Just like that… his whole demeanour changed? Gadeon thinks, stunned.

  Gaedric didn’t use force. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t intimidate him.

  He just spoke.

  And now Ami looks more dangerous than before.

  Before, there was murderous intent. Now… there’s focus.

  Ami slips into a crane-style stance, pressing his dominant foot firmly into the dojo mat. Water condenses instantly, shrouding his foot in a tight, controlled spiral.

  That’s the same technique… Gadeon realises.

  The one he used on me. The one that made him appear right in front of me.

  “So you’re boosting speed and mobility,” Gaedric observes calmly. “But have you thought about what you’ll do once you’re in close range?”

  Ami launches forward.

  The dojo blurs as he skids straight toward Gaedric at incredible speed.

  Okay… he’s taller, heavier, bigger than me, Ami thinks rapidly.

  Getting too close might be risky. But because I’m shorter, getting into his bubble, striking hard, then disengaging could work. A hit-and-run. He can’t flex, so I don’t need to worry about counters.

  Just as he’s about to commit—

  Ami slams his brakes and leaps backward.

  The sudden change shocks both Gadeon and Gaedric.

  Wait.

  He’s not just a normal man who can’t flex…

  He’s SLT. A master. I can’t forget that.

  Gaedric smiles. He knew.

  Ami dashes again—but this time not forward. He streaks across the dojo, zig-zagging, circling, never committing. Gaedric tracks him effortlessly with his eyes alone.

  My first plan wouldn’t work, Ami admits internally.

  I don’t know what he’s hiding. And he said he has a way to counter flexors.

  Like he taught us—impose your strategy while denying theirs.

  Sorry, Gadeon… I know this is meant to be your lesson too. But I hate losing.

  His jaw tightens.

  Especially to the man I respect most.

  The man I see as a father.

  And then—

  The way you treat him…

  You don’t even know how lucky you are.

  I wish he was my dad.

  Ami grits his teeth.

  Water erupts from his palms.

  High-pressure streams fire like bullets, raining down toward Gaedric in rapid succession.

  This is my strategy, Gaedric-sensei.

  I deny whatever you were planning.

  Gaedric moves.

  Not back. Not away.

  He meets the attacks.

  Each water bullet is slapped aside—redirected, dispersed, shattered into harmless spray. The air fills with mist as droplets scatter across the dojo floor.

  Ami’s eyes widen.

  “What—?!”

  “If this were someone experienced and skilled,” Gaedric says calmly, “I wouldn’t dare use my body like this.”

  He glances at Gadeon.

  “Don’t you dare copy that. You’ll injure yourself.”

  Then he looks back at Ami, faintly amused.

  “With a kid though? It tickles.”

  Ami scowls.

  “And forget about winning,” Gaedric adds casually. “You’re not winning this spar.”

  Gaedric continues. “We’re here to learn.”

  Both boys freeze.

  A vein bulges along Ami’s forehead as his face scrunches tight with anger.

  Is he trying to piss me off on purpose?! Ami fumes.

  “Okay—try this!” he shouts.

  He launches himself airborne. Water coats his hands as he claps them together—

  BOOM.

  High-pressure streams explode outward, not straight—but chaotic, jagged, spiralling in erratic paths. The trajectories twist unpredictably, some veering so close to Gadeon that he has to dive aside.

  “What the hell are you shooting?!” Gadeon yells, scrambling away.

  Ami steals a glance at him mid-air.

  The way he talks… so rude.

  I don’t know how Gaedric-sensei puts up with him.

  If I had spoken like that to my dad—

  He swallows.

  I wouldn’t even dare.

  A cold knot forms in his chest.

  I’m scared of my dad.

  I thought dads were meant to be scary. I thought all dads were scary — because of how mine treated me.

  And he was even scarier whenever he corrected me.

  Being an only child was boring, but my mum never let it feel that way. When I was younger, I spent most of my time with her because Dad was always working. Sometimes I barely saw him during the week. At first, that hurt. I wanted to play with him. I wanted his attention.

  But then I realised how fun Mum was — and I stopped caring.

  It was better to play with someone who actually wanted to play with me, instead of forcing someone who clearly didn’t. Dad never smiled. He always wore that strict face. And whenever he called me, it was always my full name. Always about my grades. My performance. Never about me.

  I can’t even say I hated him. We were never hungry. We always had clothes. Money was never an issue. He made sure of that.

  But love?

  Attention?

  That was never there.

  And whenever it was — whenever I showed any softness — it was treated like something shameful. Like I was acting like a girl.

  Mum and I did everything together. Play fighting. Cooking. Gardening. Sewing dresses. Knitting. Laughing.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  And every time Dad came home and saw us, he’d explode.

  He’d yell at Mum.

  “Why are you trying to turn my son into a girl?! He’s a boy! Treat him like one!”

  And Mum would yell back.

  “Isn’t that your job?”

  They’d argue. Shout. Hurt each other with words.

  What hurt the most… was that everything Mum and I did — all of it — was for him.

  The sewing was for his clothes, because they were always tattered.

  The cooking was to make sure the food was ready when he came home.

  And the play fighting wasn’t playing at all — it was my mother teaching me how to defend myself.

  But Father said I did all of it like a girl.

  And I didn’t let his words get to me. Not at first.

  Because Mum was always there.

  She’d smile and tell me I was her strong little man.

  She’d tell me stories about Father — how hardworking he was, how tired he must be, how much he sacrificed for us. She wanted me to admire him. To understand him.

  But eventually… even she couldn’t hold onto those words anymore.

  One day, Mum went out shopping. While she was gone, I stayed home and worked in the garden. I’d also made matching gi sets for Father and me — embroidered with flowers. I wanted us to wear them together. I wanted to show him that no matter what he did, I still loved him.

  When he came home with Mum, carrying the shopping bags, he saw me.

  And he snapped.

  He dropped the bags right there on the floor.

  The sight of his son wearing a gi with flowers — and holding another one for him — was his final straw.

  He spat on me.

  Not like someone angry.

  Like someone disgusted.

  Like he was sick just looking at me.

  Mum saw everything.

  And she attacked him.

  She didn’t stop. She screamed and hit him over and over — and shockingly, for all the times he shouted in that house, he never laid a finger on her. Not once.

  After that… they divorced.

  Father won custody of me because of Mum’s violent reaction.

  She had to leave the city — move somewhere outside, somewhere above.

  She didn’t want to leave.

  She was destroyed.

  We had a beautiful relationship. And it was ripped apart because of him.

  But it didn’t end there.

  Father never admitted when he was wrong. Ever.

  He’d pretend he was right — even when he wasn’t.

  One time, I corrected him in front of his friends. They were surprised — impressed, even — by how smart I was.

  But Father didn’t see intelligence.

  He saw humiliation.

  After they left, he cornered me.

  He stopped calling me his son.

  From that day on… he started calling me “she.”

  I didn’t stop.

  Not then. Not now.

  To this day, I still garden. I still sew. I still cook.

  Those things are the only pieces of my mother I have left.

  Why can’t a boy do those things?

  I asked him that once.

  The day I finally broke and lashed back at Father.

  His answer wasn’t anger.

  It was worse.

  “They just don’t,” he said. “Boys just don’t do that stuff.”

  And the look on his face… it was broken. Like I was the one hurting him.

  Like I was the reason the family fell apart.

  Like I was the one who drove Mum away.

  After that, I started avoiding him.

  Thanks to my cooking, I don’t need him around. The only thing he does now is leave money on the table. I hate touching it. It’s his money. Every time I use it, it feels like swallowing my pride.

  But I don’t have a choice.

  Not yet.

  If there were a way for me to earn money right now, I’d take it. I’d do anything. Anything is better than relying on a man who couldn’t even love his own son.

  Honestly, I think the only reason he hasn’t disowned me is because of my grades.

  Top of every class. Strongest in the dojo in my year group.

  Bragging rights.

  That’s probably all I am to him now.

  Coming back to the spar, Ami launches into motion.

  He claps mid-air, releasing a scattered frenzy of water-hardened pressure shots that burst outward in every direction. Gaedric’s eyes flick rapidly, calmly scanning every projectile.

  If I just smack these away like it’s nothing, he’ll get annoyed again, Gaedric thinks. I’ll dodge this time.

  In an instant, Gaedric moves.

  He weaves through the attacks effortlessly, each step precise, slipping between streams of condensed water as they slice past him.

  Ami grits his teeth.

  He can’t dodge forever if I close the distance.

  He plants his hands, blasting water behind himself like thrusters. His body rockets forward.

  I’ve got him.

  Ami closes in, his attacks tightening, limiting Gaedric’s space. The pressure builds—there’s barely room to move.

  Then—

  Gaedric grabs him.

  In one smooth motion, Gaedric snatches Ami out of the air and pulls him in tight, turning him sideways.

  Ami’s eyes widen.

  So do Gadeon’s.

  Ami’s own water projectiles slam into him instead.

  “W–WHAT?!” Ami yelps. “What about honour?!”

  Gaedric doesn’t even flinch.

  “Huh?” he replies calmly. “I didn’t attack you. Those were your own attacks. I just returned what you threw out.”

  He tightens his grip slightly—not to hurt, just enough to immobilise.

  Ami struggles, twisting, trying to break free—but his ten-year-old body simply can’t overpower an adult’s strength.

  “So,” Gaedric says lightly, almost teasing, “what are you going to do now, Ami?”

  He lifts him higher.

  Ami kicks and punches instinctively—but his short limbs swing uselessly through the air, unable to reach anything.

  “To be honest,” Gaedric says calmly, his lips curling into a devious smile, “there is a way for you to escape this. And you already know the answer.”

  “What?” Ami struggles to speak, his body still trapped. “B–but didn’t you say that’s not allowed?”

  “When did I ever say it wasn’t allowed?” Gaedric replies. “All I said is that it isn’t skill. It isn’t fighting. It’s brutality.”

  He leans in slightly.

  “But just because something isn’t the right way… doesn’t mean you shouldn’t use it if it’s the only way.”

  Ami’s eyes widen.

  What is he talking about…?

  So… I can bite him? Ami thinks.

  His fangs slide out instinctively, sharp and glistening. Saliva drips.

  It’s the only way to escape, right?

  And he’s annoying me.

  He’s lying. He just gave us a whole lecture about not doing this—

  Rage floods back in.

  His expression twists, reverting to the same murderous look from earlier. Ami snaps forward, fangs aiming straight for Gaedric’s arm.

  “I’M GONNA BITE HIM—”

  “ARE YOU STUPID?!”

  Gadeon’s voice cuts through the air like a whip.

  Ami freezes.

  “You can’t tell he’s doing this on purpose?” Gadeon snaps. “He’s provoking you. Stop being a dumb kid and finish the fight.”

  The words hit harder than any strike.

  Ami’s breath catches.

  …Oh snap.

  I was really about to bite Gaedric-sensei.

  He glances at Gadeon—who’s already turned away, arms folded, pretending not to care.

  I didn’t think he was the type to help me.

  A realisation clicks.

  Wait…

  The flesh and the spirit.

  That rage—that loss of control… was that my flesh?

  The anger, the bitterness… I almost let it take over.

  Ami clenches his jaw.

  That’s not how a fight between two men should be.

  It shouldn’t be savage.

  It should be skill. Control. Finesse.

  His expression sharpens—not with rage, but resolve.

  Gaedric smiles.

  Good, he thinks. That was your spirit waking up.

  And Gadeon… I didn’t expect that from you.

  So, Gaedric wonders, what will you do now? How will you escape—without breaking your own rules?

  Ami exhales slowly.

  Then inhales.

  Gaedric frowns slightly.

  What’s he—

  Ami suddenly locks his legs around Gaedric’s arm, twisting his body mid-air. Water surges from his flexing, spinning him like a drill. The torque snaps through Gaedric’s shoulder—

  Gaedric releases instantly.

  Ami lands cleanly, sliding back into stance.

  That was dangerous, Gaedric realises. If I hadn’t let go, my arm could’ve broken.

  And he came up with that on the spot?

  This boy’s talent is terrifying.

  And he’s still holding back.

  Gaedric glances at Gadeon.

  Gadeon watches silently, eyes sharp.

  He’s enjoying this, Gaedric notes. Interesting.

  Alright, Gaedric thinks, stepping forward. Time to end this—and show them what I really meant.

  Ami bursts forward, spotting an opening.

  His fists blur.

  A gatling storm of punches surges toward Gaedric.

  “Gadeon—keep your eyes peeled!” Gaedric shouts.

  The sudden call snaps Gadeon out of his focus. Ami stiffens too, a flicker of anxiety running through him.

  Why him?

  What is Gaedric about to do? Ami thinks.

  In the same breath, Gaedric moves.

  With flawless timing, precision, and speed, he counters Ami’s gatling punches—not by striking back, but by mirroring them. His fists glide alongside Ami’s, brushing past each strike with surgical accuracy. He stops each motion just short of impact.

  Yet the momentum doesn’t vanish.

  The force Gaedric redirects surges outward, slamming into Ami all at once.

  Ami is sent flying backward.

  “W–what just happened?” Gadeon blurts.

  “B–but you didn’t even touch me!” Ami gasps mid-air, disbelief flooding his voice.

  Before Ami can hit the ground, Gaedric sprints forward and catches him effortlessly.

  “Whew,” Gaedric chuckles. “Lucky I caught you, huh?”

  Ami stares at him, stunned. “What did you do? You didn’t hit me at all.”

  Gaedric pats Ami’s head lightly. “Of course I didn’t. There was no need. Against someone my size, this technique does land. I just chose not to.”

  “…So what sent me flying was just… the force?” Ami asks slowly.

  “Exactly.”

  Gadeon’s eyes narrow. Does he always hold back like this when training me? he wonders.

  Gaedric turns to him.

  “What you just witnessed is, Mirror-man, the name of this technique,” Gaedric explains. “You don’t overpower your opponent. You match them. Timing, angle, rhythm—everything has to align.”

  He gestures with his hands as he speaks.

  “You become their mirror. Their reflection.”

  “A mirror?” Gadeon repeats. “But I can’t use flexing. How does that help me?”

  “A mirror doesn’t need power,” Gaedric replies calmly. “It reflects whatever comes at it.”

  He pauses.

  “You can’t outrun your reflection. And momentum—once it exists—can be redirected. What comes at you fast can be sent back harder.”

  Gadeon frowns. “That sounds… physically impossible. You’re saying I’d have to match their rhythm perfectly?”

  “Yes,” Gaedric says simply. “And you’re right—it’s ridiculously hard.”

  He smiles faintly.

  “That’s why I never taught it to you.”

  “Then why show it now?” Gadeon asks.

  “Because it isn’t impossible,” Gaedric answers.