Blū sat atop the hills of Moonset, legs crossed, a five-minute walk from the dojo. He watched the world go by.

  Oy walked up behind him. “Sulking?”

  Blū grunted. “What do you want?”

  “Enjoy your little brawl with our guest?” Oy sat down beside him—his hulking frame still a few heads taller than Blū. It had been maybe an hour since Blū had attacked Yig, and for some reason, he didn’t feel any better for it.

  “A little disappointed. I expected more.”

  “Or are you disappointed you didn’t beat the spirit out of him?”

  “He’ll learn to give up on his dream eventually.”

  Oy let out a hard sigh. “Wow. Aren’t you optimistic this morning?”

  “Why would I feel sympathy for a so-called ‘righteous’ man who’s just out for a pile of gold?”

  “You think that’s all he’s after?”

  “I know it is. Heroism is just a prettier word for chasing money and fame.”

  Clouds passed by at a slow, calming pace. Below, people moved through the streets—dancing and singing, buying and selling, yelling their thanks to the sky.

  “And you think Yig’s chasing money and fame?”

  “If he’s not now, he will be soon. Once you realize most of these ‘heroes’ are scumbags, it’s hard to want to be one.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  Blū grunted again and said nothing.

  ◇─◇──◇─◇

  12 Years Ago

  Tinkerring thrived with merchant activity. Its large warehouses and work-centric culture made it ideal for loading, unloading, and storing merchandise. The small city was encircled by a tall, ring-like wall meant to keep out thieves and raiders—a supposed symbol of safety for those hoping to centralize their trade. But any seasoned merchant would tell you: their greatest threats weren’t outside those walls—they were the rivals beside them. The ones with quiet alliances and ties to names better left unspoken.

  Blū spotted the right boy approaching—the one he’d been waiting on while crouched atop a decorative concrete arch for the better part of an hour. He climbed down to meet him, eager to escape the smoke drifting overhead.

  “Here I am!” the boy called, jogging across the street.

  He and a couple of friends had come bearing goods from their orphanage.

  “Hey Blū. Got something?”

  Blū scoffed. “I wouldn’t ask you to meet me if I didn’t.”

  From his pocket, Blū pulled a small glass tube encased in copper, with a window that revealed the murky liquid inside.

  The boys leaned in to examine it. “What’s it do?”

  Blū gave it a shake, then handed it over. The liquid inside had shifted to a soft, whitish green.

  One of the boys—the one Blū had specifically asked to come—clicked his tongue in disappointment. “That’s it?”

  His name was Crit, and he had a very punchable face. His messy red hair stuck up like the back of a hedgehog and never looked clean. His snarky grin was missing two teeth—something he was always bragging about, since his adult ones were coming in soon anyway.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “What do you mean?” Blū asked, irritated. “It’s cool.”

  “Nah. Pretty boring, man.”

  Blū perked up, remembering an extra feature. He cupped the tube in a curved hand, leaving just enough space to reveal the liquid inside, and handed it back again. The boys leaned in to look—now the liquid glowed in the patch of shadow Blū had created.

  “See?”

  “Why’d you go on about the color change?” Crit asked. “This glowing part is way cooler.”

  “Do you want it or not?” Blū snapped, running out of patience.

  Crit snatched it. “Yeah, sure. Here.”

  He shoved a wooden box into Blū’s hands.

  Blū tore the lid off and scooped a hand inside, pulling up what looked like a rice dish topped with applesauce—or something close enough. Didn’t matter what it was. With an empty stomach, he was already on his second mouthful.

  “Where’d you get it?” asked Crit’s friend.

  Blū huffed. Was it so much to ask to let a guy eat? “Warehouse.”

  “Who gave it to you?”

  “I stole it.”

  “Really? Why not just steal from the orphanage?”

  “The warehouse won’t notice it’s gone.”

  “Well... Lady Marirari won’t gut you if you steal from her.”

  “It wouldn’t be stealing from her,” Blū said through ravenous chewing. “It’d be stealing from the kids.”

  Crit’s friend shrugged. “Thanks for not robbing us... I guess.”

  Blū gulped down the last of the food. “You’re welcome.”

  “What?” Crit yelped in disbelief. “You’re already done?”

  “You could’ve brought a little more.”

  “I gave you my dessert. That’s the best part of the meal!”

  Blū tossed the wooden box aside and turned to leave, hands shoved in his dirty pockets.

  Crit called after him. “Hey, Blū! What happened to that girl of yours?”

  “Shut up!”

  “You still haven’t told her? Wow, you really are a coward.”

  Blū’s shoulders tensed. He spun around. “What’d you say!?”

  “You heard me!” Crit replied, twirling the glowing gadget around his fingers.

  “I’m no coward. I’m stronger than all three of you.”

  ◇─◇──◇─◇

  Blū lay on the cold, hard roof of a house owned by some quiet old lady he’d never actually met. Nowhere else gave him space to think—and this roof didn’t either, but it was the closest he’d found in Tinkerring so far.

  He munched on an apple long past ripe. It was still okay, as long as he avoided the nasty bits. He thought about how nice a warm bed would be just then. The orphanage had offered him a spot, but smaller kids were out there—ones who needed it more.

  Unfortunately, Meraly hadn’t come around to see him recently. That was definitely the reason he hadn’t confessed his feelings. There wasn’t a single cowardly bone in his body.

  He did miss her, though, and he worried—just a little—that maybe he’d frightened her off or something.

  Meraly came from a wealthy estate, the daughter of a merchant who did business in Tinkerring. Blū still didn’t know what exactly he sold, even after visiting one of his factories.

  She’d approached him once, asking for a tour of the city. Blū had been confused—she’d said she wasn’t new to Tinkerring—but apparently, rich kids like her were too hesitant to wander the streets alone. As usual, the promise of food was enough to get Blū off his feet and onto any task.

  So, he’d shown her around, introduced her to his friends.

  Some of the street kids disliked her at first glance. It took a while for Blū to understand why. Apparently, they were jealous or something. Either way, Meraly had won them over fast.

  Whenever Blū and his friends tried to explore the city, they inevitably got chased off by landowners or Guards, who always assumed they were scouting places to rob. That was rarely their intention.

  But if the adults refused to feed the city’s children, it made sense that they saw little criminals in them. Thieving was the only way to survive for boys in their position.

  But Meraly knew all these special hiding spots at her father’s factories where they could sit, joke, and mess around. Sure, there was still a chance they’d get chased out, but her spots were especially well hidden.

  Only once had they been caught, and luckily, none of the workers recognized Meraly as the owner’s daughter.

  Blū sat up, his back aching from lying on the concrete roof. He reached for the cup he’d left out, now half full of rainwater. After fishing out a dead bug, he took a long swig.

  Adults were so annoying. It was like they didn’t remember being kids themselves—even though, apparently, all adults had once been children. Blū struggled to imagine that one day he’d be an adult too, doing adult things like… annoying children.

  Boy, he really hoped he wouldn’t grow up to be one of those.

  He had heard of cool adults, though. The kind in the books Lady Marirari read to any children who came to visit, not just the ones living in her orphanage. Yeah—Blū wanted to be like those adults. Heroes.

  He’d never actually met one, though.

  Suddenly, excitement hit him like a jolt. A revelation:

  If he was going to grow into a heroic, awesome adult, there was no reason not to start now. In fact, starting now might make him an even heroicer Hero by the time he did grow up.

  He knew just the place to begin.

  ◇─◇──◇─◇

  The infamous Dojo of Tinkerring was an impressive structure—its design unlike anything else in the city.

  Tall stone beams lined the walls. The rooftops sloped at rare angles. And out front, on a wide stone platform, men and women in simple clothing shifted swiftly between fighting positions.

  Blū knew he’d come to the right place.