Three years had passed since Teikō arrived at the orphanage. Three years in which he had quietly built his life among the other children—laughing, learning, and surviving. In that time, he had made many friends, but none as close as Simon, his roommate and confidant. Simon had a calm presence, a quiet strength that balanced Teikō's intensity, and together, they had grown inseparable.
Teikō's reputation was known throughout the orphanage, though not all of it was positive. His grades were flawless, his intellect sharp, his reflexes uncanny. On the playground, he seemed untouchable. But where admiration existed, envy often followed. Taru Ketsuki and his gang, a cluster of boys who thrived on intimidation, watched him like predators lurking in the shadows. Every small triumph, every perfect grade, every dodgeball victory fanned the flames of their resentment.
It was a warm afternoon when everything came to a head. The gymnasium buzzed with energy as the children gathered for their weekly physical education class. Teikō's team faced off against Taru Ketsuki's, and from the start, it was clear who would dominate. Every throw Teikō made was precise, every dodge effortless. Balls seemed to avoid him like they knew their target was too fast, too cunning.
"Again?!" Taru growled under his breath as he narrowly avoided another hit. "How does he—how does he do that every single time?!"
"Relax, Taru," one of his lackeys whispered, half-afraid, half-jealous. "It's just Teikō… you know how he is."
But Taru's envy was too deep. By the time the game ended, with Teikō's team victorious yet again, the gang had made their plan. They wouldn't attack him directly—not yet. No, they wanted something personal, something that would hurt the boy they so despised. And so, while Teikō was busy celebrating with his friends, they grabbed Simon and dragged him out of the gym, leaving Teikō unaware of their sinister act.
Later, when Teikō returned to their dormitory, he found Simon sitting silently on his bed, staring at the floor. His usual cheerful demeanor was gone, replaced with something heavy, suffocating.
"Simon…" Teikō began softly, sensing the tension immediately. "What happened?"
Simon didn't respond at first. He shook his head, as if refusing to acknowledge what had occurred. Teikō knelt beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"You can tell me," Teikō urged, his voice firm but calm. "Whatever it is, we'll face it together."
Simon hesitated, voice barely a whisper. "Taru… and his gang… they… they beat me up."
Teikō's blood ran cold. Fury erupted inside him like a storm, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst from his chest. "Where are they?!" he demanded, his tone sharp, trembling with anger.
"They… they went behind the cantine… I… I didn't want to tell you earlier…" Simon admitted, his eyes filled with shame and fear.
Without another word, Teikō grabbed his jacket and stormed out of the dormitory, the world narrowing to a single goal: confronting Taru Ketsuki and his gang. Every step he took was fueled by rage, his mind replaying the image of Simon, bruised and silent, the sight haunting him.
Behind the cantine, the gang was gathered, laughing amongst themselves, unaware of the storm approaching. Taru, in the center, smirked confidently, the arrogance of someone who believed themselves untouchable radiating from his every movement.
"Teikō," Taru called out mockingly. "Came to watch your friend get taught a lesson?"
"You don't get it, Taru," Teikō replied, stepping forward. "You messed with the wrong person."
"Wrong person?" Taru laughed. "Don't make me laugh, genius. You're just a kid."
The fight began in a flash. Fists collided, bodies slammed against the rough concrete, the air thick with tension and aggression. Teikō moved with fluid precision, dodging and striking with an efficiency that left the gang momentarily stunned. But numbers overpowered skill, and soon, two of the boys pinned him to the ground.
Taru produced a lighter with a cruel grin. "Time to turn up the heat," he sneered, flicking the flame near Teikō's face.
Teikō's vision blurred, but instincts honed from years of subtle training surged forward. Memories flashed before him—every scuffle, every escape, every time he had been cornered yet found a way out. With a sudden burst of strength, he twisted, throwing off his captors and sending the lighter clattering across the concrete.
A spark landed on the dry pile of trash nearby. In an instant, flames erupted, hungry and fast-spreading. The heat singed Teikō's face, and the roar of the fire drowned out everything else. He fell to the ground, clutching his head, dazed, his thoughts spinning in a chaotic whirl.
Taru Ketsuki and his gang froze, terror painting their faces as they realized the fire was not a threat Teikō had meant to create—but a disaster all the same. They bolted, fleeing into the night, leaving chaos in their wake.
Teikō lay on the ground, chest heaving, every nerve screaming in pain and disbelief. The fire crackled dangerously close, but in his dazed state, he barely registered the danger. His mind was consumed with a single thought: Simon. He had to make sure Simon was safe.
Meanwhile, in the dormitory, Simon had grown frantic. He knew the fire, knew Teikō had been at the cantine, and could only imagine the chaos that had erupted. Without hesitation, he ran, ignoring the burning debris and smoke, calling out desperately:
"Teikō! Teikō, where are you?!"
The voice pierced through the haze in Teikō's mind. Something in him responded instinctively. Despite the pain, despite the daze, he felt a tether pulling him toward safety. His powers, subtle yet overwhelming, flared without thought—an instinctive surge that pushed him upright, forcing his body to move even when his mind felt clouded.
Simon reached him just as the flames crept dangerously close. "Teikō!" he cried, grabbing his arm, eyes brimming with tears. "You have to come with me! Please, just get out!"
Teikō blinked, the fire reflecting in his eyes. The daze began to lift as Simon's words—so raw, so desperate—pierced the fog in his mind. "I… I can't…" he murmured, voice shaking.
"You can," Simon said fiercely, gripping Teikō's shoulders. "You have to. Not for me, not for them—but for yourself. You can't stay here. Not like this!"
Something shifted inside Teikō. His fists clenched, and without fully realizing it, he extended his hands toward the nearest flames. His power—uncontrolled, raw, but undeniable—erupted. Heat bent away from him as if obeying his will, the fire recoiling, forming a safe path. Simon pulled him along, and together, they emerged from the smoke and chaos, the inferno contained behind them, flames licking the night but no longer threatening.
Teikō sank to his knees outside, breathing heavily, sweat and soot streaking his face. Simon collapsed beside him, clutching his arm and shaking. "You're okay… you're okay," he whispered, relief flooding his voice.
Teikō looked at Simon, and for the first time since the fight began, he smiled—weakly, but genuinely. "Thanks… I… I didn't mean for any of this," he murmured, voice hoarse.
"I know," Simon replied softly. "And you don't have to apologize. You saved us… both of us."
Teikō's eyes, reflecting the fire now fading behind them, burned not with anger, but with determination. He had glimpsed the power within him, chaotic and dangerous, yet undeniable. And he knew—whatever challenges came next, whatever enemies stood in their way—he would protect those who mattered.
The night was still, the air heavy with smoke and tension. Yet in that silence, two friends sat together, battered but unbroken, bound by trust and the unspoken understanding that this was only the beginning of something far larger than either of them could have imagined.
Before dawn, two men in black suits appeared outside the orphanage. Without much explanation, they approached Teikō and Simon.
"You're coming with us," one said, voice flat. "We'll ensure you're placed in a proper foster home. For now, follow."
Reluctantly, the boys complied. They were led into a sleek black car and driven for what felt like hours, the city lights passing silently. They didn't speak, only exchanged nervous glances.
Finally, the car stopped in front of a furnished residence. The men opened the doors and gestured inside.
"This will be your temporary home. Food is stocked. Make yourselves comfortable. We'll return to finalize placement," one said. Then they left, leaving the children alone.
Inside, Teikō, Simon, Yurim, William, and another boy gathered in the main room. They sat in a circle, introducing themselves.
"I'm Teikō," he said, nodding.
"Simon," his friend added.
"Yurim," said a boy with glasses, calm and precise.
"William," said a boy with quiet confidence.
The fifth child, older and silent, only observed. No name was given.
After introductions, they explored the house. The kitchen had plenty of food; the living room was spacious. They ate, shared stories, and gradually relaxed. Laughter began to break the tension of the night.
The older boy remained quiet, standing by the window, watching the street below. Yurim eventually whispered to Teikō, "He's Marc. He doesn't like talking. He's cool normaly..."
The group continued talking and eating, night deepening around them, while Marc stayed distant, silent, and watchful.
After a while, Teikō suggested, "Let's play a game. Action or truth?"
Simon grinned. "I'm in."
Yurim adjusted his glasses. "Sure, why not."
William shifted nervously, biting his lip. "Uh… okay… I guess."
Teikō turned to Marc. "You're in too, if you want."
Marc shook his head, arms crossed, silent.
The first rounds were simple. Simon had to do a funny imitation of Teikō, pretending to dodge an invisible ball with exaggerated, clumsy movements. Yurim and William laughed nervously, William hiding a small chuckle behind his hand.
Marc froze at first, then a small laugh escaped him. The corners of his mouth twitched, and soon he was openly grinning at Simon's antics.
"Okay… that was actually… kind of funny," Marc said, shaking his head.
Teikō smirked. "See? Now you're in. Action or truth?"
Marc hesitated, then finally said quietly, "Action."
"Do something that makes us laugh," Teikō challenged.
Marc glanced at Simon, who gave him an encouraging nod. Then, with a stiff, exaggerated motion, Marc copied Simon's earlier imitation, adding his own dramatic flair. The room erupted with laughter.
Yurim laughed hardest, slapping his knee. William, still cautious, finally let out a genuine giggle, hiding his face behind his arm. Even Teikō couldn't stop grinning.
Marc, surprised at how much fun it was, joined them fully, teasing Simon back and inventing new silly challenges. The game continued with laughter filling the house, the night no longer heavy with uncertainty.
During the game, small hints of history surfaced. Yurim and William exchanged glances before daring each other to tricky actions, and Marc and William shared brief nods that showed a quiet familiarity. It became clear—they had known each other well at the orphanage, a trio used to teasing, supporting, and challenging each other.
By the end of the night, the five of them sprawled on the floor, exhausted but smiling. Marc no longer sat apart. He was part of the group, the small circle of friendship now complete, their bond strengthened by laughter, trust, and shared memories of the past.