Chapter 04: Mother
Chapter 04: Mother.
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In a modest, dimly lit room, Fulan sat at the dinner table with his mother, both sharing a humble meal of rice. The air was still, and the only sound was the faint clinking of spoons against the bowls. The light from the flickering lamp cast a golden hue over the room, though it faltered every few seconds, briefly leaving the small space in near-darkness. It was clear this wasn't a new issue. The broken lamp was just another testament to the poverty that surrounded them, yet neither Fulan nor his mother showed any hint of discomfort or shame.
Fulan's mother, a slender woman with purple hair that shimmered like silk under the weak light, glanced at her son. Her deep violet eyes mirrored his, the resemblance between them undeniable. The only contrast was in their hair; while her locks were smooth and neatly kept, Fulan's hair was wild and untamed, a reflection of his inner spirit.
She paused mid-bite, her spoon hovering just inches from her mouth. Setting it down gently, she looked at Fulan with a soft smile. "I heard the sports festival you've been looking forward to is happening tomorrow," she said, her voice calm but tinged with quiet sadness. "It's unfortunate that we moved here at this time. If we were still in our old home, you could have watched it with your friend, like you do every year."
The simplicity of her words belied the heavy reality of their situation. Poverty, isolation, and sacrifice were constants in their lives, yet neither mother nor son seemed to dwell on these struggles. However, her words carried a deeper meaning: she didn't know Fulan was no longer just a spectator.
Fulan, with his eyes focused on his bowl of rice, replied softly, "I won't just be watching this time." He spoke quietly but with an undeniable weight to his words.
His mother looked up, puzzled. "What do you mean?" she asked, still unaware of the shift in their circumstances.
"I'm going to be part of the festival," Fulan said, raising his gaze to meet hers. His eyes gleamed with determination, and a quiet confidence settled on his face. "I've earned the right to compete."
Shock washed over her face, her spoon clattering to the table as she tried to process what she had just heard. "What? But—how? You said you were transferring to another academy… and now you're telling me you'll be on television, in front of hero agencies? Competing with the best?" Her voice trembled slightly, not with doubt in Fulan's abilities, but with the fear of the unknown future that awaited him.
For a moment, Fulan remained silent, letting his mother's words sink in. He could feel the weight of her emotions—the pride, the fear, the desire to hold on to the moments they had together. The life of a hero was one of constant danger and sacrifice, and Fulan's mother knew this all too well.
She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. "Fulan, I know you're talented, and I know you want to be a hero. But... you can take your time. You don't have to rush."
What she couldn't say out loud was the deep, unspoken fear that her son would drift away, lost to the dangerous world of heroes and villains, leaving her alone. She feared the day he would soar high like a bird, never to return to the nest.
Fulan smiled warmly at her, understanding the meaning behind her hesitation. "You don't need to worry," he said gently. "By the way... The families of the students are invited to watch the festival for free. Your support will be the greatest motivation for me."
It was a clever answer, deflecting her concerns without addressing the heart of her fears. But she understood the underlying message: no matter how far Fulan went, no matter how high he climbed, his mother's presence would always be his guiding force. They didn't need to say it aloud; their bond, strengthened by years of hardship, spoke louder than words ever could.
His mother's grip tightened around her spoon. She pointed it playfully at her son's chest, smiling despite her lingering anxiety. "Well then, I'll be there, cheering for you among thousands. I'll tell everyone, 'That's my son, the pride of the Purple Charge Clan.'"
Fulan laughed, his earlier tension dissipating. "That's the spirit! I'll give it everything I've got!"
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The next day dawned bright and clear. It was the highly anticipated day of the UA Sports Festival, and the air was charged with excitement. Colored smoke bombs exploded in the sky above the grand stadium, vibrant hues of red, blue, and green scattering against the brilliant blue backdrop. The stands were already filling up, packed with spectators eagerly awaiting the start of the event. Their collective anticipation buzzed like a live wire, the chatter growing louder as the minutes ticked closer to the opening ceremonies.
On the streets leading to the stadium, the atmosphere was electric. People moved in excited crowds, some buying last-minute tickets, others grabbing snacks and drinks for the long day ahead. The UA Academy's campus was alive with energy, its paths bustling with activity as vendors called out their wares and families gathered in anticipation.
This year, however, all eyes were on the first-year students. Normally, the third-year students, who were on the cusp of becoming professional heroes, would have garnered the most attention. But this year was different. The son of the No. 2 hero, Endeavor, would be competing, and the public couldn't get enough. Camera lenses tracked the young prodigy's every move, the weight of expectations looming over the festival like a storm cloud.
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