One word slips from Gadeon’s mouth — quiet, venomous.

  It sends a chill through Ami’s friends.

  “You think I’m weak… that I’m a victim?” Gadeon mutters. His voice is low, but sharp enough to carry. “I make others into victims. I’m the threat here. I’m the danger.”

  Ami stiffens.

  “Huh? What are you even talking about? You star—”

  “You barged into me,” Gadeon snaps, cutting him off. “Then you had the audacity to grab me without my consent — all because I looked at you. You insulted my mother, and now I’m being called a victim?!”

  There’s no way he’s saying this…

  Is he pretending he didn’t start any of this? Ami’s friend was confused in her thoughts.

  “DON’T SCREW WITH ME!” Gadeon roars.

  “Ami… we didn’t do anything to offend him first, right?” one of his friends whispers. “He started it… right?”

  “Y-yeah…” Ami hesitates. “Maybe I overreacted to the way he looked at me…” He then shakes his head sharply. “No. That look wasn’t the first time. The insults weren’t either. I’m not imagining this. He started it.”

  But then Ami really looks at Gadeon.

  His chest heaves. His breath is ragged. Veins bulge at his temples. Strands of hair cling to his face as he bites down hard enough to draw blood from his lip.

  “Everyone treats me like I’m the victim…” Gadeon snarls, voice shaking. “Mum, you betrayed me — cried about me playing victim while confiding in another man…”

  Ami blinks.

  …What?

  “Do you know who I am?!” Gadeon shouts, voice cracking. “I’m Jason! A six-figure man! An alpha! It’s always been me versus the world! You think I can be victimised by some ten-year-old kid who cross-dresses?!”

  The hallway goes quiet — then awkward.

  Some students shift uncomfortably.

  Some cringe.

  A few laugh under their breath.

  Others step back, genuinely unsettled.

  None of it reaches Gadeon.

  But that last insult snaps something in Ami.

  His face tightens — not in rage, but hurt turned sharp.

  Water stirs.

  Currents coil around Ami’s body, spiralling like a living scarf as he drops into a stance.

  Gadeon charges.

  Ami moves first.

  His palms blur, coated in water as he unleashes a rapid barrage of strikes — each blow snapping through the currents with explosive splashes.

  Gadeon pushes through them anyway.

  Each hit lands. Each impact forces a grunt from his throat — but he keeps moving, teeth clenched, eyes wild.

  Ami doesn’t stop.

  The strikes come faster.

  Harder.

  Then one final blow lands clean.

  Gadeon is launched backward, crashing hard across the floor — skidding to a stop, sprawled on his back, mouth open, chest heaving.

  Silence.

  Ami straightens.

  Around him, the crowd erupts into chatter — shock, excitement, whispers layered over one another. Some laugh. Some stare.

  But Ami’s eyes don’t leave Gadeon.

  He watches as a few students laugh at the boy lying there.

  And something in his chest twists — not triumph.

  Not relief.

  Something heavier.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Guilt wells up in Ami’s chest, tight and suffocating. He clutches at it instinctively, breath hitching.

  “Ami—this isn’t your fault—” one of his friends starts.

  He doesn’t let them finish.

  Ami turns and runs.

  The moment his feet carry him away, the guilt crashes harder. Tears spill free, slipping from his eyes and vanishing into the water behind him — the only trace he leaves behind.

  He runs faster, but it doesn’t help.

  The tears keep coming.

  His face twists, sadness finally breaking through the front he tried so hard to hold.

  Damn it… I shouldn’t have fought him.

  Ami stumbles into a dark corner beneath the staircase and sinks down, curling in on himself as his chest tightens.

  I should’ve just ignored him. So what if he looked at me that way? If I’d brushed it off, none of this would’ve happened.

  His shoulders shake as the tears come harder. The more he wipes his face, the more they spill, blurring his vision.

  I shouldn’t have hurt him like that… not to that extent.

  His breathing becomes uneven. Shallow. Panicked.

  I didn’t even mean what I said about his mum and dad. I love them. Both of them.

  I only said it to defend myself—but there were better ways. So why was that the first thing I went for?

  His fingers curl into his chest as if he’s trying to rip the feeling out.

  That makes me disgusting.

  How could I insult his dad like that? I respect him… more than almost anyone.

  The thought twists deeper, sharper. His breaths hitch, coming too fast now.

  I hate myself for this. I hate myself.

  I’m fake.

  His nails dig into his palms.

  How am I supposed to face Gaedric-sensei after this?

  Then—anger flares through the guilt, clashing violently.

  But… I wouldn’t have said any of that if he hadn’t picked a fight with me.

  He picked a fight with me just for being myself.

  A memory crashes into him without warning.

  His father’s face. Cold. Disgusted.

  The sting of a slap. Spit hitting his cheek.

  “I wish I had a real son.”

  Ami gasps, dragged back into the present as pain grips his scalp. His hands tangle in his hair, pulling hard as if punishment might make the feeling stop.

  Him… and Dad… what have I done wrong?

  Why does the world keep putting me in these situations just for being myself?

  His thoughts spiral.

  Should I change?

  Should I change just to keep the peace?

  Another memory surfaces—quieter, steadier.

  Gaedric-sensei, seated across from him during a one-on-one session.

  “Never allow anyone to change your personality,” he’d said calmly. “It’s yours. Claim it.”

  The words echo.

  Slowly, Ami’s breathing steadies. The tightness in his chest loosens, though the ache remains.

  He lowers his head, voice barely a whisper even to himself.

  Gaedric-sensei… I’m too ashamed to face you after what I said.

  “I wonder why your friend, Rotalia, came to me with such a panicked expression?”

  The warm voice startles Ami. He looks up instantly—only to find no one there. His eyes dart around the shadowed space beneath the staircase, confusion flickering across his face.

  “I figured seeing me while you’re in this state might be too embarrassing for our number one student in Year Six,” the voice continues gently, “so I thought I’d communicate with you like this.”

  Ami swallows.

  “Is… is that you, Mister Alfred?”

  “Wow,” the voice replies, mock hurt slipping through its warmth. “You don’t recognise your own Head of Year’s voice? That hurts a little, Ami.”

  “O–oh! Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to—”

  “I’m joking,” Mister Alfred chuckles softly. “You’re too kind. Even when you’re upset, you’re worried about hurting my feelings.”

  There’s a brief pause—intentional, giving Ami space.

  “Anyway,” Alfred continues, his tone gentle and grounded, “do you want to talk about what happened?”

  Back in the meeting room, Gaedric remains behind as requested. The doors close, leaving only him, Headmaster Reuben, and Deputy Simeon.

  “How’s Gloria been doing?” Deputy Simeon asks, a warm smile spreading across her face.

  “Always asking about my wife,” Gaedric replies, folding his arms with a mock pout. “You never ask how I’m doing, huh?”

  “Oh please,” Simeon says teasingly. “I see you every day. Or is someone jealous?”

  “Jealous of an old lady’s affection?” Gaedric shoots back.

  “I’ll let that one slide,” Simeon says, one eye half-open. “Considering I snapped at you earlier.”

  “Yeah, what was that about?” Gaedric leans back in his chair. “All I said was that if I ever found Gadeon with that drug, I’d lose it. Then you came down on me like I’d committed a crime.”

  “Because this is a professional environment,” Simeon replies evenly. “You can’t speak purely from emotion. You’re not just staff—you’re a father and a member of the SLT. You have to set an example.”

  “Come on,” Gaedric scoffs. “I always set an example.”

  “What Simeon is saying,” Headmaster Reuben interjects, “is that you need to be above reproach.”

  Gaedric frowns. “What do you mean by that?”

  “You’re the only member of the SLT who can’t use Chi-Lungs,” Simeon says plainly.

  “Oh. You mean that,” Gaedric replies, unsurprised.

  “You think gossip doesn’t reach us?” Reuben adds.

  “I don’t care about rumours,” Gaedric shrugs. “Let them talk.”

  “And that,” Simeon says, “is exactly why you need to be above reproach. Some teachers think you got this position through questionable means. Others think you bribed us. Some are just jealous.”

  “Bribed?” Gaedric snorts. “Can’t wait for them to hear my wife’s the breadwinner.”

  “But it only takes one misstep,” Simeon continues calmly, “to destroy a person’s character in this world. Emotional outbursts. Threats. That gives people ammunition.”

  Gaedric listens quietly now.

  “So when you speak like that,” Simeon finishes, “it’s not professional. And you’re too old—and too responsible—for that. You geh meh?”

  Reuben notices the slightest slip in her accent and suppresses a smile.

  “Yes, Mum,” Gaedric replies dryly.

  Simeon ignores the jab. “Also… I wanted to check on my grandson. How’s Gadeon been lately? You’re not annoying him, are you?”

  “First of all,” Gaedric protests, “he’s not your grandson. We’re not even blood-related.”

  “Oh please,” Simeon waves it off. “After all these years? I practically raised you. I used to help you wipe—”

  “Okay! Stop!” Gaedric cuts in quickly as Reuben chuckles.

  Gaedric exhales. “Nothing’s changed between me and Gadeon. If anything… it’s gotten worse.”

  Simeon nods slowly.

  “I’m worried about his Chi-Lungs,” Gaedric adds.

  “Yes,” Simeon says thoughtfully. “He’s… peculiar in that regard.”

  “He’s the only student—no, the only person in this underwater city—who can breathe normally,” Reuben says, voice lowering, “yet can’t use Water Flexing.”