Chapter 4: What’s Wrong With Me?

Chapter 4: What’s Wrong With Me?

Hiral put his hands on his knees, then leaned back against the wall in the shade of his home’s overhanging roof as he sucked in air. Sure, maybe he hadn’t needed to sprint all the way home after two hours of running the obstacle course, but as soon as he’d left the Time Trial and the first set of eyes fell on his tattoos, then his small size, the whispers had started.

No Shaper had as many tattoos as he did without being almost seven feet tall from their constant use of the energy gifted by the sun. Only one person in the entire city, on the entire island, fit his description.

“Everfail,” he whispered to himself as he shook his head, eyes landing on the tattoos covering his sweat-sheened skin.

Fallen’s balls, even the fact he was sweating with that many tattoos made him stand out. Sure, his End was higher than most E-Rankers because of his constant training, even without a class, but a Shaper with that many tattoos would be at least D-Rank, with three times the End stat. Sweating and out of breath? No way.

He hadn’t even gotten a sub-minute run for all his trouble. He’d managed to tie his best time twice more, but the rest of the runs were abysmal, despite him having figured out the best way to deal with the red shield-bearers when they popped up. Maybe after his work with Arty, he’d hit it up again. Or, maybe he should wait a few passes? That was a question for later. He did actually need to get to work now.

He couldn’t go to the port dressed like this, with everybody watching him. Whispering. Time to lose the ceremonial outfit and put on something a little less... revealing.

Then he had to get to work. He hadn’t been lying when he said nobody else would hire him. He couldn’t afford to lose this job... even if there really wasn’t any good reason Arty had hired him in the first place.

“He’s just taking pity on me,” Hiral told himself for the hundredth time, then straightened and walked around to the back door of the building, still sucking in air through his teeth.

The stitch in his side ached like somebody had stuck their hand in and ripped something out, and he rubbed his abdomen as he scanned the wide backyard to make sure his mother wasn’t out there tending to her hobby garden. When he thankfully didn’t see her, he scooted around to quietly push the door open.

“You’re terrible at being sneaky,” his younger sister said as he peeked his head in. “The deep breathing right outside the studio window... I thought some creeper had come looking for me while I was home alone.”

“Hey, Nat,” Hiral said, carefully stepping through the door and looking around.

“Mom’s not home, if that’s who you’re looking for,” Nat said from where she leaned against the studio doorframe, arms crossed. “Nobody but you and me.”

Hiral let out a sigh of relief. One less thing for him to deal with right now.

“You... you don’t look like you’re in the mood for celebrating,” Nat said, and Hiral looked up to find concern in her eyes. She stepped away from the wall and came over to wrap her arms around his chest.

Even though she was only three years younger than him, she was small for her age, and her head settled just below his chin. “Want to talk about it?” she asked, ignoring how damp he had to be against the side of her face.

“You can probably guess,” he said, fighting to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it. I had a test in class, and I...”

“It’s okay,” Hiral said, and gave her a hug. “Your classes are important. You’re going to be the next Master Dorin, if even half of what I’m hearing is true.”

Nat stepped back out of the hug, blushing, and shook her head. “It’s not like that.”

“You do ugly cry when you get going.”

“Learned that from you,” he shot back.

“Bleh.” She stuck out her tongue and then forced a smile onto her face. She wasn’t quite as good at it as Hiral was, but she was trying... for his sake.

He waited until she went back down the stairs before he opened the door and ducked into his quiet room. The blackout curtains were still in place, leaving him shrouded in darkness as he closed the door and then leaned against it for support.

“Ten... times...” He breathed out, his chest clenching again as he had a moment to himself, with nobody to maintain a strong face for. Sliding down to the floor, Hiral dropped his head into his hands and struggled for breath.

He’d told Loan and his father he’d keep going until he passed, but... could he really do that? Hadn’t he worked hard enough? Suffered enough? What else could he possibly do? What would it take to make his status window change?

“I’ve tried everything,” he whispered, tears of anger finally bursting out from behind his eyes and running down his cheeks in a rush. “Why am I such a failure? What is wrong with me?” He drove his fingers into his scalp beneath the hair. The pain was a distant thing compared to the emotions ripping apart his chest from the inside.

Hiral’s heart hammered against his ribs, pounding like it wanted to get out, while the rest of his body shivered like he was under a lake of freezing water. The air he managed to suck in between his teeth barely filled his lungs, and he was already trying to breathe in more before the last breath even left. Faster and faster he gulped in air, but it didn’t seem to be doing anything, and darkness deeper than the room around him clawed at his vision.

Despair and rage warred within him; one telling him to give up and the other driving him back to the Training Room. He imagined obliterating those light constructs over and over again, until he either passed the test or broke himself in the effort. Then he would stand before all who’d doubted him, with a new tattoo of the Emperor’s Greatsword blazing in his hands—just like they mocked. What would they say then? What would they...

Hiral tried to focus on that image, but it slipped away. After all, he had destroyed the constructs in the Training Room; enough of them to fill an entire army. And if that hadn’t helped for ten tests, how would it help for eleven?

He couldn’t do it... Just couldn’t...

A door closed somewhere downstairs—probably the front door, from the sound of it—and Hiral forced his lungs to stop their spasmed gasping. Who was it?

The bottom stair creaked; somebody starting up to the second level. If it was his other, youngest sister, Milly, she’d come right to his room to ask how he’d done on the test. Wouldn’t even knock.

He couldn’t let her see him like this!

Somehow, his need to appear okay snapped him out of the downward spiral enough to push himself to his feet. Another creak—that’d be the middle landing—and Hiral staggered away from the wall toward his small bathroom. She’d come barging in, but if he was in the shower, even she would leave him alone. Probably.

Legs heavy and hands still shaking, Hiral shouldered his bathroom door open, then kicked it closed with the heel of his foot. Without even pulling the ceremonial robes off, he stumbled into the small, enclosed corner of the room and passed his hand over the flat crystal embedded in the wall. Streams of hot water came gushing out of the ceiling above him.

“Hiral, you in here?” Milly called from inside his room. “Oh, you’re in the shower? Come find me when you’re done.”

Hiral held his breath, waiting, just in case, to see if she’d come in anyway. She didn’t quite get how privacy worked. Well, at least not anybody’s other than her own. When the bathroom door stayed closed, Hiral finally leaned his head back and let the hot water flow over him.

Was he broken? Would he ever be able to shape anything, or was he really... Everfail? And if he was, then what? What would he build from his life?

The falling water didn’t seem to have the answer.