Notes: New story to get back into the writing world. Future chapters will be longer. That is the goal.

Chapter One

It was unfathomable to think that his life would end up like this. He was in denial for a long time, even now he was still in denial that his current situation had end up like this. Pulling the broadsword out of the back of a thief, he was mesmerized by the blood dripping down from the tip of his blade. How easy it was now to be able to take a life when back then he couldn't even hold a sword properly. When did it become so easy?

He did not want to recall the details into what shaped him into the man he was today. Instead, he swiped his sword to a side, the blood streaking the grass into a curved line. There was still blood falling down his sword but the dripping was minimal. He casually cleaned the blade and hoisted it behind his back.

There was nothing for him to do here. It was time for him to return to the village, to the tiny population that he was hired to protect. But he did not proceed to move; on the contrary, his troubling thoughts kept distracting him, reminding him that he had a family once, people who loved him, people who wanted him to succeed, to take over his father's business. But all that was over. There was nothing back home. It was time to put these troubling thoughts to rest.

...

It was past sundown when he arrived into town. Most of the village folk had retired into their homes. A few lingered in the street, lighting the lanterns adorn next to their doors, even sweeping the front entrance of their little homes. He kept going forward, holding on to the reins of his black stallion. It was a silent evening. The sky, clear of clouds, was covered in reddish-orange hue. In the distance, the mountains basked in the rays of the sun. As he walked past the inhabitants, his steps light on the cobblestone, he arrived at his destination: the town's local tavern.

And standing before the large, wooden door, some iron embellished into wood, stood the last person he wanted to see. It was the daughter of Shigeo Aihara, her father being the owner of the tavern, as well as the one who had hired him, a lone mercenary to defend this little village. He clicked his tongue in annoyance and proceeded to take his steed to the stables. She quickly followed behind him, accustomed to his lack of greeting.

"I'm glad that you are safe," she said. "I was worried that something might've happened to you."

He placed his horse in one of the empty stalls.

"Um, you have a beautiful horse."

He ignored her and focused on the animal in front of him.

"Does he have a name?"

With the horse free of its restraints, he patted his friend and left the stables. The young woman followed his every step. He couldn't quite understand it. The women back home, even here in this village, were all the same, pursuing him, as if he held something desirable for them to want. True, he held his status back then, but now—he stopped and took a glance at the woman, who questioned if he would wish to join her in the near future at the lake where the fireflies gathered. And like some timid women, she held the front of her dress, her knuckles gripping the fabric in a tight hold.

Perhaps, back then, he would have fallen for her charms. After all, she was an attractive, young woman, with auburn hair and vibrant eyes that revealed her emotions so easily, that even if she tried to hide them, it was still there to see.

Like an open book, he thought.

It was best to stay away from people like her.

As she prattled on about the invitation, he easily responded with a harsh no. Then he turned and headed straight into the tavern, not once looking back at the dejected woman. He pushed the door opened and entered the warm atmosphere. Behind the large counter was Shigeo Aihara wiping the mugs in his hands. He did not look at him when he said, "You're late."

"It tends to happen." He took a seat behind the counter.

Shigeo looked up. "Didn't go as plan?"

"If it did, there would have been a body present."

The older man sighed. "Some men don't know when to give up." There was a brief silence and then he grinned. "Glad that you came back safe, Irie."

"Don't call me that." He frowned, with his hands clasp under his chin. "Naoki is fine."

There was a soft smile on the old man's face. He placed the rag on the counter and looked at the young lad. There was so much Shigeo wanted to say to him but held his tongue, knowing that Irie would never open up to him, regardless if he was his late father's friend. Instead he moved away from the counter and looked at his daughter who had entered at the right moment.

"Go grab some grub for the lad, Kotoko."

Kotoko nodded her head, moving quickly to the back. Of course, along the way, she hit a table with her hip and knocked a few chairs with her feet, as she clumsily made her way to the kitchen. In response to her clumsiness, Irie frowned. Then, again, to anyone's perspective, when didn't the young man frown.

"You sure you can trust her with that?"

Shigeo grinned. "Of course." He chuckled, both hands at his hips. "What are you so worried about?" His question was soon answered by the sound of dishes clattering to the floor followed by a yelp and then—SWOOSH—a fire burst from the entrance of the kitchen, singeing the walls in charcoal. And emerging from the smoke stood the daughter of the owner, her auburn hair blown into a mess, her clothes marred from the scorches of the flame.

"The food was cold so I warmed it up for you," she sheepishly explained.

Shigeo sighed and looked at Irie. "The offer still stands, you know?"

Irie shook his head. "You are asking for a miracle." He glanced at Kotoko. "Besides, if she couldn't control her power back then, what makes you think she can control it now?"

"I heard you controlled your magic abilities when you were young. Surely, you can teach Kotoko how."

True, Irie was able to control his magic at a young age, even astonishing his tutors at how effortlessly he could control it. However, while he may have been a prodigy at grasping the mana inside his body at an early age, teaching Kotoko was out of the question. He had not the patience nor the will to teach anyone about magic. Especially the daughter of Shigeo Aihara.

"I don't teach useless people."

And before Shigeo had the chance to defend his daughter from Irie's cruel words, Kotoko marched up and placed the bowl of soup harshly in front of the young man. The contents of the bowl spilled and splashed on the counter and his clothing. Irie was annoyed, that Shigeo could tell. With a cold gaze, he turned to his daughter, and in return, Kotoko matched his gaze with a determined look on her face.

It was at that moment, Shigeo realized, whether Irie wanted to accept it or not, his daughter had already accepted the young lad as her teacher. And, deep down, even Naoki Irie knew that Kotoko Aihara was not one to give up so easily.

Typical of a fire mage, Irie mused.