I went to see her during recess. As always, she had been bullied by other students and was sitting alone in a corner of the courtyard; no one passed near her. I decided to approach. I had never paid much attention to her before. It bothered me that she was suffering so much just because of her nationality, but I had never really looked at her properly. I noticed then that she wore a hat similar to a navy cap and that her hair was a beautiful silver. When I got closer, she shrank back, convinced I was there to hurt her. Seeing that reaction made me realise how deeply traumatized she had become from everything the other students did.
So I sat beside her and tried to talk. I had never been very good at socialising. Nobody wanted to be my friend because I didn't follow their beliefs or the opposite side's beliefs. Thinking back, maybe it was precisely because I didn't pick a side that I had been largely ignored and avoided being bullied myself. Still, I set that awkward, withdrawn part of me aside and tried to befriend her. I asked her name and she answered hesitantly.
"...Nadia..."
I hadn't heard properly, so I asked her to repeat it.
"...Nadia Von Hartmann..."
It was a beautiful name, but she was clearly still very afraid of me because of everything the others had done. I introduced myself as Zephyr Wolfe. It was hard to hold a conversation at first because she was still too wary, so I kept asking about her, trying to show I wouldn't hurt her. I did that for about ten days straight. The first few days felt pointless, until one day she finally confronted me.
"...Why? Why do you sit with me every day? I will never trust someone who only wants to hurt me. After all, everything you've done so far has been like that. You never considered how I feel, suffering at your hands every day. Is that the kind of anarchy you defend?"
Her question stunned me. There were real tears in her eyes. I didn't know how to respond, but I knew my real intention: to make her feel better. I would never dare to hurt her. That went against my core principle of never hurting anyone. How ironic, isn't it? Me, who promised at six years old I would never hurt others, becoming the best soldier in the world by my twenties. Returning to the moment, I answered her as sincerely as I could.
I would never hurt you, or anyone. That's against my principles. I sit with you because I see how people treat you for your nationality and I can't accept it. I won't allow anyone to be hurt, especially when they've done nothing wrong. I'm here to support you.
For some reason I believed she would trust me after I said that. I was naïve. Plenty of people pretend to befriend someone only to betray them later. But I would never do that, not even to my worst enemy. She still didn't believe me.
I don't believe you. You're not trustworthy. I'm sure you only want to hurt me.
Her words pierced me. I was too naive to realise she might think I was yet another person who would betray her, and it made me sad. Then the boys who meant to hurt her appeared. They knocked her lunch to the ground; she curled up, terrified and crying. I knew I had to intervene, but I didn't know how. I acted on instinct: I jumped up and grabbed one of them around the waist. I don't remember much after that, only Nadia running away, and then the boys beating me. I fell to the ground. I had managed to stop them hurting her again, but it cost me. I was the one who came home hurt that day. Still, if Nadia was safe, I didn't care.
At the end of the day, I found Nadia at the school gate. I was still injured; my leg was badly hurt and I was limping, but I went to speak with her.
"Nadia, are you okay? They didn't hurt you, did they?"
"No… they didn't hurt me. I'm fine. But you don't look so good. Are you alright?" she asked, her voice full of concern.
"Uh… this? It's nothing, really. Don't worry. I've been through worse. It's just hard to walk, but thank you for worrying," I replied, awkwardly.
"That's good. But why did you do it? You know I'm from the enemy nation. Why did you defend me?" she asked, full of doubt.
"Like I said, I'd never let people hurt others, especially those who've done nothing wrong," I said, trying to sound confident.
"Thank you," she said softly.
When I got home my father, Adrian, asked what had happened. He was a soldier on medical leave because of his health, but he would never let anyone hurt his son. I told him everything. He decided to train me to be quicker and stronger so that incidents like that wouldn't happen again. Even with his health problems he built a training area in our basement. I trained there for months, and during that time I grew closer to Nadia. Four months passed since I began training with my father. You might be wondering about my mother and what she thought. She had died when I was only four, and my father never remarried. Every weekend we visited her grave.
After those four months I was much stronger and more agile. If anyone tried to hurt Nadia again, I could protect her more easily. Then, on a Friday, September 20, something I hadn't expected occurred.