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Indiscernible sludge tainted his red jacket with stains, insults embedded into his image. Sweat poured from his grey hair and onto his freckled face. And even with his glasses perched upon his nose, he could not see anything from inside the garbage can. It was humid and smelled like a million skunks rolled into one, but what lay outside was even more toxic. He did not dare exit his one sanctuary, the steel armor that protected him from the disgusting truth.
Even now, he could still hear their jeers. Their voices blended together into a single stream of dread. Were they still repeating their insults from the classrooms below, or were those just memories echoing in his head? He dwelled on their words either way. They had called him scrawny, a skinny nerd, a weakling stinkling. They had berated him until he wanted nothing more than to run away. So he did. He had snuck onto the schoolhouse’s roof, leapt into the garbage can, and cowered with the rest of the filth. The only thing visible through a hole in the lid was Mount Itoi. The monolith towered in the horizon, a swirling mass of dark clouds around its peak — an eternal reminder of his own worthlessness.
I really am weak, huh…?
He knew that listening to the other kids was a bad idea, that he was supposed to ignore their name-calling and their mockery. But everything they said was true. He knew because his father had called him weak, too. He could turn a slew of chemicals into a flammable paste. He could tinker with his father’s motorboat until the engine worked twice as fast. But as long as his hair and face were as pale as death, and those shining lenses turned his two eyes into four, none of that would ever matter.
...I’m good for nothing.
A flash of light shone at Mount Itoi’s peak. He winced as he covered his eyes, unable to look strength in the eyes and accept it was not his. He would never be as high as a mountaintop, peering down at the rest of the world. His place was in the trash.
Suddenly, a knock on the side of the garbage can. He jolted back in shock, clanging his head against the side of the can, knocking his glasses from his face. Grumbling to himself, he reached down and plucked them off some rotting orange peels.
“Who are you!?” he said, wiping a trail of slime from his jacket’s sleeve.
“I’m… I’m someone you haven’t met before.” The voice from outside was devoid of the mocking tone he had grown so used to. Instead, the stranger’s greeting was friendly, a concept so foreign to the cowering child that it made him suspect a trick. “Why are you in the trash…?”
“I won’t come out.” He ducked down, plunging his face into his arms, hiding in the darkness. What would happen if he emerged into the light? Had an army of classmates gathered to throw pebbles? Would they poke his ribs until he cried? He had no desire to suffer through either of those things again. “If I do, everyone… everyone will pick on me.”
The garbage can’s lid hovered a few inches higher. He glanced upwards, making out whatever details he could through his grime-spotted glasses. The stranger was a boy, not much older than he was, wearing a baseball cap and a handkerchief. A timid smile graced his face, an ocarina grasped within his fingers. From Mount Itoi came another radiant burst within the stormy fog. The stranger glared at it and refused to avert his gaze.
He must have been strong.
“Come out,” the stranger said. “Let’s be friends. I’m Ninten.”
“Ninten?” His name and the idea of friendship were equally unfamiliar. “You… You want to be friends? You can’t be real. Nobody wants to be my friend.”
“I do.” Ninten nodded, his arms at his sides. “Okay?”
“But why?”
“Because… Because I need your strength, Lloyd.”
Lloyd’s ears twitched upon hearing that word, strength. Hopefulness returning to him, he made a cautious ascent from the garbage can. Sunlight washed over his body, revealing himself to the world again. His hair, his face, his soiled clothes — they all rested in plain view. Lloyd felt certain Ninten would change his mind upon seeing who he really was. But the stranger’s smile only became a little warmer.
“You knew my name already,” Lloyd said. “The other kids told you about me. If that’s true, then you already know I’m not strong. You know that I’m weak.”
“They told me you stole explosives, that you spend all day messing around with machine parts, and that you want to be a superhero or something…”
Lloyd winced, knowing he was guilty of all charges.
“And it sounds to me,” Ninten said, “that… that you could be the help I need.”
Lloyd could hardly believe what he was hearing. A million times over, he had been called a worthless dweeb, a loser too puny to fight off even the common cold. Those so-called realities of his own pitiful existence had drilled themselves into him like screws. Over and over again, they called out to him… he was weak, he was weak, he was weak…
Yet Ninten calling him strong once made him unsure of those past years’ insults.
“...You want me?” Lloyd gritted his teeth and turned towards Mount Itoi, the behemoth of stone, yet it somehow seemed shorter than before. Ninten, too, studied the distant rock. Another flash of light flickered from its apex, its source alien, but perhaps not undefeatable.
Maybe there’s some strength for me to prove after all.
“Alright.” Lloyd mustered his confidence and gave a toothy grin. Nothing was weak about it — even Ninten was inspired to give one back in response. “I’ll… I’ll give you whatever strength I have, then. And if I can’t do that, then… then I’ll be your friend, at least.”
In reality, he already was.