Leon seized the broom and dustpan and began walking toward the exit on the second floor.
Eyes drew from every direction and paused as he moved past the doors.
He lowered his head, shoved the hood over his head, and sighed the mont he stopped and waited at the front, where the elevator was.
A chanical hum echoed as the door opened.
He stared at the faces that were already in the car and smiled faintly.
Once inside, he kept his head down, but his heightened sense caught every shift in the chanical humming sound as the car descended.
"...shifted to janitorial duty already?"
"What did you expect? Grade E is basically a civilian class. He might as well be useful."
"Poor Zoe. Trading Kang T’s spotlight for this... a guy who fights dust."
"She’ll learn."
"Told you he’d co back broken. Surviving against Kang T just broke him differently."
The doors opened on the ground floor, releasing him into the marginally cooler air of the lobby.
He didn’t pause. He forced his way through the main doors.
The early morning breeze, which still carried the night’s chill, lifted the edges of his hood.
His eyes caught sight of a pack of black filtration masks hanging freely on a two-inch tal nail.
He grabbed it and fastened it over his nose and mouth, creating a barrier against the world and the dust and leaves he was about to conquer.
The academy quad in the early morning was vast and silent. The datapad vibrated in his pocket as sweet-scented air flew across the mask.
Pulling it from his pocket, the first location marker flashed insistently – a courtyard between the grey building and the very cream building he stood beside.
"This will be easy," he smiled, then set to work. In the first hour, he moved as if he himself was being used by the broom. Sweep, gather, dump.
The blue marker winked as he finished and moved to the next. Then the next.
The sun began its ascent, painting the granite building in hues of gold and orange, but Leon saw none of its beauty.
His world narrowed to the arc of the broom, the scatter of leaves and litter, and the insistent pulse of the map.
By the third hour, 09:50, a dull ache settled in his shoulder and lower back. The sun climbed higher, its heat pressing down through his black hoodie.
Sweat beaded at his brow and traced itchy paths down his neck.
Students in crisp training outfits walked around him like water around a stone, their eyes sliding over him with flickers of contempt.
He paused after repeating the sa routine in the fourth hour and leaned against the base of a large oak.
He pulled the datapad out and checked; twenty-five locations completed. He looked up as satisfaction started to form in his chest.
His joyous expression collapsed the mont he tilted his gaze back to the screen.
The courtyards, which he had ticulously cleaned within three hours earlier, were once again lightly dusted with a fresh sprinkling of leaves and pollen.
As he let his gaze remain fixed on the screen, a naughty gust of wind danced through, pirouetting a new handful of dried leaves across the courtyards.
He pulled the datapad closer when a cold knot of disbelief tightened in his gut. His blood ran cold, seeing all twenty-five completed locations turn yellow.
"Ahh. Why?" Frustration slamd him harder, causing the words to linger before fading.
At that instant, one clarity struck his mind; the task wasn’t just to clean, it was to hold back the inevitable tide of nature and neglect.
His jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached as he turned and retraced his steps. Cleaning the second ti felt extrely heavy.
The leaves he gathered seed to mock him, their dry rustle like laughter that wouldn’t stop.
He moved to the twenty-sixth location, sweat dripping from his face like a broken pipe.
He kept his head down, focusing on a stubborn clot of wet paper, when he heard the familiar honeyed cadence of Vera’s voice.
He sighed when they passed him as a group, their chatter bright and carefree.
Then, a whirl of wind snaked down and hooked under the edge of his filtration mask, tugging it from one ear.
The mask fluttered for a mont before landing in a dirty puddle at Vera’s feet.
She stopped and turned, then her laughter rang out like broken crystal.
"Oh, look! He’s co back for more. Practising your kneeling, Storm?"
Leon didn’t look up. He bent, retrieved the soaked mask, and wrung it out without a word.
"What the hell! Is he going to put that back on his face?" one of the girls beside Vera said, her face crumpling as if tasting a rotten rat.
Leon dumped the mask in the dustpan and resud sweeping, the bristles scraping violently against the asphalt.
The sound of their laughter followed him slowly, then vanished.
The sun blazed heavily as the ti reached midday, 12:00.
Leon’s world reduced to a circle of heat, thirst, and the relentless, yellowing map.
He watched as streams of students clad in combat fatigues moved toward the distant building where the trials took place.
’When will I be done with this? When do I get to fight sothing real?’ He stopped, leaned heavily on the broom’s handle, and stared at his reddish palm.
’How will I ever know if I’m getting stronger, or have beco strong enough to take care of my mother and sister, in case Uncle Feng leaves?’
His eyes closed as he inhaled and exhaled deeply. Cracking his eyes open, he forced himself to look at the datapad.
"Thirty locations remained." He sighed.
A gust of heavy wind swept across the grounds, stirring up a fresh mini-tornado of debris from a spot he’d cleared minutes ago.
Above, the flawless blue sky was being invaded from the west by towering purple-grey clouds.
The air grew thick, pressing down on him.
After five minutes, the first cold raindrop struck the datapad’s screen with a loud plink.
Then, another. And within seconds, the drizzle turned into a roaring, blinding curtain of water that soaked him in an instant.
The grounds transford; dry dust beca slippery mud, leaves plastered themselves to every surface, and the gutters began to overflow.
Leon scrambled for the overhang of a nearby building – the one closer to the field that was 5 miles away from him.
"At least I can pause and rest," he said, pulling the datapad close, shielding it from the spray.
The screen flashed, a new notification sound vibrating through his chest.
Tilting it slightly, a new unyielding test appeared over the map.
[ADVISORY: TASK PARATERS REMAIN ACTIVE. PROTOCOL MANDATES COMPLETION IRRESPECTIVE OF TEOROLOGICAL CONDITIONS. CONTINUE.]
He stood under the inadequate shelter he had found, water streaming from his hood and pooling around his boots.
Watching the carefully cleared walkways turn into swirling muddy rivers, the thirty remaining markers on his map glowed red. They moved, reflecting the storm-darkened sky.
He tried moving forward when the rain’s pressure lowered slightly.
At that instant, he hurried back when a white-hot lightning strike struck the very front of where his right leg was ready to move.
Crack... BOOM!
The thunder tore through his ears, sending the ground beneath him shaking.
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