Tamaki made his way down the street ignoring the stares and glances he knew he'd receive. "Why wouldn't he." he asked himself. He knew he'd receive the same glances as he did everyday of his life. To tamaki this was the only thing close to recognition that he would ever gain. Tamaki always felt out of place in the faction that he grew up in. As a child he was told that his parents died giving birth to him and that they were outsiders of the village. Tamaki had to quickly learn how the world works, as a result he was deemed smart. He knew about the segregation that the factions held for each other. With the little information he was provided he deduced that the reason the townsfolk didn't like each him. To them tamaki was a nuisance, a disaster waiting to happen. And to make matters worse no one knew his mana class. Except him, of course. The only reason why he was kept around the village was because no one wanted to take the chance and kick him out.
Tamaki made his way to the secluded training grounds that he made for himself as a kid. He goes there everyday to train his mana, and to get away from the villagers. As tamaki is lost in thought, mana strings begin to seep from his fingertips touching the ground. He feels the texture of the cold ground and snaps back to reality. "No time to daydream" he says out loud."I have to keep training for tomorrow, for that is when i leave this accursed village".