The storm hadn't let up since morning. Thunder cracked overhead like a whip splitting the sky in two, and the streets glistened with rainwater and neon reflections. Students hustled under umbrellas and hooded jackets, pushing through the crowded sidewalks to reach the academy gates.
Inside Essence Academy's central hallway, the buzz of chattering students filled the air. The scent of damp shoes and cafeteria steam clashed in a weirdly familiar way.
Riku walked silently with his backpack slung over one shoulder, eyes on the floor. He thought maybe today would be different. Maybe no one would notice him.
"Yo, Essence-less," a voice called from behind.
Riku stopped.
Toru Kurotaki stood with his arms crossed, flanked by a few chuckling students. His crimson-tinted academy jacket was spotless despite the rain, his confidence practically dripping off him.
"Still just a normal kid, huh?" Toru's tone cut sharp. "No glow. No burst. No hint of power. You sure you're even meant to be here?"
Riku's jaw clenched. "I'll awaken eventually."
Toru snorted. "Eventually? That's what losers say. My family awakened by age ten. My sister was a B Rank at twelve. And you? You might not even hit D Rank in your whole life."
"Ranking doesn't define—"
"It defines everything," Toru interrupted, stepping closer. "Without power, you're just another mouth hiding behind walls while the real warriors bleed for this city."
Riku held his ground, soaked hoodie sticking to his arms. "I didn't come here to impress anyone. Least of all you."
That wiped the grin off Toru's face, but he didn't respond. Instead, he gave Riku a long look—like someone studying a bug under glass—then walked off, muttering something under his breath.
Classes went by in a blur. Riku barely heard the instructors. His hands stayed balled into fists under the desk. It wasn't the first time someone doubted him. But hearing it in the academy halls—the place he hoped would change everything—stung deeper than he expected.
Later that afternoon, the storm had faded into a cold drizzle. Riku cut through the alleyways behind the school, hoping to avoid more attention.
He was almost out when he heard it.
"Hey, Hayashi."
He turned and instantly regretted it.
Three boys—older, taller, and clearly not part of the main class—stepped out from the side. One of them, Daigo, cracked his knuckles. Shun, the leanest of the three, had a permanent smirk. The last one, Miki, trailed behind, eyes filled with quiet cruelty.
"We heard you're aiming for D Rank," Daigo said mockingly. "Thought you'd need a little… head start."
Before Riku could react, a punch landed in his gut. He fell to one knee, gasping. Shun kicked his side while Miki yanked his hood back and struck him in the jaw. The rain made everything slick, blood mixing with the wet concrete beneath him.
"You think Essence will save you?" Daigo sneered. "Three years from now, we'll be back. But next time, we'll have real power. Then you'll know what it means to be nothing."
They left him there, coughing and soaked, as thunder rolled in the distance again.
That evening, Riku stepped through the apartment door with a limp. His mom looked up from the kitchen, worry etched into her face.
"You're soaked again—Riku, what happened to your face?"
"I slipped," he said quickly, avoiding her eyes.
She didn't believe him. She never did. But she also knew when not to push.
"You can't keep coming home like this," she said softly, wrapping a towel around him.
"I'm fine," Riku muttered, brushing past her and heading to his room.
He shut the door, dropped onto his futon, and stared at the ceiling. The sounds of traffic outside buzzed like static in his ears. Maybe they were right. Maybe he was nothing.
But somewhere deep down, beneath the bruises and doubt, something inside Riku refused to break.