Narukaze walked nervously through the large gates of the Hunters School. The courtyard was alive with students practicing combat techniques, lifting weights, and sparring with swords. The walls loomed high, and guards patrolled, but to Narukaze, it felt more like a battlefield than a school.
As he tried to find his classroom, a group of students noticed him. "Hey, look at the new kid!" one sneered. "You? The weakling? Hah, this'll be fun." They laughed as he passed, shoving him lightly. Narukaze stumbled, cheeks burning, but said nothing. He had learned long ago that arguing or fighting back would only make things worse.
Inside the classroom, he took the last empty seat at the very back. Everyone stared. Whispers floated across the room. "That's the orphan kid? Weak as paper?" "Bet he can't even carry his own backpack."
The teacher entered, a tall figure with a stern expression. "Today, we start practical training," they announced. "You will learn how to survive outside the walls. Strength, speed, awareness — everything matters. And remember, the weak are left behind."
Narukaze's stomach tightened. This wasn't just another place to survive; this was a place where he had to prove he belonged, yet he had nothing. Every classmate seemed stronger, faster, better.
During sparring practice, a taller student pushed him to the ground, laughing. "Come on, weakling, even the luggage boys do better than you!" Narukaze got up, his hands trembling, but his eyes held a spark — the refusal to break completely.
By the end of the day, Narukaze was bruised, exhausted, and embarrassed. Yet, as he left the school grounds and looked past the city walls toward the ruined wasteland, he made a silent vow: one day, he would become stronger, not for anyone else, but for himself.