"The cards chose their master, but it's the heart that defines a champion."
— Unknown Duelist
Tomoki was eight years old when he made up his mind: he was going to be the next King of Thrones.
It was a regular afternoon in the small village of Yora, a place so quiet it was easy to forget you were alive at all. The sun was starting to dip behind the hills, casting long shadows over the dusty streets. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves, and for a moment, everything seemed at peace.
Except for the fact that Tomoki was flat on his back, covered in dirt. Again.
"Why do I even bother…" he muttered, glaring up at Goro, his self-proclaimed rival and the biggest bully in the village.
Goro grinned down at him, a smugness that only an older kid with a bigger deck of cards could pull off. "Told you, Tomoki. You don't stand a chance against my Blazing Wolf." He kicked the dirt next to Tomoki's foot for good measure. "Better stick to chores. Leave the real battles to the grown-ups."
Tomoki clenched his fists. This was his third loss to Goro that week. His Mud Tortoise was no match for Goro's Blazing Wolf. The tortoise's slow pace and soft shell were useless against the fiery beast. The worst part? Goro knew it and never let him forget it.
"I'm not giving up," Tomoki said, wiping the dirt off his face as he stood up. "One day, I'll beat you. One day, I'll be the greatest duelist in the world."
The group of kids who had been watching the duel snickered. One of them, Sana — who always hung back and watched silently — raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that, Tomoki?"
He dusted off his shirt, trying to keep his dignity intact. "I'm serious. I'm going to enter the King of Thrones Tournament one day, and I'm going to win. You'll see."
The laughter died down a bit. Even Goro paused, his grin fading. Everyone in the village had heard of the tournament — the competition where the top 900 duelists fought for the ultimate title: King of Thrones. A new champion was crowned every ten years, and they ruled over the entire world for a decade. It was the stuff of legends. People trained their whole lives for a shot at it. But no one, especially in a small village like Yora, ever really believed they could make it.
Except Tomoki.
"Sure you will," Goro finally sneered. "If you can't even beat me, you'll never make it in the big leagues. But hey, dream big, right?"
Tomoki's face flushed red with frustration, but he didn't respond. He couldn't. He didn't have the cards or the strength to back up his words yet. But inside, he knew — one day, it would be different. One day, he'd have what it took to win.
Later that evening, Tomoki sat outside his small house, staring at the sunset. The air was cool now, and the faint smell of cooking from the nearby houses filled the air. His mother had just finished scolding him for being late with the water. Again.
"You'll never make it to the arena if you keep getting distracted like that," she had said, shaking her head as she handed him a bowl of soup. Tomoki just grinned, ignoring the stern look on her face.
He couldn't help it. His mind was always elsewhere, drifting toward duels and cards, imagining himself at the center of the grandest arenas, with thousands cheering him on. He could see it — himself standing tall, the greatest duelists from all corners of the world at his feet, and the title of King of Thrones resting squarely on his shoulders.
"Tomoki, are you daydreaming about the tournament again?" a voice interrupted his thoughts.
It was Sana, his best friend, standing beside him with a raised eyebrow. Her arms were crossed, and her usual smirk was firmly in place. Sana was sharp, clever, and always the first to call him out when he started spacing off. She didn't duel much, but she knew the game better than most and wasn't afraid to speak her mind.
"Maybe," Tomoki admitted, looking up at the sky. "I can't help it, Sana. I'm going to be there one day. I have to."
Sana sat down beside him, folding her legs under her. "You? King of Thrones? That's a long shot." She gave Tomoki a sideways glance. "But hey, if anyone's crazy enough to pull it off, it's you."
Tomoki smiled. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
"Just don't trip over your own feet when you get there," Sana teased, giving Tomoki a playful shove.
"Hey!" Tomoki protested, but he couldn't help but laugh. Despite all his losses, despite all the teasing and doubts, there was something inside him that refused to give up. Something that told him he was meant for more.
"I'm serious, though," Tomoki said after a moment, his voice softening. "One day, I'll compete. I'll be the best. I'll change everything."
Sana paused, looking at him more seriously. "Why do you want it so bad, Tomoki? You've got a good life here. Sure, Goro's a pain, but the King of Thrones? That's a whole other level of dangerous."
Tomoki didn't answer right away. He thought about the world — the state it was in. The battles. The destruction. The way everything seemed to revolve around cards, around power. The cards were supposed to have been used to unite humanity, to build something better after the world had been torn apart. But in the end, they were just tools for war, for chaos.
He didn't know the full reason yet, but something inside him felt like he was meant to do more than just fight in the streets for scraps.
"I just… I feel like I have to," he finally said, his voice quiet. "Like it's my purpose, you know?"
Sana blinked, then let out a small laugh. "Well, when you put it that way, I guess I'll have to back you up. Someone's gotta make sure you don't get yourself killed."
Tomoki grinned. "I'll hold you to that."