After his usual morning warm-up, Jayden finished his training routine with a long stretch and stepped into the shower. The cold winter air slammed into him as he opened the door, jolting him fully awake.
Minutes later, the wooden tub in the backyard steamed with fresh hot water. Without hesitation, he eased into it, letting the heat work through his muscles. The tension in his shoulders melted almost instantly.
"This never gets old," he murmured, tilting his head back against the edge.
This was the rhythm he'd carved for himself. No noise. No schedules. No pressure. Just muscle memory and silence. If someone had told him years ago that he'd end up in a remote village, soaking in a hand-filled tub before sunrise, he'd have laughed. Or punched them.
But here he was.
It wasn't glamorous, and it sure as hell wasn't exciting. But it kept him out of trouble. Out of the spotlight. Out of range.
"Hey! Big gorilla! You awake already?"
The voice shattered the stillness like glass.
Jayden opened one eye.
Standing a few meters away was a bundled figure in an overstuffed coat and mismatched gloves. The kid's scarf was wrapped so many times around his head he looked like a living snowball.
"Tsk." Jayden sank lower into the water, hoping he'd vanish.
"What's that supposed to mean, you big dumb ape? Wanna fight?" the kid yelled, hopping from foot to foot. "I've fought uglier bears than you, and they didn't hide in bathtubs."
Jayden didn't bother turning. "What do you want now, you little snot?"
"W-who's a snot, you fat gorilla!" the kid shot back.
"Listen, booger-face. If you don't want to leave here looking like a snowman, turn around and go home."
"You're the booger! Your whole face is a booger!"
A snowball smacked Jayden square in the shoulder.
"You little–" Jayden launched from the tub, bare feet slapping the frozen boards. He scooped up the kid in one smooth motion.
Less than a minute later, Jayden stood next to a small, crooked snowman with David's head poking out where the face should be.
"You've got a real talent for pissing me off, David." Jayden muttered, pulling a shirt over his damp chest.
David, undeterred, grinned under his scarf. "It's called charisma."
"It's called stupidity, and you've got plenty of it already," Jayden said, smirking as he rolled his sleeves.
"You're stupid!" David replied, voice muffled.
"Yeah, yeah. What is it this time? Another rescue mission from imaginary enemies?"
Their dynamic was strange. Jayden had been in the village seven years now, and from day one, he'd kept to himself. The locals stayed wary. He looked like trouble, and didn't go out of his way to correct that image.
Most of the kids were afraid of him but David was the exception.
The boy was obsessed with pro gaming. He followed every tournament, every highlight reel, despite living in a village where the best tech was a secondhand tablet with cracked glass. He never let that stop him. He talked about pros like they were superheroes, talked about games like they were worlds worth living in.
Jayden had stumbled into his life by accident–literally. One shortcut home and he'd walked right into a bullying session.
David had been lying in the snow, arms over his head, as two older kids tossed snowballs at him.
---
"Show us your gaming skills, David! Use your super powers!"
"Maybe your mom can knit you a controller or sell some dirty snow to buy you a headset!"
Jayden didn't say anything. He just stepped out of the shadows. The older kids looked up, saw him, and ran as fast as the could.
David had looked up in awe as Jayden had just brushed the snow off his coat.
"If they're bullying you, they're not friends," he'd said. "Don't let anyone crush your dreams little man."
He regretted it immediately. David took those words as an invitation and never left.
---
"So?" Jayden asked, brushing frost from his arm. "You interrupting my peace just to freeze your face off, or is there a point?"
"It's a new game..."
"Not interested."
"No, you don't get it," David said. "It's not just another PvP cash grab. It's something different. Everyone's talking about it. Even the old forums are talking about it."
"I said I'm not interested."
David's shoulders dropped. "Maybe you'd know that if you didn't live like a prehistoric gorilla and actually went online now and then," he muttered.
Jayden just shook his head. "You can throw all the tantrums you want, kid. My answer's the same."
There was a pause. Then something changed in David's expression. The fire behind the jokes flickered out.
"I believed your grandpa when he said you were a pro gamer," he said quietly. "But he lied. You lied. Someone who really loved games couldn't turn into... into this."
He waved a mittened hand toward Jayden–his house, his tub, his silence.
Before Jayden could find words, David turned and walked off, crunching through the snow without a glance back.
Jayden stood still. The air bit at his damp skin. He didn't move.
The silence settled again, heavier than before.
"Damn it, kid," he muttered, dragging a hand through his wet hair.
He looked out at the path David had taken. The footprints already blurred by the wind.
David's words shouldn't have mattered. But they did.
Jayden had spent years trying to forget who he was—what he used to chase, what he used to feel. Games had once meant everything to him. Not just competition. Not just glory. They had meant purpose. Then it all collapsed, and so did he.
But now, something new was on the horizon. And if David was right, if this wasn't just hype then maybe the world he'd shut out was starting to knock again.
He turned back toward the house, steam still rising behind him, fading into the gray morning sky.
He wasn't ready to admit it, but he'd check. Just once.
Just to be sure.