The Weight of a Dream

The Ichiro Army
They said the Ichiro were the blade that stood between humanity and extinction.Men who trained until their bones broke.Soldiers who marched for days without sleep.Warriors who swore to give every last drop of blood for the survival of all.Their uniforms, adorned with silver symbols, gleamed like crowns of glory.The metallic echo of their boots roared across the training fields, mixing with the scent of iron, sweat, and the cold northern wind.Men envied them.Women desired them.Children idolized them.But to become an Ichiro… one had to pass through hell.Out of every hundred candidates, only one survived.And even faced with such cruel odds—Matt dreamed.He dreamed of wearing that uniform.Of being remembered as someone who could protect the world.He closed his eyes, feeling the cold wind brush against his face.For a moment…he almost believed he already carried that weight on his shoulders.A weight he had yet to earn.

The Village and Alonso
That afternoon, the village buzzed with life.The market was loud, chaotic—alive.The old fisherman shouted, shaking a fresh fish like a weapon:— These kids only know how to dream! Dreams don’t fill your stomach!Matt, carrying two heavy buckets of water, muttered under his breath:— Says the man like he never dreamed himself…The fish vendor pointed her knife at him:— And you, boy? When will you stop being a burden to your mother? You can’t even carry a bucket!A child laughed behind him:— Matt will never become an Ichiro! He doesn’t even have muscles!Matt bit his lip.He was about to respond—But a firm hand landed on his shoulder.It was Alonso.Twenty years old.Sun-kissed skin.A lazy smile.And a gaze that annoyed as much as it charmed.— Hey, you lot. — he said casually. — If you’ve got that much energy to talk… why not help carry?The old fisherman clicked his tongue:— Alonso… you should be training instead of playing hero in the market.Alonso shrugged, almost theatrically:— Training is boring. I’d rather fish… sleep… or eat.Matt couldn’t help but smile:— Everyone knows you were once one of the best Ichiro cadets.Alonso winked, a sly grin forming:— I was. Now I’m on medical leave. My body gave up… but the charm’s still in perfect condition.Laughter spread through the market.And for a brief moment…the weight pressing on Matt’s chest felt lighter.He took a deep breath, letting the warmth of the sun and the scent of the wooden stalls surround him.Maybe…just maybe…there was still hope.

Walking Back from the Market

The noise of the market faded behind them.Matt and Alonso walked along the dirt road as the sun dipped toward the horizon.Matt carried the buckets, but his mind was far away.— Alonso… — he said quietly. — Do you think I could pass the Ichiro exam?Alonso looked up at the sky for a moment before answering.— Passing the exam isn’t about strength.Matt frowned.— It’s not?Alonso shook his head.— What really decides it… is something almost no one masters.He raised two fingers to his forehead.— Cindral.Matt blinked.— Cindral?— The instinct of inner explosion. — Alonso said. — Every living being has it… sleeping inside.He picked up a small piece of wood and tossed it into the air.— A simple pistol becomes devastating.— A sword can cut through the impossible.— Even your own body can become a weapon.Matt’s eyes widened.— So… it’s like a power?Alonso chuckled.— No. Power is easy.He stopped walking.— Cindral… is control.Silence settled between them.— You can be the strongest warrior alive… but if you lose focus for even a second—He snapped his fingers.— It’s over.The wind swept across the fields.Alonso started walking again, that same lazy smile on his face.— If you want to become an Ichiro… start by training your mind.He glanced at Matt.— Because in the end…A pause.— Power decides battles.— Cindral decides the winners.Matt tightened his grip on the buckets.For the first time…he realized there was something beyond strength.Matt’s DreamThat night, the small wooden house felt quiet… fragile.In the kitchen, his mother washed dishes in silence.In the corner, his little sister played with a worn-out doll, smiling despite everything.Matt spoke, his voice burning with determination:— If I join the Ichiro army… we’ll never go hungry again. I’ll protect you.His mother paused… but didn’t turn around.— Matt… I don’t want to lose you too.His little sister clapped her hands, full of certainty:— I believe in Matt! He’s going to be the strongest Ichiro in the world!He smiled softly, gently stroking her hair:— I promise. To both of you.Later, under the dim glow of a lamp, he filled out his application form.Each stroke of the pen felt heavy.Each word carried a piece of his soul.Fear gnawed at him from within.But his determination burned stronger than any doubt.