Sparks

The sky had turned orange by the time the temples started ringing their bells signalling the end of the work day. Droves of people in suits and office attire stream out of the towering buildings that covered the central district of the city in a cool shade. Some of the people in the crowd had floating numbers streaming around their heads as they did quick calculations summing up profits, expenses, and other numbers followed by many zeroes. Others were yelling, chatting, laughing at holographic heads that followed their heads wherever they went. Those heads were their mothers, their wives or husbands, or their children. Some were still in their offices looking over the lucky crowd who got to go home on time. Those still inside, their spells waning and their body tired, would somehow have to muster enough energy to power through the night or at least cast a strong enough spell to keep them from falling asleep.

The trains, which were just empty mere minutes ago, were now filled to the brim with people. Some of them went high above and into the towers, some descended into the lower districts going further into areas that were covered in a sea of shadows casted by the giant office buildings on the upper districts. The houses and low level buildings in the shadows had their lights on even if the sun was still shining on the city. Above the streets and elevated pathways that intertwine the city, parcels, letters, and jars whizz through the air to and from their destinations. Some of the important ones had strong seals, whilst others only had tape.

Looking at the parcels, the setting sun glimmering in the glass towers, and the sea of people with their spells, was Huko. He sat on the wooden steps of a closed bookstore near the entrance of a train station. Beside him, a cardboard box that had hastily written letters:

"MOTHER IS VERY ILL. NEED MONEY FOR HEALING SPELL. GOOD FORTUNE AWAITS TO THOSE WHO ARE GENEROUS."

His face was covered in dirt, and his shirt was torn at places and also dirty. Passerbys sometimes looked away at their tomes and gave him a confused, almost disgusted, look. Sometimes, they would toss a coin to the old crumpled cup he placed in front of him.

"Here," an old lady bent down and placed a rolled paper bill at the cup in front of him, "poor boy."

Huko, uninterested, said thanks.

There was by his estimation three bills and handful of coins, each of varying sizes and color. He looked around for his brother, who had promised to come by about an hour ago, and could not find him. Just as he had enough of this and was about to stand up, a man busy in conversation with a floating head tossed him a coin. This made Huko sit back down. Kenta’s plan, as much as Huko hated to admit, was working. They were getting money, regardless of how little it was.

"So, how was the crowd tonight?" a voice asked him.

Huko looked up and saw his brother, sipping a frosted cold bottle of lemon tea.

"Slim pickings for job openings at the mall," he said, taking another chug at the cold bottle.

"Next time," Huko said as he grabbed the cup and stood up, "you're going to be the one sitting here."

"Won't work. People’ll more likely give a young boy money than someone like me."

Kenta tossed the half empty bottle to Huko. Huko wanted to say more. He wanted to pounce on his brother for smearing dirt and cutting up his clothes and forcing him to sit on the floor. But the cup had money, and they had no other way to get money. So for now, he gritted his teeth, took a long deep breath, and calmly exhaled.

"You know," Kenta said as Huko finishes the bottle of tea, "if you don't want to beg for money, there is one thing you could do."

"Don't say it."

"C'mon, Huko, it’s a smart move."

"I'm not going to do it."

"There's a selection committee near our apartment…"

Huko gave Kenta the look, and his bright smile evaporated. The two brothers continued to walk together, but soon the distance between them was vast.

“Think about it, Huko,” Kenta said, still trying, “it might be dangerous but it's the best option for our future.”

"No!" Huko shouted, causing some heads in the crowd to turn.

Kenta sighed. There was no point in trying anymore. Huko didn’t even want to look at him anymore.

"Ok, Huko," he said with a tired but understanding smile, "we'll find another way."

The silence continued past the business district, and well into the part of the city filled with low rise offices and old shopping centers. The sun had now disappeared. In the silence, Huko’s anger dissipated and what was left was a regret. In about 30 days, they had to pay rent, Huko thought. Right now, all the money they had was in this cup. That amount was a long way away from enough. In fact, it was barely enough for dinner. He would just need to survive three or four years then it would all be over. They would get jobs, they would live happily in the city. But can he really stand being with those people? They were the reason that they had to move. They were the reason that they were poor. They were the reason that mother had died.

Huko counted their money as they walked. 560 yen. That was maybe enough for a meal split in two, where nobody would be satisfied. The street lights flickered above them. Far from angry, Huko now looked defeated. He had regretted yelling at his brother like that, who had never yelled at him. Deep down, he knew that his brother was also looking for what little options they had to survive in the city. It was a difficult life, and him being like this was not making things any easier. As much as his conscience doesn't want to, he has to accept the fact that they were each going to need to make sacrifices.

He looked at his brother walking beside him. All the time, he said to himself, he always tries to smile. Even now, even if there were signs of tiredness in his eyes and body, he still tried to smile. As they crossed over the street in a pedestrian crossing, the large television display mounted on the side of a shopping center lit up and its audio blared.

"Evening news." A man's voice said. "This morning, police forces at the upper districts, with assistance of priestesses from the Tendo Temple, raided a home suspected to house non-mages.”

The feed cut to a video of policemen and temple priestess standing outside a home.

“The family of five had been reported numerous times by their neighbours and had failed to appear at court summons, leading them to be suspected and eventually arrested."

Huko reached the other side of the road while Kenta stood still at the center of the sidewalk, eyes locked into the big screen. The lights of the pedestrian crossing started to blink. Kenta watched as the screen showed the crying children. He watched the priestess so recklessly shoving and hurling the father who had been bruised and battered beyond defeat with their spells. Their eyes glowed a cruel red. He watched the mother held under spells that muffled her screams and bound her arms. Kenta's smile was finally gone. It had finally relented. For the first time in years, it seems to Huko, his true face showed itself. His face was tired. He was shocked and had ventured into the realm of hopelessness.

"Kenta," Huko said, grabbing his arms, "we need to go."

As he was pulled, his eyes still fixed onto the screen. The priestesses and police were smiling. They were proud of themselves.

"What will happen to them," Kenta asked, his face blank.

"What?"

Kenta's face turned to Huko's.

"Why are they doing that?"

"Because that's what they do, Kenta, you know that."

The brothers quickened their pace until the screen and its sound was far away. They crossed the bridge over the river that divided the central districts with the housing and apartment district. The sky had now turned dark.There was only the gentle sound of the cool breeze between them. Huko periodically checked his brother's face. His face was still blank. He looks weird this way, he thought to himself.

They walked along the narrow streets sandwiched by houses. Once they had passed an old wooden house, Kenta stopped. He stared at the glowing light coming from the frosted windows. There were people inside enjoying their dinner. He stood up straight and took a deep breath. He looked up into the night sky and saw a sprinkling of stars in the dark blue night. He closed his eyes.

“In a moment,” he said to himself, “you will be happy again, and all will be okay.”

He exhaled and turned his head to look at Huko, and finally, his smile was back.

"Sorry about, Huko," he said, full of energy now.

Huko smiled. As much as he hated his brother’s cheeriness sometimes, he knew that needed it. Huko then looked at the cup again. 560 yen. That number stuck with him. He thought of what that number meant. He thought about it deeply. He counted again and again, and it all led him to the same conclusion: it was not nearly enough.

As much as he didn't want to, Huko knew what he had to do next.

"Kenta," Huko said. He thought about the next words he was about to say carefully. Once said, he knew he couldn’t take it back.

“I changed my mind about school.”

Kenta didn’t reply immediately.

"So you'll do it?" he asked gently.

"Yes," Huko said softly, his head sunk low.

"Thank you, Huko" Kenta wrapped his arms around his brothers and rubbed his brother’s head. Under the stars and the night sky, in the dark streets between the houses, the brothers smiled at each other.

"This calls for a celebration!"

Kenta scanned the streets and houses around them. There was nothing but darkness. Then, his nose picked up the scent of food.

"Follow me," he said as he took a detour from their way back.

In a house in front of a river, a man was reading a magazine behind a cart that was parked in his driveway. The cart had a display with stacks of vegetables, fried shrimps, and fish cakes. Kenta sat on one of the stools in front of the cart and asked for the menu. The old man greeted him and pointed to a piece of paper hammered to the cart’s pillars. Kenta looked over the prices and counted the money they had at the cup. It was at least enough for a snack.

"Two soba bowls with fish cakes please," he said.

"Coming right up, sonny," the old man said.

Huko joined his brother on the seat next to him. The smell, the warm orange glow, the light bugs dancing around it, the cart was like a lighthouse in the cold night. The old man put away his magazine. He bent over to the ground and connected a rubber hose to a gas canister on the ground. He turned the valve on the canister, and snapped his fingers near the grill. Sparks came flying out of the man's fingers, and the fire roared to life. The air soon was filled with the sweet and savoury smell of noodle broth.

Kenta was enjoying the smell. Huko was fascinated with the stove. He looked closely at the setup again. Gas, hose, spark.

"This old man's too old to be using fancy fire spells," he said when he noticed Huko looking at his setup, "the best I can do is a spark now."

A spark. Some Gas. A Hose.

"Hmm," Kenta wondered as they waited for their food, "we still haven't figured out how we're going to impress the committee."

Huko didn’t reply, but he had an idea.