Life In Jejunes City
The sun was a vengeful god over the desert of Jejunes, painting the endless dunes in a gold so pale it looked like bone. From atop the highest sandstone wall, fourteen-year-old Matashi Kōran leaned over the battlements, his knuckles white against the grit-covered stone.
Below him, the village moved like a rusted clock. He watched a merchant struggle with a stubborn camel, the animal’s groans echoing in the heat-stilled air. He watched the militia men who wore their armor like heavy, unwanted chores leaning against spears that hadn't been sharpened in a decade.
Fragile, Matashi thought. One grain of sand in the wrong gear, and the whole thing snaps.
"Matashi! Where the hell are you?"
Taro stood ten feet away, swinging a wooden practice sword. The older boy was built like a bull, all shoulders and no subtlety. He looked right at the spot where Matashi stood, his eyes scanning the stone, but they didn't catch on the small, wiry frame of the younger boy.
Matashi didn't breathe. He didn't move. He simply blended. It wasn't magic, but a survival instinct born from being the smallest prey in a desert of predators.
"Right here," Matashi said softly.
Taro jumped, nearly dropping his sword. "Gah! Matashi…. You’re like a ghost. You gotta stop doing that. One day a guard's gonna sit on you because he didn't see you there."
"If a guard sits on me, it's because he's not looking," Matashi replied, his voice a dry whisper.
Matahsi sighed as he looked up at the bright sky
He then turned his head to the side slightly looking back at Taro
“Have you ever.. like thought of just going outaide the city..?”
Taro paused as he thought about that question
He raised an eyebrow as he closed his eyes
“Well.. i can admit it would be interesting to just explore but, it would be too dangerous… like my dad said theres all kinds of beast out there”
Matashi shrugged
“Maybe. But i dont think theres that much to worry about.”
He turned back toward the battlements. He could feel the wind picking up, carrying grains of sand like tiny arrows against the stone. Somewhere beyond the walls, the desert waited, endless and unyielding.
And somewhere beyond the desert… stronger people, organized and cruel, were rising. Such as the Espada. Matashi had heard the whispers of their name, but the stories were like distant thunder intimidating, but unreal.
For now, Matashi’s world was walls, sand, and quiet mornings. A boy with dreams too big for his small hands.
A boy who had no idea how fast that peace would vanish…
