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Deep beneath the sea, a boy stands tall with exhaustion as a black belt is tied around his waist, his fellow students of the dojo whooping with excitement. Strength comes to him as naturally as filtering water through his gills, as does honor, humility, and the urge to do what’s right. But right now, he lets himself have a moment of pride, smiling and pumping his fist upward, marking one of the happiest days that he can recall.
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In a little wooden cottage, a young boy’s mother ruffles his hair despite his best efforts to break free from her grasp, peppering his bruised, sweat-soaked skin with kisses. She calls him her little soldier, a brave warrior, the best if ever there was one. In his heart, he swears that he’ll train himself until her words, bold as they are, will be the truth.
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On the slope of a mountain, a youth chops wood while reciting parables to himself. He is strong as a bear but gentle as a lamb, with a heart that desires to wander the world and absorb all it has to offer. His laborious work finally finished, he wipes the sweat from his brow, sitting on a stump to read and become lost in his own thoughts until the sun has faded and the sound of night creatures fills the air.
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In the scrub thicket of the desert, a child lies in wait, gun trained on a quail as it searches for insects in the sand. If he misses, he’ll go hungry tonight, and still bearing the fresh scars of his last attempt at theft, he can’t risk it again. When his bullet finds its mark he smiles (it doesn’t reach his eyes) and slinks from his hiding space to take what is his.
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Within a stone cell, a girl huddles with her sisters to warm them, all three too scrawny to insulate themselves alone. She has daydreams to keep her sane and rage coiled in her belly to keep her fighting. One day, she promises, she will bloom from the concrete like oleander and spit her venom into the eyes of her detractors.
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On the coast, in the night, a tall, pale boy plays with dolls in the sand, laughing and creating wild stories with a child’s imagination. Townsfolk call him a devil and a monster, yet he is unfazed; he is loved by his papa, so what else matters? He gets a little too rough and the well-loved toys break apart, but sewing them back together later is half of the fun.
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Inside a hot, humid shack, a boy breaks into his father’s private cabinet. Despite his impoverished state, he still carries himself with an air of power, the trappings of noble birth that can’t be taken away so easily. He grins when he finds the bottle of fine liquor tucked away, and wonders who he’ll put the blame on as he uncorks the top.