate to distance himself from the situation.

“Nothing,” Kiyo said dryly, the word grating off his tongue.

The Sun outlined the back of Kiyo’s head from Daisuke’s view, a golden halo that masked the uncertainty wrinkled in his face, a tell for the lie that pierced his lips. Daisuke thrown into the dark on the matter. Surprise grasping at his jaw.

“Yeah, but what was it?”

“Just some ceremony.”

Why won’t he tell me? Daisuke wondered as his smile withered away.

Torn back by Kiyo’s hesitancy, a slight quiver in his lips as the words lingered on his tongue. All that was left between them was a single question swirling around in Kiyo’s mind.

Can Daisuke even make it?

I’ll get us both in. . .I promise Daisuke. Kiyo thought to himself intensely, blinded by his troubled past.

Kiyo’s reasoning lay in disillusion, an imagined barrier he set over those weaker than him. Laced with the abuse he endured for years, pushed to the verge of death daily to just even capture a glimpse of controlling the radiance within him. Mind broken in association with others, throwing Daisuke’s weakness upon himself. A problem Kiyo would deal with by any means necessary.

“But—”

“It. Was. Nothing.” Kiyo muttered with a vindictive glare cast Daisuke’s way.

Kiyo couldn’t bare to deal with this back-and-forth conversation any longer, the announcement just another thing to juggle in his tattered mind. Echoes of Ronin’s drastic expectations clashed with his dire rage to overcome him, to become something better, to surpass his heritage. Separate himself from it entirely.

Daisuke was just a casualty of Kiyo’s distorted and misdirected anger.

Only able to piece together what he could from an outside perspective, watching from the sideline as Kiyo debated his next decision within himself.

“I get it. Okay.” Daisuke replied in a hesitant murmur.

Kiyo brushed Daisuke aside and weaved past the rest of the group into the household, their conversation left to fade in a stagnant dreary air lodged between them. It was a simple misunderstanding that resulted from Kiyo’s inability to come forward on his terms. Emotions bottled up as he felt the need to endure them on his own front. To save Daisuke from the struggle that lay ahead.

Shoma, Eiko, and Kono were just bystanders to the inner feud, only able to watch the situation diffuse. Both sides left worse off than they came into the conversation. Kiyo didn’t even pass them a lick of attention as he walked upstairs to his mat. Their lives were unimportant to him, unknown plausible threats, loose connections that he had no desire to interact with further. That’s what Ronin taught him as a child. Kiyo’s brain had been permanently altered to view everyone as a potential risk. Where friends were one step closer to liabilities, severing ties the only way one could be prepared to do what was necessary.

Pushing them away was just an instinct to Kiyo’s torn emotions. His end goal was the only thing Kiyo saw as a necessity, yet Daisuke became a part of it that he couldn’t put down. His soul-true friend left to grapple with various dead-ended questions for Kiyo’s harsh behavior. Lost for words for the hushed anger that protruded from Kiyo’s presence.

The rest of the day was plagued with a bitter silence, Eiko and Kono fast to ask aimless questions to Daisuke about what happened. Their efforts were just background noise to the perplexing situation placed before him. He couldn’t get his eyes off Kiyo sitting on his mat alone and closed off from the world. What was he thinking?

What was that meeting?

…

The night went anything but quick. Daisuke and Kiyo were stuck in their minds, each trying to break down the bleak situation encompassing them from the other’s perspective. Played out of proportion as an awkward silence filled the gap between their friendship, neither side sure of how to close it.

Morning came and rose over the house. Every child shifted themselves upright before the Sun even peeked through the shutters. Prepared for what came next, what was expected. Too blind to see they were already behind, off course of the race paved in front of them.

Takeo didn’t even have to say a word this late into the fall season. Minds broken down and halfway through reconstruction, able to grasp and perform all tasks laid before them. All morning exercises and lifts passed with ease, with a swift transition into hand-to-hand combat.

Yet Kiyo and Daisuke were stuck at odds throughout the entire morning, neither taking the necessary strides to extinguish the anxious flames. The timed confusion only expanded as they continued to train with sealed lips. One-eyed locked onto Daisuke the entire time, Kiyo picking out any weaknesses that needed to be corrected. Afraid to leave his friend behind, to go on alone. He just wanted to make Daisuke better, to help him improve. This method was the only option in mind.

Whoosh-whoosh! Thud.

One-on-ones rolled into play after a brief lunch, the portions growing ever smaller as the children became trained to sustain themselves off the bare minimum. Forced to nurture the little flame of energy within them, their radiance their sole means of survival.

Takeo stood off to the side with the guardians and inspected each duel at hand with a swiveling gaze. The movements, forms, and strikes were all reexamined time and time again. Bodies pushed to the utmost limits, bent until they snapped in two. Their limitations were the only inhibitors of their future, of becoming someone worthy of a place amongst the stars.

Whiff-whiff-bomph! Whoosh-bam!

Kiyo just had to push Daisuke in the right direction to get there.

Swoosh—thump!

Surrounded by ongoing spars, Daisuke and Kiyo opened into their traditional forms. Kiyo’s arms primed and cocked back at his hips, while Daisuke adopted a less standard technique. His arms were spaced apart and crossed over his chest, a stance bent on body rotations and momentum to accommodate the lack of pure physical strength within him.

Regardless, neither were on the same page. Daisuke remained entranced in yesterday's conversational wreck, chasing after answers that didn’t exist, while Kiyo primed himself to break his friend. To help him. Violence was the only way he knew how.

That’s how Kiyo was taught.

Whoosh!

Daisuke lunged forward and spun in with half of his usual half-witted effort. No contact was a set part of these sessions. Grabs and disarming strikes were allowed as long as they didn’t seriously injure the other party. Meant to only practice forms and techniques for when the second year came: the addition of specialized weapons.

Bang—bang!

Kiyo set those values aside as he undercut Daisuke’s loose strike and jabbed him in the ribcage. The visceral incision directed all of the impact right against Daisuke’s lungs. Caught off guard by the sudden assault, Daisuke toppled over and coughed out spit-laced air on the blazing concrete beneath them. Wiping his mouth dry, Daisuke glanced up to only see a narrow vindictive dissatisfaction staring down at him. Kiyo didn’t offer a hand of aid or means to get back on an equal footing, all he wanted was to see Daisuke rise up to his level.

To not fall behind.

Taking a second to compose himself, Daisuke dusted off his gear and considered his options. The look in Kiyo’s eyes said it all, that whatever conflict lay between them would be resolved in this instance. No words were needed to communicate what would have to be done. The choice made difficult to follow, but it was all he could do.

Spreading out back into his opening stance, he clenched his fists and redirected what energy he could muster into the scruff of his knuckles. Arm cocked back, he prepped another attempt to strike Kiyo, to display his growth.

Whoosh—whiff-whiff!

But he couldn’t go through with it. Pulling his punches, Daisuke simmered down against his friend, held back by an uneventful fear of hurting Kiyo. The worst possible scenario in his young mind.

Kiyo didn’t feel the same.

Whiff! Whiff! Serch—bam!

Abusing the one loose rule, Kiyo dodged Daisuke’s double fake arm strike and latched onto his second blow. Both hands wound around Daisuke’s right arm as he twisted the bare skin and slammed Daisuke onto the gravel beneath them. Daisuke bounced against the earth and writhed at the surge of pain on his left side. Kiyo left standing over him without breaking a sweat.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Pushing himself up onto all fours, Daisuke ground his teeth together as he fought against the pain.

“What. . .the hell. . .”

“Why?” Kiyo muttered with an uneasy sigh.

Daisuke looked up from the tattered up to his friend, Kiyo’s eyes glossed over, unable to convey the dreaded possible nightmare future sequestered within. Emotions scattered throughout his brain, mentally split between a desire to help Daisuke and maintain Ronin’s strict principles. The result was a cluster of misconstrued actions; accidents.

He was only a child. A lost broken kid.

“Kiyo?” Daisuke muttered as the miserable anger settled within his chest.

“Why aren’t you better?” Kiyo spat out under his breath.

No grief was shown on Kiyo’s face, only a lingering dissatisfaction with Daisuke’s lack of effort to apply himself. To take the strides necessary to surpass the others. To not remain a part of Kiyo’s past, but join him in the future. This fight offered a chance to grow and change for what he saw as for the better.

He was too young to understand.

“I’m trying. I am., really,” Daisuke muttered with a somber headshake between gasps for air.

“No, you’re not.” Kiyo spat out without hesitation.

“What?”

It was all but that in Daisuke’s eyes, unable to find his friend within the vile creature that stood over him. His personality absent from the ravenous spirit that overtook Kiyo and grappled at his emotions, Ronin’s hold over him.

“Fight me . . . for real this time,” Kiyo said through the gaps in his teeth, arms raised as his body slid back into position.

“What? No. No, I’m not doing that. What kind of friend does that?”

“Just fight me.” Kiyo huffed out a congested breath and squeezed at the irritation in his palms. “Or else. . .”

“What? Kiyo, what are you saying?” Daisuke scrambled back as Kiyo attempted to close the distance and do what he felt needed to be done. “Kiyo, stop, I don’t know what you want.”

“I told you already. Fight me, now.”

Able to recognize the impending conflict, Eiko and Kono darted over from across the training grounds and helped Daisuke to his feet. Kiyo could only watch in disdain, standing there wiping all memories that trickled down his face, surprised at their release.

“I’m . . . I don’t understand.” Daisuke said roughly.

“Yeah, what was that?” Kono added as he slid in between Daisuke and Kiyo to provide a means of separation.

“We’re all friends here, right?” Eiko wheezed, nearly exhausted from the day of training endured.

“Just tell us, Kiyo. Say something,” Daisuke pleaded as he closed the distance with an outstretched hand, an opportunity for Kiyo to open up. To speak his mind.

Kiyo made up his mind once more, sticking to his original solution. His face drained of all character as a sullen empty glare rested beneath his bangs. Sight downcast, words of reason crawled up his throat only to be cast back by his ironclad bite. Kiyo’s lips curled inward, a subtle agitated breath all that could muscle through and out into the open air. Riding on it, Kiyo’s thoughts, what he wanted to get off his chest to say.

But he couldn’t.

Kiyo brushed past Daisuke’s hand and turned away from the rest of the group. Silence was all that escaped Kiyo’s lips, thoughts killed off in the process. Disappointment and confusion meshed together with every lopsided step Kiyo took away from them. Painful agonizing strides away from the person he wanted to help, but how was he supposed to?

Daisuke was awestruck, heart torn open for his friend who couldn’t trust him. He was stunned, at a loss for words, held captive in idle silence while Kiyo walked off. Both equally devastated.

Eiko and Kono were more consumed by fear than questions. Kiyo’s silence was something to them that only brought unruly violence in the past, a forboding tail-tale for his maze-like personality structure. Yet Shoma couldn’t hold the same sentiment, this overheard scuffle an apparent chink in Kiyo’s armor. Relieved to have found some useful information, it all fell flat at the thought of the cost of its deliverance; allies and possible friends, ties that could last a lifetime.

Shoma clenched his fist and disregarded the thought. Distancing himself from them, he seeped back into the reality of what was at stake versus who Kiyo was to him: a stranger. Clearing his head, Shoma finally had something to feed back to Monterio. A necessary entry point to dig at Kiyo, to break him.

But could he stoop so low?

…

Nightfall.

Following a late conditioning session in the pitch-black darkness beneath Harion, Kiyo and Daisuke trudged back to the barracks along separate routes. Kiyo kept to himself within the clustered horde of children that trampled down the cobbled path, gaze hovering over the ground beneath his feet. Each step was firm and rigid, determined to surpass them, but he questioned himself.

Is this. . .the only way? Kiyo pondered narrowly, arms crossed over his chest as he snuck a peek at Daisuke.

“Hey—” Thud!

A sudden jab from behind blew the thought right out of his mind. Caught off guard by the unforeseen force, it continued to drive him narrow opening in between the houses. The voiceless mass was too strong to overpower as it whisked Kiyo into the shady back alleys out of sight. Gone in an instant.

“Let me go!” Kiyo wanned as he squirmed around.

“Shut it. We’re fixing this.”

“Shoma?” Kiyo asked, voice distorted as confusion seeped in. “What’s going on?”

Shoma didn’t offer another word of explanation as he pushed Kiyo down a few tight back paths away from the rest of the group. Yet Kiyo’s urge to resist died down as Shoma loosened his grip, this sporadic gesture not interpreted to be violent. Accepting whatever lay at the end of this trip in the night. A journey he had no control over.

Light glimmered out around a corner ahead, a soft blue glow that attracted Kiyo’s attention. He squinted through the radiant dancing shimmer and found the end of the forced trek through the cover of night. The very reason Shoma dragged him there.

“Daisuke?” Kiyo muttered between the creases of confusion on his face.

Daisuke’s shadow sprawled out along the barracks walls from the glowstone lantern grip tight within his left hand. At his sides, Kono and Eiko lingered in the shadows, turning their attention over to Kiyo as he bumbled toward them, then it clicked. This entire ordeal was the only way to grasp Kiyo’s full undivided attention, to talk.

“You weren’t yourself today.” Daisuke stomped forward and gritted his teeth through the anguish he struggled to hide, his words the only way to get it out. “What did they tell you in the temple?”

“Yeah, we just want to know what they said. Even if it's a little.” Eiko added on, sitting beside the house to their right, gesturing with a small gap between his thumb and pointer finger.

“What did they talk to you all about?” Kono questioned, arms crossed over his chest as he crept forward to Daisuke’s side.

All their voices rushed into Kiyo’s mind, mentally shaken by the surge of thoughts that only added to the spontaneous moment. Yet through it all, he understood their concern, their curiosity, their consideration. Who wouldn’t want to know?

Breaking off Shoma’s hold on him, Kiyo sighed at the blue gleam bleeding over the coarse earth. Eyelids clenched tight, Kiyo seeped back into his memory for the detailed instructions relayed to him. Information necessary to become a true warrior of the most high. Warnings made by Takeo to prevent the release of such crucial conditions for their sake, but Kiyo couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Five seats,” Kiyo mumbled weakly.

“What?” Daisuke stepped forward with his words, Kiyo’s sullen temper blurring the reality he spoke of.

The truth.

“Five seats? Is that code for something?” Kono asked, looking around the group.

“Has to be. Oo, like maybe a five-power strike or something like that.” Eiko butted in jumping up to his feet

“A what?” Kono shot back, lost for sense.

“Some strong set moves or something, you know. A combo.”

“You’re dumb.”

They didn’t have the slightest clue. Their futures held on such a thin string, dangling just out of reach. Kiyo’s goal was to bring in Daisuke on his own, but the group was always present like this. Now forced to let them all in. To make them aware of the path to becoming a warrior.

All of their futures were in his hands.

“No. It’s not that.” Kiyo piped up.

“What then?” Shoma prodded as he stepped forward into the conversation. His presence loomed over Kio’s shoulders, a malevolent entity that sent a shudder down Kiyo’s spine. Brushing the chills off, Kiyo nulled his nerves and sucked in a light wisp of cool air.

“They said we were the current five.” Kiyo huffed out assertively.

“Current five. . .to become warriors?” Eiko asked with wide eyes as he slid up the wall.

“Yes.”

All four of them became enveloped in surprise, eyes finally opened to the bleak truth that resided within every house. Only five would rise to the rank of Sun Warrior, all else sanctioned where seen fit. Hopes of ever reaching the designation again were futile beneath the hierarchical system within the Sunretsu clan.

This was their one shot to achieve what they had been told from the day they were born was their sole purpose of existing. Their lives without it would be aimless.

“There’s no way Shin’s in the running for top five. I just don’t get it.” Kono said through the frivolous waves of confusion that coiled around his voice.

“Then what about Miki? Sure, she wins most of the time, but like she’s not even good.” Eiko coughed out with a hearty chuckle.

“She’s better than you,” Daisuke muttered between pursed lips, emotions clear as day on his face.

Eiko passed a look towards Kono, both able to unravel the truth hidden behind Daisuke’s morally pure skin. A slight blush peeked through his cheeks. Eiko continued to chuckle as his mind went to work on the thing it knew best, how to tear out the truth from someone.

“Riiiight. How?” Eiko asked as he lunged toward Daisuke.

Caught out in the open, panic and sequestered feelings erupted within Daisuke’s chest. His confidence was overcome with a sensation he couldn’t explain, too young to grapple onto it as it spread out across his face lit a bright pink.

“She—uhm. Is strong, smart, and—”

“Pretty?”

Eiko hit the mark. Daisuke fumbled his words as his gaze fell to the ground. His palms sweaty as a timid shake riveted his skin.

“Welllll-”

“Yep, that’s all I needed to know,” Eiko proclaimed with a firm point at the scarlet warmth enveloping Daisuke’s face.

“Shut the—”

Without warning Daisuke shoved Eiko back, who only continued to laugh at Daisuke’s embarrassment at his crossed emotions. Such a connection was something Paladinians were taught to bundle up and bury within themselves. Feelings were not essential to perform their purpose for the clan.

But Daisuke was weak.

“Just admit it, you—”

“No, I don’t, I just-just-just—”

“Just want to be with her, hmmm?’

“Nooo!”

“Guys, focus,” Shoma grunted in a low robust tone.

Eiko and Daisuke snapped out of their little tug back and forth and turned their attention back to the matter at hand. Their futures in the balance of their own decisions were now left with fewer opportunities to achieve them.

“Yeah, remember, the seats,” Kono repeated with a shallow sigh.

“So only five of our house will become—”

“Warriors. Yes.” Kiyo cut in over Eiko, answering with the apparent regretful truth.

“And Monterio’s one of them,” Daisuke murmured, teeth grinding against his tattered flesh.

Kiyo nodded. The situation only grew ever so grim as they thought back on Monterio’s first day in Harion, filled with bloodshed as he battered every ounce of life out of Daisuke, smiling the entire time.

“Doesn’t change a thing,” Shoma said confidently, glancing between everyone in the group.

“Shoma?” Eiko said, confused by Shoma's sudden forwardness.

“We can get those seats. All of us.”

He was right. Despite dis hidden ties with Kiyo, they did nothing to hold him back from his true purpose there: to secure seats for Eiko and Kono. All done to escape a life growing crops in the countryside. Childhood friends who happened to be marked children. Bound together by blood and the Sun, his place in all of this was nothing more than an entryway for them. Shoma had no internal desire to be such a thing, all he wished for was their safety. For them all to stay together.

“Yeah, that’s true. I mean, there are five of us.” Eiko reinstated with a loose gesture around the group.

“We can do it. We just need—to be more.” Daisuke relented optimistically, his nails submerged into his palms

“How though? What are we missing?” Kono pondered. With the question, a moment of perplexed silence rested over the group left scrambling for an answer. A reason to uplift what they were missing.

“Individuality,” Kiyo found it, the sole condition within each of the five chosen.

Needless to say, the group didn’t catch on. Crinkled confused gazes were cast left and right at the sound of Kiyo’s words. A little too broad for his friends, not conditioned the way he was as a child.

“Huh? In the what?” Eiko relayed with an aimless headshake.

“Stand out. That’s it.” Kiyo clarified.

Eiko nodded and then paused, an idea surmounting within his mind. With a clap of his hands, the words rushed to the forefront of his focus that seeped out through a zealous grin.

“There’s a trial this spring. We can do it then.”

“How do you know?” Kono asked.

“My father’s not a high rank, but he was a trainer . . . eight revolutions ago.”

“Okay. Spring. All winter, just—do more. Something like that.” Daisuke affirmed with a pound of his fist into his open palm.

While poorly worded, the meaning riveted through all of them then and there. A shared confidence that trumped over the bleak news of the seat announcements, overrun with the shared goal in mind. They would fill those five seats together.

Faces lit aglow by the beams raining down from the crescent moon, their time had been marked. Lives committed to reaching this end goal, regardless of the costs.

Only time would tell if they could achieve such a feat.

…

Winter. A brief break from the excruciating heat for a time spent in the skin-piercing frigid air. Sunless days were nothing but cursed, every child forced to endure the worst environmental conditions for their people. Time spent hardening their feeble bodies to sustain the drastic shift of seasons.

The routine was all but ingrained into their developed minds. Reshapen for the future along the horizon, they remained bent on one purpose held just out of reach. To make it out a Sun Warrior.

To become something more.

To not be left behind.

To do it all together.