“Make sure to take it easy today! You’ve got minor injuries, but after a few days you should be back to normal!”

  The loud voice echoes from inside as Gadeon exits the infirmary, closing the door behind him.

  The morning has barely started, yet it already feels like the day is about to end, Gadeon thinks as he yawns.

  He walks down the hallway toward his morning lesson, hands shoved into his pockets, a moody expression fixed on his face.

  I’m the one who got attacked, yet I still end up getting a detention like the rest of them. How stupid is that? You really think I’m indulging in childish gang beef? Back in past life, gangsters and street thugs either ended up in jail or prison. You think I’m a fool?

  These stupid kids think dumb shit like this is cool. All I care about is making money and being successful.

  The only reason I got dragged into this nonsense was because one day, on my way home, I decided to explore this bizarre underwater city. I kept wandering around until one day Gage and his goons approached me.

  I’d rather die than let a bunch of kids step up to me like that claiming I’m on their turf — or sea, or whatever you call it down here — that they don’t even own.

  So I slapped him.

  I’ll admit it — I didn’t run. I evaded them. And since then, they’ve had a problem with me.

  Sometimes it turned into fights at school, and Gaedric would always try to scold me, telling me to be nice and keep the peace. Then one day, a kid from our dojo noticed I had issues with Gage and introduced me to Glace.

  Glace lived in a neighbourhood with others who couldn’t use their Chi-Lungs. He asked me to join their gang, promised protection.

  I laughed and walked away. What a waste of time.

  …However.

  He did mention money.

  That part caught my attention.

  But how does a kid my age know anything about making money? It’s obviously illegal. Especially when the legal working age here is sixteen.

  I followed the laws in my old world… Sometimes.

  But in this world?

  I’m not so sure.

  As long as it’s nothing to do with drugs or messed-up shit, I should be fine. If I can make money and save enough, I can look into property here. Buy a place. Move out.

  Staying under another man’s roof — one that isn’t mine — makes me feel sick.

  BUMP!

  Snapped out of his thoughts, Gadeon realises his body had been moving on autopilot through the hallway. He’d walked straight into someone.

  Annoyance flares.

  “Watch where you—”

  He stops.

  Standing before him is a plant-man.

  Like other plant-humanoids, he walks on two legs, his body unmistakably botanical. Yet this one carries more human features than most. His appearance is delicate — blurring easy assumptions. Long lashes frame calm, shadowed eyes, and at a glance, he could easily be mistaken for a girl. Narrow shoulders, a softly curved frame, a presence that carries a quiet grace — more traditionally feminine than masculine.

  His hair resembles layered petals rather than strands, drifting gently as if stirred by an unseen current. Long, pointed ears extend outward like leaves, and his skin bears the muted, organic tones of living plant matter.

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  “Ami, are you okay?”

  Ami is the name of the individual Gadeon bumped into. He’s surrounded by girls of the same race — plant-humanoids — though they appear more overtly botanical than him. Their bodies are richer in vines and petals, their voices carrying a soft, sweet fragrance as they fuss over him.

  Realising who he’s bumped into, Gadeon’s face twists into the expression of someone who’s just tasted something utterly grotesque. Nausea flashes across his features as he hastily brushes off the spot where he made contact with Ami.

  Ami notices.

  “Huh?” Ami murmurs, making eye contact with Gadeon — only to be met with a look so sharp and wrong it feels like an accusation, as if he’s being stared at for something inappropriate.

  “Do you have a problem with me?” Ami snaps, his face tightening with annoyance.

  Gadeon doesn’t answer. He simply turns and walks away.

  We don’t even know each other… yet he always looks at me like that.

  Ami glares at Gadeon’s back as he leaves.

  “Ami, just leave him,” one of the girls says gently, trying to calm him.

  She’s right, Ami thinks. I shouldn’t let someone like him affect my mood.

  He clicks his tongue in irritation, then exhales and continues walking with his friends.

  “Did you just tut at me?”

  Gadeon stops.

  He turns slowly, the sense of disrespect hitting him so hard it feels like his head might explode.

  Ami turns as well — intimidated, awkward — but he doesn’t back down.

  “Yes,” he says firmly.

  The girls behind him immediately grab his shoulders, trying to restrain him.

  “You make me sick,” Gadeon says coldly. Can’t even bring himself to maintain eye contact anymore.

  That only makes it worse.

  Ami pulls free from his friends and strides toward him, anger burning through his earlier hesitation.

  “No need to get so emotional,” Gadeon continues, voice dripping with contempt.

  “You look like a girl — and if you act like one, I honestly can’t tell what gender you are.”

  Ami stops inches from Gadeon’s face.

  Gadeon sucks in a sharp breath and leans back slightly, deeply uncomfortable — his personal space completely invaded.

  “Ami! Stop! Don’t let him provoke you!” one of Ami’s friends calls out from behind, trying to talk sense into him.

  But Ami’s head is already gone.

  “What have I ever done to you?!” Ami demands.

  “Back away. Now,” Gadeon responds, pinching his nose mockingly as if something smells foul.

  That does it. Ami grabs Gadeon by the front of his robe.

  Gadeon’s eyes immediately lock onto the hand gripping his clothing.

  “Let go,” he mutters.

  “I’ve never done anything to you! I don’t even know you! You don’t know me — yet you look at me like I’ve done something wrong!”

  “I said get off me,” Gadeon repeats, his voice low — firmer now.

  “No!” Ami snaps. “And now you’re insulting me for who I am?! I’m a guy just like you! I might be different, but what makes you a boy and me not?! What gives you the right to judge me as anything else?!”

  THUMP!

  “AMI?!” one of his friends screams.

  Gadeon shoves him back violently.

  Ami goes flying — crashing straight into the arms of his friends, who barely manage to catch him.

  What force…? He didn’t even use Flexing. How did he send him back like that? The girls stare at Gadeon in shock.

  “DON’T EVER COMPARE YOURSELF TO ME!” Gadeon roars, his voice echoing through the hall.

  Students stop. Heads turn. A crowd begins to form.

  “I’m a man — not a boy to begin with!” he continues.

  “And don’t ever talk like you and I are the same! You think a man would wear pink or flowers like you?!”

  He points at Ami’s gi.

  “Are you not ashamed? Embroidering flower patterns into your uniform — that’s what girls do!”

  “What?!” one of Ami’s friends snaps back.

  “How does liking flowers make someone not a boy?!”

  “Shut up, girl,” Gadeon fires back.

  “Girl?!” she repeats, stunned. Who the hell does he think he is?! Aren’t we the same age?!

  “I don’t want to see those flowers on your gi again,” Gadeon says coldly as he turns away.

  “Next time, I’ll burn it.”

  The mention of the flowers triggers something deep inside Ami.

  A memory surfaces — an older woman’s silhouette, hands steady as she carefully embroiders a flower onto his gi. Ami is much younger then, standing still, overwhelmed, tears welling in his eyes as he watches her work.

  The memory snaps apart.

  Back in the present, Ami — who had been leaning against his friends — slowly straightens himself. His shoulders tense before he forces them still. A smile pulls at his lips, stiff and unnatural, like something practised rather than felt. It felt more like a shield than confidence.

  Sweat gathers along his forehead, his breathing slightly uneven. His expression tightens, not with anger, but with strain — as if every instinct in his body is telling him not to do this, yet he pushes forward anyway.

  He glances around, aware of the crowd, the watching eyes, the quiet pressure closing in — and steels himself.

  A crowd has formed.

  Whispers.

  Murmurs.

  Eyes fixed on him.

  “Your dad’s a teacher at this school,” Ami says suddenly.

  “One who can’t use Chi-Lungs… right?”

  Gadeon freezes.

  “Huh?” he responds, caught off guard.

  “Maybe you should spend more time with him,” Ami continues, his smile sharpening,

  “teach him how to be a man instead of coming at me.”

  He steps forward slightly.

  “Or…”

  “Do you want me to teach the both of you how to stimulate your Chi-Lungs?”