EPISODE 1: Dragon Awakens — CHAPTER 1: Twilight of Fate — PART 1

Bastion reached through the freshly shattered truck window with blood-slicked fingers and unlocked the passenger door. He slumped against the vehicle’s washed-out white frame, worked the latch, and shoved the door open with his foot.

When he slid into the seat, he left a broad smear of blood across the old leather. His only working hand trembled uncontrollably.

C’mon, Bastion. Keep it together.

He clambered over to the driver’s side of the old pickup, took the screwdriver from between his teeth, and wedged its flathead into the ignition. Then he lay across the front seats and kicked hard against the screwdriver’s base.

Not far off, the monster’s gurgles and half-screeches still echoed. In moments, it would wrench free the makeshift weapon Bastion had rammed down its throat—and then it would be upon him.

Bastion gritted his teeth and forced himself upright. He grasped the screwdriver’s handle with the few fingers of his left hand that still worked, and twisted.

The engine rumbled to life, and the radio started warbling some Enka-style ballad. Old Man Tsubasa liked his classics, apparently.

The dash was dim beneath the light of Shigetsu, the autumnal moon. The only other source of illumination were the seven glowing red segments that formed a semi-circle beside the speedometer. Which meant the mana crystals powering the engine were stocked and full of energy.

Bastion pressed the clutch with his foot and worked the stick with his half-functioning arm. Through the windshield, he had a clear view of the monster—gleaming black and silver in the moonlight.

He shifted the truck into first gear just as the creature yanked the sharpened metal from its throat. It flung the weapon to the ground and, though featureless save for its gaping maw, turned its arrow-shaped head toward him.

Bring it on, asshole.

Bastion slammed the accelerator, and the truck lurched forward just as the monster began ambling toward him.

They collided at twenty kilometers per hour.

The truck staggered and slowed against the creature’s strength. The tires squealed and the engine roared as Bastion kept his foot pinned to the pedal.

He shifted into second gear. The truck began to shove the monster backward, lifting it off the pavement. They picked up speed as the truck barreled downhill, Bastion barely keeping control as they swept through the narrow underpass.

The monster shrieked and clawed, ripping into the hood as it tried to haul itself upward. If it got through the windshield, Bastion was dead.

He hit third gear just as they burst out of the underpass, and kept accelerating.

The monster clipped something in the undercarriage, and the truck jerked into a wild swerve.

Bastion screamed, half in fear, half in exhilaration. “Go to hell!”

He was pushing sixty kilometers an hour when he slammed straight into a tree.

***

Earlier that day…

Bastion’s knuckles throbbed. He had a split lip and a cut above his left eye. His gakuran boys’ school uniform was dirty and torn.

And he was standing beside his two accomplices in the principal’s office.

Principal Ono was one of those old-guard battle mages who had aged with style. Salt-and-pepper hair, a cane for support, and a perfectly tailored suit made him seem more like a Yakuza boss than a school administrator.

Today, he looked less like he was scolding teenagers and more like he was disciplining low-ranking family members.

「Boys, I’m disappointed in you,」 he sighed. 「I see so much potential in you, yet you squander your talents on meaningless squabbles with other schoolboys. Do your futures mean so little to you?」

「With all due respect, kocho-sensei,」 said Bastion, 「we didn’t start that fight.」

「No, but you certainly finished it, Kurosawa-kun」 Ono said gravely. 「Given, I’ve come to expect this sort of misbehavior from you. But Miyazaki-kun? Inuzuka-kun? You’re usually better about staying out of Kurosawa’s battles.」

On Bastion’s left stood Scott Miyazaki, a giant of a teenager who spent his spare time gardening. On his right was Inuzuka Shigeru: a short, somewhat scrawny native Uroko with a passion for photography.

「I was just documenting the event for our newspaper club,」 Inuzuka said, raising his polaroid camera. 「Honest. I didn’t even throw a single punch. The other boys just kind of… hit each other trying to get to me.」

「That you would consider a brawl between delinquents to be a newsworthy event is lamentable, Inuzuka-kun. And you, Miyazaki-kun? What excuse do you have for participating in this fiasco?」

Scott didn’t answer right away, so Bastion spoke up for him.

「Miyazaki only hit him after Sakamoto insulted his father. I won’t repeat what he said, but if someone spoke about my family that way, he’d be on liquid meals for a month.」

「So you’re saying young Miyazaki-kun was showing restraint?」

「If he’d wanted to seriously hurt Sakamoto, he could have.」

「You don’t consider three cracked ribs and a broken arm to be serious?」

Bastion shrugged. 「He was able to walk away from that fight. It’s more than he deserved.」

「That’s not your decision to make, Kurosawa-kun.」 Principal Ono steepled his fingers. 「Boys, this isn’t the first time you’ve been involved in an altercation like this. I’m beginning to think you go looking for fights.」

Truth be told, Bastion had never shied away from a fight. He found them too fun. But to say he went looking for them?

「I never throw the first punch, kocho-sensei.」

At that moment, Fūma-sensei—who had been quietly seething in the far corner of the office—finally spoke up.

「That is a lie,」 the squirrelly history teacher hissed. 「According to Sakamoto-kun’s story, Kurosawa here was jealous that he made a pass at Takahata-san. The boy is overprotective of her, it seems.」

Bastion blinked. “Wait, did Sakamoto confess to Yui? That’s what he was rambling about?”

「Speak Uroko,」 Fūma-sensei snapped.

Bastion hadn’t even realized he’d switched to Tethic. 「Ah, damn. I just—I hadn’t realized that—」

「I got your point,」 Principal Ono cut in. 「You didn’t even know what the fight was about—is that what you’re saying」

「If I told you how many people randomly challenge me, you’d think I was a professional boxer,」 Bastion said casually. 「Often, they’ve got some kind of monologue prepared, but it gets really boring after a while, so I just think about video games or something.」

「That is the most audacious nonsense I have ever heard,」 Fūma hissed.

Bastion raised an eyebrow. 「Coming from a man who’s obviously never been in a fight?」

「You little—」

「Fūma-sensei, that’s enough, please,」 Principal Ono said calmly. 「Kurosawa-kun, I expect you to address your teachers with the dignity and respect they deserve.」

Bastion bit back a retort and nodded.

Another sigh from the principal. 「There are more than a few staff members who would see me expel you, Kurosawa-kun.」

Bastion could guess at least one of them was in the room.

「But I see a glimmer of something more in you. You have real potential—something worth staking your future on. Don’t squander it on meaningless brawls.」

Some future I have, Bastion fought the urge to scowl. The only thing I’ve ever been good at is cracking skulls. What kind of future is there in that?

「Moreover, I’ve received a personal plea from Takahata-san herself that we be lenient with you. As one of our school’s star pupils, her opinion carries more weight than you may realize.」

Bastion had to make a conscious effort not to let his jaw drop. Yui had really gone to bat for him.

Spirits knew he didn’t deserve it.

Principal Ono rose to his feet and leaned on his cane as he inspected the framed piece of calligraphy hanging from his rear wall.

Bastion didn’t need to look close to recognize a diagram of the old man’s Soul Tree—nor did he need a closer look to tell that Ono was absolutely stacked. There had to be at least two dozen individual skills listed on the white paper, their kanji drawn with a mixture of delicate lines and bold strokes.

The most prominent of them, at the crown of the tree, was the skill Fūmon Godan, which translated literally to Wind Gate, Stage Five. But the more common name for it was Wind Gear, Level Five.

More or less, it meant that Principal Ono could level the entire school if he wanted to.

「The week before I retired from the Mage Corps,」 said the principal, his voice equal parts gravel and refinement, 「I asked the base’s dedicated Soul Mage to create this piece for me. I’d given a lot of consideration to life after retirement, and one thought that passed through my mind many times was, if I’d known my potential when I was young, would I have walked the same path?

「 What if I were able to go back in time and show this Soul Tree diagram to my younger self? If I knew the power slumbering within me, would I have made the same choices? Lived the same life? Or would I have chosen a nobler path?」

He turned to peer at Bastion with his steely, unflinching gaze. There was so much certainty and expectation there. It was unnerving.

Bastion fought the urge to look away.

「Teachers are, in a sense, like soul mages」 said Ono, turning his attention to Scott, and then to Inuzuka. 「To us, the potential slumbering inside of you is as clear as if we were using magic. I chose to become a teacher because I wanted to show the youths of our great nation what they are truly capable of.」

「And so, I display this Soul Tree diagram behind my desk. Someday, you may all commission something similar yourselves. But when you do, you’ll only be putting to paper a fraction of what I see in you today.」

Ono returned to studying the framed diagram. He leaned quietly on his cane for several moments before speaking again.

「I have decided that there is room for consideration,」 he pronounced, his back still toward them. 「You shall all be suspended for one week. When you return, I want for you to be able to answer one single question: what future do you see for yourselves?」

Bastion frowned. My future?

He’d never given the question much thought.

Still, suspension was better than the alternative.

He bowed deeply alongside the others and said, 「Thank you, kocho-sensei.」