Oh, Mighty Soldier

• Faye Velasquez, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2019

As Kris goes to make a left on the corner he has been turning at for five years, the glowing lights of the thrumming city, or specifically the malaysian place that he gets his bubble tea from, blink and flicker like they never have before.

It reveals a face that had belonged to his smallest brother, once. In a world that can no longer shelter life with anything but recycled tech and anarchy, they were the idiots of Shenzhen University who put a due date on their lives for the sake of their petty instruments. A limp body, only firmed with the harsh lines of his glare or in the way his voice could coax waves out of steel.

Now he is a man wanders with certain steps that might only skim the ground if not for the weight of a more sculpted grace, then the tumble of unsheltered youth that wrinkles the corners of his eyes and bellows in his laugh. And it really makes all the more sense when Kris catches sight of the gentle giant, still right there next to him after so long. Always so pleased to fall over their own feet if it meant a fond moment between friends.

Here thrives an understanding that Kris can no longer try to gain. One he no longer desires to.

He does not follow the thin line that tugs a beat from his chest because it does not call for him but serves as a reminder of the 67 delighted, terrified youth, who maybe weren't special, but couldn't possibly bested as the most neon-foolish in this skyscraper city.

Not making it into the workforce meant being sent out of Level tK-5. There isn't enough space for sentimentality on a city level so hard to get into, but Kris has heard whispers of where Kay works now. /Mad hidden clubs for the few artsy types in tK-5/. All biotech limbs and non-artificial kindness, Loey is easy to come and go from. /We've been doing well, man/.

Kris can only smile to himself in acknowledgement of the siblinghood who now walk different paths, bound only by the weaknesses that cemented their stuttered family, the ones they could only deny to have.

But he loses nothing from the rise in his shoulders, and doesn't stop to stare. He only has 17 minutes until he's late for setup, a few hours until Donnie's plan goes into action.

He sees them in a single moment, pats the qizi in the pocket of his trenchcoat, the knives in his sleeves, then rushes forward.

He wonders if he'll be able to find time to play again after they've torn each level down, then he gives himself a second to be glad that Loey and Kay were walking in the opposite direction.

(He gives himself even less to hope they won't resent the freedom he fights for.)

There is no need to hesitate in his steps, a foolish heart is enough on a day like this.