The aftermath

As dawn crept over the horizon, the village stirred to life. The previous day's events had left everyone on edge, the tension palpable in the crisp morning air. Tokubetsu woke early, the document with his test results lying on the small table beside his bed—a stark reminder of his uncertain future.

He stared at the ceiling, the numbers from his results haunting him: *F Grade: 80%.* They clung to him, echoing his deepest fears. No matter how much he tried to push them away, the reality of his situation remained inescapable.

"Tokubetsu!" His mother's voice pierced through his thoughts. "Come and eat your breakfast."

Reluctantly, he rolled out of bed and shuffled to the kitchen. His mother, busy preparing breakfast, moved with a tension that was new and unsettling. She forced a smile as he entered, trying to mask her own anxiety.

"Good morning," she said, setting a plate in front of him. "I made your favorite."

Tokubetsu managed a weak smile. "Thanks, Mom."

They ate in near silence, the usual morning chatter replaced by the unspoken fears they both tried to ignore. Finally, his mother broke the silence, her voice trembling. "So... what did they say about your results?"

Tokubetsu hesitated, knowing he couldn't hide the truth. "They said... there's a chance. But it's not a great one."

His mother's face fell, and she reached out, placing a comforting hand on his. "You're strong, Tokubetsu. No matter what those tests say, I believe in you."

He nodded, trying to draw strength from her words. After breakfast, he excused himself and went outside, needing to clear his head. The village square was abuzz with discussions about the tests, the air thick with a mix of worry and hope.

Walking through the square, he overheard snippets of conversation from other children.

"I heard some kids scored really high," one boy said excitedly. "Like, B or even A Grade."

"Yeah, but those are just numbers," his friend replied, attempting to sound nonchalant. "It's what we do with them that counts, right?"

Tokubetsu felt a pang of jealousy. While some had performed better, others had fared worse, but the pressure was universal. Everyone was waiting for the next phase.

He wandered to the small hill on the outskirts, a place he often went to think. The view from the top—a sweeping panorama of the village nestled in the valley below, framed by distant mountains—was usually calming. Today, it only highlighted his sense of insignificance.

The memory of Captain Marcus Green's arrival flashed in his mind. The man had commanded respect and awe, and the children's reaction had been one of pure excitement. They had cheered, clapped, and shouted his name, some expressing their admiration for his achievements.

"Captain Green! Look over here!"

"He's even cooler in person!"

"He led the mission in the Eclipse Zone!"

The scientists had tried to calm the children, but the excitement was infectious. Tokubetsu had felt a spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, he could become like those heroes he had admired. But now, that hope seemed dim in the face of his results.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps. He turned to see Natsu, one of the other test-takers, making his way up the hill. Despite their limited interaction during the tests, there was a shared understanding between them.

"Hey," Natsu greeted as he reached the top. "Mind if I join you?"

Tokubetsu shook his head. "No, go ahead."

They sat in companionable silence, both lost in their thoughts. Finally, Natsu broke the quiet. "You know, when I was a kid, I used to watch Star Force battles on the news. I thought they were the coolest thing ever. I always wanted to be like them."

Tokubetsu looked at him, surprised. "Really? I thought I was the only one."

Natsu chuckled softly. "Nah, a lot of us did. It's why we're here, right? To see if we have what it takes."

"Yeah," Tokubetsu agreed, though doubt still gnawed at him.

They fell into another silence, the weight of their shared uncertainty hanging between them. Finally, Tokubetsu spoke, his voice barely a whisper. "Do you think we'll make it?"

Natsu didn't answer immediately. When he did, his voice was thoughtful, almost resigned. "I don't know. But we won't find out if we give up now."

Tokubetsu nodded, feeling a small flicker of determination. Maybe Natsu was right—maybe it wasn't over yet.

As the sun climbed higher, the two boys sat side by side, gazing out at the village below. The future was uncertain, but for now, they had each other and a fragile hope that somehow, they would find their way through whatever lay ahead.