Walking out The doors to the office slammed shut behind them.
Noah flinched. The sound echoed in his chest like something final—like a door closing on the last bit of hope they had.
Outside, the sun was already sinking. The light was soft, warm even, but it didn't touch him. All he could feel was the weight in his chest. They had tried everything. And it still wasn't enough.
No exceptions. No help. No justice.
They were on their own.
His hands shook. He curled them into fists, hoping it would stop. It didn't. He felt like he couldn't breathe right—like if he let go for even a second, everything inside him would just spill out.
He turned to his mother.
"Mom…" His voice cracked before he could finish. He looked at her, and the rest came out in a breath. "I want to see if the clan will take me."
Elina looked at him for a long moment. The wind caught her hair, and her eyes—usually calm, usually warm—were just tired. But then she reached up and wiped the tear off his cheek.
"Okay," she said quietly. "We'll go. We'll find the Fujin Clan."
She hesitated just a second, then added, "And if they'll have you, you'll train. You'll become one of them."
Noah stared at her. He'd expected her to say no, to tell him he was being reckless or that it was a waste of time. But she didn't. And somehow, that steadiness in her voice gave him something to hold on to.
He nodded. Just once. That was all it took.
They were doing this.
It took seven days to get there.
Seven days of cold paths through the mountains. Seven nights under blankets that weren't warm enough, with rocks digging into their backs and silence stretching too long between them.
Noah barely spoke. He just kept thinking—about everything that had happened, everything he could've done differently. The things he should've said. The ways he hadn't been enough.
Then, on the eighth morning, they saw it.
The town sat in a valley, the town was name valley town because it was tucked between the hills like it had always been there. Smoke drifted up from chimneys, and the sound of a hammer rang out from somewhere near the center. Wooden houses with sloped roofs, narrow streets.
And above it all, blue banners waving gently in the wind. Silver stormwinds stitched into the fabric.
The Fujin Clan.
Noah's heart started to race.
As they walked down into the town, something shifted. The air felt different—like the ground itself was holding a kind of energy. It tingled at the edges of his skin.
The people here moved differently. Confident. Controlled. You could tell just by looking at them that they were dangerous—but calm about it. Like they didn't need to prove anything.
Noah couldn't stop staring.
Elina rested a hand on his shoulder. "We need to talk to someone," she said.
He nodded, distracted—his eyes caught on a group of trainees moving through the square. Kids, just a little older than him. They marched in sync, sharp and focused. One girl, her braid swinging with each step, glanced at him and met his eyes for a second before turning back.
That one look felt like a challenge. Or maybe an invitation. He wasn't sure.
But he didn't doubt what he wanted. Not anymore.
Yes, he thought. I want this. I want to be here. I want to matter.
His mom squeezed his hand, gently pulling him back to the present.
"Come on," she said. "No use just standing here."
Noah took a breath.
The real part—the hard part—was just beginning.