The boy finally looked at him, his dark eyes brimming with a calm, effortless warmth. "Sure there are. Look closer."
"The weak have no right to exist in the upcoming tournament, Yoh Asakura," Ren spat, raising his Guan dao polearm. "Power is everything. Friendship is a delusion for the fragile!" Shaman King
"A spirit isn't a weapon, Ren," Yoh said softly, taking a relaxed combat stance. "He's my friend. And as long as we trust each other, our power has no limits." The boy finally looked at him, his dark
The orange glow of the Tokyo sunset bled through the clouds as Manta Oyamada scurried past the cemetery. He was late, his heavy briefcase slamming against his leg with every frantic step. He hated taking the shortcut through the graves, but tonight he was desperate. "Power is everything
"Hey there," the boy said, waving lazily without looking down. "The stars are going to be great tonight. You should sit with us."
Yoh didn't want the power to rule. He just wanted to create a world where he could listen to music and live a carefree, peaceful life. But peace was a luxury the shaman world rarely afforded.
Manta froze. Slowly, he turned his eyes toward the top of the hill. Outlined against the massive, blood-red sun sat a young boy. He wore an unbuttoned school uniform, a pair of large orange headphones around his neck, and a peaceful expression that didn't belong in a graveyard.