Zazm walked out of dining room with an absolute bad mood, he continued to walk, his steps heavy and each step filled with more anger.
He finally reached his room and slammed the door behind him, "Fucking bullshit." Zazm usually never got angry and kept his cool but his parents's words were always something he can't tolerate.
He hated those hollow words and those empty promises he has heard all his life. He quickly jumped up on the bed and threw his coat on the ground.
"Tch....Good my moods destroyed." He started staring at the ceiling the anger in his eyes replaced by something else-something vague....Sadness.
Zazm spoke to himself in a low and sad tone, his voice barley above a whisper, "Did I really expected them to change?"
A smile appeared on his face, a smile that hid his disappointment, his sadness. He closed his eyes thinking about all the times he expected his parents to change or expected anything at all.
And before he knew it he fell asleep, his upper body on the bed while his legs hug on the corner of the bed. He was so fed up he didn't even cared to use the pillow and just slept like that.
---
The rays from the sun fell on Zazm's eyes, he slowly sat down squinting his eyes. He looked around to find himself on the ground. "Ah, I must've fell down."
He quickly got up and took a bath, he changed into a black and white tracksuit, the tracksuit covered his perfect physique. He combed his hair, removing them from his eyes.
He picked up his headphones and left his room and while on his way out, a sudden voice stopped him.
"Where are you going, Zazm?" Zazm turned around to find his mother standing there. He didn't looked back and spoke in a harsh tone, "I'm going for a run."
"Are you not going to have breakfast with us?" His mother asked him in the same uninterested tone and Zazm shook his head before he finally left the house.
He got outside of the mansion and noticed that it was on a mountain type area with no other houses near it.
Zazm quickly started running down the mountain as he enjoyed his favorite songs on his headphones.
"Damn, this place is beautiful." After almost 40 mins of running he had finally reached the main streets, the streets were filled with houses left and right.
Students all around were walking leaving for their schools, young man and women leaving for their works.
A smile appeared on Zazm's face looking at the sight of so many people. He quickly started running again, enjoying the crowd around him, the morning wind hit his hair and he put a hand through it putting it back.
"Now, this is what I call environment." Zazm was just running through the streets enjoying himself.
He was a picture of calm, his trademark smirk playing on his lips as he took in the sights and sounds around him. The world felt vibrant, alive, and he was content to simply be a part of it.
As he rounded a corner, the peaceful atmosphere shattered. A commotion erupted a few blocks ahead, drawing his attention. The sound of shouting and the unmistakable thud of fists meeting flesh reached his ears.
Zazm slowed his pace, curiosity piqued. He approached the crowd that had gathered, their faces a mix of shock and indifference.
"What's going on?" he asked a woman standing nearby, her eyes wide with fear.
"They're beating up that boy," she replied, her voice trembling. "He tried to stop them from taking a little girl. They're gangsters, and he's just a kid."
Zazm's gaze shifted to the center of the crowd, where boy in a school uniform lay on the ground, surrounded by four older men.
They were rough-looking, their bodies adorned with tattoos that told stories of violence and crime. One of them, a particularly large man with a belly that jiggled as he kicked, delivered another brutal blow to the boy's face.
"Why isn't anyone doing anything?" Zazm asked, incredulous. The crowd fell silent, eyes averted, as if they were afraid to intervene.
"People are scared," the woman whispered, her voice barely audible. "They don't want to get involved."
Zazm felt a flicker of irritation at the cowardice but he himself doesn't wanted to get involved with some gangsters, sure he had powers but he was no superhero.
'It is none of my business,' he was about to leave the crowd when his gaze drifted towards weird threads, that were extremely unstable with a single glance he knew it was his.
It was because the threads that flow out of Zazm and Nox are totally different but that's not what caught his attention, 'Wait.... My threads aren't unstable.'
Zazm quickly separated himself from the crowd and carefully investigated his threads, his threads were unstable in the beginning but after he got control of his powers they became stable the only difference was they moved differently and more vibrantly.
"No way in hell," Zazm started looking in the crowd desperately searching for the origin of those other irregular and unstable threads, the threads he has only seen with 2 people.
His gaze drifted towards the boy who was now being lifted by his collar, his face was covered in blood but he still refused to give in. Zazm quickly closed one of his eyes and slowed one of his threads to get a better look.
"Hah~" A gasp escaped Zazm's lips as he felt a shiver done his spine, 'There is no doubt.'
With a resigned sigh, Zazm stepped forward, his heart pounding not with fear, but with a weird excitement.
"Hey!" he called out, his voice steady and commanding. The gangsters paused, turning their attention to him, their expressions a mix of surprise and annoyance.
"What do you want, pretty boy?" the fat man sneered, wiping blood from his knuckles. "You think you can take us on?"
Zazm's smirk widened. "I don't think. I know. Now, Back off, or you'll regret it."
The gangsters laughed, a harsh, mocking sound that echoed through the street. "You think you're tough? You're just a kid!"
"Yeah, a kid who knows how to fight," Zazm replied, his tone cool and collected. He stepped closer, his posture relaxed but ready.
"You're outnumbered, but I'll give you a chance to walk away. This isn't a fight you want to pick."
The fat man took a step forward, his fists clenched. "You think you can scare us? We'll show you what happens to heroes like you!"
Before Zazm could respond, the fat man lunged, swinging a wild punch aimed at his head. Zazm sidestepped effortlessly, his movements fluid and precise.
He countered with a swift kick to the man's face, sending him crashing to the ground with a pained grunt.
The crowd gasped, and the boy, still on the ground, looked up in awe. Zazm's heart raced, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he faced the remaining three gangsters. They exchanged glances, uncertainty creeping into their bravado.
"Is that all you've got?" Zazm taunted, his smirk unwavering. "I expected more from a bunch of tough guys."
The second gangster, a wiry man with a snake tattoo coiling around his arm, charged at Zazm, fists flying.
Zazm ducked under the first punch, then delivered a sharp elbow to the man's gut, causing him to double over. Without missing a beat, Zazm spun around, delivering a roundhouse kick that sent the gangster sprawling to the pavement.
He wasted no time and quickly walked towards him and gave him a direct kick to his face while he was trying to get up, the kick was fierce and brutal and it made the gangster lose consioussness.
The crowd fell silent at his brutal behavior but he didn't paid them any mind, he glanced at the two men standing there and his smirk widened. The men started sweating at the sight of him.
"He's a psycho," one of the men spoke while he gulped.
"Two down, two to go," Zazm said, glancing back at the bot, who was watching with wide, innocent eyes. "You okay, kid?"
The boy nodded, though his expression was a mix of fear and admiration. "Y-Yeah… you're amazing!"
Zazm chuckled, then turned his attention back to the remaining gangsters. The third, a tall man with a scar running down his cheek, hesitated, glancing at his fallen comrades.
"We don't have to do this," he said, his bravado falished, uncertainty creeping into his voice.
Zazm raised an eyebrow, his smirk still in place. "You're right. You could've just walked away and saved yourselves a world of hurt. But you choose to stay, and didn't I promised you'll regret it?"
The scarred man exchanged a nervous glance with the fat man, who was still groaning on the ground.
"You think you're tough, huh? Just because you got a few lucky hits?" he spat, trying to regain his composure. "We'll show you what real pain feels like!"
With a roar, the scarred man lunged at Zazm, fists swinging wildly. Zazm sidestepped again, his movements a dance of grace and precision.
He ducked under a wild punch, he fell down into a handstand and then delivered a swift kick to the man's side, sending him crashing into a nearby wall. The impact echoed through the street, and the crowd gasped collectively.
"Three down," Zazm said, turning to face the last remaining gangster, the fat man, who was struggling to get back on his feet. "You really want to keep this going? I'm starting to feel bad for you."
Zazm looked behind him to deal with the fourth gangster but he was nowhere to be seen, 'looks like he flew.'
Zazm was about to drop his guard when he heard the boy shout, "BEHIND YOU," Zazm turned around to see the man holding a knife inches away from his face.
The world slowed down and Zazm closed his left eye, the knife who was just inches away from his face now felt miles apart. Zazm quickly held the man's wrist and slammed him on the ground.
The crowd's eyes widened in surprise as they saw such a seen unfold, the boy looked at Zazm with amazement at how he effortlessly threw off a knife that close to him.
He dusted off his hands and looked back at the fat man who was still consiouss, "Looks like that fat ass of yours saved you somewhat."
The fat man's face turned a deep shade of red, a mix of anger and embarrassment. "You think you're so clever, don't you? I'll make you pay for this!"
Zazm shrugged, his demeanor still relaxed. "You're welcome to try. But I wouldn't recommend it."
With a roar, the fat man charged, his bulk moving surprisingly fast. Zazm braced himself, waiting for the right moment. As the man swung a massive fist, Zazm ducked low, rolling to the side.
He sprang back to his feet, delivering a powerful kick to the man's midsection. The fat man stumbled back, winded, but he wasn't done yet.
"Get up!" Zazm shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. "I'm just getting started!"
The fat man, fueled by rage, charged again, but this time Zazm was ready. He sidestepped, grabbing the man's arm and using his momentum to throw him over his shoulder. The gangster crashed to the ground with a thud, the air knocked from his lungs.
Zazm stood over him, breathing steadily, his smirk unwavering. "You really should have listened." Zazm walked closer to the fat man and crouched near his face, he looked him straight in the eyes his smile gone replaced by a cold and nerve wracking expression.
"Now, listen here. If I ever saw you near that boy again, It won't end with you falling temporarily unconscious."
The fat man groaned, struggling to get up, but the fight had clearly left him. He looked around at his fallen comrades, then back at Zazm, fear finally dawning in his eyes. "We… we wont," he stammered, backing away slowly.
"Good choice," Zazm replied, his tone light. "Now get out of here before I change my mind."
Zazm turned back to the boy, who was still sitting on the ground, eyes wide with admiration. "You okay, kid?" he asked, extending a hand to help him up.
The boy took Zazm's hand, his grip firm despite his earlier fear. "I… I can't believe you did that! You were incredible!" His voice was filled with awe, and Zazm couldn't help but chuckle.
"Just doing what needed to be done," Zazm replied, brushing off his hands. "But you really shouldn't try to be a hero like that. It's dangerous."
Kiyomasa shook his head, his expression earnest. "But you were amazing! You stood up for me when no one else would."
A soft smile appeared on Zazm's face, he didn't helped him because he could've, he simply helped him because he wanted to confirm his suspicions.
"You are....ummmm?" Zazm spoke in a soft and low voice. The boy quickly realized his mistake and held his hand forward.
"I'm Saito Kiyomasa, nice to meet you." Zazm shook his hand and spoke with the same smile, "Zazm Mystic."
Zazm put a hand in his pocket, he looked at Kiyomasa for a while before he asked him, "Say Saito can we talk for a while?"
Saito who was picking up his bag from the ground quickly nodded but before Zazm could say anything he quickly followed up with, "Umm, Sir Zazm let's go talk somewhere else."
Zazm nodded as he followed Kiyomasa, once again Zazm was about to say something but before he could speak, "And by the way just call me Kiyomasa."
Zazm tilted his head in confusion, "Why should I call you by your family name?"
Kiyomasa also looked at Zazm in a confused expression, the boy tilted their heads in confusion, "Kiyomasa is my first name, Saito is my last name."
"Oh, wait .... I forgot I was in Japan." Zazm spoke putting a hand on his forehead, "I'm sorry actually I'm not from here, oh and Zazm is my first name."
Kiyomasa shook his head and spoke in a surprised tone, "Oh you're not from here? You were speaking japanese so well I thought you were from here, Sir Mystic."
Zazm shook his head in irritation and spoke in a slightly bugged voice, "Japanese, French, German, English, Espanõl, Arabic. I know all 6."
Kiyomasa's eyes widened in surprise, Zazm can see excitement bubbling in them, "Woah, you can fight that great and can also speak so many languages? THATS SO AMAZING..SIR MYSTIC"
A small chuckle escaped Zazm's lips, "Well my parents made me learn all them when I was a kid since they travel all around the world."
"Oh, I see looks like you have nice parents." Kiyomasa told Zazm but his voice contained a hint of something...sadness.
Zazm picked it up and decided to quickly change the subject, "Nah they aren't nice Oh and stop with the Sir and Mystic, just call me Zazm."
Kiyomasa also smiled and was about to retort but Zazm raised a hand silencing him. "Anyways where are we going?"
"Oh we're almost here," Zazm looked around him and found himself standing in a park, the park was surrounded by scenery and grass. A smile appeared on Zazm's face admiring the beauty Infront of him.
"So, what do you want to ask me Zazm?" Kiyomasa turned around asking Zazm, he didn't speak something for a while, "Do you have a tattoo?"
At Zazm's words both of them fell silent, at first it was just awkward silence but after a while Kiyomasa started laughing like crazy, Zazm let out a sigh knowing what he had just done.
"I.. HAHA... I'M HAHAA I'm soorryy." Kiyomasa apologized while still laughing like crazy.
"Nah, don't give me those fake apologies." Zazm spoke with narrowed eyes and irritated tone.
Kiyomasa finally calmed himself down he looked at Zazm with a smile and spoke, "I don't know what made you think that but No, I don't have any tattoos."
Zazm put a hand on his forehead, "I'm sorry let me rephrase it." Zazm unbuttoned his sleeves and folded them revealing a beautiful mark an intricate design.
Kiyomasa's eyes widened in surprise, he walked closer to Zazm and looked at the mark, it was beautiful and ethereal something he has never seen before.
He couldn't say anything besides, "Wow!" a simple word. He quickly moved his eyes back to Zazm before he quickly straightened himself.
"I've never seen a tattoo this pretty, where did you got it from?" Kiyomasa asked genuinely curious about it. Zazm looked into his eyes and straight up knew that he wasn't lying, Kiyomasa didn't had a mark like Zazm or Jahanox.
'Why is this?' Zazm looked back at Kiyomasa's threads and he was sure those are the same threads, he started following their movements trying to think of possibilities.
"Zazm?" Zazm was pulled back from his thoughts as he saw Kiyomasa waving a hand Infront of his face.
He asked Zazm with a concerned expression, "Are you okay? You were staring into the blank space "
"Yes, I'm fine." Zazm spoke with a sudden voice but he couldn't think of anything else, any other reason. He mew there was only one way to confirm his suspicions.
______________________________