"Lost is a soul whose purpose has been written off.
Cursed is a name intertwined with evil.
Saved are those who realize their mistakes and make amends."
×××
Outside, the midday sun poured over a courtyard littered with dry leaves and uneven patches of grass. The rusted skeleton of an old swing set stood in the corner, its chains swaying gently in the breeze, a faint creak accompanying the movement. A thin cloud of dust lingered in the air, kicked up by the scurrying feet of a group of younger children chasing after a tattered ball.
"Hey, give it back! Stop it, give it back!" cried a young girl. Her soft, pleading voice trembled with fear and frustration. Holding back tears, she reached out desperately, her small hands trembling as she tried to grab the object being teased away from her.
"Come on, Yuri," one of the boys teased, his grin wide and mocking. "You can do better than that. Just grab it." He held the object higher, laughing as she made another futile jump.
Nearby, a boy with a rugged, unkempt appearance stirred from his rest under a tree. His clothes were tattered, and his hands and face were smeared with dirt, and his face bore the exhaustion of someone who had endured far too much. He rubbed his eyes, blinking against the sunlight, and squinted toward the commotion.
"Yuri again..." His voice was low, gravelly, almost detached, but there was no mistaking the irritation in it. He could see her struggling in the distance, and he hated that he could recognize it by now, the fear, the helplessness, the frustration. "Is she getting picked on again?"
He didn't want to look. Didn't want to care. But his eyes locked onto her anyway. A sigh escaped him, his chest heavy with the weight of it all. And the sound of their laughter, sharp and unrelenting, chipped at whatever was left of his patience.
He rubbed his sore arms, the bruises from the mindbuggers' "training" still tender under his fingertips. That sting wasn't new. It never was. But this—this he wasn't used to. It gnawed at him in a way that was unfamiliar, a feeling that made him want to step in, to do something. Anything.
But... He hated getting involved.
They'd never stop laughing. Not until he did something.
His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms, his breath quickening. He should've ignored it. Walk away. But no, his mind was made up.
Pushing himself off the tree, he brushed the dirt from his shorts and slowly took steps toward Yuri. His movements were calm, deliberate, though his blood simmered beneath the surface. He offered her his hand, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Get up. Wipe your tears."
Yuri hesitated but took his hand, her small fingers clutching his a bit of uncertainty. He guided her back to the shade of the tree, his tone soft but firm. "Stay here. Wait for me."
"Don't go," she pleaded, her voice barely a whisper. "Please... you'll only get into more trouble. Don't make it worse."
He didn't respond, his mind already calculating. His eyes tracked the bullies, sizing them up. Four of them. Not impossible, but not ideal either. His body ached, but the anger swelling in his chest dulled the pain. He's been in similar situations several times, he was getting used to it.
As he turned to face them, his steps grew heavier, his resolve harder. The mindbuggers would come, they always did. But at this moment, he didn't care. The thought of their punishment no longer scared him. What terrified him more was doing nothing.
Unbeknownst to him, the whispers had already spread. A few children who held a grudge against him had slipped away to inform the mindbuggers. It was just another chance for them to watch him get dragged into trouble, as they always did.
The four bullies were right in front of him, and he could feel the faint presence of the mindbuggers in the distance. They weren't in a hurry, but they were getting closer. He knew what they'd do if they caught him in the act, and for a moment, he hesitated. Then, the thought of their punishments made his skin crawl.
The unfairness of it all boiling his blood. His fists clenched, anger giving him the push he needed. He had one chance to act before their arrival.
The first boy to notice him froze. Then, the sneer on his face stretched, morphing into shock as the boy darted forward to trip him.
Before he could blink, a roundhouse kick slammed into his face. It was quick, brutal, and precise. The bully didn't even have a chance to react before he was sent flying to the ground, unconscious.
The others froze. Riddled with disbelief.
The second boy, closest to him, tried to back away, but he was faster. He grabbed the boy's arm and delivered three swift punches, each hitting harder than the last.
Two left.
The third boy, he was quicker, more agile, but panic made him stumble. And that was all the boy needed. A swift sweep of the legs sent the bully crashing down to the dirt, his head cracking the ground hard enough to knock him out cold.
Only one was left. The instigator. The one who had started this whole mess by toying with Yuri.
He took a moment, locking eyes with him. A slow smile played across his face, not one of amusement, but something darker, as if he was transferring all his aggression into that single moment.
"So, you're not even gonna try to run?" he asked in a cold tone.
The boy staggered backward, but before he could move, a fist slammed into his face, knocking him straight to the ground.
The fight was over before it really began. The Buggers hadn't arrived yet, it was just as he had calculated.
A cheer broke out from some of the students, their voices filled with awe and hype.
He turned to walk back to Yuri, but her voice, small but anxious, cut through the air. "Haze, behind you!!!"
"What? Where—"
Before he could even process it, everything went dark.