WHACK!
Takumi's world blurred as he stumbled backwards, the sting of cold metal snapping him out of his thoughts. A sharp voice rang out from the woman before him, her face half-hidden behind a metallic mask. She wielded a long, gleaming pole, aiming it straight at his chest.
"I'm gonna get you now!" she taunted, lunging again.
Takumi's instincts screamed, but he fumbled, barely keeping his balance. His heart raced as he scanned the cramped arena around him.
The Pit was small, barely the size of a football field. The walls loomed high, closing in on the fighters like a cage. It wasn't as massive as the grand arenas the Aetherians fought in, but here, it was enough.
He reached into his pocket and pressed a button just as the pole swung toward him. Instantly, a glowing shield materialized in front of him, absorbing the blow with a crackling hiss.
[SHIELD 84% INTEGRITY]
The woman grunted, her pole sparking as it slammed into the barrier. She stumbled back, momentarily losing her grip.
Takumi lowered his shield. The thin shards of metal dimmed and melted back into the bracelet on his wrist, shrinking in size and returning to their dormant state.
Takumi quickly lowered his shield. The shimmering energy collapsed into the bracelet on his wrist, its glow fading. His holographic display flickered above his wrist, showing the schematics of his design. The shield was part of a series of gadgets he'd built to mimic the powers of Aetherians.
These are the tools he relied on because he didn't have their abilities.
Normally, Takumi would be preparing for his upcoming school first year of high school, which would start in three weeks.
But it was still summer, and Takumi had spent his break doing something different. He had entered The Pit, a brutal underground arena where fighters battled for glory, fame, and money.
No rules, no limits.
Aetherians fought each other without mercy, pushing themselves to their absolute limits, with bets placed on every match.
For Takumi, this was the closest he would ever get to the Eclipse Festival.
The Eclipse Festival was the grandest event for Aetherians, where the most powerful students from the six elite Aetherian academies competed in front of the world.
But Takumi, an ordinary human with no Aetherian powers, wasn't even eligible. He wasn't in one of those prestigious schools, and he wasn't gifted.
The Pit was the closest he would ever get to that stage. This underground arena was the only place he could prove himself.
"There are two types of people: the gifted and the lucky," Takumi's mother had once told him before passing away.
Takumi looked down at his trembling hands, recalling the memory. Mother's words stuck with him, engraved into his mind like a tattoo.
"You're too slow, kid!" the woman taunted, twirling the pole.
Takumi's heart pounded. He was no Aetherian. He didn't have powers, just machines he'd built with his own hands. But in The Pit, where anything went, this was all he had.
She swung again, the pole arcing toward him. Takumi ducked, feeling the wind rush past his face. He had to think faster. Move smarter.
But the woman was relentless. She lunged, striking again and again, each blow coming closer to breaking through his defences.
Takumi's hands shook as he scrambled backwards. He couldn't keep up.
Not like this.
Then, she swung for his head. Takumi raised his arms to block, but it was too late. The pole connected with a sickening thud, cracking his goggles and sending him staggering back.
Pain exploded in his skull. His vision blurred, but he forced himself to stay upright. He had to fight.
The woman paused, surprised by his resilience. Takumi saw his chance.
Clasping his hands together, he raised them above his head and brought them down in a hammer strike on her skull. The impact echoed through the arena, and the woman was knocked off her feet.
But before he could land another hit, she twisted in midair, grabbing his wrist and throwing him to the ground. The breath was knocked out of him as he hit the dirt, gasping for air.
"Still too predictable," she said, her voice laced with amusement.
Takumi groaned, lying flat on the ground, his body screaming in pain. He wasn't surprised to be outmatched. Not here.
"Sora-sensei..." he muttered. "Do you have to be that rough?"
Sora Mizuhara, his mentor, loomed over him, her metallic arm glinting in the dim light. She extended her hand, pulling him to his feet.
"You asked for this," she reminded him, her tone flat.
"I know," Takumi sighed, rubbing his aching head.
Sora removed her mask, revealing her sharp grey eyes and sweat-slicked hair. "You're too reliant on those gadgets of yours. They won't save you forever."
Takumi gritted his teeth. "I'll work on it."
Sora raised an eyebrow. "You better. Out here, people with real powers will rip you apart."
Sora wasn't the type to warm up to people easily. She was a woman of few words, usually keeping to herself. But there was something different about this boy. When she lost her arm in a brutal duel years ago, she never thought she'd fight again, she never thought she'd feel her missing limb again.
But this young boy had changed all that.
At fourteen, Takumi had entered The Pit, determined to prove himself. He knew he had no place in the world of bloodshed and violence, but he was determined to try anyway.
"I want to win the Eclipse Festival!" Takumi had said, standing nervously before Sora when she asked him why he entered The Pit.
It was an awkward situation: a six-foot-tall, muscular woman with scars interrogating a fourteen-year-old boy with glasses and a huge backpack. But he had said those words with conviction.
Sora chuckled as the young man struggled to get up but failed.
"Come on, you're not dead yet," Sora said, her voice sharper now, no longer playful. "You want to survive in The Pit? You need to be faster. Smarter."
Takumi wiped the sweat from his brow, glaring at her. "I know that," he muttered.
Sora tilted her head. "Do you? Because I don't see it."
Takumi took off his cracked goggles and replaced them with his original glasses, trying to ignore the pressure in his head.
Sora stepped closer, putting her hand on his shoulder.
"That's enough for today. You've got school in three weeks, right?"
Takumi nodded. "Yeah, three weeks left of summer break."
"Then get some rest. I'll see you next week, same time."
As Sora began to pack up her gloves and gear, she paused and called after him.
"Jiraiya."
Takumi turned.
"Don't tell anyone I'm a teacher here."
"Why not?" Takumi asked.
Sora sighed. "I used to be a lot like you. Always trying to prove something, desperate to show everyone I wasn't weak."
She chuckled, shaking her head. "But here's the thing. There's no honour in The Pit. No glory. You can't afford to care what people think. Just survive. Keep your head down."
Takumi furrowed his brows. "You say that, but you still care what people think. Especially about your arm."
Sora's smile faded, her eyes darkening. "You don't know anything about me, kid."
She clenched her fists, her prosthetic arm glinting. "People look at me, and all they see is this stupid arm. Like it's a reminder that I'm not like them. That I'm broken."
She took a deep breath, looking back at Takumi. "But you? You don't have any powers, yet you fight with everything you've got. That's why I believe you can win."
Takumi stared at the ground. "That's easier said than done."
Sora smirked. "You'll see soon enough. Once the fights are all you think about, surviving becomes second nature."
Takumi looked up. "When's my first match?"
"When the time comes, Kid," Sora said. "Hope you're ready when it does."
Takumi smiled. "I'll be more than ready."
Sora nodded. "See you later, kid. And remember, no talking about The Pit."
***
As Takumi walked out of the arena, his body ached from the blows, but his mind was sharper than ever. The sun had begun to set, casting long shadows on the cracked pavement as he made his way to the nearest train station.
He slipped into a seat near the back of the train, resting his head against the cool window as the city blurred past him.
His mind drifted to his childhood, to a time before everything changed.
He remembered playing in the yard with his father, laughing as they kicked a ball around. His mother would watch from the porch, her soft smile never far from her face.
It felt like a lifetime ago.
Takumi clenched his fists, thinking about how different things were now. His father had disappeared when he was ten, leaving without a trace. His mother had passed away soon after, the grief too much for her to bear.
He was left in the care of his aunt and uncle, who did their best, but it wasn't the same. It never would be.
Then there was Ayame Miskito, his childhood friend.
Even now, she protected him fiercely. Her Aetherian powers made her stronger, yet she still watched over him, despite knowing how reckless he could be. He chuckled at the thought of her reaction to his underground fights. Ayame would be furious, lecturing him about the dangers, just as she always had.
But this was different.
This wasn't just some childish prank. This was survival. This was his only shot at carving out a place for himself in a world that had no room for someone like him.
His thoughts shifted to his parents. What would they think of him now? His father had always told him to chase after what he wanted, and to never give up, but would he approve of Takumi risking his life in a place like The Pit? And his mother… She would have been horrified.
She had always worried about him, always told him to be careful, to stay safe. But staying safe wasn't enough anymore.
As the train slowed to a stop, Takumi stood up, his body protesting with every movement. He stepped off the train and made his way through the familiar streets to his aunt and uncle's home.
It wasn't much, but it was warm and welcoming, a place where he could at least pretend that everything was normal.
When he walked in, his aunt looked up from the kitchen table. "Back from the gym?" she asked, glancing at his sweaty clothes.
Takumi nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just a long session. Needed to blow off some steam."
"Don't push yourself too hard," she warned, her eyes narrowing slightly as if sensing something was off. "You know how dangerous it can be."
"Yeah, I know," Takumi muttered, trying to shrug off the tension. He quickly made his way upstairs before she could press him any further.
On his way to his room, he stopped by his little sister's room. The door was cracked open, and he could hear the soft hum of energy inside. He pushed the door open a little more and found Hikari sitting on her bed, her hands glowing faintly with light.
She was playing with her Aetherian powers, tiny sparks of electricity dancing between her fingertips. She had only discovered her abilities recently, and their aunt had already taken her to the government office to register as an official Aetherian.
Hikari looked up when she noticed him, her face lighting up. "Hey, big bro! Look at this!"
She raised her hands, and a small arc of electricity shot from one finger to the other. Takumi smiled, though the sight made his heart ache just a little.
"Impressive," he said, leaning against the doorframe. "You're getting better."
"Yeah, Auntie says I've got real potential! You know, when are you gonna get your powers?" Hikari teased, her eyes glinting mischievously.
Takumi rolled his eyes, trying to laugh it off. "Any day now, kiddo. I'm just waiting for the right moment."
Hikari giggled, bouncing on her bed. "Sure, sure. You keep saying that!"
He stepped into the room, ruffling her hair. "You're still a little runt, though. Powers or no powers."
"Hey! I'm not a runt!" she protested, trying to swat his hand away, though she was laughing.
Takumi grinned, feeling a warmth in his chest. Despite everything, moments like this reminded him of what he was fighting for.
After saying goodnight, he made his way to his room. When he opened the door, he was greeted by the usual sight: a chaotic mess of wires, metal parts, and half-finished gadgets scattered across every surface.
It looked like a junkyard, with piles of scrap and tools strewn about, a testament to his constant tinkering.
He had been building machines for as long as he could remember some being successful, most scrapped, but all of them important in their own way.
His aunt was always nagging him to clean up, but this was his space, his sanctuary. He liked the chaos. It felt like home.
Takumi slumped onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling. His mind wandered, thoughts swirling like the mess in his room. Everyone he knew Ayame, Hikari, and even his classmates, were all Aetherians.
They had powers, and abilities that set them apart and made them special. But not him. He was just a regular human, born without a trace of Aetherian energy. And yet, he had chosen to step into The Pit, to fight in a place where people like him didn't belong.
He clenched his fists, the weight of it all pressing down on him.
The world had been shaped by Aetherians since the Eclipse fifty years ago, and it was a world that had no room for someone like him. But Takumi wasn't about to let that stop him.
He had no powers, no divine gift, but he had something else, determination, grit, and a fire that refused to go out.
In the quiet of his room, surrounded by the tools and scraps of his inventions, Takumi allowed himself a moment of reflection.
He thought about the world he lived in, a world where power defined everything, where the strong ruled and the weak were left behind. But he wasn't going to let himself be left behind.
No.
He wasn't going to be defeated by a world that didn't care about him. He wasn't going to let the absence of powers define him. He would carve out a life for himself with his own hands, with his own sweat and soul. And if that meant fighting an Aetherian—fighting every single one of them—then so be it.
Takumi stared at the ceiling, his resolve hardening.
"I don't need powers," he whispered to himself. "I'll make my own path."