After dropping Mika off at Opal Junior High, Axka hurried back to their apartment, feeling the weight of excitement and apprehension building up inside him. Takoda was already there, his face gleaming with a mix of excitement and impatience. Without exchanging many words, they gathered their things quickly, their minds on the camp ahead. The run to Amethyst High School felt longer than usual, as the early morning sun painted their path with long shadows, adding to the sense of an impending adventure.

“Fuck, Mr. Lawson must be waiting for us,” Axka muttered, huffing as he carried their backpack and messenger bag. Takoda, trailing behind, replied, “I knew that already.”

Arriving late, they found students already assembled outside, receiving their briefing. They stood near the gate, bewildered by the lines that had formed.

In the crowd, Aime and Smitty were easily spotted on the back of their batch group, The Mavericks. Takoda observed the division: on one side were the problematic students; on the other, those who were less troublesome. The unproblematic students outnumbered them three to one.

As they hesitated, Mr. Lawson approached with a quickened pace, his annoyance palpable. “Gentlemen, you’re late,” he sneered. Takoda began to apologize, “Sorry, sir. We didn’t mean to—” but Mr. Lawson cut him off, his tone firm and strict. “No time for apologies now. Join your classmates, immediately.” He pulled them to their line, and they felt the sting of his rough handling as they navigated their way through the crowd to join their group.

Aime's grin widened as he saw them. “Look who finally decided to grace us with their presence, the ‘Troublemaker’ and his servant.” Smitty nudged Aime lightly. “Cut them some slack. They were probably plotting their escape route.” Their banter was light-hearted and teasing.

Axka shot them a quick middle finger before settling into his spot.

As they got into place, the principal was standing on the podium, his speech was nearing its end. With an authoritative yet encouraging tone. Axka caught only the part about Mr. Caden:

“… and Mr. Stoddard. These teachers are already there, preparing your journey. This camp will challenge you, but it will also bring out the best in each of you…”

Takoda was already engaged in conversation with Aime and Smitty, their words just a filler to pass the time. Axka, however, had a sudden realization from the principal’s speech about the camp’s location, his stomach tightened the moment the principal mentioned it. He leaned toward the student next to him, his voice a little too casual, as if forcing it to stay steady. “We’re not camping here, are we?”

The boy barely looked at him, shrugging. “Nah, man. I heard it’s deep in the forest.” The words hit Axka with a wave of dread. His body betrayed him. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face, and he quickly wiped it away, hoping no one noticed.

Forest. Jungle. They were the same in his mind. His fingers twitched as if they remembered pushing through the thick foliage, desperate to get away. Sweat began to gather at his temples, but Axka kept his expression neutral.

Play it cool, just like everyone else. He couldn't let anyone see how much that one word—forest—unsettled him. He was just another student, standing in line, preparing for the camp.

But inside, his mind was already planning an escape, just like back then. For himself, For Mika.

I need to know how far it is from my home, Axka’s mind already racing to form an escape plan. I hope it’s not too far. I must get out of there, I have to get out, just like I did before…

Axka blinked a few times, trying to push away the memories of his past. I might need to rest on the way there and plan carefully. I need to see the place first…

As soon the principal’s finished his speech, cheers erupted while the autobuses rolled in, filling the air with a sense of adventure. The booked autobuses arrived early, their engines humming with anticipation.

The Achievers batch boarded the first batch of buses with proper etiquette, but a harsh, impatient shout sliced through the chatter from the back. “HURRY THE FUCK UP!” The voice grabbed Mr. Lawson's attention, and his sharp eyes zeroed in on the source.

“Enough!” Mr. Lawson’s voice cut through the noise, freezing the crowd in its tracks. His sharp eyes locked onto the culprit, and the students instinctively parted as he made his way through.“Seems like you missed a key part of our principal’s speech,” he said, voice steady, though the edge of authority was unmistakable. The student, all bravado, smirked and crossed his arms. “Yeah, and what’s that?”

“‘Special guidance,’” Mr. Lawson said with a cold edge. “Since you’re so eager to act out, let’s see those ten push-ups. Now.” The boy scoffed, dropping to the ground with a sneer. “Piece of cake.”

Axka turned to Smitty. “What’s with this ‘Special Guidance’ stuff?”

Smitty leaned in, his voice low. “It’s not the usual stuff. No caning anymore. They’ve switched to ‘special guidance’—teachers have to get creative with the punishments for the camp… Guess they figured out that fear doesn’t work. Now they want us to think about what we did.” Axka nodded, absorbing Smitty’s words.

Watching Mr. Lawson stand firm but not aggressively, it became clear that his approach to discipline was about teaching respect and understanding, not instilling fear. Or maybe he was just fed up with caning them all.

As the student in the middle of his push-ups, Mr. Lawson interrupted. “Not like that. Perfect form, not speed.”

Each attempt was met with Mr. Lawson’s stern “again,” pushing the student to his limits. The repeated efforts left him exhausted, his arrogance replaced by frustration and fatigue.

“Then, how am I supposed to do a ‘perfect’ push-up?” the student wheezed, seeking guidance from Mr. Lawson. Mr. Lawson replied, sharp and short, “Oh now you ask? Too late for that. You need to figure it out on your own. Now, continue.”

Axka watched, a smirk forming at the corner of his lips. Mr. Lawson’s punishments weren’t new. Aside from caning, there was always a way to make the cocky ones break. Still, as the student struggled with each push-up, Axka felt the weight of his own past slipping in. He knew the drill. Act tough shattered in the face of exhaustion—he’d been there before, with all kind of public school’s punishments.

As the student struggled, the lesson became clear: understanding and humility over rushing into arrogance. Takoda’s brief smirk at Axka’s whispered “crazy” was the only break in the tense atmosphere.

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The situation drew silent attention until the Achievers batch boarded and the autobus for the Mavericks batch arrived, waiting to be boarded. Mr. Lawson signaled the end of the punishment with a “Stop.”

“Remember what the principal announced about ‘special guidance’ for those who can’t follow the rules,” he reminded the student, locking eyes with him in a meaningful stare. The student, momentarily taken aback and exhausted from his ‘special guidance,’ nodded, his defiant posture slowly softening.

“What’s your name?” Mr. Lawson asked.

“Jorma Kalevi,” the boy replied, out of breath from exhaustion.

“Next time, think before you act. Now, you’re on my watchlist. Just like that ‘Troublemaker’ and his gang.” As Mr. Lawson pointed at Axka and their friends, Axka responded by raising a hand with a peace sign.

“Alright, everyone, this isn’t a show. Put your belongings in the bus storage compartment and get on the bus,” Mr. Lawson commanded, pointing to the buses for them to board.

As Axka stepped onto the bus, his eyes found Siyanda standing by the window. Her dark eyes followed the scene below, but there was something distant in them. His heart skipped a beat. Without thinking, he raised his hand, offering her a wave—a small attempt to bridge the ever-growing gap between them. But Siyanda didn’t wave back. She didn’t even glance at his way. Instead, her head turned in a deliberate motion, her silence colder than any words could be. For a moment, Axka stood frozen, the sting of rejection sharp and unexpected.

Why didn’t she wave back? Was she having a bad day? Or maybe she just didn’t care anymore.

Axka shook the thought from his mind. It’s nothing. Her teacher probably showed up. Yeah, that’s all it is. He turned away, pushing the fleeting disappointment to the back of his mind. There were bigger things to focus on now.

The camp awaited, and my thoughts... I can hold it, like so many other feelings…

Takoda and Axka found seats next to each other on the bus, joining the murmurs of excitement from their group. As the engine started and they drove away from the school, Axka glanced back one last time at the shrinking figures in the classroom window.

Though a mix of emotions lingered—Siyanda’s distance and their growing concern about the camp—anticipation built as they’re left Amethyst High behind.

***

As they traveled, the hum of the autobus provided a comforting background noise, guiding them toward the camp. Axka felt detached from the world, his exhaustion from the previous night’s work lulling him into a half-asleep state like almost anytime he was asleep, the condition he accustomed to from his dark past.

Voices occasionally cut through the steady drone of the engine and the chatter of their classmates, blending with Axka’s half-dreams.

The Mavericks’ bus was a whirlwind of chaos, with raucous laughter and angry shouts bouncing off the metal walls. Axka, half-asleep, could feel the tension creeping into his dreams, mingling with the eerie sense of mystery that had already taken hold of him. Even in his drowsy state, he could hear the rising volume, the shift in tone as the arguments at the back of the bus grew more heated.

Meanwhile, the Achievers’ bus, visible through the windows, was a world away—a calm sea of students singing in beautiful harmony, unaware of the chaos brewing on the other bus.

When the topic of Caden came up—the teacher who had made school a place of joy and learning—one student remarked, “He’s the reason school’s actually fun now,” leading to a wave of agreement and stories about how Caden had personally helped them.

While the Achievers sang in harmony, the Mavericks’ bus grew increasingly chaotic. At the back of the bus, two boys squared off, their faces inches apart, eyes blazing with anger. Insults flew between them like missiles, each word sharper and more cutting than the last.

“Your father’s an alcoholic and abusive asshole!” The boy at the back spat, his fists balled at his sides. The other boy responded with a smirk, “At least my dad didn’t vanish on a milk run.” The words cut deep like a well-aimed dagger.

The words hit like a punch to the boy but comedic to the crowd. They laughed manically, feeding fuel to the boy—then the shouting resumed, louder, fiercer. The air around them crackled with energy, drawing the attention of nearly everyone on the bus. The crowd at the back started cheering and inciting them to fight.

Axka’s peaceful sleep was briefly interrupted by the rising volume of a dispute behind them. Even so, Axka remained half-asleep, caught between awareness and the pull of his dreams.

Axka found himself in a world wrapped in fog, the mist curling around his feet like ghostly tendrils. Shadows flickered at the edge of his vision, shifting with an eerie grace. A figure loomed in the distance, cloaked in darkness, holding a sword that glinted ominously under the dim light. The figure moved silently, murmuring in a language that seemed both otherworldly and unsettling. Axka's pulse quickened as he tried to close the distance between them, but with each step, the figure retreated. Suddenly, the figure stopped. Violet eyes pierced through the mist, locking him with an intensity that sent him provoked up to his challenge. The sword raised, pointed directly at Axka—judging him. Just as quickly, the world collapsed into blackness.

Axka’s eyes gradually opened. The humid air of the bus pressed against his skin, contrasting the icy cold of the dream world. The shouting from the back of the bus grew louder, pulling him completely from the dark remnants of his dream. His heart was still pounding as he tried to shake off the unsettling feeling the dream had left behind.

Axka stirred, slowly becoming aware of the noise from the back of the bus, which sounded like a distant echo growing louder. The dream that had felt so real moments ago stayed in his mind, tantalizing yet slipping away.

Axka laid there for a few moments, letting the sounds of reality mix with the remnants of his dream, blurring the boundaries between the two worlds. He had a feeling the dream was connected to the camp. Axka tried to hold onto it and return to sleep, searching for the mystery within the dream, but it kept slipping away. Takoda noticed Axka struggling to keep his eyes closed and leaned over.

“Everything alright?” Takoda asked, his voice cutting through the haze of Axka’s sleep.

“Yeah, just… a weird dream. But it’s gone now,” Axka yawned, rubbing his eyes in a failed attempt to recall the details.

“That's a shame. Could've been Siyanda kissing you, huh?” Takoda nudged Axka, drawing a chuckle from him and clearing away the last traces of his confusion. “I hope so, bro.” Axka smirked, stretching his posture on his seat.

“You missed quite a show—you should’ve seen the fight at the back. It was something else,” Takoda leaned in, his voice filled with amusement.

“What happened?” Axka blinked in confusion, still drowsy and disoriented with the dream fading more with each passing second.

"Some boys were fighting at the back. They kept insulting each other’s fathers. You know how it is," Takoda waved his hand, shrugging it off as if it were a typical bus ride occurrence.

Curious, Axka, still groggy from his interrupted dream, blinked in confusion, but the raw tension quickly pulled him into the scene. He turned around and craned his neck to catch a glimpse of the spectacle.

Driven by curiosity and the crowd's infectious energy, He got on his knees and peered over the seats to join the cheering spectators. Aime and Smitty, caught up in the excitement, cheered from their seats not far from him, as the boys in the back began throwing punches.

“C’MON, BITE HIS HAND!” Axka found himself shouting along with them, swept up in the drama despite themselves.

Deep within the forest, a lone figure stood motionless, head tilted slightly as if sensing something from afar. The wind rustled through the trees, carrying with it an unsettling and mystical presence. “A deadly Aura…?” the figure murmured, eyes narrowing. Without another word, the figure reached for the sword strapped near hips on the back, moving swiftly into the shadows, disappearing with an urgency that suggested the figure knew exactly what was coming.