Amani's soft mutter was lost beneath the hum of the slum—a wordless sound, half contemplation, half boredom. Kelly heard it, the way she always did, but her fingers didn't pause. She was too busy adjusting the worn straps of the watch-like device in her hands, her brow furrowed in that particular way it always was when she was tinkering.
The contraption was too big for her skinny six-year-old wrist, but that didn't stop her. She'd slide it on, twist a few exposed wires, then tug it off again with a frustrated sigh. Outside, the air was thick with the scent of dust and burning trash, the distant shouts of playing children weaving through the labyrinth of shanties.
This was their playtime—if it could even be called that. Kelly had to be dragged out, scowling, her mind still back in the dim clutter of their shack where broken gadgets waited like unfinished promises. Amani, on the other hand, was all restless energy, bouncing on his toes until she finally settled beside him against the broken wall, its crumbling surface rough against their backs.
His fingers found one of the miniature aircraft she'd made for him, its body a patchwork of rusted metal and scavenged parts. It was ugly—no denying that—a thing of jagged edges and peeling paint, more junk than jewel. But when he thumbed the switch, the tiny rotors sputtered to life with a sound like a dying insect, lifting it shakily into the air.
It hovered, trembling, as if at any second it might give up and crash back into the dirt. But it didn't. It fought, just like everything else in this place. Just like them.
Amani grinned as it bobbed near his face, close enough that he could smell the faint tang of old oil and corroded metal. Kelly glanced up, her dark eyes flickering with something between pride and annoyance.
"If you crash it again," she warned, "I'm not fixing it."
Amani's words slipped out like a blade—quiet, but sharp enough to cut.
"Breon's toys don't need fixing," he muttered, just loud enough for Kelly to hear.
Her fingers stilled. The half-adjusted watch hung loosely in her grip. "What?" she asked, though she had heard him perfectly.
"Nothing," Amani said, suddenly very interested in the wobbling aircraft between them.
Kelly's eyes narrowed. "No, say what you said, or I'll take the toys."
Amani's jaw tightened. A spark of defiance flared in his chest. "Fine, take 'em!" he snapped, shoving the hovering craft toward her. "Breon has better toys anyway! His don't break!"
The words hung in the air, heavy and ugly. Kelly blinked, her face going slack for a moment before confusion flickered in. "Who's… Breon?"
Amani hesitated, but the anger still simmered. "He's my friend from inside the great walls," he said, lifting his chin. "His toys are new, and clean, and not lame."
Kelly didn't respond at first. Her hands, usually so quick and sure, now fumbled with the rusted metal in her lap. The aircraft sputtered, its rotors slowing as if ashamed. When she finally looked up, her face was different—not angry, not even hurt in the way Amani expected. It was something worse.
Shame.
Her gaze dropped to the dirt, her shoulders curling inward. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'll do better."
"It's fine," said amani as he went on to poke at the toy.
The voice slithered into their argument like oil on water—slick, mocking.
"Well, if it isn't Lizardboy and Botgirl."
Kelly's sigh was heavy with exasperation. Amani's face twisted as if he'd bitten into something rotten. Slowly, they turned to see six boys looming over them, their shadows stretching across the broken wall. The one who'd spoken stood at the front—Kanda, broad-shouldered and grinning like a hyena who'd just spotted wounded prey.
"Ugh, Kanda! What do y—" Kelly started, but Amani's hand clamped over her mouth before she could finish. She let out a muffled growl, her eyes narrowing into furious slits as she glared at him.
"Be quiet," Amani hissed. "They're all elementals, and you're not!"
Kelly wrenched his hand away, spitting in disgust. "Ewww! You touched my tongue with your sweaty, rusty, dusty hand!" She wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist, her green skirt flaring as she stomped her foot. "Also, just 'cause I'm not an elemental doesn't mean I can't fight!"
Amani shot her a warning look. "Quiet, Kelly. You can't fight. I'd take them on—" His bravado faltered as he glanced at Kanda's smirk, the way the older boy cracked his knuckles with a faint shimmer of heat rippling off his skin. No, I wouldn't, Amani admitted silently. He'd kick my butt so bad. But out loud, he jutted his chin out. "But since you don't have any special abilities, you'd be dead weight. I'd lose because of you."
Amani's words struck deeper than he realized. Kelly's chest tightened, her fingers curling into the fabric of her skirt as the truth settled over her like a suffocating weight. Useless. Faulty. Dead weight. The insults coiled around her heart, each one a confirmation of what she already feared—she was nothing but a burden.
"Is this why he never fights them?" she thought, her gaze dropping to the dirt. "Because he's afraid for me? Because I... hold him back?"
The rusted aircraft lay forgotten between them, its rotors stilled, as if even it understood the gravity of the moment.
Across from them, Kanda's grin widened, his teeth glinting in the harsh sunlight. Amani's breath hitched as he took in the gang of elementals—boys who could summon fire, shift heatwaves, and convectional currents. His stomach lurched. "We are so dead. He's going to kick our butts—or better yet, cook us."
Kanda sniffed the air dramatically, his nostrils flaring. "Mmh," he mused, rolling his shoulders. "Smell that, fellas? Fresh lizard." His friends chuckled, a low, hungry sound. "Can't wait to cook 'em. And he brought the extra today too. Delicious."
With a snap of his fingers, a flame sparked to life in Kanda's raised palm, dancing with vicious delight. The heat rippled outward, distorting the air between them. Amani flinched. Kelly didn't move.
Her mind raced. Run? Fight? Neither option mattered. Without abilities, she was just a target. And Amani—Amani would get burned trying to protect her.
The flame in Kanda's hand grew, casting jagged shadows across his face. "Who's first?" he asked, tilting his head. "The lizard? Or the spare?"
Amani's fists clenched. Kelly's breath stalled.
The fire crackled, hungry.