Awakening

“Alright. We can’t stay here any longer then… Graham.”

The sweetness of her voice tugged the cord around his heart even tighter. To hear his name called by her, how wonderful a feeling it was.

The urgency, the sternness too—a blend so perfect, Graham’s heart couldn’t help but flutter.

He couldn’t help but freeze one more time, like a puppet let go of its strings.

“Graham? Why’re you just standing there? Please, we have to—”

An orange, bulky, out-of-place construction-type cheval barreled into the schoolyard, kicking up dust and debris.

Graham snapped back to reality.

“It is too late. They’ve caught up!”

The girl scrambled, trying to climb back into the cockpit. In her haste, she used Graham’s leg for support, only to slip.

“Whoa—”

They tumbled back into the cockpit together.

The hatch slammed shut, sealing them inside. A dim light flickered as their bodies tangled awkwardly, arms and legs pressed together.

Graham’s breath hitched.

Her face, mere inches away from his. Warmth. The scent of something foreign, exotic, new. His pulse pounded like never before.

“Darn it,” the girl cursed. “This is the worst. Now I’ve dragged an innocent into this mess.

“I'm s-sorry!” Graham tried to yank himself away from her, but his struggling only made the entanglement worse.

“Please don't move so much!” the girl begged, her movements also worsening the situation.

“Sorry! We need to—”

The sickening scratch of metal grinding against metal filled the air. Graham winced as he made out the sound of the construction-type cheval’s massive claw scraping against their armor, trying to crush them.

“What was that?” the girl shuddered.

Graham cursed. “That cheval's trying to take our top off. Is… Is this the ‘they’ you said were coming?”

“I’m afraid so. Sankaku Corp hired hands, the lot of them.”

“Sankaku Corp?” Graham’s jaw dropped at the revelation. “What’re they doing here? They’re halfway across the world!”

“T-to be fair, so am I!”

The cockpit shook violently. The metal screeched again, the sound gnawing deeper this time.

“Actually, miss Maya, mind if I borrow this thing?” Graham nudged her aside, sliding into the pilot’s seat.

“There’s no use,” the girl shook her head. “Ever since I arrived in Astonian shores, it was as if this machine’s controls had all but lost traction. It drove itself here, like it had a will of its own.”

“Drove itself? That…” Graham scoffed, reaching for a lever. “...can’t be true, right?”

“Also, I'm not Maya—”

The moment Graham's fingers brushed against the lever to his side, a red laser flickered to life, scanning the cockpit from top to bottom.

Then, a deep low hum.

The cheval stirred beneath them. The controls moved like nothing under Graham’s grip, pedals and levers sliding as smoothly as if they’d been waiting for him all along.

“Works like a charm. See?” He smirked, effortlessly shifting the controls.

“What…? Impossible…”

A single monitor lit up on the right-hand armrest, glowing with a single line of green text:

[Lionheart. Emotion Core synchronized.]

“Lionheart? …Emotion Core?”

He had no idea what an emotion core was, nor the true meaning of the entire text. But—

“So that must be your name… Lionheart.”

Before he could process anything further, a blinding flood of sunlight burst into the cockpit.

With a screech of tearing metal, the cockpit’s plating was ripped away, leaving only a thin, semi-transparent canopy where the camera screen should have been.

Beside him, the girl stiffened, her breath stopped in her throat. She wanted to scream, but she didn’t. Instead, she locked her gaze on the hulking orange cheval looming over them, its iron claw ready to snatch them up.

She had already failed her mission. That much she knew. But if she could resist, even for a moment—

Yet, Graham was already gripping the controls, his jaw set.

Not yet.

No one could’ve calculated him.

With the pull of a lever, he swatted the claw away from the cockpit with the cheval’s own arm. The constructors took a step back, its arm dangling from a loose hinge, all from a single strike.

The girl’s eyes widened. “How did you…?”

“It must’ve been tough, getting chased down like this. But… you’re brave.” Graham’s mouth ran faster than his mind could. He didn’t know what he was saying.

But somehow, he knew.

Graham could feel it.

The weight of the journey this girl and her machine had endured to get here.

As if the machine itself was whispering its story to him.

“Graham? What’re you saying?”

“You need to get to the Embassy, right?” His eyes burned with conviction, his words even more so.

“I—”

“Then your taxi just arrived.” He smirked. “And your driver needs to put this asshole in his place!”

The sheer absurdity of the line snapped her out of disbelief. A laugh escaped her lips. Short, breathless, but genuine.

“Yes. That’s right. And this man isn’t the only one after me.”

Graham grinned. “One vicious handshake event, coming right up!”

He brought the white cheval—Lionheart—back to its feet.

Rubble tumbled from its frame as it rose from the wreckage of the gym storage. Dust and shattered brick slid from its shoulders. Its knightly form stood tall against the afternoon light.

Graham squared its stance, planting its feet firm into the ground.

It had no weapons. No blades, no axes, nothing.

But it had fists.

And that was enough.

Moving it was like second nature to Graham.

He always found school-issued chevals heavy, unwieldy. He never could move them the way he wanted to.

But this? This was something else entirely.

It was like the machine was listening—not just following commands, but anticipating them. Every shift of his hands, every press of his foot, the Lionheart responded.

Not just like a machine. Like it understood.

Like it was alive.

Graham looked dead ahead through the Lionheart’s shattered canopy. The damage shattered where the camera screen should’ve been.

But he didn’t need them.

His opponent stood right there—hulking, crude, and ready for the picking.

I can see just fine.

Beside him, the girl clenched her fist, her gaze following his. She had no idea who Graham was, what he was capable of, or why this machine had chosen him.

But at that moment, it didn’t matter.

Because as long as he stood between her and the enemy, she believed.

She couldn’t help but believe.

His faith—his resolve, infectious.

“I'm Maya.”

Her voice cut through the tension, clear and unwavering.

Graham blinked. “So you really are…? Miss Maya?”

“Yes.” She met his gaze, steady and sure. “I assume you're a big fan?”

“Really, really big.”

“Then right now, simply call me Maya. ‘Miss’ won't be necessary. From this moment, please, consider me a friend.”

That was all he needed.

“Okay, Maya.” Graham's pure joy curled his lips into a confident smirk. “One crazy taxi, coming right up!”

Without another word, Graham launched the Lionheart forward, iron fist cocked back.

His opponent didn’t hesitate. It lunged, claws raised.

Too slow.

The Lionheart’s fist collided with the orange cheval’s head unit, shattering it into a rain of twisted metal shards. At the same time, its opponent’s claw raked across the Lionheart’s side—barely leaving a scratch.

Graham barely had time to marvel at the sheer sturdiness before he wound up his other fist and drove it straight into the enemy’s shoulder hinge. A satisfying crunch rang out as the arm tore free, sparks flying.

The orange cheval wobbled, then toppled onto its side, limbs flailing uselessly.

And there it was.

The Lionheart stood tall, unshaken.

A man in a black suit popped out of the orange machine’s cockpit. He cowered away from the wreckage, hiding into the nearby shrubbery while shouting into a radio.

“Graham! That man’s calling his comrades over. We must hurry.”

“Right!”

Graham shifted the Lionheart’s stance, testing its movement—only to feel it glide effortlessly forward.

His eyes widened. Damn! That’s a nice surprise.

The school-issued Ryzels had the same function, letting pilots coast smoothly across terrain without full strides. But here, in the Lionheart, it felt natural.

The cheval surged out of the schoolyard and onto the open streets. What little pedestrians and cars there were veered aside, some honking, others simply staring as the knight of steel blurred past.

“It’s not far from here,” Graham said, shooting Maya a confident nod. “At this speed, we’ll be there in no time at all.”

But as he turned the next corner, another construction-type lurched into view, blocking the road.

With little warning, it swung a large metal beam at the Lionheart.

Graham blocked with a raised arm. The beam twisted around it, but not without denting the Lionheart’s armplate as well.

“Another one!” Graham cursed.

He roared, throwing his cheval’s fist forward—then a direct hit to the enemy’s head unit. The impact stunned it, giving him just enough time to pull both arms back—then slam them together in a crushing clap.

The construction cheval’s head crumpled like a tin can.

“How many of them are there?” Graham barked, his heart pounding. “Did they seriously hijack all the damn constructors?”

“I don’t know their numbers, but I’m afraid that may be the case.”

“This is insane!”

“I believe following any kind of law isn't a virtue of theirs.”

Graham pushed the Lionheart forward—faster this time—through the city streets of Astonia, making sure he didn't damage anything too much. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement.

Sleek, dark shapes weaving through the sparse city roads.

Black sedans.

They were tailing him, struggling to keep up with the cheval’s speed, but still in pursuit.

Then up ahead: A blockade.

A wall of blue-and-white chevals loomed in the distance, rigid and unmoving. These weren’t like the hijacked constructors.

Traffic enforcement models.

But something was off.

Maya squinted. “Traffic enforcement?“

“No.” Graham’s grip tightened around the controls. “Something’s not right.”

Fifty meters ahead, this blockade stood firm in the middle of the street, clearly intent on blocking their path. But the longer Graham studied them, and the closer they got, the clearer it became:

“They don't have sirens on. And their formation…” His breath caught. “No way. Are they hijacking enforcement units now?”

Maya stiffened. “What do we do?”

Graham’s mind raced. Floe models. He wasn’t the smartest guy in class, but he knew their specs. Lightweight, easy to maneuver…

…And weak on the sides.

“If they’re Floes, then…” His fingers clenched around the controls. “Okay.”

Without hesitation, he slammed the accelerator. The Lionheart tilted forward, throwing its weight into the a charge.

Maya barely had time to react. Her calm, practiced poise fell apart. “Wait, what—”

“We’re busting through! Hang on!”

The cheval shot forward like a bullet. Graham cried out as the Lionheart crashed between two Floe-types within the blockade.

They barely slowed him down.

“Hell yeah!”

As the Lionheart tore through the opening, Maya twisted in her seat, eyes wide as she watched the two enforcement units spin on their heels like loose gates.

She turned back to Graham, completely aghast.

“How did we just…?”

Graham let out a hearty, genuine laugh. “Lionheart... You’re unstoppable!”

Maya blinked, confused. “Lionheart?”

“That's its name, right? That’s what it said in the control panel.”

“I didn’t know it had a name.” Maya shook her head. “I have never seen this cheval so… alive, before.”

“Really now? This thing is amazing. Hard to believe you had a hard time getting it to work.”

Maya affixed her gaze on Graham, studying him. “Yes… I have a hard time believing it too.”

“I’d love to give this thing a real fight.”

Maya chuckled softly. “A real fight?”

“An Honor Battle, of course.”

A strange silence followed. The rush of battle began to fade, but something heavy still lingered between them.

There were questions.

So many questions left unasked, but an invisible barrier held them back. A silence born of tension—perhaps embarrassment?

Maya broke the silence first. “Graham. Mind if I asked you something?”

“Oh.” Graham scratched his head with a free hand. “Call me Gram, please. Sorry, I messed up my introduction earlier. I forgot that people don’t actually call me Graham.”

“No, that is alright! Gram… it has a nice tune to it.”

“Aw, shucks.” Gram couldn't help but squeak.

Maya cleared her throat, repeating herself. “Alright then. Gram. Mind if I asked you something?”

He glanced at her. “Of course!”

She studied him for a moment, then said, “You knew it was me almost immediately. Did you help me just because you thought I was Maya?”

“Yes!” He barely hesitated.

“R-really?”

“I-I mean, no!” Now he did.

Maya gave him a sideways glance. From the way his face scrunched, she could tell she meant both of those things, but in a way couldn’t quite understand. Graham could feel the heat of her stare.

“I-I mean… it would’ve been wrong to just leave you there. I would’ve done the same for anyone else.”

“Is that so?” Maya chuckled lightheartedly. “You’re not just saying that? If I had been a balding middle-aged man dressed in only my boxers, would you have?”

“Well, that…” A bead of nervous sweat dripped down his forehead. “There is so much to unpack from that.”

His eyes flickered, darting in every conceivable direction except Maya’s. He always wanted to stare at the perfection that is her, but now he couldn’t even hold a gaze. Maya’s lips curled into a gentle, understanding smile as her eyes remained on him.

“This is the longest I’ve ever been this close to a fan,” she said, a finger touching her lip. “I’m thankful it’s someone like you.”

Blood rushed to Graham’s cheek. His ears flushed a bright red. He babbled.

“B-bwuh? Really?”

“You’re so earnest,” Maya made a note of Graham’s eyes—straight, warm, and yet, maybe a little pained. “It’s honestly charming. I would be willing to wager you’ve garnered a few secret admirers yourself.”

Graham wanted to turn, but he had to keep an eye on the road for their safety and everyone else’s. She’s gotta be super cute right now, he thought, imagining her beaming at him.

“I don’t know if I do,” he said. “But I really don’t wanna think about that kind of thing. I just want—”

He caught himself. He didn’t want to come off too strong.

“Just want what?” Maya tilted her head.

Graham scanned the roads, looking for a trace of any remaining cutthroats in pursuit. The pursuit cards had long since vanished from sight. Then when he noticed the daffodils growing all over the place, he knew they were safe.

They arrived in the Embassy District.

No matter how corrupt or ruthless, no mercenary or corporate cutthroat with a brain would risk being spotted in a place like this.

“We’re almost there. They’re not gonna follow us here.” A sigh of relief escaped him.

“That’s good.”

Though Maya wanted to hear what he wanted to say.

“So what were you saying?” She nudged him with an elbow.

“I—I can’t say!” Graham stiffened up.

“Come on,” Maya nudged again. Her eyes sparkled, and though he wasn’t looking, Graham could tell she was making a face. Oh no, that face. “Pretty please?”

The dam broke. His thoughts poured out.

Graham straightened his back, and assumed the cadence of a passionate rookie. “I just wanted you to notice me someday!”

Maya blinked. “Oh…” She muttered, blushing a light pink. She then leaned to his side, making sure he could see her. She giggled, teasingly so.

“I’m noticing now, Gram.”

Graham’s heart jumped. A completely new feeling, once forgotten. It was rough, sudden, a little worrying… but pleasant.

“So, what now?” Maya asked, voice soft and flowing.

“I don’t know. I never thought I’d get this far.”

“The rest would be up to me, then?”

Maya brushed stray hair behind her ear. She wet her own lips. She then closed in on his ear, her breath tickled him. If she said anything now, Graham might just melt.

“Thank you for saving me.”

She planted a kiss on his cheek.

Graham’s heart rate skyrocketed. If he didn’t know any better, he should be in the hospital now. He was convinced he just died and went to the heaven of his choosing.

“M-Maya, I—”

Impact shook the cockpit, jolting Graham and Maya forward. They had only noticed the brick wall they just crashed into and through. Tufts of grass surrounded them from below, and a large mansion laid before them.

“O-oh crap. That was the embassy garden’s wall.”

Maya laughed. “Sorry. Guess I shouldn’t disturb the driver when he’s driving.”

“You really shouldn’t.” Graham let out a hearty chuckle as well. “But we’re here. Let’s disembark. And well, I owe the High Commissioner an apology.”

A tender smile crossed Maya’s lips. Looking at Graham, she couldn’t just see a fan—not just a number reaching out from a crowd like the others. No—he was a person. She knew they all were.

But was a person always this warm?

Her fingers instinctively reached for a silver necklace tucked beneath her shirt. She clutched it tightly, as if to ground herself. This boy, Graham, belonged to a different world—one not encased in lies and layers. And yet she gripped the necklace all the same, clinging on to a sign that she still belonged in her world.

She whispered to herself, hoping he wouldn’t hear.

“I wish I had nothing to hide, like you, Gram.”