Trial 2.1: The Puppet’s Dance

Sora’s vision blurred. Light pierced his eyes as the tug on his arms pulled him forward.

His legs moved without his control.

One step.

Two.

“Dance, puppet.”

The words slip into Sora’s mind before he even opens his eyes.

His body jerked forward; his arms and legs were pulled by strings wrapped tightly around them.

Wood creaked beneath his feet.

The bright red curtains opened with a soft, dragging sound.

Sora blinked.

Rows of faces stared back at him. They were familiar. Unforgettable.

His middle school classmates smirked from their desks and didn't care.

His bullies, Ryu, his girlfriend, and Taiga, sat in the front row, arms crossed, sneering.

His teachers, Ms Yamada, and those who didn't show any concern when he was getting bullied and hurt, looked stone-faced and uninterested.

His foster parents watched with eyes colder than ice.

Every single person who hurt him.

Every single person who left him alone.

And they clapped.

The applause was soft, mocking.

Then the whispers began.

“What a joke.”

“Pathetic.”

“You were born broken.”

The voices twisted together, low, poisonous, crawling under his skin.

Sora tried to scream, but instead, his body bowed on its own.

The strings pull tighter, and the crowd bursts into laughter.

His heart beat against his chest. His breath caught. The stage lights brightened.

He tried pulling back, but he couldn’t.

His body was not his anymore.

Sora gritted his teeth.

Sora: Is this Trial 2?

His arms move upward, stiff and robotic. His legs moved, dragging him into a humiliating dance.

Sora: What is this? Why does Trial 2 show this?

The audience erupted with laughter.

“Look at him try.”

“Even his body won’t listen to him.”

Sora tries to force his legs to a stop, straining every muscle.

The strings burned into his skin.

Sora: No, stop. I won’t…

The more he resisted, the more the strings pulled, cutting his wrists and his ankles.

His arms wave uncontrollably, making exaggerated and humiliating moves like a clown performing.

The crowd sneered, their voices messing with his mind.

“Even his parents never wanted him.”

“He’s just a weakling who can’t stand up for himself.”

“Why can't he just disappear?”

Sora’s mouth went dry.

Sora: Why do I have to see this? Why do I have to hear these types of things again? Is this what the Trials think I am?

His fists clenched tight, the threads slicing deeper and drawing pinpricks of blood.

Yet, he danced.

The crowd started clapping, cheering, and laughing.

“What a joke.”

“Coward.”

“A worthless puppet.”

His breathing turned shallow. His vision fades.

Sora: I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I don’t--

His legs kicked outward on their own, flailing. His arms flapped limply.

The strings drag him around the stage like a marionette in an endless and embarrassing performance.

His stomach twisted. His chest tightened.

And then--

A single voice rose above the rest.

His own.

“You’re nothing, Sora.”

His breath caught in his throat as his knees fell. 

But even as he fell, the strings pulled him back up. Then a new string dropped from above, landing in front of him. It was tied to his heart. His eyes glanced upward.

There, above the stage, on a high wooden beam, holding the strings in one hand, was... him. The puppeteer's face was in shadow, but the grin was clear. His face was twisted, mocking, and empty.

Sora (Puppeteer): Did you think they were the ones controlling you?

The Puppeteer tugged the heart-string. Pain shot through his chest, raw and suffocating.

Sora (Puppeteer): I’m the one who believed them. I’m the one who kept you dancing to their words, and now… you’re mine.

The audience howled in applause, a roaring and deafening wave. Sora’s body spins wildly on the stage. His head swam.

His thoughts cracked apart.

This can't be real.

The strings yanked him forward again, his arms flailing like a joke.

The crowd burst into laughter.

The puppeteer's shadow loomed over him, pulling with a cruel smirk.

Sora (Puppeteer): Give up. You've always been nothing.

Sora's heart thumped in his chest.

No.

His mouth opened--

Sora: I NEVER believed them!

The crowd fell silent. The strings stopped moving.

Sora glared up through the bright lights. His arms trembled. His knees shook.

Sora: I never believed what they said about me. And I’m not going to believe you as well.

His voice cracked. He forced the words out.

Sora: I may be messed up. I may be scared. But I don't think I'm worthless. I still have a future ahead of me, no matter how unknown and unclear it is; I’m still here!

The puppeteer tilted his head and made a twisted grin. 

Sora (Puppeteer): Is that so?

He yanked the heart string with force.

Pain shot through Sora’s chest, so sharp that he couldn't breathe properly.

Sora (Puppeteer): Then why are you shaking?

His arms were trembling uncontrollably.

Sora (Puppeteer): If you really believed all that, then why are you so afraid?

The audience's laughter came back, louder and sharper than before.

Sora panted. His chest tightened, and his vision began to blur.

His voice is slowly turning into a whisper.

Sora: No, I… I…

His heart pounded.

Sora: I can’t… I can’t…

Sora (Puppeteer): Because deep down, you know I’m right.

The strings pulled tighter.

His arms yanked upwards, and his legs kicked, like a sad doll on a broken stage.

Sora gasped. 

The world faded. The lights burned. The crowd's laughter mixed into a roar.

Why am I shaking?

I said I wasn’t worthless. Didn’t I?

His heart pounded harder. His arms shook violently.

Then why does this hurt so much?

Why can’t I stop shaking?

He blinked. Black spots danced before his eyes.

Puppeteer Sora’s voice seeped into his ears, low and poisonous.

Sora (Puppeteer): Because you’ve always known the truth.

Am I really this weak?

Was I lying to myself?

Am I really nothing?

The strings pulled his body into a weak, helpless bow.

The audience clapped, mocking and cruel.

Sora's throat tightens. He breathed in uneven breaths. 

I can’t do this.

I can’t even fight back. I can’t even breathe.

Why am I so worthless?

The puppeteer loomed above, his smirk cold and victorious.

Sora (Puppeteer): See? You never had a future.

Sora’s legs buckled again--his body trembled.

Sora: I’m scared, but I’m alive! I don’t care if the future is empty; I’m still fighting for it!

But at the same time, Sora starts to think of the opposite.

Maybe he’s right.

Maybe I really am nothing.

His head dipped low. His shoulders shook.

The roaring crowd. The crushing strings. The suffocating air.

The strings pulled him down. His knees struck the stage with a loud thud.

Why did I ever think that I was good enough to pass the Trials?

His mind went blank.

The lights dimmed.

The applause swallowed him whole.

Sora broke.

The strings pulled him down. The strings wrapped tighter, like chains around his heart.

Sora (Puppeteer): Welcome to your truth.

And the stage went dark.