Shoba POV

"Uh-huh, but...Gulp...what's it to you? And if you must know, my omission from that poxy test is down to my lack of interest in schools such as those," He sang with an air of arrogance. He already smelled Ringo's plan of attack and decided to meet her halfway before the invasion of his peace began.

He continued before she could snap. "I'd rather not waste my time with those snobbish places. Besides, when was the last time a true elite had ever walked through those halls."

A downpour of anger filled her chest, and Ringo's nostrils flared up. Shoba carefully examined her entire face, which was almost steaming red.

'Uh-oh'

The entire table almost topped beneath Ringo's ire. Slamming her palms down with her whole weight, she rose and half-bent her lithe body over towards him, and in a flash, he was cowering away, praying for his life she wouldn't lunge over and whack him whilst he was trying to digest his food.

"Waste of time! How can you sit there and say that when countless people would give anything to have the opportunity you have? How many people make it to the last phase out of the 1000 applicants? 17! And here you are pretending as if it's not one of the most critical choices of your damned lazy life."

"Ringo! Your language," Their Mom quipped furiously. Ringo's cheeks immediately turned red. She covered her little mouth with her dainty hands, realizing her tongue was too sharp in front of her parents. As for their Dad, he decided not to get involved and placed himself outside of this argument.

A deep sigh escaped Ringo's mouth, realizing this was how her brother always was; her cold, indifferent gaze slowly returned.

"All I'm saying is it's not so bad to have a little drive in life."

"Hey, now that's not completely true. I do have goals and aspirations. For example, getting you angry all the time has become number one on the list of things I take great pride in recently."

"You…"Ringo growled at him, her cold glare deepening further. Shoba thought she might have lunged at him with claws and teeth bared if their parents were not present. Seizing the opportunity to exploit her restraint due to their parents' presence, he indulged in the rare sense of security their company provided. After pushing Ringo to the brink of frustration, he saw his Dad setting down his paper and clearing his throat purposefully loud.

"Shoba, your sister is right. You need ambition," His Father announced. Shoba glared at the calm man dismayingly, almost like he was staring at a traitor.

"Your nonchalant outlook on life touches me. I've always encouraged you to find your path. Your mother and I love you for who you are. But there comes a time when enough is enough.

You'll have your own home, perhaps a wife and children. And you must understand the importance of building and nurturing life," His Dad continued, propping his chin a little higher to impress his wife beside him.

Shoba couldn't help but lower his gaze. He wasn't lazy; academically and in sports, he excelled in everything. He regularly aced all the tests he took as a junior and even now.

Moreover, he was proficient in more than ten instruments and fluent in 6 languages, including his native tongues of many other old languages, especially the dual languages he inherited from his parents.

The term 'prodigy' was often thrown around loosely, but in Shoba's case, the academics he attended had rightfully bestowed it upon him from an earlier age.

The issue was that much to everyone else's dismay, he had little regard for his innate talents.

His father still reminded him of how a very childish version of himself, when offered a chance to attend one of the most prestigious private schools in the entire country, had emphatically declined, expressing more interest in extreme sports or, failing that, becoming a farmer.

To focus his energies, his parents enrolled the hyperactive youth into learning judo, Boxing, Brazilian jiu-jitsu, rock climbing, and gymnastics once he was old enough.

While Shoba took great pride in learning these skills, they still couldn't sway his mind.

The whims of a 10-year-old are often not too taken seriously, yet, as Shoba had declared in his childhood, the way he wanted to live his life was precisely the path he chose.

He spent his summers helping a distant relative on a farm in the plains, far from the city hustle. His leisure time was devoted to scaling heights with his gymnast friends in the adrenaline-fueled art of parkour. Now turning 17 this fall, even Shoba was finding it increasingly difficult to cling to his dreams of freedom. Under the intense scrutiny of his family, he felt like the loneliest boy in the world.

'If only they could see things from my perspective,' he thought to himself, wondering if there was a world where he could live as he pleased, free of all the world's troubles and simply at peace.

'But no one understands what it's like not to know where to go. If only they listened to me.'

"As for you, Ringo, your mother and I have explained the importance of communication, especially with your kin," Mr. Thomas said, piercingly at his daughter.

Ringo straightened her back stiffly, feeling sweat trickle down her spine beneath that stare. Everyone knew their Dad was considered a pushover, a laidback nonchalant who spent his days laughing or lounging around reading. This surprised Shoba, who heard countless stories of his Dad's adventurous spirit when he was young. He always wondered what might've happened to change his behaviour so drastically.

"Hmph. I hope you both take my words seriously and do not forget everything we discussed. It's OK to be zealous about improvement, but remember that arrogance deviates from humility and, in turn, makes you pretentious.

Never forget that... both of you."

Shoba saw his Mom nodding in agreement; for her part, she was relieved that the argument had subsided and there would be peace, if only for a moment.

"Hahaha, good, good. Now then, back to my paper," His Dad concluded, returning to his reading with a sense of satisfaction.

The late evening arrived, and both his parents had long since left the dining table, settling into their chilled world children in the next room away from the bickering of their two children. Mr Thomas, who usually occupied the cosy recliner, was beside his wife tonight. Shoba could hear them through the thin walls, engrossed in a light hearted debate, they were only vaguely aware of the local news blaring in the background.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Meanwhile, Shoba and Ringo were busy with their clean-up duty. Since they had started, an uncomfortable silence had hung above them, Making Shoba feel a growing anxiety.

He eventually held enough passive aggressiveness as he could handle for one day. Pausing from drying the washed porcelain plates, he glanced over at his sister, letting out a deep sigh before he parted his mouth aside.

"Ri-ringo, let's settle our difference and call a truce." he declared in a softer voice.

In Shoba's position, it was better for them to be friends than enemies. After a while, all the bickering got tiresome and a little too personal. Gone were the days when Ringo was the cutest baby he had ever seen. He still remembers those nights when she couldn't sleep and would constantly run into his room for comfort or during the days when she followed him around everywhere, asking to be carried.

'Sigh, those were the days.' He reminisced, feeling somewhat guilty for how their relationship had transpired. Shoba did desire to mend their relationship; he just couldn't find the answers to how

Ringo's voice eventually broke the soft thoughts swirling around his mind.

"What's there to set aside?" She replied coldly. "We don't get along; never have, and possibly never will." She declared a matter of factuality. Shoba felt his chest tightening hearing that.

"B-but How can you say something like that? We're family, and families sometimes don't always get along, but that doesn't mean we can't try to improve things."

Of course, he felt a genuine hurt hearing her say those words. He knew things had been tense with them recently, but to Shoba, he expected them both to grow out of this phase. He had heard about other people's relationships with their siblings and how time and age brought them closer.

I mean, who didn't have an annoying little sister?

"Pfft, family, you say. Don't make me laugh. You don't want that almost as much as I don't, "His little sister scoffed, pouring more cold water over his wishes.

"Why wouldn't I?" he asked, his frown becoming more profound as he watched her putting on airs.

Ringo put down the utensils. Her perfectly shaped almond eyes locked onto him with an intensity that conveyed growing fury.

"Don't try to play the perfect brother now! You've always gotten whatever you wanted and never cared for a second about my feelings. How your selfishness has made my life a living hell." Her voice trembled with emotion.

Her words took Shoba aback. He was acutely aware of the pressure he had faced since school, which led his parents to give him more leeway these days, fearful of damaging his mental health as he grew up, but that still didn't stop him from making sure the spotlight was pointed towards his sister rather than him.

Hearing Ringo's harsh accusations left him incensed. Because of her, he chose to forgo pursuing this so-called genius intellect that others had fawned over him. Because of her, he decided to allow his light to dim so that she could have a chance to be brighter than him. Because of her, he's had to endure this constant feeling of self-hopelessness just so that everyone else around him feels fine while his own mental suffers.

His ire boiled to the point he could no longer be playful and remorseful. Rage bubbled in his stomach, and at this moment, Shoba wanted nothing more than to put his spoilt little sister in her place.

"I'm the selfish one?" Shoba retorted ferociously,

"You're the one who can't get over the fact that I'm good at something you're not!

Life isn't a competition, and if you desire so much of what I have, then by all means, take it!

I've tried to let you take centre stage, yet here you are, blaming me for your shortcomings, just like you always do.

Boo-Hoo! Poor Ringo—angry at the world because she can't get what she wants!

Try focusing on being better than me rather than actually being me; maybe you'll have some success of your own!"

A look of fury flashed against Ringo's face.

"Y-you...how dare you!" She was seething. Shoba knew he had gone too far, but right now, he was furious and wanted her to feel what she was making him feel.

"I'm not scared of you! It's about time someone told you some home truths for once." Shoba barked back with venom. He was tired of this nonsense between them both, this childish behavior of hers was beginning to grow old.

"You're the worst brother ever! I wish...I wish I weren't born into this stupid family!

Then I'd never have to see your stupid face again!

All you do is torment my life—I hate-I hate you!"

In a rage, Ringo grabbed the nearest plate and hurled it at Shoba. Fortunately, he had anticipated her move and managed to dodge the flying dish with a side step, repeatedly reminiscing some of the Judo footwork.

SMASH!

"WHAT'S WITH ALL THAT RUCKUS BACK THERE?" His Dad's voice boomed from the other room.

Standing amid the shattered porcelain, Shoba felt a mixture of shock and adrenaline coursing through his veins. His breathing was erratic, and warm beads of sweat dotted against his face because of the fury. After reflecting on what had just transpired, he turned his shaken gaze towards Ringo. Her large hazel and brown eyes were now brimming with tears; her frustration had also simmered to its boiling point.

Shoba uttered a simple sound to console her, but he could only stare helplessly as she stormed down the hall.

With a defeated sigh, he knelt to gather the broken pieces delicately, feeling the one who had been hurt the most during another of their long-standing feuds.

'Sometimes...I feel like I don't understand her at all,'

Grappling with a sense of guilt, he felt his shoulders tremble with both coldness and a sense of isolation running through his body. After placing the last shard into a secured black trash bag, he heard footsteps approaching.

Looking up, he saw his mother standing in the doorway, her arms folded and her expression far from pleased. She had heard everything.

Shoba suddenly felt a deep, non-physical pain gathered in his chest, the kind that couldn't be quickly healed with a band-aid or medication. His mother's disappointment weighed heavily on him just as much as Ringo's hate.

He heard her sigh before her footsteps approached him. Shoba remained on his knees in the middle of the kitchen. Her slender olive hands reached forward and rubbed Shoba's coarse afro hair.

"What were you both fighting about this time then?" She asked him. Shoba could hear the pang of disappointment in her tone.

He remained silent to decide what to say. Should he blame Ringo? After all, she was the one who couldn't let go of this unusual rivalry between them.

Shoba felt deeply frustrated because he wasn't sure what to do anymore. He was called lazy and too aloof when he chose to go against what the adults had expected of him. And if he tried to embrace his so-called genius, his sister was against him.

This whole mess made him feel like the world could not allow him to live freely. After a short while, he lifted his tired gaze and beheld his mom.

"It's nothing I can't handle," Shoba answered weakly, directly avoiding his mother's gaze. He was scared he would start crying if he stared at her for too long.

"Sigh, my brave boy." She said, ruffling his coarse afro hair. "Did you know you got that from me?"

"G-got what?" he sniffled.

"Your strength. Hahaha, but don't tell your Dad that. Now, Listen, you should not always shoulder the world's burdens alone. It's an impossible task and also a selfish one. Because who told you it was your job to do that in the first place...you understand what I'm saying to you, right Shoba?"

Shoba nodded. He had read about something called the God Complex. When you try to shoulder the world's burdens and create this sort of complex, you have to solve things that aren't even in your control. Most antiheroes tended to be born from such a complex.

"And don't think so bad about Ringo...she-she's growing up so quickly these days. And just like you and I, she too wants to be brave and protect the things closest to her. It's one of my greatest wishes that one day, both you and her will be the best of friends. So be patient, okay, try your best and allow her to grow?"

"Yes, Mom...I will try." Shoba wiped away the warm tears from his eyes as he responded.

Ringo was a case study he was still unsure how to solve. Perhaps he needed to steer things in a different direction. Years had accumulated, and their friction only intensified.

'There's still much of life I don't understand.' He told himself, staring in the direction where his sister had stormed down. Her words still lingered in the air. Shoba wondered if their wishes were true and what life might look like if he didn't have his family or Ringo.

He shuddered just at the thought of it.