Gabriel was his name. This was the name his father had given him. He was completely unaware of who his mother was—apparently, she had a freak accident during her pregnancy. From what he had gathered from his dad, something invisible had attacked her.
Well, Gabriel didn't know much more. All he knew was that his mom had died after giving birth to him.
His mom was Japanese, while his dad was Mexican—the reason why his name was Gabriel, even though, you know, he was in Japan right now.
Well, none of that really mattered.
Ever since he was a kid, he had liked playing with Play-Doh... clay... The way he could shape it into whatever he wanted had always managed to bring a smile to his face.
He had worked his ass off, studied everything he could in order to get into one of Japan's best universities for medicine.
Since he was planning to become a surgeon in the future, he needed that degree to get a good job—in order to help his father, who had raised him alone.
"Unfortunately, we are booked. We cannot accept another participant," the Japanese man said with quite a gentle smile.
Gabriel looked at the man, his eyes stunned.
Wait, what?
"But sir, I have the best theoretical scores in this district. I got a scholarship for this school—why am I being rejected?" Gabriel practically begged. He was the best choice; that, he knew. No one could look him dead in the eyes and tell him that someone was better than him. They would be lying if they said such a thing.
Someone better than Gabriel simply didn't exist in this time period. He was the best there was, especially with his nifty skill.
Ever since he was a kid, he had gained the ability to manipulate the shapes of objects somehow.
Later in life, he realized he could do it to practically anything—including the air. Using this skill, he had aced every practical exam. He was like the Albert Einstein of the medical world.
So why wasn't he allowed in?
Gabriel looked at the man's gaze—the way the man seemed to stare at his tanned skin.
Oh... so this was what this was about.
This was so fucking unfair.
"I apologize, but your scholarship has been given to someone else. We are deeply sorry if we caused you any problems."
This was so fucking unfair. Just because he was a bit more tanned, suddenly, there was a problem.
Being a normal human and unable to understand anything about the spiritual realm, Gabriel was unaware that his spiritual energy was leaking into the world.
"Sorry for bothering you. I wish you well," Gabriel said, acting polite before leaving the office. He hated this.
Why did his dad have to move to Japan right before it closed its borders again?
He sighed a bit. His dad just had to go and get a Japanese woman pregnant within the first five months of moving to the country.
Well... his mom was pretty, but still—not reason enough to do what his father did.
Sighing again, he walked back home, making sure to ignore the stares he was getting from the people around him. He hated this.
Having to work ten times as hard just to be able to compete with people who did the bare minimum... that was stressful.
As Gabriel stepped into the small apartment, he let out a weary sigh. It wasn't much—just a cheap space tucked away in a rundown building—but it was home.
"Ya estás aquí (You're home)," his father's calm voice greeted him from the worn couch, where he sat with an old book in hand.
"Sí... ya llegué (Yeah... I'm here)," Gabriel replied, his tone heavy with disappointment.
His father didn't need to ask. He already knew. "Te negaron la beca otra vez, ¿verdad? (They turned down your scholarship again, didn't they?)"
"Sí... (Yeah...)" Gabriel couldn't even bring himself to meet his father's eyes. The man had worked three jobs, bent his back, and swallowed his pride countless times just to provide for him. Gabriel felt a deep pit of shame in his stomach. He was supposed to make it all worth it—to make his father proud. But here he was, empty-handed again.
"No te preocupes tanto (Don't feel too down)," his father said, standing up and placing a calloused hand on Gabriel's head. Gabriel felt the roughness of his father's skin, the scars etched into it like stories of struggle. Yet, despite their rugged texture, his father's hands were the gentlest thing in the world.
"Lo siento, Papá... (I'm sorry, Dad...)" Gabriel's voice cracked. "Te he fallado (I've failed you)."
His father pulled him close, one arm wrapped firmly around him, the other brushing through Gabriel's hair.
"¿Ya te vas a rendir, después de todo lo que hemos pasado? (Are you giving up after everything we've been through?)" his father murmured, his tone unwavering and warm.
"I... I try so hard..." Gabriel began, his voice trembling as tears welled up. "And every time, I get shot down. I'm almost twenty, Papá (Dad). I finished high school four years ago—at the top of my class! And still... every college I apply to rejects me." His voice broke completely as the dam of emotions spilled over.
"No es justo (It's not fair)," he choked out, fists trembling at his sides. "This isn't fair... I know I can do so much more if they'd just give me a chance."
His father stayed quiet, his hold steady, letting Gabriel pour out his frustrations.
"They always want me at first," Gabriel continued bitterly. "When they read my essays, when they hear me speak on the radio, they're impressed. But when I show up in person, they ask the same damn question: 'How is your Japanese so good?' 'You almost sound like a native.'"
Gabriel gritted his teeth, his tears falling freely. "They look at me, and I know—I know—what they're thinking: 'He's not one of us.'"
His father sighed deeply, holding his son as he cried.
"Hijo (Son)," he began softly, "la vida nunca será justa (life will never be fair). Pero no se trata de lo que nos pasa (But it's not about what happens to us). Se trata de cómo seguimos adelante (It's about how we move forward)."
He paused, stroking Gabriel's hair with his work-worn fingers.
"Tú no eres un fracaso, Gabriel (You are not a failure, Gabriel). Eres mi orgullo (You are my pride). ¿Entiendes eso? (Do you understand that?) Mi orgullo (My pride)."
Gabriel clung to his father like a lifeline, the warmth of the embrace cutting through the storm of his thoughts.
"Pero, Papá... (But, Dad...)"
"No hay peros (No buts)," his father interrupted gently but firmly. "Levanta la cabeza, hijo (Lift your head, son). Mira todo lo que ya has logrado (Look at everything you've already accomplished). Todo esto no será en vano (None of this will be in vain). ¿Quién soy yo para rendirme, después de verte luchar tanto? (Who am I to give up after seeing you fight so hard?)"