A Break

Moto trains through the night, a desperate attempt to outrun the day's harrowing events. His muscles scream in agony, his breath coming in ragged gasps, but he pushes himself, straining for the very edge of exhaustion. As dawn reluctantly breaks, he finally succumbs to fatigue, collapsing into a restless, fitful sleep.

Morning arrives with a sharp knock on his door that jolts Moto awake. A wave of panic courses through his body—he's three hours late for school. He rubs the sleep from his eyes, throws on the first clothes he finds, and stumbles to the door, hoping to hide the chaos within.

It's Sheu, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Of course, you didn't know."

"Didn't know what?" Moto asks, bewildered.

"The King ordered a day off," Sheu explains.

"So there's no school?" Moto asks, and a wave of profound relief washes over him. "Great," he grins, "more time to train then."

He hurries back inside to change, but freezes at his dumbbell. The image of Sheu's lonely face, quiet and vulnerable, flashes into his mind. What am I doing? he thinks. She's probably anxious too, especially about her dad. Driven by a new resolve, Moto goes to his wardrobe, retrieves all the money from his amber wallet, and returns to the door where Sheu still waits.

"Since we are free," Moto says, holding out his hand, "wanna hang out?"

Sheu's face breaks into a radiant smile—a definite yes. Together, they venture into the bustling city, losing themselves in the crowds, seeking solace and distraction in each other's company.

Meanwhile, across the kingdom, a summons reaches Najo from his grandfather. The tautness of Ginimbi's face, usually so composed, is a clear sign that niceties are not in order.

"You called me, Gramps?" Najo asks, a hint of trepidation in his voice.

"How do you plan on spending your time off?" Ginimbi asks, his voice tight.

"Oh, I was gonna go hang out with my friends," Najo replies, a flicker of defiance. "Don't know when I'll get another chance with the way you've been on my case."

Ginimbi's eyes narrow. "Today will be the last."

"What?" Najo asks, his voice thick with utter disbelief. An argument erupts, the air crackling with tension. Ginimbi blames Moto, declaring him a "bad omen," even mentioning the recent assassin incident. Najo, a fierce loyalty igniting within him, rises to his friend's defense, reminding Ginimbi how many times Moto has saved them.

As their voices rise, Ginimbi nods. A guard opens the heavy door, and Dope and Gango's mother steps into the room. She moves slowly, her eyes hidden behind a black veil, but a sinister smile is unmistakably clear upon her lips. She kneels before Ginimbi.

Najo stares, baffled. "What is she doing here?"

Ginimbi silences Najo with a look, allowing her to speak.

"Lightning Lord," Hether begins, her voice smooth as silk, "my husband was your son's devoted servant; he died on duty. His sons wish to follow in his footsteps—a path he himself desired, raising them as competent assistants for furthering the bloodline of Lightning. They have already initiated their own training. I humbly request the formal handing over of such responsibilities to the children—a feat I ensure will bring forth accelerated development in the growth of your grandson."

"But I already train with them!" Najo protests, confusion and a growing unease in his voice. "What is this for?"

"They taught themselves Storm techniques," Hether explains, her gaze unwavering. "They practice with their lightning, a weakened version, but the movements are exact. They've mastered half of the technique each, and I felt teaching him myself would be disrespecting both of you. Training of an heir fits best for youthful and energetic tutors, and this way, Najo gets to be taught by two."

"So what," Najo demands, a surge of resentment, "you're not gonna train me yourself!? I thought I was worth more to you than that."

"Don't be naive," Ginimbi dismisses, his voice weary. "I could die at any minute now; I am far past my prime. The only way you can become strong enough to carry on the legacy is with them. I will fill in any gaps they leave."

"Alright," Najo says, his jaw tight. "But I still fail to see how that relates to Moto."

Ginimbi's eyes harden. "He is slowing you down. You have to reach the level I need you to while I'm alive. Or else my soul won't rest with the thought that what the lightning has built will be taken from my weak descendant. You have potential, but no time to unlock it."

Ginimbi falls silent, his decision clearly made. Najo, frustrated and defeated, storms out, determined to find Moto and Sheu.

Moto and Sheu spend their day absorbed in the city's myriad distractions, playing games and exploring new places. At one point, Moto suggests a visit to a cosmetics store. On their way, he asks Sheu how she feels about the King personally looking into her father's disappearance. Sheu admits she has a bad feeling but would rather not think about it.

At the store, while Sheu browses, Moto purchases black contact lenses and black hair dye. He slips into a nearby public bathroom to change, leaving Sheu waiting outside.

As Sheu waits, Najo finds her. They exchange a quick, familiar salute and briefly catch up. Najo immediately asks where Moto is, then begins yelling for him to come out. Sheu thinks to herself, What's wrong with Najo? He was calm a second ago. Najo pauses his banging. "I have something I want to tell you guys later," he says, a strange calm settling over him. Now he's calm again? Sheu wonders.

Najo resumes banging on the door just as a smooth, almost ethereal music begins to play from within the bathroom. The door slowly opens. Moto emerges, his hair now a shiny black, his eyes the same deep hue as his new contacts.

"What did you do!?" Najo exclaims, utterly bewildered.

"And did you have to do it in a public bathroom?" Sheu adds, a faint grimace.

"Behold, friends," Moto declares, striking a dramatic pose, "my emo phase."

They burst into laughter.

"Are you serious?" Najo asks, a mix of disbelief and amusement.

"Yup," Moto confirms, a mischievous glint in his eye. "And I'll use the soot from my smoke to keep it like this."

Sheu shakes her head. "Yeah, no, we're not doing this. Something's wrong with him."

Sukai's voice calls out to them from the crowd. "Hey, it's the prince. How y'all doing?"

Sukai greets them warmly, while Mukai, a stoic mask on his face, pointedly looks away. Sheu returns Sukai's greeting.

"Um, what's up with the new look, Moto?" Sukai asks, a hint of curiosity.

"Emo phase," Moto says plainly. Sukai leans towards Sheu, whispering a question. Najo, meanwhile, stares Mukai down, the unspoken challenge of a rematch hanging heavy between them. People around them begin to notice, murmuring.

"C'mon guys," Sukai urges, stepping between Najo and Mukai, "not in public."

Mukai finally breaks his silence. "I'm not about to waste my energy on you. The Succession Trials are coming up soon."

"Your dad said I could fight you so you can't back out!" Najo fires back. "And what are the Succession Trials?"

"Looks like he's replaced me as your rival," Moto whines to Sheu, feigning hurt.

Mukai scoffs. "Of course, you simpletons are uninformed. Succession Trials are a tournament that occurs every leap year to find candidates worthy of being trained by the King's personal guard. The top five students get selected to fight a guard, and if they win, they start training to replace whoever they have beaten."

"What!?" Moto exclaims. "But how can a student beat one of them?"

"They use up to ten percent of their power," Mukai explains, a smug smirk. "If you can survive that, then you can survive their training. But you don't need to worry about it. No way any of you will get chosen."

"No need to be rude about it, man," Moto replies, a flicker of genuine irritation. "I thought you'd at least changed a little."

"I'm not trying to kill you, am I?" Mukai retorts, a cold edge to his voice.

"Baby steps," Sukai murmurs, gently pushing his brother along. "See you guys at tomorrow's assembly."

"Sure, see ya," Moto calls after them. Oh man, is it really too late to qualify?

"Well, if they are announcing the contenders tomorrow, then yeah," Sheu confirms. "But don't change the subject. You still haven't told us about that hair."

Moto slowly backs away.

"I think he's trying to run," Najo says, a crackle of lightning sparking from his hands.

"I know how to make him talk," Sheu adds, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Beads of sweat trickle down Moto's face.

The three friends sit down together in the setting sun, sharing Moto's favorite meal: warm, greasy fat cakes.

"What do you want to know?" Moto asks, mouth full. "I cannot bite the hand that feeds me."

"Wow," Najo deadpans. "That's all it took?"

"Why are you changing your look?" Sheu presses.

Moto's playful demeanor vanishes. He takes a deep breath, his expression turning serious. "Back in the cave, that red-haired guy, Kangetsu, recognized me."

"What?" Najo exclaims. "How does a guy like that know you?"

"Well, actually," Moto clarifies, "he knows my older brother. He said he's gotten himself in trouble, and since I look like him, I'm a target too."

"You're walking bait? Couldn't be me," Najo scoffs, though a hint of concern is in his eyes.

"Najo!" Sheu hisses.

Moto continues, his voice strained. "So I do this so nobody will ever suspect a thing. I can do more, but I'm proud of looking like my family. We're all we have, yet at the same time—I shouldn't be naive either, right? With this, at least I can plausibly deny it."

"Is that all?" Sheu asks, her gaze probing.

"?" Moto's brow furrows.

"You should know by now you can tell us anything. Especially me. And they aren't all you have. You got us now too."

Moto's eyes soften. "Thanks, guys."

Sheu turns to Najo. "Najo, didn't you have something to say too?"

"Nah," Najo dismisses, suddenly awkward. "It's not a big deal. Just wanted to say I'm gonna be a bit more scarce, that's all."

The sun begins its final descent, casting long shadows as the boys walk Sheu home. As they approach her house, they hear voices from inside. She wasn't expecting any company. They draw closer.

Her cousin, Drake, steps out. His eyes widen when he sees her. "There you are," he says, his tone harsh, but his concern evident. "We, um, people were getting worried." He glances suspiciously at Moto and Najo. "I don't trust these guys, so I'm coming with you."

"Fine by me," Moto shrugs.

The group slips inside. To Sheu's surprise, she finds her uncle, his wife, and Aritri, the King's guard assigned to deliver the update on her father. The room is thick with tension, every face filled with sorrow.

"Take a seat, dear," Aritri says gently, a somber expression on her face.

Sheu sits, Aritri approaches. "I'm sorry to bring such painful news," Aritri begins, her voice heavy, "but your father is dead."