A part of Kyle had always remained impatient, almost eager, to remember more about the past he had shared with Veronica. Yet another part of him was terrified of what those memories might reveal, of all the darkness those years had carried with them.
Darkness that wore the faces of his family...
His father.
Perhaps that was why he had never been able to bring himself to recall the memories that had made Veronica so fond of him.
...Until now.
"Why do you share your food with me even though I stole your wallet? You could simply give it to your dog. I remember you have one."
The boy was little, at least as far as Kyle could remember. He was always covered in dirt, with the faint stink of floor-cleaning solution clinging to him.
Yet Kyle had never felt disgusted.
He simply sat beside him, watching as the boy devoured the lunch that had been placed between them.
"Because I’m not hungry. And Tyler has its own food." Kyle replied, managing little more than a quiet answer.
The boy hummed in response.
"Why not? This tastes so good that I can barely stop myself."
He tossed another piece of meat into his small mouth and chewed happily.
Kyle shook his head.
"I’m not hungry. You can have it."
The little boy hummed again before suddenly asking, "Why are you always sad, Young Lord?"
Kyle tilted his head.
"Am I?"
"Yes."
The boy looked at him with an almost unsettling honesty.
"You look sad. Even when the dojo master praises you. Even when everyone claps for you. Even when you win a spar or a girl tries to talk to you. You always look the same."
He paused, searching for the right words.
"Sad...like you want to escape."
Kyle turned toward him.
"Do I look like I don’t want to be here with you?"
The boy, or rather the girl hiding beneath layers of dirt and grime, flushed at his words.
"No. You don’t."
"Good."
Kyle pushed the food toward her.
"Now eat."
That was the day they began to truly know each other.
To the little girl, Kyle was both a savior and a lost soul.
To Kyle, she was something much simpler.
Company.
Someone who could sit beside him in the silence and talk enough for both of them.
....
"You are hurt."
Another day, Kyle arrived earlier than usual.
And that was precisely why he never got the chance to slip away from the boy.
"I’m not," Kyle replied, picking up his wooden blade before turning toward one of the training dummies.
"You are."
The boy suddenly caught his wrist.
"Let me see it."
Kyle frowned.
"Do you know whose hand you’re holding?"
His voice sharpened.
"Know your place, sweeper. One more word and you’ll be out of this dojo."
The words came out harsher than anything he had ever said to the boy. Perhaps he had spoken more in those few seconds than he had spoken to her in all the days they had known each other.
Anyone else would have lowered their head and hurried away.
Not him.
The boy remained standing before Kyle, arms crossed, not a trace of fear or anger on his face.
"What...?"
Kyle’s voice faltered slightly when the boy refused to move.
"No, no. Go ahead."
The boy’s expression softened.
"Say whatever you want. This is the first time I’ve heard you vent, so I’d rather let you get it all out."
Kyle scoffed.
"Do you take me for a fool? Why should I speak simply because you told me to?"
"Because I like your voice."
Kyle froze.
The words had not come from the boy.
They had come from the girl hidden beneath him.
Within the entire dojo, only the master and Kyle knew the truth. Behind the dirt, rough clothes, and boyish appearance was a silver-haired girl who had disguised herself to work there.
And now, standing so close to him, she had caught Kyle completely off guard.
She suddenly reached up and cupped his cheeks between her hands.
"Complain. Cry. Hit me if that’s what it takes for you to talk."
Her voice was gentle.
"But just let me hear it all."
Young Kyle was vulnerable that day, shaken by everything that had happened that morning. And when that vulnerability was met with such unexpected kindness, his eyes slowly grew moist.
"No... I can’t."
His voice was barely a whisper.
"I’ll look weak."
"Who told you that?"
She frowned, her expression turning serious.
"My grandma once told me that tears don’t make a man weak. They mean he’s been carrying too much for far too long."
She slowly pulled him into her arms and rested his head against her shoulder.
For a moment, Kyle remained completely still.
Then his small body began to tremble.
A quiet sniffle escaped him, followed by another. Soon, the only sound filling the room was the soft rhythm of his breathing as he finally allowed himself to cry.
She didn’t say anything more.
She simply held him.
That day, without even realizing what the little boy was going through, she saved him.
And for the first time, she saw the real Kyle.
....
"Here."
Kyle tossed a small box wrapped in a ribbon onto her lap after she finished eating.
Veronica blinked and looked down at it.
"This? A present? But today isn’t my birthday."
Kyle merely shrugged.
"I don’t know when your birthday is, so take it."
A faint smile touched Veronica’s lips.
"Did you make the ribbon yourself?"
Kyle narrowed his eyes.
"Is it ugly?"
She shook her head, her smile widening.
"No. It’s ridiculously perfect. The two sides are exactly the same size, and the knot isn’t too..."
"Yes, yes. I get it."
Kyle’s ears reddened slightly.
"You know me too well, so stop it."
Veronica grinned from ear to ear, clearly enjoying how easily he became flustered. Then, still smiling, she slowly lifted the lid.
Her expression changed.
"A... knife?"
Resting inside was a blade that was clearly not meant for chopping vegetables.
It was a weapon.
"A special one," Kyle explained.
"The blade won’t rust or lose its edge even if you leave it unpolished for years. And if you take care of it properly, which I know you will, you could cut through someone’s fingers... perhaps even their hand."
Veronica’s smile faded.
She looked up at him.
"But why?"
Her fingers remained resting against the edge of the box.
"Why are you giving me this? I’m not in any danger."
Kyle fell silent.
For a moment, he seemed reluctant to say what was on his mind.
Then he finally spoke.
"Veronica..."
His voice was quieter now.
"I have a feeling my father knows about how close we’ve become."
He paused, his expression growing solemn.
"And he... has a habit of taking away anything that he thinks might distract me from my discipline."
His gaze lowered to the blade.
"I don’t want him to take you away too."
Veronica growled.
"How dare he? He’s a lunatic. If he comes after me..."
"You will run."
Kyle turned toward her, his voice firm.
Veronica’s lips parted.
For the first time, she saw something in his eyes that she had never seen before.
Concern.
He was worried for her and he didn’t try to mask it.
Kyle reached out and gently cupped her cheek.
"I can’t have anything happen to you."
His voice softened.
"So please... if something happens, you run. Promise me, Veronica."
The words struck deeper than she expected.
For the first time, twelve-year-old Veronica understood that whatever she felt for Kyle was no longer the simple affection of a friend.
Somewhere along the way, it had grown into something far deeper.
Something profound.
Something she knew she would never be able to forget.
She quietly nodded.
"I understand."
....
And then the day came for their separation.
Veronica still remembered sitting in a small room, barely large enough for her to crouch comfortably.
She had been kept there for two days without food or water.
What Kyle had feared had come true. Mathew Astortia had removed her from his son’s life because he considered her a distraction.
She had fought back. She had even stabbed several men and tried to escape, but none of it had worked.
She didn’t know if she would ever see her family or the light of a day again.
But then,
Thud.
The door swung open.
On the other side stood the face she knew better than any other.
"K-Kyle..."
But when the light fell upon him, her breath caught.
"Whose blood is that?"
His shirt was marred with dark crimson stains.
Her heart tightened. He was hurt.
She hurried to her feet, looking him over for wounds, but Kyle merely shook his head.
"Don’t mind it. It’s not mine."
"Then whose blood is it?" she asked, still searching his body for any sign of an injury.
Kyle’s answer came without a trace of the warmth she had grown accustomed to.
"Tyler’s."
Her eyes widened.
"Y-Your pet? Wh-What happened to him?"
Kyle’s expression remained blank. His voice was almost mechanical.
"Father gave me an option. You or Tyler."
He paused.
"I needed to get rid of one."
Slowly, he raised his hand.
A bloodstained knife slipped from his fingers and struck the floor.
Clink.
"I killed Tyler."
Veronica’s heart sank.
For a moment, she could only stare at him.
She wanted to believe she had heard him wrong. She wanted to rush forward, embrace him, and tell him that everything would be fine...or anything to help him, save him.
But before she could say a word, Kyle spoke again.
"I’m going overseas. We won’t meet again."
His eyes remained fixed on her, yet there was something painfully distant in them.
"It was nice meeting you, Veronica."
He gave her a polite bow.
"Farewell."
And with that, he turned and disappeared into the darkness.
Leaving Veronica behind. Stunned and alone.
And yearning for the boy who had just walked out of her life.
Her heart ached at the sight, but she was too powerless to do anything back then.
Yet soon, everything changed.
She awakened a power that gave her the certainty that she could make a difference, even without a powerful background or a wealthy family standing behind her.
She could become strong.
Strong enough to protect his life.
Strong enough to protect that smile of his from anyone who dared to take it away.
That was the day Kyle lost every friend he had.
And the day Veronica found the purpose that would shape the rest of her life.