The next morning, Yui barely slept. The wooden staff he had found rested beside his bed—rough, uneven, and clearly not made for real combat, but it was all he had. He ran his hands along its surface. The wood was dry and splintered at one end, but it felt solid enough to hold.
He washed his face, tied back his hair, and left the small rented room. The city was quieter in the early morning, with only a few bakers and guards on the streets. Yui walked steadily, clutching the staff.
The Association loomed ahead again, this time with fewer people at the entrance. The guards glanced at his staff but made no move to stop him.
Yui stepped inside.
The registration counter was the same as yesterday, but today a different staff member sat behind it. A woman with short hair and tired eyes looked up as Yui approached.
"Next, please," she said.
"I… I'd like to register as an Explorer," Yui said.
"Alright," she replied, tapping on her tablet. "What class?"
He hesitated. Choosing a class yesterday had been impossible, but now that he had a staff—even if it was simple and worn—one choice seemed clear.
"…Brawler," he said.
The woman nodded. "Brawlers use Battle Gloves or staves. Your weapon?"
Yui lifted the wooden stick for her to see. "This."
She blinked. Once. Twice. "…Is that a broom handle?"
"It was… lying around," he admitted quietly.
The woman stared at him for a long moment. "I'm sorry, but we can't approve that. Brawlers need proper Battle Gloves or reinforced staves. That thing could snap during your first fight."
"I just need something to start with," Yui said, gripping it tighter. "I'll buy a proper one once I earn money."
"I understand," she said, "but rules are rules. We can't let someone risk their life with a weapon like that. I'm sorry."
Yui felt a small weight drop inside his chest. He knew she wasn't wrong. He stepped aside as the next applicant moved forward. People were accepted, rejected, and moved on.
But Yui didn't give up.
The woman softened a little. "If you really want to join, check the old training yard behind the Association. Retired Explorers sometimes leave low-grade equipment there. First-come, first-serve."
Yui's eyes lit up. "I… I can do that?"
"Yes," she said. "But don't expect much. Go now if you want a chance."
He bowed deeply. "Thank you."
Outside, he hurried toward the training yard. The area was mostly empty—worn dummies, cracked stones, and a small shed where discarded equipment was stored.
His heart pounded as he approached the shed. If he could find even a low-grade staff or a pair of old Battle Gloves…
Inside, piles of items were stacked haphazardly: bent swords, chipped shields, broken Battle Gloves, torn armor pads, snapped bows. A graveyard of gear that had seen far too much.
Yui carefully sifted through the piles. Swords without blades, Battle Gloves missing knuckles, shields split in half. Nothing usable.
He checked another pile, then another. Dust clung to his hands, sweat ran down his forehead. The shed was silent except for his own breathing.
Then—his hand brushed something smooth.
He pulled it out. A staff. Leaning against the back wall, half-buried behind a crate. The wood was dull, the iron bands rusted, the grip worn—but it was whole. Complete. Usable.
The weight was perfect. Light enough to swing, heavy enough to strike.
Yui let out a small breath. This would pass.
He stepped out into the sunlight, holding the staff with quiet triumph. It wasn't new. It wasn't fancy. But it was his.
With the staff in hand, Yui walked back toward the Association entrance. Today, he would finally be accepted.