12 years ago

  Blū viciously gnawed at an apple, chewing through his frustration as he wandered the upper main streets of Tinkerring. Heads turned as he passed, whispers trailing behind him. He’d learned the hard way that many didn’t take kindly to someone of his class walking up here. But he could always crack the jaw of anyone who dared say something, so it didn’t bother him much.

  What did catch his attention was the small girl waddling after businessmen as they passed, begging for something to eat. They didn’t so much as glance down. She was well-dressed, aside from a few smudges on her pink dress, so Blū found it odd that she’d be begging.

  As he got closer, he could hear her pleas more clearly. It seemed her father had lost his job and gone off to live with his rich girlfriend, leaving the little one to fend for herself. The brat must have been pampered her whole life. There wasn’t much chance she’d survive long on the darker streets—but she wouldn’t do much better up here on the rich end of Tinkerring either.

  “Here,” Blū said, tossing her his half-eaten apple.

  She didn’t respond—just stared at the apple, then back at Blū, her wide eyes unsure what to say.

  Blū kept walking, but as he merged into the crowd, he heard the girl call after him:

  “Thank you, mister!”

  ◇─◇──◇─◇

  Meraly’s mansion didn’t look much different from the other rich-people houses around it. Its white walls shimmered faintly with glitter, gold trimming the corners. The tall windows had bright yellow curtains edged like flower petals. Unlike the homes in the darker streets, it wasn’t crammed up against its neighbors. This house had space—lush green land, trees, hills, and a winding road leading to the front door. But even though it resembled the others on the street, to Blū, it was distinctly Meraly-ish.

  Today, though, it stood out far more.

  Carriages surrounded the estate. Grumpy serving staff and dirt-streaked laborers carried furniture out of the mansion. Normally, the butlers would have shooed him away, but they seemed too distracted—or too tired—to bother. So he walked confidently up the front path, hearing only a few murmurs before he finally spotted Meraly.

  She didn’t look like any girl Blū knew from the streets. Her clothing was intricate and—

  “Blū!” she said, surprised to see him. “How can I help?”

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  Something felt off. It wasn’t just surprise in her voice—it was like she dreaded the conversation.

  “No help,” he said bluntly. “Just wanted to say hi.”

  Meraly tapped her cheek with one finger the way posh girls did.

  “It has been a while, hasn’t it? I should’ve come to see you instead of making you walk all the way here.”

  “It’s no problem,” he replied with a smile.

  She raised her hand, palm out. Blū clapped it firmly. Meraly seemed to think that’s what street kids did. Truth was, he’d only ever done it with her. He didn’t mind—it was one of her quirks.

  “You look awful, by the way,” Meraly said.

  Blū had forgotten about the scratches covering him from his skirmish in the ring.

  “It’s fine. They’ll heal.”

  “What’d you do to end up like that?”

  “Fought some guys. No big deal.”

  Meraly shrugged. “If you say so.”

  “What’s with all the stuff?”

  The two of them looked out over the hills of the property, quietly watching the huge operation unfold.

  “My father got a new job,” Meraly replied with performative glee. “It’s supposed to be super great.”

  It took a moment for Blū to absorb the information. But as he thought about it, a chill crept over him—a tug at his heart, a sharp pain in his chest.

  “And you’re going too?” he asked, nervously.

  Meraly seemed hesitant to answer. She’d been dreading this moment. That’s what had been on her mind.

  “Umm… yeah. Sorry.”

  Blū supposed that was it. This friend he’d wanted so badly to impress was going to leave—and that was that. For a while, he really thought he’d mattered. But Meraly would walk away from him, just like everyone else on the street. He’d be forgotten. Left to rot.

  ◇─◇──◇─◇

  Blū stood alone in the green fields of the Tinkerring Dojo, watching rows upon rows of students training by the entrance, phasing in and out of each stance with flawless synchronicity. He quietly observed the Master who had once sent him away—Master Silver. That man had cast him aside, too. Discarded. Forgotten.

  Blū was starting to believe he really was meaningless.

  “Are you sulking or something?” a young voice said behind him.

  Blū turned. Crit approached from behind.

  “Nothing to sell me?” Crit asked.

  “Not today. I’ve been busy.”

  “You don’t look it.”

  Blū sighed. “What do you want?”

  “Thought I might be some help. But I can leave if I’m not wanted.”

  Blū stayed silent. Truthfully, having anyone around helped a little. Soon, Crit might be the only one left to talk to.

  “…So?” Crit asked hesitantly. “What’s got you down?”

  “I’m realizing I’m not that special… never was.”

  “Yeah. Hurts when reality hits you.”

  Blū’s head swerved toward him. “You’re supposed to tell me I’m wrong.”

  “Oh! Right. Well… you’re not. We’re nothing, Blū.”

  Blū was ready to shout back. But Crit wasn’t who he was mad at.

  “We can still make something of these lives, though. Some older kid from down my street offered me a job. It’s not much, but it’s better than sitting here being useless.”

  “What about the orphanage?”

  Crit waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll be forced out of that place eventually. They don’t keep big kids around. Better to leave on my own terms.”

  Blū felt sympathy, but he wasn’t surprised. A place like the orphanage—where one could eat and sleep for free—was too good to last forever.

  “What did this guy offer?”

  Crit grinned, clearly excited. “He’s starting a group to go out and quest. Me and the others—we’re going to be heroes.”