"Rocky, grab his bag."
Setnov's voice cracked with bravado he didn't quite possess.
At his command, the boy behind him—Rocky—dropped his bicycle and strode toward Kael.
Without resistance, Kael unshouldered his bag and let it go. He stood, eyes calm but piercing, fixed on the two of them.
"A–a–a–what…?" Setnov stammered, frozen beneath that stare.
"You not gonna take it back? Come on then—take it!" he added, forcing the tremor out of his voice.
Kael said nothing.
He simply turned away, walking past them as though they didn't exist.
The two bullies exchanged bewildered looks.
They whispered to each other, half afraid, half offended.
Why didn't he fight back? Why didn't he even care about his bag? Was he broken?
As they muttered, Kael had already disappeared down the path, running with a measured stride.
"Hey, Rocky—let's go after him!" Setnov barked, slapping Rocky's shoulder.
They hopped on their bikes and began to pedal hard.
At first, it felt like a normal chase—but soon, unease crept in.
No matter how fast they rode, Kael's back never drew closer.
It was as if the distance between them refused to shrink.
"Faster, Rocky!" Setnov shouted.
"I'm already going as fast as I can! This is weird—he's not getting any closer. If anything, he's pulling away!"
"Quit whining and keep pedaling!"
But inside, even Setnov had noticed it. The harder they tried, the further Kael seemed to drift away—like the world itself was bending to keep them apart.
By the time the paved road between the rice fields ended, they found themselves at the edge of Kael's yard.
There, waiting on the wooden porch, Kael sat cross-legged, calm and silent, a short practice sword resting against his shoulder.
"Stop. Stop right there," Setnov whispered, grabbing Rocky's sleeve.
"What? Why? We came all this way to teach that freak a lesson, didn't we?"
"Shut up and look—he's holding a sword!"
As the two of them hesitated and began to turn back, Kael rose from the porch, stepping down into the yard. He picked up a small stone, pressed his fingers to it, and a faint blue shimmer of Arkanum pulsed through his hand.
Then—he threw.
CLACK—CRASH!
The stone struck the spinning gear of Setnov's bicycle. The chain snapped. The bike twisted sideways, throwing him to the ground.
Kael stepped slowly forward, the blade still resting on his shoulder.
Behind him, Rocky turned his bike and fled without a word.
"Rocky! Come back! Help me!" Setnov cried, but the only reply was the fading sound of tires on gravel.
[ "So he's really going to kill us? Just for a bag?" ] Rocky thought, pedaling harder. [ "He's insane. Completely insane." ]
Setnov tried to stand, but panic and pain tangled his limbs.
When he looked up, Kael was already crouched beside him, calm as ever.
"P–please... here's your bag. I'm sorry!" Setnov's voice cracked.
"Hm?" Kael tilted his head slightly. "What do you mean?"
"Huh?"
"I said—what do you mean?"
"I—I'm apologizing! I'm giving your bag back!"
"Yes, I can see that. But what do you mean by it?" Kael asked again, tone flat as water.
Setnov blinked, confused, humiliated. "Are you trying to mock me?"
Kael looked down at the sword in his hand, thoughtful.
Then, a faint smile. "Ah. You're scared, aren't you?"
"You're damn right I'm scared! Anyone would be if someone came at them with a sword!"
Kael chuckled quietly. "You seem to have misunderstood something."
"What…?"
"I wasn't planning to kill you. I carry this sword for my daily training."
"Then why—why did you come at me like that?!"
"Your name's Setnov, right?"
"Y–yeah…"
"Do you like snacks?" Kael asked, tone unchanged.
Setnov blinked again. No answer. Only confusion.
Kael sighed softly, picked up his bag, and turned away—still resting the wooden sword on his shoulder.
Setnov sat frozen, watching him walk toward the porch.
Then Kael stopped, looked back, and asked,
"You don't like snacks?"
"I–I do! I like them!" Setnov blurted.
"Then stand up and come here," Kael said evenly. "Or I'll kill you."
He turned again, resuming his walk, a faint smile flickering unseen on his lips.
[ "Father... maybe now I finally understand." ]
---
Flashback
"Nak, as much as possible, avoid fighting," Arda's deep voice echoed in his mind.
"Maybe it won't solve everything—but it'll make your life a little longer."
Kael, then still small, tilted his head. "Hmm?"
Arda laughed, rough and gentle all at once, ruffling his son's hair.
"You don't get it now, that's fine. You will, someday. Oh—and one more thing. If you want to avoid a fight, act a little arrogant. Scare them off. If it works, keep pushing until they back down. You'll dodge a fight without throwing a punch."
Kael frowned. "That doesn't make sense, Father."
"Hahaha! I know. Just remember it, okay? Someday, it'll make sense."
---
"Wait here," Kael said, pointing to the porch as he disappeared inside.
Setnov stood awkwardly, dirt still clinging to his knees.
When Kael returned, he carried several glass jars filled with different snacks—cookies, dried fruit, candied nuts. He sat beside Setnov and placed them between them.
Setnov didn't touch them, didn't speak. The silence pressed heavier than before.
Kael broke it first.
"Are you feeling scared and awkward right now?"
Setnov didn't answer. His throat moved, but no sound came out.
"This is the first time I've invited anyone to my home," Kael said, eyes on the horizon.
"And the first time anyone's ever bothered me."
That drew Setnov's gaze for the first time.
[ "What is this kid even talking about...?" ] he thought, lost.
"So far," Kael continued, "only Ruby calls me a friend. And I've never really responded. I think I know what that means now—what friendship feels like. There are kids who avoid me, kids like Ruby who try to get close, but never anyone who's tried to pick a fight. It's... new."
[ "Someone help me. I don't know what to do." ] Setnov screamed inside his own head.
[ "Damn you, Rocky. Next time I see you, I'll flatten you." ]
"Go on, eat," Kael said, standing up and stepping into the yard again. "They'll go stale soon, and I can't finish them by myself."
He began practicing, each swing slicing through the afternoon air.
Setnov finally picked up a biscuit, chewing mechanically as he watched.
[ "What is happening... why am I sitting here eating?" ]
Kael's movements flowed—controlled, rhythmic.
He didn't need an audience, but somehow he didn't mind one either.
[ "Strange... I don't usually want to talk. But right now, it feels... fine." ]
---
The sun dipped low, painting everything in gold.
Setnov sat still, throat dry from too many cookies and no drink.
Kael finally stopped.
He wiped his face with his sleeve, set the sword down, and sat beside him again.
"Where are your parents?" Setnov asked suddenly. "I haven't seen them around."
Kael didn't reply.
He stood, vanished inside again, and came back holding two cold bottles. One he opened for himself, the other he handed to Setnov.
"Drink. I can tell you're thirsty—from your breathing, and from how your voice cracks."
Setnov blinked. [ "Can he really tell that just from my voice?" ]
Still, he took the bottle.
"You still scared?" Kael asked.
"Do you realize, from a distance, it must look like I'm talking to myself?"
"Ah—sorry. I just don't know what to say," Setnov admitted.
"About the bag," Kael said, "it didn't really matter. There wasn't anything valuable inside."
"Huh? Then why the hell did you go after me for it?"
Kael tilted his head. "I didn't hit you. Not even once."
Setnov blinked again, retracing the memory—Kael never touched him. He'd just fallen off his bike and panicked on his own.
[ "Damn it... I humiliated myself." ]
"Can I go now?" Setnov asked, still red-faced.
"Sure," Kael said. "Your parents are probably worried."
"Ah—yeah! Uh, see you—bye!" Setnov stammered, jogging off down the road.
When his figure finally vanished from sight, Kael noticed something lying at the edge of the yard—a small trinket Setnov had dropped.
He smiled faintly.
The yard was quiet again, marked only by scuffed dirt, broken grass, and a discarded bicycle chain glinting in the fading light.
Inside the house, the boards creaked softly under Kael's steps.
Far away, the sound of an angry mother scolding her son pierced the calm.
Setnov stood there, head bowed, silent—letting her words wash over him like punishment he knew he deserved.
---
To be continued...