Two years later.....

  My name is Toma Sorien. I'm fifteen years old, and my goal is simple:

  I want to become a warrior.

  That’s right—I will become a warrior!

  ...Warrior...

  ...Warrior...

  “Hey, Toma! Are you even listening to me?! It’s time to go home!”

  “Oh—sorry, Arlen, you’re right. It’s already getting dark... This football field feels so quiet and empty at this hour.”

  Arlen narrowed his eyes.

  “You were monologuing in your head again, weren’t you?”

  “What? No way. Why would you say that?”

  “Because every time you do, you start muttering weird stuff like that.”

  “C’mon, let’s just go home already.”

  Toma Sorien—sixteen years old.

  Blue hair. Blue eyes. Height: 176 cm.

  Arlen Keel—also sixteen.

  Red hair, blazing red eyes. Height: 175 cm.

  “Still,” Arlen said, “that was a great final game.”

  “Yeah,” Toma replied, smiling. “I enjoyed it too.”

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  “Football really is fun, no doubt about it.”

  They walked in silence for a moment.

  “Anyway, we’re here now,” Arlen said, stopping. “So, I’ll say goodbye.”

  He turned to look back.

  “And don’t forget, Toma—my dad’s taking us to the academy tomorrow morning. Don’t be late.”

  “Got it. Bye, Arlen! Get home safe!”

  “See you tomorrow!”

  ***

  A few minutes later...

  Toma opened the door to his house as quietly as possible, trying to sneak inside.

  “Where were you?!”

  “GAH!” He jumped. “Mom, you scared me to death with that ambush!”

  She crossed her arms. “Where else could you have been?”

  “I was playing football!”

  “Football, huh?”

  “I stayed after the game to talk to Arlen.”

  “You and Arlen already talk too much at the academy.”

  Toma tried to change the subject. “So... what’s for dinner?”

  “You’re asking?”

  At that moment, a warm voice came from inside the house.

  “Hey, Toma! You’re back? Enjoy your meal!”

  “Thanks, Emion! Aren’t you eating?”

  “I already had dinner, but thanks anyway.”

  Emion was Toma’s foster father.

  A tall, broad-shouldered man with brown hair and calm brown eyes.

  Toma’s mother, Demia, stood nearly as tall as Emion, with silver hair and soft green eyes.

  After dinner, Toma took a bath, then went to bed.

  ***

  The Next Morning

  “Toma, hurry up! Arlen and his dad are waiting outside!”

  “I’m coming!” he shouted, stuffing his last notebook into his bag. “Bye, Mom! Bye, Emion! When Nira wakes up, tell her I said goodbye!”

  Nira—Toma’s five-year-old little sister.

  “Bye, sweetie!” Demia called after him.

  “Take care!” Emion added.

  Outside, a car horn honked.

  “Toma, get in!” Arlen waved from the passenger seat.

  “Okay, okay!”

  “Dad,” Arlen said, grinning, “step on it! We can’t be late!”

  “Alright, son,” his father replied. “Let’s go!”

  ***

  At the Academy.

  The classroom buzzed with low chatter until the teacher raised her hand for silence.

  “Children, I’d like to begin with an important announcement. Now that your first semester at the academy has ended, there’s a special opportunity available. Our most outstanding students will be chosen to take part in a practical program… including real combat training alongside a professional fighter.”

  The class immediately erupted.

  “A professional mission?!”

  “That would be awesome!”

  “I’d totally survive that!”

  Someone let out a cocky laugh. “Heh. Easy win for me.”

  “Quiet, all of you,” the teacher said. “Here are the selected students: Arvian Lysell, Arlen Keel, Toma Sorien.”

  The room went silent.

  “You three have demonstrated exceptional skill. Please see us in the teachers' room after class for details.”