The cafeteria surroundings had transformed into an arena with students forming a ring around the commotion. Their expressions were a blend of apathy and concern, whispers spread through the crowd. Some were speculating, others simply there for the spectacle. The murmurs and pointed fingers conveyed little, lost in the sea of students.

“The ‘Troublemaker’ took down that delinquent?” someone mumbled. “It’s him again,” came the whispered remarks.

Axka, ever aware of the scrutiny, playfully responded, “I hear that,” while scanning the faces around.

Then Mr. Lawson, the disciplinary teacher, cut through the crowd with authority. A hush fell over the students, their earlier excitement replaced by a wary silence. His eyes shifted from the knocked-out student to Axka.

“You again, Axka. Are you the one who knocked him out?” Mr. Lawson demanded.

Quick to respond, Axka offered a feeble excuse, “He just slipped on that banana peel over there, sir. A complete accident.”

“Do you think this is a cartoon?” Mr. Lawson snapped, his patience visibly wearing thin. “Yeah, that's right!” Takoda smirked, enjoying the tension. Axka shot him a quick glare, but his lips still curved in a faint smile.

“I swear, you brats...” Mr. Lawson muttered under his breath, rubbing his temples as if trying to fend off a headache.

Mr. Lawson began questioning the bystanders, but most remained silent, wary of getting involved.

The nerdy-looking boy hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting around the circle of students like a trapped animal searching for an escape route. Then, with a sudden resolve, he stepped forward, his shoulders squared as if he'd made an important decision. “I saw what happened, sir,” he said, his voice trembling at first but gaining strength with each word. “They were fighting over some fruit.” A flicker of something crossed his eyes—fear, perhaps, or maybe a desperate need to be noticed. To be someone, even if it meant being the snitch today.

As Mr. Lawson turned his irritated glared towards Axka, the excuse seemed futile and gave him his sheepish smile. The teacher's frustration was evident, his glare intensified.

“GET TO MY OFFICE!” Mr. Lawson barked, his voice echoing in the now-silent cafeteria.

As he turned and stormed down the hallway, the rhythmic tapping of his shoes against the polished tiles filled the air. The morning light streamed through the windows, casting long shadows and highlighting every crease of frustration on his face.

Axka followed, his mind racing—a whirl of adrenaline and the lingering high of the recent scuffle. That idiot had it coming, the image flashed in his mind—the moment the student hit the floor.

Smitty, ever the reluctant participant in Axka’s escapades, followed with a frown etched deep on his face. He wasn’t like Axka. Growing up, he’d always been the cautious one, the one to weigh his options before diving into anything. But something about Axka’s unpredictable nature pulled him in, a gravitational force he couldn’t quite resist. He often wondered why he stuck around. Perhaps the friendship that Takoda built between Axka and him is what made him stay.

“Dude, why the fuck am I being punished too? I wasn’t even involved in that fight,” he whispered, his usual calm demeanor breaking under frustration.

Aime gave a silent nod, his eyes mirroring Smitty's irritation. He had seen enough of these skirmishes to know how quickly things could spiral out of control, yet he rarely spoke up.

Axka, however, simply shrugged, his carefree gesture a stark contrast to his friends' concerns. “I don’t know, dude, maybe he just wants to cane us for fun?” He shot them with a smile.

Beneath the surface, he felt a familiar rush. This was the world he knew—rough, unpredictable, and chaotic. Fights and punishments were just another part of life, a rhythm he'd grown used to. Ever since his dark past, he had learned to navigate through turmoil; it was almost comforting in its chaos. He was used to the rough edges, the constant battle to stay ahead or at least survive. Axka wasn’t necessarily drawn to the chaos, but he had become accustomed to it, knowing that in a twisted way, it was safer to embrace the storm than to try and avoid it.

Smitty’s face was a mask of frustration. Why do I always get dragged into your shits, Axka?

He had been friends with Axka for years, long enough to know that trouble was never far away when Axka was around. Smitty often found himself in these situations, along with the rest of them.

Takoda, sensing the tension rising among his friends, gave Axka a gentle elbow, his signature playful nudge meant to diffuse the tension. He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Hey, maybe if we’re lucky, Mr. Lawson will finally break a smile,” he joked, his eyes gleaming with their usual mischievous light.

He paused for a moment, gauging Axka's reaction before adding with a smirk, “Or, you know, maybe after he’s done caning us.” Takoda’s grin widened, his attempt to lighten the mood clear, even as a hint of nervousness flickered in his eyes. Axka gave a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Inside the office, the air was thick with an impending sense of punishment. Axka kept his face impassive, eyes fixed on a distant point on the wall and braced himself for the familiar sting of the rattan cane—a pain he'd known many times before.

As the cane struck, a hot flash of pain shot through him, momentarily blanking out all thoughts. He didn't care much about the consequences of his actions or how they might reflect on his brother. School was his battleground, a place that had nothing to do with his responsibilities at home. As far as Axka was concerned, the chaos he stirred here was his own business, separate from the quiet life Mika led.

Mr. Lawson's final words, delivered with a weary sigh, resonated with both frustration and a strange, begrudging respect, “You always bring trouble, Axka. The nickname 'Troublemaker' suits you well.”

Axka, despite the smarting pain, felt a twisted sense of pride bubbling up. His lips curled into a faint smile—not just from the pain, but from a bizarre satisfaction in living up to the expectations everyone had of him. In moments like this, he felt like most people knew who he was—a force that could never be tamed. As Takoda and Axka were the last to leave the office, they exchanged glances outside.

“That was brutal,” Takoda winced.

“Damn, that nerd...” Axka chimed in.

They bit back their laughter, a mix of pain and amusement coloring the moment. The nerdy boy had snitched, but could Axka blame him? Perhaps he was scared or wanted to curry favor with the teachers. Either way, it had put Axka in a tough spot. They were making their way to the class, continuing to the next lesson.

***

The shrill clang of the final bell sliced through the stifling silence of the hallway, a discordant yet welcome sound. To Axka, it was like a breath of fresh air, a sweet release from the suffocating weight of the day.

He exhaled a long breath, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Fucking finally,” he muttered under his breath, his words filled with palpable relief. The weight of the exhausting day began to lift off his shoulders, replaced by a new urgency.

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He needed to check on his brother, make sure everything was okay. And after that? Maybe, just maybe, he could steal a few precious moments of sleep—something he hadn’t had in what felt like forever.

Just as he and Takoda were heading for the door, a breathless classmate, Calvin, burst in. “Wow, did you just fuck someone, Calv?” Axka blurted out.

Calvin, panting and wide-eyed, barely seemed to hear Axka's crude remark. “Guys, listen up!” he gasped, trying to catch his breath. “Ms. Lyra just threw in an extra class—completely unscheduled. We’re stuck here for another hour!”

Instantly, the room exploded into a chorus of groans and frustrated mutterings. Calvin raised his hands defensively, his expression a mix of sympathy and resignation. “Look, don’t shoot the messenger, okay? I’m as bummed as you are,” he added with a helpless shrug.

Axka turned to Takoda, who raised his eyebrows in a silent question. In that moment, the classroom felt like a cage. “Another hour in this place? Seriously?” Takoda joked, but there was an undercurrent of frustration in his voice. Axka shook his head, feeling the same weight.

To them, school was more than just a building; it was a trap, a place that wanted to shape them into something they weren’t sure they wanted to be.

At that moment, Aime and Smitty from the other class appeared, grinning mischievously.

“Anyone want a shortcut out of here?” Aime called from the door, giving them the signal. A sly smile played on Axka’s lips as he joined in their usual cunning escape.

Axka didn’t hesitate. He tightened the strap of his bag until it clung tightly to his back, ensuring it wouldn’t disturb his movements. The feeling of the familiar adrenaline’s rush surged through his veins. Takoda was already moving. A quick glance, a shared nod, and they were off—bolting through the doorway. Aime and Smitty followed closely behind, their footsteps echoing off the walls of the narrow hallway.

Down the hallway. Up the stairs. Feet pounding. Hearts racing. Breath ragged, each step a calculated move. As they sprinted through, each of them dodged a janitor’s bucket, laughter bubbling up. The school, with its maze-like hallways and towering fences, felt both like a prison and a playground—a place where rules were broken.

The stairs down to the hill loomed ahead, its incline sharp and unforgiving, like a challenge waiting to be conquered. But they didn’t slow down; their legs pumped harder, feet pounding against the concrete, each step sending a shockwave up their spines. The air was cold and biting against their flushed cheeks. As they reached the stairs, they leaped, clearing the last three steps with a burst of reckless energy.

The field beyond blurred into a patchwork of green and brown, their vision sharpened. Every sound—the rustle of grass underfoot, the ragged breaths of their friends behind them—was amplified, adding to the exhilarating chaos of their escape.

The iron fences and brick walls loomed ahead, tall and imposing but to The Slingers, it was just another challenge in their parkour playground. Without a word, they broke into a sprint, their movements perfectly synchronized from countless escapes.

Axka sprinted ahead, every muscle primed for action. As the obstacle loomed closer, his eyes locked onto the narrow edge of the brick wall beneath the iron bars. Without hesitation, he planted his foot on the slight ledge, shifting his weight for balance. His other foot found a grip on the side of the brick wall, his body leaning into the movement as his hand latched onto the top of the iron fence.

With an effortless fluidity, he launched himself into the air. His body twisted mid-leap, an acrobatic display of precision and grace, as he cleared the fence in a single, smooth motion. For a brief moment, he hung suspended in the air, twisting like a blade cutting through wind. His feet found solid ground on the other side, his landing silent and controlled. His face remained calm, as if this daring display of parkour was second nature.

Behind him, the rest of The Slingers executed their own unique parkour styles. Each member’s move was distinctive yet perfectly synchronized with Axka’s. They had done it again.

After their daring escape, they sprinted through the narrow alleyways, hearts pounding and breaths coming in ragged gasps. The maze of backstreets provided cover, their familiarity with the paths evident as they navigated every twist and turn. They didn’t stop until they were sure they were well clear of the school grounds, the distant sounds of the bustling city swallowing their hurried footsteps.

Finally, they slowed their pace, their laughter echoing off the brick walls. As they emerged onto a quieter street, the familiar sight of ‘The Pop Shop’ greeted them—a weathered old kiosk whose peeling paint whispered tales of long summers past, while the faint smell of freshly scooped ice cream mixed with the earthy scent of nearby trees.

Axka lingered outside, leaning against the streetlamp, watching as his friends excitedly shuffled through the narrow doorway, their laughter mingling with the soft chime of the doorbell. Takoda approached with an extra ice cream.

“Here, this is for you,” Takoda said, about to hand it over.

Axka initially refused, “Nah, go on. Give it to these two if you want,” he said, pointing to Aime and Smitty.

Takoda insisted, “Come on, just take it, or I’ll tuck it inside your shirt,” chuckling as he spoke. Reluctantly, Axka accepted the ice cream, thinking it might be better to give it to his brother.

“Well, we’re going to play D.T. 2 at GenJaw,” Aime informed him, their usual of spending times by playing video games in internet cafe.

Axka turned to his friends, his earlier bravado fading into something more solemn. The weight of his responsibilities pressed down on him like a physical force, a stark reminder of the line he constantly walked between chaos and duty.

“I’ve got something to take care of. Have fun, guys.” he muttered softer, lacking its usual edge.

Takoda caught the change in his tone and nodded, understanding without needing to ask. The others, caught up in their carefree chatter, didn’t notice, their laughter a distant echo in Axka’s mind as he turned away, his thoughts already drifting back to his brother and the promises he had made.

As they began to part ways, Axka lingered for a moment, his eyes following his friends as they disappeared down the street, their laughter a fading echo in the city's mid-afternoon hum. He stood there, the adrenaline from their escape still buzzing through his veins, but a growing heaviness in his chest reminded him that this fleeting thrill would soon be replaced by his reality.

The street felt like a thin line separating two worlds—the chaos he was so accustomed to and the quiet responsibility he tried so hard to shoulder. He took a deep breath, allowing the tension in his muscles to release, feeling the weight of the day's events settle like a stone in his gut.

Axka made his way home, where the high sun was behind a fluffy cloud. Axka pushed open the door to their small, humble home, expecting the usual silence. Instead, the warm scent of fresh ingredients hit his senses.

“I’m home, Mika,” he called out, his voice filling the quiet space.

His eyes landed on the table where ingredients were neatly laid out—a sight that seemed too organized to be his doing. His eyes shifted to Mika, who sitting by the table hands hovering awkwardly over the items, his pale face betraying his fatigue. When Mika noticed Axka’s look, he gave a sheepish smile.

“I got a bit bored, so I thought I'd help out,” Mika said lightly, but the exhaustion in his voice was unmistakable.

Axka’s chest tightened, his breath catching, a mix of emotions churned within him—guilt, frustration, and a deep sense of responsibility as it always did when he saw Mika trying too hard.

He had always let his temper get the best of him before, but he tried to change. Seeing Mika’s pale face, Axka felt a heavy weight settle in his chest.

Axka clenched his fists briefly, then forced his fingers to relax. He needed to stay calm, not wanting to let his anger take over again. “Mika, you shouldn’t be pushing yourself like this.” Axka said, stepping forward to steady the ingredients Mika was fumbling with. His voice was even but inside, the conflict raged.

He wanted to be a better brother, to learn from his mistakes and protect Mika, not just from the world, but from the recklessness that lived inside him and every moment of defiance was a reminder of how far he had to go, of the promise he had made and the fear of failing to keep it.

Mika shrugged, a small smirk playing on his lips. “I’m grown now, but okay then.” His tone was teasing, shoulders relaxed but Axka could see the strain behind it.

Axka smiled, though it felt strained. “Thanks for the effort, though. I really appreciate it.”

Mika’s mood seemed to lift a little, and his eyes brightened when Axka reached into his bag. “Takoda bought this for you,” Axka said, handing over an ice cream.

“Thanks!” Mika’s smile widened, the simple pleasure of the treat easing some of his tiredness. He unwrapped the ice cream eagerly, and for a moment, the atmosphere lightened.

Axka moved toward the stove, starting to prepare the meal. The sound of pans clattering, and the soft sizzle of oil filled the room, creating a sense of normalcy that brought a small sense of relief. This was their sanctuary, far removed from the chaos that often consumed Axka’s life. Here, in the warmth of their kitchen, things felt manageable.

After they finished eating, Axka washed the dishes while Mika headed towards the bedroom. “I’m going inside to study for a bit,” Mika said, his voice softer now, the weariness clear.

Axka paused, glanced at the folded wheelchair propped neatly against the wall. He frowned slightly, a sudden thought pulling him from the comfortable kitchen's warmth back into the cold reality of their lives.

I need to return this wheelchair, or else I’m gonna be fined by the hospital. The thought caught in his throat as he glanced at Mika, who was tidying up with a quiet concentration.

“Mika, I’m going to return this wheelchair and stop by Pecht Gruppe to get some ingredients,” he added, his voice softer now, filled with unspoken understanding. He paused, then added, “I won’t be long.”

Mika looked over from the doorway, giving a tired but understanding nod. “Okay. Be careful on your way, Axka.”

As Axka stepped outside, pushing the folded wheelchair, the wheels squeaked softly against the ground. The sun had dipped behind a cloud, casting long shadows across the quiet street.

He glanced back at their home, a fleeting thought crossing his mind: I need to work harder

He took a deep breath, the weight of his dual life pressing down on him. The world outside was a storm he couldn’t escape, but at least here, in moments like these, he could keep Mika safe.

At least for now.