Brian's new home greeted him with gloom, but over time, it began to thrive alongside him. His broken body gradually filled with strength, and Brian took his first steps, supported by a friend. Weak muscles started to strengthen and gain power, and his steps became steadier. Though poor sensitivity hindered his ability to walk straight and confidently, Brian managed to move, albeit with a slight limp.
As he regained the ability to walk independently, Brian began cleaning and tidying up his room. The dirty, dusty space slowly transformed, becoming slightly more livable.
Together with Alice, he started going outside to play. Brian struggled to actively participate in games, unable to join in activities like tag due to his limitations.
After spending some time playing, they would get to work, gradually clearing the yard of weeds and debris, making it more orderly.
His new mother did not interfere with them. She simply cooked meals after returning from work, watched TV, and fell asleep, only to head back to work the next morning.
Time flew quickly, and Brian's seventh birthday approached. However, he did not know the exact date of his birthday, and none of the people around him celebrated it, just as they didn't celebrate Alice's.
Brian couldn't make friends with the children living nearby. They refused to include him in their group and didn't want to be his friends.
Even though the boy was growing stronger, the severity of his injuries still weighed heavily on him. He often experienced joint and bone pain that made him shudder, and sometimes his arms and legs failed him, causing him to fall. Yet, the progress he had made—from a nearly immobile body to being able to move—was remarkable.
At times, it seemed like he could become so strong that he might lift weights beyond the capacity of his peers. However, his brittle bones and unreliable nervous system held him back from this goal.
Soon, the new school year began, and Brian went to school. He would find himself completely alone among strangers, especially children who often treated those different from them harshly. Alice, already in the fourth grade, was nine years old.
Brian hoped that school would be a place where he could learn and make friends with his peers, blending into their environment. However, he was gravely mistaken.
POV: Brian Forman
I eagerly anticipated my first day of school. For the occasion, Mom had bought me new clothes and all the supplies I needed for my classes. I also needed a crutch to get around since my left leg often gave out, though my right leg had become strong and reliable.
On the first day, they decided to drive me to school, but from then on, I would take the school bus. I packed my backpack and headed to the door, ready to leave. Mom was already waiting impatiently, glancing at her watch.
"Are you ready?" Her eyes flicked to the clock again. "Come on, we need to hurry—I have to be at work soon."
I nodded and hurried to the car. Struggling to open the door, I slid into the back seat.
We drove toward the city, and street scenes blurred past the window. The car came to a stop in a neighborhood filled with six-story buildings, with the school nestled among them on a large lot. A sign nearby read, "Gotham City Middle School."
A broad staircase led up to the main entrance. The building was four stories tall, with wide glass windows lining the first two floors. On the roof, a clock tower stood prominently. Connected to the main structure were several three-story wings, extending the school's sprawling presence.
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Elizabeth pulled up to the entrance and turned to look at the back seat.
"Get out. You'll take the bus home," she said in a detached tone.
Opening the door, I set my right foot on the asphalt, grabbed my crutch, and stepped out of the car. Elizabeth drove off without even saying goodbye. Adjusting my backpack, I headed inside.
Stairs had always been a difficult obstacle for me. Slowly shuffling my feet and leaning on the railing, I made my way up the steps. Around me, I could hear snickers. Glancing back, I noticed kids pointing at me and laughing.
I didn't understand what they found so funny. Choosing to ignore them, I continued toward the entrance.
Inside the lobby, adults were greeting young children who were entering school for the first time. Little kids clung to their parents, who were hurrying to the auditorium for the principal's welcome speech.
After asking one of the adults for directions, I was pointed toward my classroom. Walking down the school corridor, I passed rows of lockers. Suddenly, I felt a shove against my shoulder. I lost my balance, stumbled into the lockers, and fell.
Groaning in pain, I propped myself up and looked up at a group of older kids laughing at me.
"Oh, I didn't see you there. So sorry," one of them—a chubby boy—said in a mocking tone.
"It's fine," I replied, gripping my crutch and trying to get up. But then another kick knocked the crutch out from under me, sending me crashing back to the ground.
Their laughter grew louder as they slapped their knees and clutched their stomachs. My body ached from the falls, but their cruel laughter hurt even more.
"Oh no, I must've accidentally kicked it," the chubby boy sneered.
"Can't you see you're in the way? Maybe crawl out of here so people can walk?" said a red-haired boy, smirking.
"Come on, get up already. What are you lying there for?" added the chubby one.
Suddenly, someone shoved the chubby boy, making him stumble. I looked up and saw Alice standing beside me, her eyes blazing with anger.
"What, don't you have anyone else to pick on besides someone weaker than you?" she shouted.
"What's it to you, huh?" the dark-haired boy challenged her, stepping forward.
"He's my brother. I won't let you hurt him," she declared, stepping in front of me, shielding me from them.
A crowd of kids and the occasional passing adults began to gather around. Soon, a teacher—a stern-looking woman in a formal suit—approached the scene of the conflict.
"Ah, you three again, causing trouble. Tomorrow, I'll be calling your parents to the principal's office. Your behavior is unacceptable," she scolded the culprits with a frown.
"Apologies, ma'am. We accidentally bumped into him and were just trying to help," the red-haired boy offered with feigned innocence.
"They're lying! They pushed Brian on purpose and wouldn't let him get up!" Alice retorted firmly.
"Is that true?" the teacher turned to me for confirmation.
"Yes." I saw no point in defending them. They'd probably still find ways to bother me anyway.
"Tomorrow, I expect your parents here. Now, get to class, all of you," the teacher ordered, raising her hand to gesture the direction they should go.
As they walked past me, they waved their arms in mock threats, muttering, "You're dead meat!" But I knew that one day, I'd grow stronger and be able to stand up to them.
Alice helped me up, dusted off my uniform, and adjusted it.
"You must be a first-grader. It's time for you to head to the assembly hall too. Will you take him there?" the teacher asked Alice.
"Of course," Alice replied, taking my hand and pulling me forward. "Come on, or you'll be late."
We hurried to make it to the assembly on time. Alice led me to the hall, said goodbye, and ran off to her class. I found a seat near the edge and carefully sat down. Around me, the room buzzed with the chatter of children and their parents.
Suddenly, the bell in the tower rang, signaling the start of the assembly.
A man in a sharp business suit stepped onto the stage. He tapped the microphone to test it, then brought it closer to his mouth.
"I am delighted to welcome you all to our school and to congratulate you on the beginning of your academic journey. I assure you, you'll love it here. My name is David Herdman, and I am the principal of this school. Today, I'd like to share a few words with you!"
With great enthusiasm, he extolled the virtues of the school and shared an array of other empty phrases. After him, various teachers and school administrators took turns reading prepared speeches.
An hour later, the monotonous presentations finally came to an end.
"With that, the welcome address concludes. I ask all students to proceed to their classrooms. Your schedules and classroom numbers were provided to your parents in advance," the principal announced, wrapping up the assembly.
Elizabeth hadn't given me any information, and I didn't even know which class I was supposed to be in.
People began rising from their seats, heading toward the exits. They pushed and argued, getting in each other's way. I was too afraid to get up, so I waited for the crowd to disperse.
Gradually, the hall emptied, and eventually, I was the only one left.
After a few minutes, I gathered my courage and stood up. I started looking for someone who could help me.
By then, everyone had already scattered to their classes, and the parents had gone about their day.
Wandering through the empty hallways, I tried to figure out where I was supposed to go. At one turn, I nearly ran into the teacher I had already met earlier.
"Why are you wandering around? Shouldn't you be in homeroom?" she asked me.
"My mom forgot to give me the schedule, so I don't know where I'm supposed to go," I replied sadly. Most likely, Mom hadn't even paid attention to that piece of paper.
"I see," she said thoughtfully, resting her chin on her hand. "Alright, let's find your class."
Taking my hand, she led me in the opposite direction. We climbed the stairs to the second floor and walked down the hallway.
"What's your name?" the teacher asked.
"Brian Foreman," I replied.
"My name is Barbara Lewis. Nice to meet you, Brian," she said, offering her hand.
"Nice to meet you too," I said, shaking it.
"Alright, wait here. I'll find out which class you're in," she said, disappearing into the nearest classroom. She wasn't gone long before moving on to another room.
After checking a few more doors, she came back to me.
"I found your class. Remember, it's 2-D," she said, pointing to the plaque on the door. "Now go on in, I've got to get going."
"Thank you, and see you later," I said gratefully.
"No problem," she replied with a smile before walking off.
I watched her for a moment before turning back to the door. Taking a deep breath, I knocked and stepped inside. All eyes in the room instantly focused on me.
"Ah, here's our lost one," the teacher announced.
"Sorry, I didn't know where to go," I said, feeling a little defensive since it wasn't my fault.
"We've already introduced ourselves. Step to the front of the class and do the same," she instructed. I moved hesitantly toward the blackboard.
"My name is Brian Foreman," I said, feeling slightly awkward.
The room fell silent as everyone stared at me, waiting for more. I glanced at the teacher, unsure of what else to say.
"When you introduce yourself, you should share your name, hobbies, and what you enjoy doing," she clarified.
"Um, mostly just reading," I said. That was all I could think of to say.
"Alright, you'll have plenty of time to get to know everyone later. My name is Shelly Wright. I'm your homeroom teacher and will be with you for the next five years. Now, take your seat," she said, gesturing to an empty spot at the back near the window. I didn't have any trouble seeing from there, so it was fine by me.
"Let's start our first lesson," Shelly Wright announced.
She began explaining the subjects we would study and the places we would visit. The core subjects included writing, reading, basic math, and environmental studies. We'd also have art classes in a special room and physical education in the gymnasium.
Throughout the year, we would also have the opportunity to visit various landmarks in Gotham City. During the first two years, grades wouldn't be given, and our work would simply be marked as "good" or "bad."
Today, we had only one lesson before going on a tour of the school to familiarize ourselves with its layout.
As the school day neared its end, the bell in the tower rang to announce its conclusion. When I stepped outside, I decided to wait for my sister. We had agreed to meet at the end of the day, and it was already two o'clock. Our school day lasted from eight in the morning until two in the afternoon.
Suddenly, someone covered my eyes.
"Guess who?" said a playful, unfamiliar voice.
"I have no idea which annoying girl this might be," I joked. The response was immediate—a smack on the back of my head. Rubbing it, I quickly apologized. "I'm sorry, it's the most wonderful girl on the planet."
"Alright, I'll forgive you this time," she said with a reconciliatory hug. "Let's go home."
Alice decided to take me on a short tour of the city before we caught a bus home. As we walked through the streets, I couldn't help but look around in fascination—it was my first time exploring this city.
On one street, we noticed a crowd gathered around a newsstand, talking animatedly and purchasing papers.
"Let's see what's going on," Alice said, pulling me toward the stand.
We found that an intriguing issue of the newspaper was on sale. The headline announced the shocking news that billionaire Thomas Wayne and his wife, Martha Wayne, had been murdered, leaving their nine-year-old son, Bruce Wayne, as the richest person in Gotham City.
The news was heartbreaking. I felt a deep sadness for that boy, who had lost his parents. Though I had never known mine, the thought still weighed heavily on me. Alice noticed my melancholy and suggested we stop by a nearby stand to get some ice cream. I agreed—it was a comforting idea.
As we walked home, enjoying the ice cream and chatting about various topics, we laughed and cherished the moment.
Suddenly, the wail of a police siren cut through the air at the end of the street. Turning toward the sound, we saw a high-speed chase. Police cars were pursuing a vehicle, shouting commands over their loudspeakers to pull over.
The suspects in the stolen car leaned out of the windows, firing guns at the pursuing officers. The police responded with gunfire of their own.
For a brief moment, fear rooted me to the spot. Then, realizing the danger, I knew we needed to find cover. People scattered in every direction, screaming and trying to escape.
Alice, however, stood frozen, unable to move. Without thinking, I tackled her, pulling both of us behind a parked car for shelter.
Gunfire rang out, echoing through the street as chaos unfolded around us.
The bandits sped past us, and a few bullets hit the car we were using as cover. The glass above us shattered, raining shards down. I shielded Alice, protecting her from the falling debris.
Seeing my sister frightened and starting to cry, I couldn't leave her in such a state. I tried to calm her down, speaking gently and holding her close to let her feel my support.
Gradually, the sounds of gunfire and police sirens faded away. Peeking out from behind the car, I noticed that the street had fallen silent. But soon, people began emerging from their hiding spots, returning to their routines as if nothing had happened.
Alice calmed down, and as she stood up, she began brushing off her uniform. It was covered in dirt, so I helped her clean up, carefully wiping away the grime.
"Are you okay, Alice?" I asked.
"Yeah, just scared... And my uniform will need washing," she replied, inspecting her clothes sadly.
"Let's head home. We've had enough excitement for one day," I said. She nodded, and holding hands, we made our way home.
The journey back was uneventful. Mom was still at work and wouldn't return until around six. We retrieved the spare key from the flowerpot and unlocked the door.
I hadn't eaten all day, and I was starving. Although Alice had already eaten at school, she decided to join me for company. When I jokingly asked if she wasn't worried about gaining weight, I instantly regretted it. My remark earned me a flurry of punches and a dramatic cold shoulder. She puffed up her cheeks and began ignoring me.
"You're slender and beautiful, I swear! I'm sorry," I said, quickly realizing that some jokes or questions should never be aimed at girls.
"Really?" she asked, running her hands over her waist and glancing in the mirror.
"Of course. I promise," I assured her. What else could I say?
Her pout disappeared in an instant, replaced by a smile. We ate lunch together and then settled down to watch TV. A news report detailed the tragedy from the previous night: billionaire Thomas Wayne had been murdered. A robber had ambushed him, along with his wife and son. According to investigators, the thief stole their valuables and money but was provoked into shooting them. Bruce Wayne, their son, survived, standing over the bodies of his parents.
I truly felt sorry for him. The thought of losing loved ones was unbearable. I couldn't imagine losing Alice, and in that moment, I resolved to protect her no matter what. I needed to become stronger, so no threat could ever overcome me.
First, I decided to train my body and improve my physical condition. Intense workouts would help me regain full mobility in my arms and legs. But physical strength alone wouldn't be enough against a gun. I needed a weapon for self-defense.
Knives seemed like my only viable option. If my reflexes became fast enough, I could throw a knife before a gunman had the chance to pull the trigger.
I crafted a plan. All that was left now was to follow through.