As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in hues of orange and pink, Wren hurried home from her high school classes. The anticipation of graduation and becoming a junior weighed heavily on her mind, but as she approached the familiar sight of their family's noodle shop, a knot of dread formed in her stomach.
The usually bustling storefront was eerily quiet, and a sense of foreboding hung in the air. Stepping inside, Wren's heart sank at the sight of the chaos that greeted her. Tables were overturned, dishes lay shattered on the floor, and the once warm and inviting atmosphere was replaced by an atmosphere of destruction.
Wren's gaze met her brother's, and for a fleeting moment, she saw the pain and exhaustion etched into his features. Without a word, she understood. She knew better than to ask questions when words failed to convey the depth of their shared struggle.
With a determined nod, Wren rolled up her sleeves and set to work alongside her brother, cleaning up the mess and salvaging what they could of their beloved noodle shop. Together, they swept away the debris of the day's turmoil, a silent understanding passing between them.
Days turned into weeks, and before they knew it, graduation day had arrived. The air buzzed with excitement as students gathered in the school auditorium, anticipation and nervous energy palpable in the air.
Among the sea of faces, Wright and Wren stood side by side. As their names were called, they stepped onto the stage, receiving their diplomas.
But amidst the celebrations, a shadow loomed on the horizon. Later that day, as the sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows across the town, Wright said he was going for his late-night jog, but that was a lie. He had been studying where Riku and his men were. Wright caught sight of them outside in front of an office.
Dressed in a black jacket, black cargo pants, black cap, and black mask, Wright blended into the shadows, his gaze fixed on the figures before him.
"That fucking brat, I'm going to fuck him up when I see him," Riku said.
"I heard he had a sister," a gangster said. "How about we get her instead?"
With a silent resolve, Wright braced himself for the inevitable confrontation, his heart pounding with adrenaline and determination. The moment they mentioned his sister, his heart steeled. Wright began to walk up to them silently and—WHAM!—side-kicked one of the goons in the head. They all stood up, surprised.
"Who are you?" one of them said. "Are you from another gang?"
Without saying a word, Wright charged forward, running. He hopped off one leg and kicked one in the stomach. Another gangster charged Wright and grabbed him by the arms, holding him, and another tried to hit him. Wright jumped off the ground, pushing against a goon with his feet, making the other goon release him. As he hit the side of the office, Wright hit him with an elbow, knocking him back, then struck him with a spinning back fist, and he fell. Not looking, Riku kicked Wright's side, and Wright hit the ground.
"Huff, huff. Fucker, know who you're messing with," Riku said as he went to grab Wright's shoulder.
WHAM! A brick fell, blood trickling from Riku's head. Another gangster grabbed a bat and swung downward. Wright rolled to the side, dove for his feet, and put him in a leg lock, tightening. Snap! Panting, Wright stood up, hearing the office door unlock. A man, smoking a cigarette, walked out.
"Didn't I tell you all to stop fucking around?" the man said. He paused as he saw all of his men on the ground and looked at the figure ahead of him. "Did you do all of this?" he asked, walking past the bodies. He threw his cigarette at Wright, who dodged, but the man was already in front of Wright, slamming him on the ground.
Wright wrapped his legs around the man's arm, trying to take control. "Listen here, brat. Lemme tell you the difference between me and those losers you just fought." He picked Wright up off the ground with ease and slammed him again, harder. Wright let go.
"I'm not a poser." As the man started to walk away, he felt a sharp killing intent from behind. Before he could react, his body dodged on instinct, noticing blood dripping. Wright had a switchblade.
The man smiled. "Yes, I see you came prepared, so I will show you decency and try a bit harder."
Wright charged the man, swinging the blade upwards. The man leaned back, dodging, then switched his handling and swung down, missing. The man went for an uppercut, grazing Wright's cheek. Wright dove past the man and cut his stomach and thigh. Too shallow, he thought.
Both stood still. The man moved first, going for a calf kick. Wright lifted his leg, dodging, but was shoulder-charged by the man. Wright attempted to swing his blade while he had the chance, but the man moved his head and used his backhand to straight punch Wright in the head. Wright felt like he was being hit by a car. Unable to move, Wright lay on the ground as the man towered over him.
Turning back, the man said, "I don't know why you're doing this, but you either have two choices: stop this and leave, or continue and end up dying."
Defeated, Wright knew he couldn't continue. Things had just become much more dangerous. He limped home, slipping quietly inside. Locking the bathroom door behind him, he used the first aid kit, lifting his shirt to reveal a bruise and his eye slightly swollen. As he treated himself, he heard his sister's voice.
"Are you okay?" Wren asked, her voice filled with concern.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Go back to sleep," Wright replied.
"Okay, goodnight," she said softly.
Wright then went into his room, replaying the fight again and again in his head. He realized he had to get stronger, but how? Exhausted and pained, he eventually fell into a restless sleep, the determination to get stronger.