Chapter Fourteen: We Were Three
November 15, 2024 – (Mara, T.LAC, and Yozora, Age 5)
The world around them was a monotony of white and gray. The ceiling stretched overhead in a stark, lifeless white, while the floor below was a dull, cold gray. There was no color in their clothes—just simple, plain fabric. Shoes? They’d never known them. The only sound that broke the stillness was the hurried tapping of small, barefooted footsteps as Mara dashed ahead.
"T.LAC, hurry up!" Mara called over her shoulder, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "I want to be the first on the hill today!"
T.LAC groaned, trailing behind. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’ve said that a million times,” he muttered, though the smile on his face betrayed his affection for her antics.
As they reached the top of the hill, Mara closed her eyes, letting the wind sweep through her hair. The breeze was cool, gentle, and carried with it a sense of quiet freedom. T.LAC watched her for a moment before breaking the silence.
“Mara,” he asked, “why do you always come up here and beg me to come with you... just to let the wind blow through your hair?”
Mara opened her eyes, the light in them softening. “It’s not just that,” she said thoughtfully. “It’s to remind myself that I’m alive. That if I keep surviving through the STARS program, I’ll make it—maybe one day, I’ll create a happy life.” She turned to T.LAC, her smile faint but hopeful. “You see, T... we’re free, in a way. This hill reminds me of the freedom we’ll have one day. Together, we can make it.”
Mara’s words were interrupted when she noticed something down the hill—a commotion. Her eyes widened. “T, come here! Do you see that? We should go help!”
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T.LAC squinted, spotting a group of kids in the distance. "Help what?" he replied, unimpressed. "If it’s a kid who can’t defend himself, he’s doomed anyway."
“I don’t care about that!” Mara shot back, already on the move. “Now hurry up!”
As they approached, they saw several boys surrounding a lone figure, cornering him like prey. Mara’s voice rang out, firm and fearless. “Hey! Get your hands off him, all of you! Why do you guys always do this?!”
One of the boys shrugged nonchalantly, clearly unbothered by her protest. “I don’t know. It’s fun,” he said with a smirk. He turned to his gang. “Let’s go, fellas. I’m sure we’ll see this punk again soon.”
The group dispersed, leaving the battered boy alone. Mara rushed over, her eyes full of concern. “Are you okay?” she asked softly. “What’s your name?”
The boy flinched, avoiding her gaze. His voice was cold, distant. “I don’t have a name. 369 is my name.” He looked at her with a scowl. “Now leave me alone. I’m sure you’ll treat me like dirt too. Just go away!”
With that, 369 turned and ran, disappearing into the shadows, back to the small box where he hid from the world. It was the only place he ever felt safe—unlike Mara and T.LAC, who found solace in each other.
Mara stood there, stunned by the boy’s harsh rejection, her heart aching for him. Tears welled up in her eyes. “T,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “We should give him a name... like we did for each other. We have each other, and others seem to have their own groups... but he... he’s all alone.”
For the next few weeks, Mara made it her mission to protect 369. Whenever bullies tried to pick on him, she would chase them away, and T.LAC, though more reluctant, followed her lead. But no matter how hard they tried, 369 remained distant, isolated, refusing to let anyone in.
One day, they arrived late. By the time they found 369, he was lying on the ground, bruised and battered, his small body trembling in pain. Mara knelt beside him, tears spilling down her cheeks as she tried to comfort him, while T.LAC stood nearby, his fists clenched in silent rage.
That day, T.LAC decided. "We’re naming him Yozora," he said firmly, his voice filled with determination.
Mara sniffled, her tears momentarily pausing as she looked up at T.LAC. "Yozora?" she asked, a faint smile creeping onto her face. "He looks like a Yozora... but what does it mean?"
T.LAC's expression softened as he looked down at their new friend, lying still but no longer alone. “It means Night Sky,” he whispered.
From that day forward, the boy who had been known only as 369 became Yozora—the night sky in their little world. A name that held the promise of hope, companionship, and perhaps, a freedom yet to be discovered.