Chapter 2: Accepting His Fate? - Part 4
"It would impress the judges if I could deflect one of your fireball spells with my new Wind Breath spell," Victor added casually, conjuring a ball of wind in his palm with a swift gesture.
As Hiroki observed Victor's demonstration of magic, his pulse quickened. The confirmation that magic was not merely a fantasy but a tangible reality in this new world filled him with wonder and anticipation. Stirring his imagination were the possibilities that magic offered—spells, enchantments, untold adventures—igniting a sense of exhilaration.
Yet, interwoven with his excitement, Hiroki felt a growing sense of unease. The realization that he now inhabited a world seemingly drawn from the pages of a novel brought a wave of concern crashing over him. The fantastical elements that once captivated him in stories now loomed before him as tangible, albeit unpredictable, forces.
Hiroki couldn't shake the unsettling feeling of being an unwitting participant in a story not of his own making. The allure of adventure mingled with the unsettling notion that he was no longer in control of his destiny, thrust into a narrative where the rules were unfamiliar and the stakes unknown.
"Why should I have to compete against Victor Thornwood in a competition overseen by judges?" Hiroki could not help but ruminate in the recesses of his thoughts. Reflecting on Victor's words, Hiroki realized that the recent attack must have stemmed from a misunderstanding rather than malicious intent.
The next logical step for Hiroki became evident: he needed to inform Victor Thornwood that he was not a fire mage. Hiroki understood that clarifying this misunderstanding was essential to preventing another attack and potentially averting a sudden tragic end to his life. He definitely did not want to die... again.
Just as he was about to speak, a vivid image from his past intruded upon his thoughts, disrupting his resolve. Suddenly, the memory of a flickering flame dancing on the stove of his family noodle shop flashed before his eyes, throwing him completely off balance.
One of Hiroki's earliest memories emerged vividly from when he was just seven years old. It was a time when the world felt expansive, teeming with mysteries waiting to be unravelled. On that specific day, with no customers in sight, he ventured into the comforting embrace of the restaurant's back kitchen area. The aroma of spices and savoury delights cocooned him like a warm blanket as he tiptoed across the tiled floor, the sound of his small footsteps echoing softly in the hushed atmosphere.
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Seeking the comforting presence of his parents, Hiroki ventured into the heart of the kitchen. There, next to a large, bright flame on the stove, stood his father, a figure of quiet strength and wisdom. Hiroki watched as his father gazed into the dancing flame with a mixture of reflection and reverence displayed on his features. His father appeared entranced by the mesmerizing display of fire.
It was a memory etched into his mind with the gentle strokes of nostalgia, a reminder of simpler times and the bonds that held their family together. And as Hiroki stood in the kitchen once more, he heard his father's reflections...
"I often wonder: Did my passion for cooking, combined with the deep well of love I held for your mother, propel me toward the helm of this restaurant? Or was it, perhaps, the hand of fate that guided my steps, leading me down a path already laid out before me? Did I merely dance to the tune of destiny, my choices a mere echo of a grand design unfolding with each passing moment? Often, it felt like the only path I was meant to follow."
Hiroki's father mused, his voice carrying the weight of years spent pondering the intricacies of life's twists and turns. As he continued to stare at the flame on the stove, his gaze slowly drifted towards Hiroki, a glimmer of contemplation in his eyes. "Sometimes, son, we find ourselves on a road we never anticipated, guided by forces beyond our understanding. Yet, it's how we navigate that road that defines who we are." With a wistful smile, he turned off the stove and walked away.
For a moment, Hiroki wanted nothing more than to turn the gas stove back on, to gaze upon the flame one last time.
But as quickly as the memory had come, it faded away, leaving Hiroki standing in the present, grappling with the reality of his situation. With a deep breath, he pushed aside the distraction and refocused his attention on the task at hand.
With determination burning in his eyes once more, Hiroki steeled himself for the confrontation ahead. Despite the uncertainty and fear gnawing at his insides, he knew that he couldn't afford to let his emotions get the best of him. With a resolute resolve, he prepared to confront Victor and set the record straight once and for all.
Hiroki prepared to speak, poised to deny Victor's assumption of him as a fire mage. Yet, before he could utter a word, Victor Thornwood's haughty laughter shattered the moment, cutting off Hiroki's latest attempt to refute the claim. With a sudden gesture, Victor pointed at Hiroki's right hand, his expression gleeful. "I say, that's more like it."
Confused, Hiroki trailed Victor's gaze to his hand, only to encounter a startling scene. Flames enveloped his hand, the flickering tongues of fire dancing around his fingers with an ethereal grace.
No pain or discomfort accompanied the intense inferno engulfing Hiroki's hand. Instead, he was overwhelmed by a sense of bewilderment and disbelief. Questions raced through Hiroki's mind as he struggled to comprehend the inexplicable phenomenon unfolding before him.
His voice barely audible amidst the crackling fire, Hiroki muttered to himself, "I really don't need any more surprises."