Ash and Ken stepped off the tram and into the bright wash of streetlights. Vendors yelled half-heartedly, old men argued about cricket matches that happened five years ago, and stray dogs held secret meetings near overflowing trash bins.
But none of that pulled their attention.
What did was the colossal poster stretching across the entire side of a building—six faces, six legends, all wearing the same black coat with the golden emblem of the War Gods stamped on the shoulder.
The strongest heroes in the Association.
Ken whistled low. "Damn… more posters."
Ash folded his arms. "That's how you know the budget is going somewhere useless."
Ken stepped closer, squinting, eyes landing specifically on her—Sarah. Strongest blood manipulator alive. Also the reason Ken acted like a teenager in love whenever she appeared on screen.
Ken's lips curled into a stupid smile before he could stop himself.
Ash noticed immediately.
"Oh no. Not this again."
"What?" Ken didn't look away from the poster.
"Bro, she's not gonna notice you," Ash said, deadpan. "She's the third seat of the War Gods. You're like… maybe ninety. On a folding chair."
Ken tore his eyes from the poster to stare at him, offended. "Wow. Actual violence."
"It's for your own good," Ash shrugged. "I'm saving you from delusion."
Ken huffed. "I know she won't like me. Obviously. I'm not stupid."
Ash raised an eyebrow. "You literally smiled at a poster like you two shared trauma in a past life."
Ken jabbed a finger at him. "Shut up. I smiled because she's badass. Not because I'm delusional."
"Mhmm."
"Stop 'mhmm'-ing me. You're not my therapist."
Ash smirked. "If I was, I'd tell you to lower your expectations before the fall kills you."
Ken glared. "You know what? I hope you fall in love with someone out of your league and I get to bully you till death."
"That already happened," Ash muttered without thinking.
Ken nodded, expression softening. "Ah... Fair enough."
They stood in silence for a second, staring at the poster. The War Gods—Valhalla, Nero, Sarah, Atlas, Rin, and Jack—looked almost unreal. Larger than life. Their faces lit by neon, their shadows cutting across the road.
"You know," Ken said, "someday I wanna stand with them."
Ash laughed once. "What, on the poster?"
"Yeah," Ken grinned. "Right next to Sarah so everyone wonders if I got there through sheer skill or because I'm obscenely attractive."
Ash burst out laughing. "Bro, if you stand next to her, the world will assume she adopted you."
Ken gasped. "You disrespectful worm."
Ash shrugged smugly.
Then: "Hey, remind me tomorrow. I've got that training session with Valhalla."
Ken grabbed Ash's shoulders. "Yeah i will."
They finally reached the restaurant—one of those neon-lit, late-night. A bored waiter leaned against the doorframe like he had been waiting to die since the 90's.
Ken stretched his arms, satisfied. "Perfect. This looks exactly like the kind of place where they either serve the best food of your life… or poison."
They squeezed into an empty booth toward the back. They placed their orders (Ken: two plates of fried rice, Ash: Coffee and a burger)
For a few seconds everything was peaceful, just quiet scrolling, clicking, and Ash occasionally sighing at a meme Ken showed him.
And then a shadow fell over their table.
A guy stood there. Just… stood there. Smiling.
Ash blinked at him.
Great. One of two things:
Either this guy hated him because of his family.
Or he was one of Ken's delusional fans from that one viral interview.
The guy kept smiling.
"Uh," Ash muttered under his breath. "This is either going to be emotional or annoying."
Ken elbowed him. "Behave."
The guy finally spoke. "Can I sit here? They just ran out of empty tables. And you two were already sitting in a four-seater… so maybe you can share?"
Ash frowned. He could swear the place was practically empty when they walked in, but now—looking around—it was packed. Completely packed. People everywhere.
Ken, immediately smiled. "Yeah man, grab a seat."
The guy sat beside Ken and sighed like he had just escaped war. Then he looked at both of them, grin returning.
"Name's Joy."
Ken stuck his hand out. "Ken."
Ash lifted his hand lazily. "Ash."
Joy nodded at their names like he was tasting them. "Ash… Ken… they sound like characters in a story. Two heroes wandering through the dark, searching for themselves."
Ash stared at him. "…Bro, we're just eating dinner."
Joy laughed—soft and weirdly melodious. "Everything's a story if you listen to it long enough."
Ken leaned forward like he had just found a new friend. "So what brings you here, Joy? You from around here?"
Joy shook his head. "Nah. I ran away."
Ash raised an eyebrow. "From what? Taxes?"
Joy smiled. "From home."
Ken blinked. "Oh… uh… cool?"
Joy leaned back, fingers tapping on the table in an oddly rhythmic way. "My parents didn't support me. I wanted to be a writer. A singer. Someone who makes the world feel something. But they wanted me to be a hero."
Ash choked on his water. "what?"
Joy shrugged casually. "Yeah. They kept pushing. 'Use your gifts,' they said. But I don't want to fight monsters. I want to play. I want to write songs."
Ken nodded slowly.
"Okay but… what IS your power?"
Joy smiled proudly. "I can play really well."
Ash frowned. "Play what?"
"Everything."
Ash and Ken exchanged a glance.
"So… like… cosmic instrumental talent?" Ken asked.
"No," Joy said. "Just instruments. I'm bad at everything else."
Ash blinked. "That's… actually not bad."
Joy shrugged. "The Association disagrees. They said I'm 'low-tier support material.' Which basically means I'm as useful in battle as a motivational speech."
Ken burst out laughing. "Bro I know people with powers weaker than that who still made it into training squads."
"Really?" Joy asked.
Ash nodded. "Yeah, Ken here has a friend whose power is making tea boil faster."
Ken muttered, "Shut up, Rami saved my life once."
"How? By scalding your enemies?" Ash shot back.
Ken grinned. "Exactly."
Joy laughed quietly—almost poetically. "You two are strange."
Ash gestured at the crowded restaurant. "We're the normal ones here, trust me."
Their food arrived, steam rising like tiny ghosts between them. Ken willingly gave away one of his plate to Joy.
Joy watched Ash for a moment, eyes curious. "So… you guys students or something?"
Ash and Ken froze for a moment.
They looked at each other.
Of course. Joy didn't know they were heroes.
Ken awkwardly scratched his cheek. "Something like that."
Ash added, "We do… uh… contract work."
"For who?"
Ash deadpanned. "People with money and problems."
Joy blinked. "That sounds illegal."
Ken jumped in. "It isn't. Mostly."
Joy stared at them suspiciously… and then laughed again. "You two have such weird vibes. It's like you've seen things and don't want to talk about them, but also keep joking because that's the only way you cope."
Ash stabbed his burger. "We do NOT cope."
Ken nodded seriously. "We repress like adults."
Joy then took a bite of his food, stared at his plate like it had personally wronged him, then suddenly straightened up with that same odd spark in his eyes.
"I'm getting something," he whispered.
Ken blinked. "Getting what? Food poisoning?"
Joy shook his head dramatically. "No. A line."
Ash sighed. "Oh God."
Joy didn't wait—he dragged a napkin toward himself, stole waiters pen without warning, and started scribbling.
Ken leaned over like a curious child. Ash leaned over like a tired parent.
Joy muttered as he wrote, "Hold on… let it breathe… let it settle… okay… okay… this is kinda pretty—"
He finished with a flourish and held the napkin up, clearing his throat as if he were on a stage instead of a food-stained table next to a flickering lamp.
He read:
"I met two drifters under neon skies,
one laughing loud to hide his heart,
one quiet like a storm before it breaks.
And for a moment,
I wasn't running,
I was simply… here."
He lowered the napkin like he'd just dropped a bomb of emotion.
Ken blinked hard. "…Damn."
Ash stared at Joy. "Bro it's been like seven or ten minutes."
Joy shrugged. "Sometimes the world just hands you something."
Ken snapped his fingers. "No seriously, that's actually good."
Joy bowed slightly. "I take my craft seriously."
Ash smirked, "Clearly. You write poems about strangers you met ten minutes ago."
Joy countered, "People are poems. You just have to read them right."
Ash blinked. "…Okay that was kinda smooth."
Ken pointed at Joy, eyes wide. "Bro don't say stuff like that. If you talk like this in public someone's gonna fall in love with you by accident."
Joy shrugged modestly. "It happens."
Ash rolled his eyes. "Of course it does."
Ken took the napkin from Joy, re-reading it, smile slowly forming. "You really ran away for this, huh?"
Joy nodded. "Yeah. I know it sounds stupid—running off across galaxies because I wanted to write and play music. But when your own home feels… too small… you choose the sky."
Ash paused at that. He didn't know why, but the words hit. Maybe because he recognized the feeling. Home being too full of ghosts.
Ken's voice broke the moment. "Joy, man… listen. You do you. If you wanna write poetry and sing on different planets, then hell, go do that. Dreaming isn't illegal. Yet."
Joy smiled. "You sound like someone who's watched a lot of motivational videos."
He then turned to Ash. "You're quiet. You okay?"
Ash leaned back, stretching slightly. "I'm always quiet."
Joy tilted his head. "No. Quiet people are either thinking too much… or feeling too much. You look like you're doing both."
Ash stared at him. "…Alright, therapist. Relax."
Ken burst out laughing. "Damn, Joy's reading you like a book."
Joy smiled, unfazed. "Some stories are loud even when their characters aren't."
Ash didn't answer, but he didn't look away either. Their food arrived—more plates, more steam, more scents mixing in the air—yet none of them reached for it immediately.
Joy tucked the napkin-poem into his pocket. "Thanks for listening though. I… haven't really spoken to anyone since I left home."
Ken tapped the table. "Well congrats. Now you're stuck with us."
Ash added, "Yeah, he's your problem now."