Passion.
What is it? A force? A feeling? An instinct?
All three. Or perhaps none. Perhaps it is something that cannot be explained in a few words. Or perhaps it is impossible to describe it in any other words than this: passion.
Whatever it is, passion is what most distinguishes us humans: it is our raison d'être, the reason why we perform every action, the voice inside us that, together with our unconscious desire to survive, orders us on. But it is possible that even this uncontrollable desire is nothing more than an innate passion we have for life.
Passion gives us strength. The strength to do what we want, what we prefer. The strength to live, to look to the future with hopeful, happy eyes.
Our passions are the activities we enjoy doing, the phenomena we love to observe, the words we love to hear. Our passions are everything that gives us power, the power to do what we want. And in what do we invest that power? In our passions.
This virtuous circle is the basis of every man's magic centre: our passions give us energy that through magic we use to shape reality, to change it to our liking. The more we are involved in what our Centre is based on, the more energy we receive and the more we want to use it for our passion, for example, if our Centre is an atmospheric phenomenon we will be inclined to use our magic to make it more frequent or more intense or to recreate it, while if it is a certain activity we will use magic to hone our skills in that activity.
Those who have hunting as their Centre will make their sight or aim better, while Eaters will be able to perform their favourite dish to the limits of perfection. Every person has a Centre and every Centre is unique. Of course, not everyone is equally adept at magic: some people have a very high reserve and storage capacity, while others have high power (ability to release a large amount of energy at the same time) or better efficiency (it is easier for them to receive energy).
Everyone is born with some awareness of what their Centre is, although knowing exactly what it is can take some time. Sometimes our Centre may seem senseless to us and it may not seem to reflect us, but in the end, in the deepest depths of the heart, we all feel something, a kind of fire, a primordial flame that pushes inside us, makes our veins throb, strengthens with every breath, making our eyes shine.
And sometimes it flares up so strongly that it makes us catch fire, burn with passion and makes us become one with the Red Phoenix, with the original spark, with the ancestral flame that lives in all of us. This is the story of a boy, who braved the world in search of the heat of this flame, in search of the Red Phoenix, in search of his purpose in life.
In search of his Passion.
"Driiiin... Driiin... Driiin... Drii-"
Haruki silenced the screaming alarm clock with a deep sigh. He slowly opened his eyes, then yawned a couple of times, trying not to release too much tiredness around; he didn't want to break the bed again.
He struggled to get up, resigned. He felt his hair with his right hand, all dishevelled. He had been supposed to wash it for two days already, but it had already been five minutes since the alarm clock had gone off and he still had to pack his backpack. He wouldn't have time that day either....
An ounce of anger and irritation began to rise in him, but he quickly suppressed it. Now he felt mostly bored, as well as hungry. He looked at the satchel resting at the foot of the bed and with a gesture of his finger began to flutter.
Haruki tried to contain his grey aura; after all, wasting too much energy moving objects was a mistake for a first-grader, not a senior. The backpack landed beside him and immediately all the books flew through the air: Literature, History, Practical Applications, General Theory and Biology.
"Haruki! Coffee is ready!"
His mother called to him. Better get going. The teenager manually closed his backpack and walked towards the dining room. The warm, bitter smell of coffee invaded his nostrils, filling his hazel eyes with vitality.
He smiled at his mother, who hurriedly placed the biscuits and her white ceramic coffee mug with red polka dot patterns in front of him. With a small touch, Haruki cooled the still hot coffee and took a big sip.
"It tastes even better than usual today!"
Haruki exclaimed.
Talking to his mother meant talking about coffee. She used all the energy she received from the compliments on her coffee, which was her centre, in making it more and more delicious each time.
"Too kind, sweetie!"
His mother smiled at him with her thin-lipped mouth and black eyes. Despite a few wrinkles, the lady's face still retained its typical youthful freshness and lightness. No white hairs appeared in the lush field of dry grass on her head ending at shoulder height as nothing seemed to tire her.
His father entered at that moment, already wearing his police uniform. She greeted him with her omnipresent smile. He was a man of tall stature, very muscular, almond-coloured hair, like a moustache, short and unkempt with a neat little tuft. His eyes were green, like two lush meadows, and conveyed great calm and confidence to Haruki.
His father had always been his role model: he loved his job, was respected by everyone and hailed as a local hero, had many friends and had managed to find the love of his life and build a family. Basically, he was what Haruki had always dreamed of being.
His wife brought him breakfast together with a 'Here dear'.
"Thank you, dear. I'll drop by my cousin's today. He may specialise in fried pork, but his udon is a delicacy too!"
That was to be his build-up day, where he would fill up on energy by eating an inordinate amount of long noodles. Besides being a go-getter, Haruki's father was an innovator. Instead of following the more logical path and becoming a manipulator, he had invented a new branch of the magimartial arts, which he jokingly called joodle, the first ever among those who had a noodle-related centre.
"So today is the last day before the mid-year break, huh? I guess you're very happy..."
Said his father.
"Yes of course, quite."
Haruki replied.
His father emptied what was left in his cup and added with a small chuckle:
"I was looking forward to it at your age too. Ah good times... Now it's bad enough if they give some of us two days off, let alone ten..."
Before long, Agent Shika finished his breakfast and, after saying goodbye to his family, left the house to start his working day. Haruki then, after releasing a hint of happiness, finished his coffee and ate some biscuits, then began to use magic to clean and style his hair as best he could.
He had relatively recently learned how to do it, so the end result was not perfect, but quite satisfying. Haruki emitted relief that went to yellow the surrounding air and gave it a feathery smell. Then he made his schoolbag levitate down the stairs and, after kissing his mother and listening to her usual recommendations, left the house.
The air was cool but pleasant and the sunlight still rather dim. On some small tree or bush in the street, a little bird was singing a happy tune.
Haruki turned left, passed three gates, then turned right and stopped in front of the second house.
After a couple of minutes of waiting spent admiring the surrounding landscape, someone emerged from the entrance and, having walked through the short garden of flowers and weeds, opened the cold blue gate.
"Hello, how are you? Ready for the break?"
Haruki asked to his friend.
"Same as always, more or less. How do you think I am? It doesn't make a big difference to me, the only difference is that at home I don't need to hide my calculations and reasoning from anyone." Akira replied, neutral as always.
That comment made Haruki chuckle briefly, who concluded with an 'I thought so' after which the two started walking towards the school. It wasn't too far away, but they still had to get there.