"Rocky, grab his bag."
Setnov's voice carried the easy arrogance of someone used to being obeyed.
Hearing that, Rocky dropped the bike leaning against his hip and strode toward Kael, yanking the bag off his shoulder.
Kael didn't resist. He simply let it go, stood upright, and looked at them—calm but sharp.
"W-what…?" Setnov's voice cracked as he met Kael's gaze.
"Not happy? Then come take it back," Setnov added, forcing confidence into his tone.
Kael said nothing. He turned around and walked away without a word, leaving his bag—and the two boys—behind.
Setnov and Rocky just stared after him, whispering in disbelief.
"How could he not fight back?"
"Why didn't he care about his bag?"
"Is he… normal?"
By the time their confusion settled, Kael had already vanished up the road, still running.
"Hey—Rocky! Come on, let's go after him!" Setnov shouted, slapping Rocky's shoulder.
They started pedaling hard, first thinking it would be easy to catch up. But as they pushed faster, they began to notice something strange.
"No matter how fast I go, we're not getting any closer!" Rocky gasped.
"Stop whining! Pedal harder!" Setnov yelled back, though deep down, he'd already realized the same thing—the distance between them and Kael wasn't closing at all.
By the time the paved road between the rice fields ended, Kael was already home.
He sat cross-legged on his wooden porch, now changed into a fresh shirt, a wooden sword resting on his shoulder. When he saw the two boys approaching, he didn't move—just waited, expression unreadable.
"Stop, Rocky. Stop!" Setnov braked suddenly. "Let's just go back."
"Huh? What? We came all this way to teach him a lesson!"
"Look at him, you idiot—he's holding a sword!"
Rocky froze. Then, without another word, he turned his bike to leave.
Kael stood, walked off the porch, and picked up a small stone. He infused it with a flicker of arkanum and threw it.
Clack—crash!
The stone hit Setnov's bike gear, and the whole thing jerked, throwing him to the ground.
Kael walked forward, slowly, each step deliberate.
Rocky, seeing this from ahead, panicked. He kept pedaling, faster and faster, pretending not to hear Setnov's shout behind him.
"Rocky! Come back! Help me!" Setnov screamed.
But Rocky didn't look back. ["Why should I? He's got a sword! The kid's insane!"]
Setnov tried to get up, but panic and a scraped knee made him clumsy. When he blinked, Kael was already crouched beside him, the sword still resting on his shoulder.
"P-please… take your bag back! I'm sorry!" Setnov stammered.
"Hm? What do you mean?" Kael asked, his tone flat.
"What?"
"I said, what do you mean?"
"I—I just told you! I'm giving your bag back! I said I'm sorry!"
"Yes, I heard that. But why act like that in the first place?" Kael asked again, still calm.
"Are you mocking me?" Setnov shouted, his fear twisting into embarrassment.
Kael tilted his head, glancing at the sword in his hand.
"Ah… are you scared?" he asked suddenly, smiling faintly.
"Of course I am! Anyone would be scared if someone was about to kill them!"
Kael laughed quietly. "You've got the wrong idea."
"What?"
"I brought this sword for training," Kael said simply.
"Then why come after me like that? Why not keep training instead of scaring me?"
"Your name's Setnov, right?"
"Y-yeah…"
"Do you like snacks?"
"…What?"
Kael didn't answer. He turned, picked up his bag, and walked back toward the house, the sword still resting across his shoulder.
Setnov just sat there, frozen, watching him go.
Halfway up the yard, Kael looked back. "So, do you not like snacks?"
"I—I do! I like them!" Setnov blurted out.
"Then stand up and come here. If not, I might kill you," Kael said casually before continuing to walk, a small grin forming where Setnov couldn't see.
He remembered something his father once told him.
"Son," Arda had said years ago, while training together, "if you can, avoid fighting. It might not solve every problem, but it'll help you live longer."
"Huh?" little Kael had replied, head tilted.
"Haha, maybe you don't understand now. But someday you will." Arda had ruffled his hair.
"Oh, and one more thing. To avoid a fight, try acting a bit arrogant. Scare your opponent. If it works, just keep intimidating them—you'll avoid unnecessary trouble, haha!"
"I don't get it at all, Father."
"That's fine. You will, someday. Just remember what I tell you," Arda said with a wide grin.
The memory faded.
Kael turned toward Setnov, who was still standing awkwardly nearby. "Wait there a second."
He went inside. When he returned, he carried a few jars of snacks in his arms.
Kael sat beside him on the porch and placed the jars between them.
Setnov didn't speak. He didn't even look up—still confused, still nervous.
Seeing that, Kael said, "Are you feeling scared and awkward right now?"
Setnov stayed silent. He couldn't even nod. He didn't know how to respond—and was too embarrassed to admit it.
"This is the first time I've invited someone over by choice," Kael said, eyes on the open yard. "And also the first time someone's ever picked a fight with me."
Setnov's eyes flicked toward him. ["What is he even talking about?"] he thought, utterly lost.
"Up until now, the only one who's called me a friend is Ruby. I never really responded to that. But maybe now I understand a little of what friendship feels like," Kael continued, opening a jar. "Most kids either avoid me or try too hard to be nice. You're the first one who actually didn't like me. It's kind of strange."
["Someone save me from this insane conversation!"] Setnov screamed in his head. ["And that damn Rocky—next time I see him, I'll make him pay for ditching me!"]
"Eat up," Kael said. "Those will go bad soon anyway, and I can't finish them all."
He stood, stepping a few meters away to resume sword practice.
Setnov hesitated, then gave in. He started eating the snacks while watching Kael train, thinking it was better than sitting there doing nothing.
Kael, in turn, felt something odd. He wasn't usually talkative—but for some reason, he wanted to speak today.
---
The sunlight turned golden. Setnov stayed quiet, his mouth dry from eating too many snacks without water.
When Kael finally stopped swinging his sword, he walked over, removed his shirt, and sat beside Setnov again.
"Where are your parents?" Setnov asked, his voice small. "I haven't seen them around."
Kael didn't answer. He stood, went inside, then returned with two bottles of cold water—one in his hand, one already half-empty.
"Here. Drink. You're thirsty—I can hear it in your breathing," Kael said, offering the bottle.
["Can someone really tell that just from breathing?"] Setnov thought, but he took it anyway.
"Are you still scared?" Kael asked. "You realize, from a distance, it must look like I've been talking to myself this whole time."
"Ah—sorry. I just don't know what to say," Setnov replied.
"As for the bag," Kael said, his tone softer now, "I didn't really care. There's nothing valuable in it."
"What? Then why go through all that just to take it back?!" Setnov burst out.
"I didn't do anything to you. I didn't even touch you," Kael said calmly.
Setnov blinked—and realized Kael was right. He hadn't been hit. He'd just… fallen, panicked, and assumed the worst.
["Damn it… that's embarrassing."]
"Can I go home now?" Setnov asked finally, face red.
"Yeah. Your parents are probably worried."
"R-right. Then… see you!" Setnov said quickly, bolting down the path.
Kael watched him run until he disappeared, then noticed something left behind in the corner of the yard—a small item Setnov must've dropped in his hurry.
Kael smiled faintly and turned back toward the house.
The yard was marked by shallow cuts in the dirt from his training, and Setnov's broken bike still lay nearby, chain twisted and useless.
---
Elsewhere, outside the house, a woman stood with hands on her hips, scolding her son loudly.
Her voice carried through the air—angry, sharp, but worried all the same.
Setnov stood silently in front of her, head down, taking it all without a word.
---
To be continued...