"Hey, Einar! I'm talking to you, you troublesome brat!!"
The sharp voice of a woman pierced the quiet room. She was in her early forties, slender yet strong, with short blonde hair framing a stern face. Golden rings adorned her fingers, and a delicate chain glimmered around her neck. Her hands planted firmly on her hips, she looked every bit the kind of person you didn't want to mess with.
Across from her, a tan-skinned boy sat before his computer, entirely absorbed in the video playing on the screen. His black hair was a mess, and his bright blue eyes didn't so much as blink. Despite his lean figure, the sharp lines of his abs hinted at rigorous training.
Einar finally turned, pausing the video and slipping his headphones around his neck. A faint smile curved his lips.
"Oh, Rita. Were you saying something?"
Rita's expression faltered as she tried—and failed—to maintain her composure.
"I've been calling you for ages," she snapped. "But apparently this nonsense is far more important. How many times have you watched that clip today? You've practically memorized it!"
Einar chuckled, eyes sparkling.
"But it's a masterpiece! The greatest clip humanity has ever produced! Today's the seventeenth anniversary of their legendary duel. How could I not rewatch it at least once?"
Rita groaned, pressing her palm to her forehead.
"Forget it… just come to the kitchen. I made breakfast."
Einar blinked and stretched lazily.
"Thanks, but I'm running late. Training starts now."
"You're impossible," she muttered, stomping out the door. The slam made him flinch.
(…Is she angry again? Could it be… hormones?) he wondered silently.
He never dared ask. Not after last time.
After washing up and styling his hair into something presentable, Einar changed into his usual training outfit—loose pants, a white shirt, and his brand-new sneakers. He stepped into the kitchen, where Rita and Paul were already seated.
Paul, a blond man with broad shoulders and fair skin faintly flushed, watched Einar with calm, steady eyes.
Einar grabbed an apple from the basket.
"See you later," he said, and stepped outside.
Rita stayed seated, her legs trembling beneath the table. Her head rested heavily in her hands. She said nothing.
Paul placed a comforting hand on her back.
"Come on, Rita. He's not a child anymore. Eventually, he has to leave the nest. He's strong—stronger than most at his age. And you… you're tougher than any of this. Half the town is terrified of you anyway."
Rita lifted her head. Tears threatened to spill.
"You don't understand, Paul. You don't understand anything. I know he's strong… I know he can take care of himself. But he's the last of the three brats. I always saw myself as their older sister… sometimes even their mother."
Her voice cracked.
"Watching them leave one by one… it breaks my heart. I cared about them more than they'll ever know. I once burned down an entire gang hideout—just because they dared lay a hand on them…"
Paul's smile was soft, filled with both pride and understanding.
"I know, Rita. I know. All we can do now is wish him the best."
⸻
Meanwhile, Einar sprinted down the town streets, music blasting in his ears. The wind rushed past him, cool against his face. He ignored the stares of passersby—training was all that mattered.
His destination was an old, abandoned lot on the outskirts of town. Rusted scraps and forgotten machinery littered the ground, yet in one corner, everything was arranged with surprising care: training targets, a mat, a shaded shelter, and a hanging swing.
His sanctuary.
For hours, he practiced. Combat techniques from countless videos merged with his own routines. His breath grew ragged, sweat dripped down his face, muscles screamed—but he refused to stop.
When the sun began to dip, painting the sky in shades of orange and gold, Einar collapsed onto the swing. It swayed gently as he caught his breath.
"Man… I'm exhausted. Even my bones hurt…"
He let out a small, satisfied smile.
"But it doesn't matter. I'll prove I can win the tournament—just like my brothers did. And after that…"
He gazed upward, golden light reflecting in his eyes.
"Maybe I'll travel the world. Who knows? But first… I have to win. That's all that matters right now."
A soft crunch of footsteps echoed behind him