Two years and four months ago…
Yahshi Konya was an easy target. His scarlet coat restricted his movement, crinkled with every step, and stood out against the evergreens. The further he ran, the louder the tracer’s cackling echoed through the woods.
“You’re wearing red!” he yelled, tackling Yahshi onto the dirt. “Like a bullseye!” The tracer laughed in his face before darting off to hunt his final target.
Stupid coat.
Yahshi dragged himself to their imaginary Detainment Facility, a designated area marked with an outline of logs—courtesy of Quax Avarium. He stepped over the boundary to join his fellow thirteen-year-old detainees.
“Welcome back, Yahshi. I’m surprised he didn’t trace you faster with a coat like that.”
“You look like a tomato with arms and legs.”
That’s it. Yahshi flung his coat to the ground.
“You’ll get sick,” Quax warned.
“It’s either get sick or get caught,” he said, clutching his arms with a shiver.
“Silly move, Yahshi.” Alora Valentine marched toward him, her short hair jumping on her shoulders. “Now your teeth will chatter, and I’ll hear you.”
“I bet if I borrowed your mittens, you’d trace me even faster.” Yahshi eyed the bright fabric around her hands, the cause of her equally pathetic performance.
“They’re light green,” she said, convinced her mittens camouflaged into the woods.
“They’re yellow.” He leaned in with a smirk. “Truly, banana yellow.”
Her smile faded as the other detainees burst into laughter. Everyone knew she was color blind, a fact about herself that she hadn’t fully accepted.
“Quax…” Alora said. “Are my mittens really yellow?”
“Ugh! Can we start the round already? Lunch break doesn’t last forever.” Quax pointed at the previous tracer, who was already back with his final target.
“Fine,” Alora said, leaving the Facility to assume her new role. The criminals got into position as she pressed her forehead against a tree. “One, two, three…”
They shot off, scattering about the woods. Yahshi was searching for a clump of thick bushes to hide between when a whisper interrupted him.
“Psst! I’ve got the perfect spot.”
He trailed behind Quax, brows high. What’d he do this time?
They weaved around tree trunks and stepped over mossy logs, traveling so deep into the woods that Yahshi feared they wouldn’t hear the bell ring.
“How far are you taking me?” he asked.
“Oh, stop whining. We’re already here.” Quax crouched by a low pile of logs. “Well? Have a look for yourself.”
It wasn’t until Yahshi leaned over and squinted that he noticed the strings binding the logs together. He opened the makeshift door, revealing a secret ditch large enough to hold two people.
Yahshi’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding. No wonder you stayed late after school yesterday.”
“No, no. I was studying. At first. Then I realized I really wasn’t in the mood to read, but I was very much in the mood to build the best hiding spot in the history of Sitra, which is probably a nonexistent standard, but I digress.” He climbed into the hole and hugged his knees. “Now hurry up and get in! She’s stopped counting.”
Yahshi was a full head shorter than him, so he didn’t have to hunch over, even after they dragged the door shut. Light streamed through the cracks between logs, illuminating Quax’s proud grin.
“If only you put this much effort into your scores,” Yahshi muttered, earning an elbow jab from Quax.
“Shut it.”
He chuckled, leaning his head against the dirt wall—but the vibrations of footsteps chased his humor away. Something’s off. Those strides are too long to be Alora’s.
“Do you hear that?” Yahshi whispered.
“Shh!”
They held still as the clunky footsteps approached, causing pebbles to trickle down the walls. Yahshi waited for the disruption to pass, but it halted right above them.
A bronze eye peered through a gap in the door.
“I know you’re in there,” taunted the intruder, sending a chill down Yahshi’s spine.
The voice gave him away. Sixteen-year-old Chima Fernis made a hobby of tormenting students, identifying one target and destroying their dignity before cherry-picking his next victim. And his current cherry was none other than Quax’s older sister, the girl who never snapped back, no matter how many bruises he left or insults he dished.
Yahshi understood exactly why Chima was here. If he couldn’t destroy Cal Avarium directly, perhaps targeting her little brother would change the game.
The door shifted, and Yahshi gritted his teeth. I have to do something.
As light flooded the hideout, he sprang at Chima, knocking him down with pure momentum.
“Quax!” Yahshi yelled. “Run!”
Chima stared up at him with a smile, making no effort to get up.
“Run!” he yelled again, pinning Chima beneath him. He heard Quax jump out of the hideout, but the laughter of two boys cut his fleeing short.
“Let go of me!” Quax shouted, his boots shuffling against the ground.
Chima’s not alone.
Yahshi threw a fist at the bully, but Chima snatched his wrist before it could land.
“Better not be after my eyes,” he sang, wrenching Yahshi’s wrist until his skin burned.
Before he could retaliate, someone grabbed him from behind.
“Leave us alone!” Yahshi elbowed the boy and broke free, but Chima was already back on his feet to capture him.
He struggled as they threw him against a tree, binding his arms behind it with scratchy rope.
“Keep the little one out of my way,” Chima ordered, slapping the dirt off his pants. He crept toward Quax, who another boy was pinning down.
Yahshi settled to catch his breath.
“You can mess with me,” Quax said, “but leave Yahshi out of this!”
“Oh, relax,” Chima said. “We won’t hurt him if you cooperate.”
As strong as Quax looked, he was a dramatic boy, the kind to complain for ten minutes about a paper cut, and he wouldn’t stand a chance against them. Yahshi pushed his fingers into the knot, hoping to undo it without the boys noticing.
“Ah, Quax Avarium. It is so nice to finally meet you.” Chima towered over his prey. “Although, I’m sure your sister’s told you enough about me already.”
“She—she doesn’t care about you,” Quax spouted.
“Yeah? You guys hearing this?” Chima paused, cueing his friends’ laughter.
Yahshi applied more pressure to the knot, wincing as the rope scraped a layer of skin.
“Alright, she doesn’t give a damn about me.” Chima leaned over. “But what if I spit in your face, huh?”
Quax shut his eyes when he spat.
More laughter.
“Huh?” Chima wiped his lips on his sleeve. “Would she give a damn about that?”
Quax tried to launch himself into a seated position, encouraging Chima’s friend to drill him down harder. The twigs beneath him dug into his wrists, and he cried out in pain.
Yahshi threw himself forward, trying to leverage his weight and snap the rope.
“Let him go!”
Chima faced him with a jolt of his head, and Yahshi froze.
“Shut it, convert.” His piercing gaze lingered for only a moment before he grabbed a pocket knife from his coat, refacing Quax. “Cal thinks that if she ignores me, she wins.”
Yahshi’s heart raced as he resumed tugging, but the rope refused to give way.
“She wants me to believe there’s nothing I can do to make her fear me.” Chima slammed his shoe into Quax’s stomach, leaving him choking for air. “But there is one thing, isn’t there?” He squatted and pressed the rusty blade to his neck.
No, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t dare.
“Please, don’t hurt me,” Quax said, the color draining from his face.
“Alora!” Yahshi yelled, spotting two yellow dots in the distance. “Help!”
Chima’s friend held a hand over Yahshi’s mouth, muting him. His pleading eyes tracked Alora as she sprinted away, hopefully to alert their instructors. The school staff never interfered with social matters outside the classroom, but they would need to step in today because Chima had taken his bullying too far. Murder was illegal, a violation of Imperial Law.
Illegal. That’s when it dawned on him. To kill was to buy a one-way ticket to the Detainment Facility—the real one. Surely Chima knew that. There was no way he’d destroy his life just to make Cal snap.
Yahshi’s eyes widened. He’s bluffing.
“P-Please.” Tears rolled down Quax’s cheeks. “Please don’t hurt me.”
“Okay,” Chima said, nodding. “Alright, deal. But in exchange, why don’t you tell me one good reason why you deserve to live, huh?”
Quax cried harder. “Please!”
“If you wanna live so bad, tell me one reason why I shouldn’t bury you in the grave you dug up for yourself.” He nudged him with his boot. “Go on. You have ten seconds.”
“Chima!” Yahshi shouted.
“Ten, nine…”
“Don’t do this!” he continued.
“…eight, seven…”
“The guardians will find out!”
“…six, five…”
“They’ll lock you away. You know that!”
“…four, three…”
Chima trailed off, his countdown swallowed by the hammering rhythm of approaching footsteps. His friends jumped and backed away like they’d seen a ghost.
As a figure shot toward them, Yahshi’s stomach folded into itself.
Chima was raising his chin to face the interrupter when a stocky log struck his skull. He collapsed, the knife slipping from his grip.
Cal Avarium dropped to her knees, log in hand. “You can’t win,” she spat.
The air flew out of Yahshi’s lungs. He watched, petrified, as Chima’s fingers searched the dirt for his pocket knife. Cal waited until he grabbed it before swinging her log down a second time.
The forest screamed with Chima’s friends—branches swaying, leaves rustling. Yahshi could hear every squawking bird, every distant footstep, every panting breath. The air tasted like iron and salt and—
Blood. It rolled down Chima’s face, pooling into his ear.
Cal roared through gritted teeth as she reeled her log back.
“Stop!” Yahshi snapped to his senses, yanking at the ropes again. “Don’t—”
He gasped as warm blood splattered across his face.
“Cal,” he whispered, “please.”
Chima’s friends grabbed her log. She resisted, grunting as she clung to it, but they managed to yank it free.
Her black hair thrashed in the wind as she curled over and sobbed.
He was only bluffing. Yahshi’s head trembled and ached. It was only a game to him.
While the boys backed away, her brother sat up next to her, blood mixing into his tears. Cal had never been the warmest older sister, and Quax had sometimes expressed concern over whether she cared for him at all. But at that moment, he stared at the girl who saved his life with unconditional admiration.
Yahshi looked away from the siblings, gagging at the sight of Chima’s brain.
“Cal,” he choked out, “what have you done?”
You have reached the end of this sample.
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