Chapter 11: — "Anger Takes the Lead"

The dojo buzzed quietly as the students went through their warm-ups. Kael was focused, hands steady as he shadow-boxed, ignoring the chatter around him. But from the corner of his eye, he noticed them, the three bullies leaning against the wall with grins that reeked of mischief.

“Well, well, look who it is,” one of them sneered, stepping forward. “Mr. Dummy Crusher himself. Think you’re hot stuff just because you knocked that thing down yesterday?”

Kael didn’t respond. He kept moving, fists slicing through the air, trying to block out the insult.

Another bully laughed, “Aw, come on, say something! Are you gonna cry or are you just a mute freak?”

Kael’s jaw tightened, but he remained silent. He’d learned this much: reacting only gave them satisfaction.

The third bully stepped closer, smirking, “Ignoring us won’t make you any less pathetic, Kael. You embarrassed yourself with your cries over a whip yesterday. Now everyone knows how weak you really are.”

Kael’s fists clenched. The heat in his chest burned, but he forced himself to breathe. He didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge them. Every movement was precise, calm, almost robotic.

“Hey! Speak up!” the first bully shouted, jabbing a finger at Kael’s shoulder. “You think you’re better than us? Huh? I wanna hear you say it!”

Kael’s eyes flicked toward them briefly. “I’m training!” he said finally, voice low but firm. “Go bother someone else.”

The three of them exchanged smirks, whispering under their breath. “What a joke… thinks he’s untouchable.”

They started mocking him more loudly, throwing insults like they were punches. Kael’s fists twitched. He wanted to lash out, but something in him held back. He’d promised Sota he wouldn’t start fights. Not here. Not now.

The rest of the class watched quietly, sensing the tension. A few students whispered among themselves, curious but too nervous to intervene. Kael’s calm defiance seemed almost more infuriating than if he had fought back.

The tallest bully sneered, “You know, ignoring us doesn’t make you strong, Kael. It just makes you a coward who’s scared of a little fun.”

Kael finally looked at him directly, eyes sharp. “Fun?” he repeated, voice cold. “You call this fun? Hurting people? Laughing at them for trying their best?”

The bullies laughed louder, unfazed. “Oh, so now you’re the moral police? That’s rich, freak.”

Kael’s jaw tightened again, fists still unclenched. He kept breathing slowly, trying to keep the anger bottled inside. He wouldn’t let them see him break, not yet.

Sota, standing nearby, noticed the growing tension. His eyes narrowed as he watched the bullies push Kael further and further. He could feel the familiar mix of anger and protectiveness rising in his chest.

But Kael, standing perfectly still, seemed almost untouchable, until Sota’s blood boiled with frustration.

“Hey! That’s enough!” he shouted, stepping forward.

The bullies turned, smirking. “Oh, so now you’re talking? Your little friend decided to defend you,” one of them sneered. “Or are you going to cry like him too?”

“I said stop!” Sota’s voice was louder this time, sharper. He planted his feet and squared his shoulders. “You can’t keep picking on him. Not anymore.”

Kael’s hand shot out. “Sota, wait—”

“No!” Sota snapped, jerking his arm free. “I can’t just watch anymore. Fight me!”

The tallest of the bullies laughed, shoving his friend lightly. “You? Fight us? You’re crazy, kid.”

Sota took a deep breath, fists tight, and stared them down. “Try me. Just try me,” he said, his voice low but steady. “You think it’s fun to hurt him? I’m not going to let you.”

Kael swallowed hard, feeling a cold knot in his stomach. He knew this fire in Sota. Once it came out, there was no stopping it. “Sota, please... this isn’t worth it,” he said, trying to stay calm, hoping his words would reach him.

The bullies started to circle him slowly, laughing and shoving each other. “We’ll see about that,” one said. “Do you even know how to fight?”

Sota’s fists stayed clenched. “I don’t care. You’re not hurting him while I’m here,” he said, stepping closer.

One of the bullies smirked. “You look scared already. Hands shaking, chest puffed up… this is going to be fun.”

Sota’s anger flared, but his eyes flicked briefly toward Kael. “I… I’ve got this,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. But Kael could see it, he was scared too.

The tallest bully stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got, little man,” he said.

Sota’s fists stayed up, his body tense. “I won’t back down,” he said, his voice almost a growl.

Kael wanted to reach for him again, wanted to pull him back before this got out of hand. But Sota was already moving, stepping right into the group’s circle. The laughter around them got louder, more taunting, like a wave pushing him forward.

Sota’s hands shook slightly, but he didn’t lower them. His teeth were clenched, and his eyes were fixed on the bullies, full of fire. Kael could only watch, heart pounding, knowing that once Sota started, there would be no stopping him.

The tension hung thick in the air. Every small step Sota took toward them made the world feel smaller, heavier. The bullies sneered and pushed each other, trying to bait him, but he didn’t step back. Not even once.

“Come on, then,” Sota said, voice steady now, though it carried every ounce of his fear and determination. “Let’s see who’s braver.”

Kael clenched his own fists, not out of anger, but out of worry. He knew this wasn’t going to end well. But Sota had made his choice. The calm was gone. The fight had begun.

Sota stepped closer, fists tight, chest rising and falling fast. The bullies laughed, shoving each other, circling him like they were watching a show.

“Come on, then,” Sota said, voice firm, though a tremor ran through it. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The leader smirked and swung first, fast. Sota ducked just in time, but the movement threw him off balance. Another bully jabbed at his side, and he grunted, stumbling back.

Kael’s stomach dropped. “Sota!” he shouted, but he stayed where he was, trying to think, trying not to panic.

Sota swung his fists wildly, trying to land a hit, but the bullies moved quickly. One grabbed his arm, another shoved him against the wall. He fought back, kicked, swung, but every strike seemed to miss, every move was countered.

“You call that fighting?” one of the bullies laughed, shoving him again.

Sota’s face burned with frustration. His anger made him faster, but it also made him sloppy. Each punch he threw opened him up to a counter. Another swing from the leader caught him across the jaw. He stumbled, trying to regain his footing.

Kael rushed forward but stopped a few steps away, hands hovering. He didn’t want to grab Sota and make the fight worse. His calm voice cut through the chaos. “Sota! Step back! Don’t—”

But Sota shook his head, swiping sweat and blood from his cheek. “I’m fine,” he gasped, though the dark bruise forming on his jaw told another story.

Another push sent him to the ground. Pain shot up his arm and leg as he tried to get back up. His breathing was heavy, uneven, and his eyes, though full of defiance, were starting to water.

Kael ran to him finally, crouching beside him. “Sota, stop. You’re hurt,” he said, voice calm but urgent. He put a hand on Sota’s shoulder, steadying him.

Sota shook his head stubbornly. “I… I can still fight… I… can… handle it,” he said, voice broken, words coming in small gasps. But Kael could see it... Sota couldn’t. His body sagged slightly, and his fists shook.

Kael looked at the bullies. They were smirking, satisfied, but he didn’t move toward them. He stayed low, protecting Sota from a distance. Calm, steady, watching every move, ready if things got worse.

Sota leaned against Kael, breathing hard, bruises spreading across his face and arms. His anger was fading, replaced by pain, disappointment, and exhaustion. He wanted to fight, but his body had betrayed him.

Kael steadied him with one arm, then slowly lifted his head toward the bullies. His eyes were calm, but there was something in them that made the group fall quiet for a second.

“You’ve had your fun,” Kael said, his voice low but sharp. “Touch him again, and I won’t hold back next time.”

The leader scoffed, forcing a laugh. “You think we’re scared of you?” he said, but his voice cracked at the edge.

Kael took one step forward, just enough to close the space a little. His stare didn’t waver. “You remember what happened last time,” he said flatly.

The smirk on the leader’s face faltered, just for a heartbeat. A flicker of fear crossed his eyes before he masked it with a cold sneer. “Tch. Whatever,” he muttered, turning away. “Not worth it.”

The others followed, still chuckling, but their laughs sounded thinner now, forced. They shoved each other as they left, but not one of them dared meet Kael’s gaze again.

Kael didn’t move until they were out of sight. Only then did he exhale, his arm still around Sota to keep him steady. “Come on,” he murmured softly. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Sota limped beside Kael, his face tight with anger.

“Let’s just get back to training,” he muttered, refusing to look at Kael.

Kael glanced at him, calm as ever. “You sure?”

“I’m fine,” Sota snapped, though his bruises said otherwise. “I’m not letting those jerks ruin our day.”

Kael nodded quietly. “Alright. Training it is.”

They walked on, the air heavy, Kael steady but Sota... still burning inside.