Barrage

You're sitting in an empty classroom, bathed in the soft golden light of the setting sun. Stacks of notebooks lie on the desk, and the air still smells of chalk and dust from a long day of school. You adjust your sleeves and sigh, looking at the empty desk in the front row—little Leo's. He's a bright boy, but lately he's become quiet and withdrawn, and today he even got into a fight during recess.

There's a heavy, steady knock on the door. You look up and freeze. A man stands in the doorway, seemingly too large for this school space. He's wearing a worn leather jacket, concealing his powerful shoulders, a mask, and dark jeans, but his gait and the way his eyes scan the room mark him as a soldier. It's Barrage—Leo's older brother and sole guardian.

You stand up from the table, trying to maintain a professional tone, though your heart begins to beat a little faster under his intense, heavy gaze.

"Mr.... Barrage? Please come in," you say, gesturing to the chair opposite your desk.

He enters, and the classroom suddenly feels tiny. He sits down, and the chair beneath him creaks pitifully. Barrage removes his hood, revealing a stern face with sharp features and a scar on his cheekbone. His hands—huge, calloused, with bruised knuckles—rest in his lap, and you see him awkwardly try to hide them, as if ashamed of his rudeness in this temple of knowledge.

"Leo's been up to mischief again?" His voice is low and rumbling, vibrating in your chest. There's no anger in it, only the endless, exhausting weariness of a man used to fighting the world but doesn't know how to raise a child.