"Nine!"
Her voice, soft and familiar, cut through the noise of the slums. Nine froze, his heart lurching. He turned, and there she stoodâAya, like a fragile bloom thriving against all odds in the harshness of winter.
To Nine, Aya was his anchor in a world that offered no mercy. An orphan who had only known the cruelty of the streets, Nine had long learned that survival required a hardened heart. But Aya? She was the exception. She softened his edges, her quiet presence an unwavering reminder that there was still something pure in this broken world.
When the bullies came for himâmocking his small frame, beating him just to feel powerfulâit was Aya who stepped in. She had no strength of her own to fight them off, but she was clever. A distraction here, a diversion there, and she'd take his hand, her voice a breathless whisper, "Run."
Together, they carved out their own fragile sanctuary, hidden behind a crumbling wall they had spent days cracking open. It was a tiny space, barely enough for the two of them to sit shoulder to shoulder, but it was theirs. Here, the world couldn't touch them. They shared stolen bread, curled up for warmth during cold nights, and marveled at the discarded picture books Aya would find.
Aya couldn't read the words, but Nine could. He had taught himself, determined to make sense of the mysterious symbols. And when he'd figured it out, he began teaching her. She'd watch him with wide eyes, awe brimming as she traced the letters he showed her. In those moments, it didn't matter that they had nothing. They had each other, and for a time, it was enough.
But time changes people.
Nine, once the boy who laughed with Aya over silly pictures, began to shift. The softness in his eyes dulled, replaced by a sharper, colder light. His cleverness turned into cunning. The streets that once tormented him were now under his control, as he brewed and sold a potent drug that kept the slums in his grasp. Aya didn't understand the depths of his actions, but she felt the unease creep into her heart. She wanted to ask, to beg him to stop, but fear held her tongue. Fear of losing the only person she had.
By the time Aya was thirteen and Nine sixteen, the world beyond their sanctuary fell into chaos. Wars erupted across the realm, martial arts factions clashing in a desperate bid for dominance. Humanity's greed and ambition tore apart the fragile peace, and with it came something far worse.
The gods, disillusioned by mortals, turned their backs on the realm. And hell stepped forward to fill the void.
The Seven Deadly SinsâGreed, Lust, Sloth, Pride, Envy, Wrath, and Gluttonyâmanifested as forces that offered power to the desperate and ambitious. Their allure was intoxicating, their promises irresistible.
And Nine, ever ambitious, couldn't resist.
When the Arena of Lords was announcedâa deadly tournament where the victor would claim the title of one of the Seven SinsâNine made his decision. He would fight. He would win.
Aya tried to stop him.
"You will gain nothing from it." She stood in his path, her voice trembling but resolute.
Nine sighed, leaning down to meet her gaze. His eyes softened for a moment, but the fire of determination still burned behind them.
"I'll create a world for us, Aya," he said, his hand briefly brushing over her head before stepping past her.
"We have each other. That's enough!" Aya ran to block his path again, her voice breaking.
Nine stopped and placed his hands on her shoulders, gently turning her to face the broken world around them. Dark smoke curled into the sky from fires in the distance, screams pierced the air, and the people moved like shadowsâhungry, desperate, and wild with fear. Even the guards and martial artists trying to restore order carried hopelessness in their eyes.
"This place will burn soon," Nine said, his voice quiet but unyielding.
When he took her hand and led her forward, she let him. Her mind swirled with unanswered questions, but his touch eased her fears, if only for a moment. She watched his back as he guided them through the chaos.
"What are you planning?" she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Nine stopped and turned to her, his gaze unreadable. Then, with a small smile, he said, "I told you, Aya. I'll create a world for us."
"How? You're just a kid."
Nine laughed, his voice low and warm, catching her off guard. "A kid, huh?" He tilted his head and grinned, his sharp features softened by the humor in his eyes. "Maybe for now. But that won't last long."
His face was smudged with dirt, but it only made his striking features more pronounced. Aya's heart stuttered as she stared at him, and when their eyes met, she felt a warmth rise to her cheeks.
"Are you sick?" Nine's grin faded, and his brows furrowed with concern. He reached out to feel her forehead, but Aya pushed his hand away.
"I-I'm fine!" she stammered, turning her face away to hide her blush.
Nine blinked, then chuckled, the sound soft and almost teasing. "You want me to carry you?" he asked, his tone playful.
Aya pouted, turning to glare at him. "I'm not a kid anymore!"
"Right, right." Nine raised his hands in mock surrender, though the grin never left his face. "But we are kids, aren't we?"
Aya huffed and snatched her scarf from his hand, marching ahead with a pout. Nine followed close behind, unable to hide his amusement as he teased her.
For a moment, it was like old times. But Aya couldn't ignore the unease that lingered. Nine's path was leading him into darkness, and she wasn't sure if she could follow.