"You failed your exams?!" A grown man yelled, his voice like thunder as he stared down at teenage Silas.
"Hu-huh? I-I didn't fail… father, wha-what are you talking about?" teenage Silas stuttered. He was covered in sweat, holding a test paper like a shield, hoping for some form of protection as he trembled.
"All the revisions we went through together, the times I taught you, helped you practise—and this is how you repay me?!" his father screamed, his voice strained as he stretched the collar of his shirt.
"Bu-but father, I only got three questions wrong—"
"SHUT UP!"
A monstrous punch ripped through Silas's test paper as it slammed into his gut, forcing a burst of saliva from his mouth and nose.
Young Silas broke into tears, gasping for air as he dropped to the floor, grunting in pain. As he looked up, he saw his mother in the corner, her expression filled with worry—but she was too afraid to step in.
"Mummy…" Silas uttered, gasping as he cried out for her.
His mother's eyes welled up as she tried to run to him.
"What's Mummy going to do?!" his father snapped. He then turned to his wife, his expression twisted with frustration.
"Honey, I've tried and tried and tried! But he always fails us! He's so stupid! I don't understand! A couple days ago, when I went through mock tests with him, he got everything correct—so how does he come back with questions wrong?!"
Bu-but, I got the highest in my class… Silas said in his mind, too scared to say it out loud.
"I'm so tired… I try and I try, but it doesn't work. Honey, what should I do?!" his father said, stress pouring out of him as he looked at his wife.
She saw the exhaustion on his face, and the worry she once had for her son quickly faded as she focused on her husband.
"SILAS! WHY DO YOU STRESS OUT YOUR FATHER SO MUCH?!"
In that moment… Silas was reminded that it was 2 v 1 against him. He told himself that his parents weren't crazy, and that if they were upset or angry, it meant he was in the wrong or had probably done something wrong. He believed that his parents—especially his father—knew everything, so everything he was saying had to be right.
Born into a household where his father's word was law—he was always right, and Silas was always wrong—that was what it meant to have a father… to just obey and listen, or be the bad child.
In that moment, Silas felt like he had done something wrong. Guilt stirred in his heart as he apologised.
"I'm soo sorry father! Next time I'll do better," Silas said as he cried out loud.
"You say this all the time?! When are you ever going to change?!" his father shouted back.
However, Silas—pleading through tears, believing he had upset his parents—continued to bow while holding his aching stomach, apologising over and over again.
Silas grew up in an extremely strict environment. He wasn't allowed to chill with friends after school, as his parents thought it was too dangerous. He wasn't allowed sugary or sweet things, as his parents believed it was bad for his health and he could get sick. When there were events like dojo trips to the surface, Silas wouldn't be allowed to go unless his father accompanied him, as he didn't trust leaving his son unsupervised. During those moments, his classmates would make fun of him, calling him a "daddy's boy" and bullying him, which made Silas extremely uncomfortable and awkward.
Silas wasn't allowed to do anything unless his father gave him the green light. And if he made a mistake, he got punished. His punishment was severe beatings. Each time, his father would guilt-trip him into believing he was in the wrong—and Silas believed it. Coming home late from school meant a beating. Correcting his father—even harmlessly—meant a beating. Being asked a question and giving an answer his father didn't like meant a beating.
Living like this, Silas subconsciously learned a "cheat code" on how to please his parents. He learned what to say, what not to say, and how to act—choosing his words and actions carefully to increase his chances of avoiding punishment. Over time, Silas programmed himself to minimise the chances of being beaten while still making his parents proud. And when his father was proud, he showed it—but it never moved Silas's heart. Instead, it grew bitterness and anger within him.
By Year 11, Silas felt like his childhood was being taken from him. He saw his friends having fun, talking about romance, their favourite foods, snacks—and the feeling of missing out continued to grow, turning into resentment toward his parents, whom he blamed for it.
But still… Silas told himself he didn't want to be a bad child. He didn't want to disobey his parents. He didn't want to cause his father stress.
Until one day… he met Rickardo—a non-flexor.
He was a transfer student from the Deep Current Dojo, now moved to the Blue Current Dojo. He got transferred due to health and safety concerns—because of enemies he had made in his previous dojo, to the point where he was receiving death threats. His dojo decided it was best to transfer him.
Silas's first encounter with Rickardo happened after the dojo, when classes had finished. While other classmates made their way home—or headed into the city to chill, eat, and vibe—Silas's father waited outside the dojo, as always. It caught everyone's attention, and the muttering around him, though something he was used to, still made him feel awkward.
"His dad still picks him up?"
"Wow, very embarrassing."
"He's been doing this since Year 6… is he scared to go home by himself?"
"Haha! I won't be surprised if his dad does this till he gets married. But even then, he might do it with his wife."
The gossip and slander grew louder, as laughter spread among them.
But this wasn't Silas's first time experiencing it. He looked at his father, who could also hear the chatter.
"Don't mind them, son. If their parents really loved them, they would find the time and effort to pick up their child. It just goes to show how much they're loved."
Hearing this, Silas formed an irked expression—but quickly hid it.
"Yes, Father."
Rickardo, wearing a mask, noticed that brief expression. He approached Silas, who stood right in front of his dad.
"You do know you can stand up for yourself, right?" Rickardo blurted calmly.
Silas felt confused by what he was hearing, and panic immediately set in. He quickly turned to look at his father, bracing for what would happen next. His father raised an eyebrow.
"Stand up for himself? Is my son getting bullied?" his father asked.
"No-no, father! He's just joking!" Silas said, panicking.
"I was about to say—anytime I ask my son about bullying, he says he doesn't get bullied. And I know for a fact my own son wouldn't lie to me."
Rickardo stood there, staring at Silas. He saw the fear in him—the way his eyes subtly shifted, silently begging him to say nothing and leave him alone.
But Rickardo still opened his mouth.
"Have you ever told your dad to shut up?"