Just outside their house, Gadeon stands squared off against his father. The laid-back expression his father usually wears is nowhere to be seen. Instead, his face is extremely serious — so much so that Gadeon struggles to maintain eye contact.
Shit. This is the only time he ever looks like that. It's not me that's intimidated — it's this ten-year-old body I'm hosting.
"So far, it seems your Ma-qi lungs haven't developed yet, since you still can't use Flexing," his father says from a distance.
"Well, maybe due to sharing the same DNA as the man who has no Chi- Lungs at all, there's a fat chance I won't be able to use Flexing myself."
"Don't say that, kiddo—"
"Don't call me that!" Gadeon snaps back.
"Anyway, you're right — I'm not able to use Flexing. However, your mother is a powerful Flexor."
"Yes, I know. You don't need to remind me. Aren't you embarrassed that your own wife is stronger than you?"
"Are you not embarrassed that you've never beaten me in training?" his father says with a smirk.
"You prick!"
Triggered by his father's words, Gadeon charges in impulsively.
"I'll be your teacher as well as your opponent," his father says as he settles into a fighting stance.
"Shut up!" Gadeon screams as he throws a furious punch. It looks ferocious but wild, making it easy for his father to grab his wrist mid-way and transition smoothly into a circular throw — all in one motion.
"You're too emotional. You've got to stop letting my teasing get to you," his father says.
Still airborne from the throw, Gadeon manages to catch his balance and land on his feet — barely. His father is already moving, appearing right behind him almost instantly.
"I told you never to show your back to your opponent."
"Nope. It was to lure you in," Gadeon replies as he whips out a cutting elbow strike.
His father is already standing directly in front of him, as if he teleports.
"Okay. So what do you do if your opponent overcomes that?" his father asks.
The sudden proximity spooks Gadeon, forcing him to step back, almost losing his balance.
"Be ready," his father says. "Because today might be the day you stimulate your Chi-Lungs to wake up."
"Shouldn't you be worried about your own lungs?" Gadeon scoffs.
"Nah. It's impossible for me. But like I said earlier, your mother can Flex — so there's a chance you can too. Oh. Here comes your mother now."
Gadeon's mother enters, carrying a wooden chair, which she places down to sit and spectate.
"Hey, honey, why don't you be his coach and give him a few pointers, since I can't Flex myself?"
"No problem, sweetie."
"Yuck. I hate it when they talk like that," Gadeon cringes.
"Okay, Giddie," his mother says. "I've explained this to you many times, so you're going to coach yourself, you hear me?"
"So what's the point of you being a coa—"
"I said, you hear me!" she snaps sternly.
Gadeon immediately complies. "Yes, ma'am."
"What do we use to Flex with?" his mother asks.
"Ma-qi," he answers.
All of a sudden, his father charges towards him.
"What?! But she's—"
"Learn to multitask. It's something you'll do a lot while Flexing," his father says.
"Where does Ma-qi come from?"
"What?! Is that necessary right now?! Just tell me how to use the damn Flexing!" Gadeon panics as his father clashes with him again. He tries to block the attacks, but a few land cleanly, sending him rolling across the ground.
"Don't tell me the history — just where it directly comes from!"
Before he can answer properly, his father charges again with a piercing flying kick. Gadeon barely dodges it.
"It comes from our lungs!" he shouts, gasping for breath.
"What lungs? Our lungs only inhale and exhale air, right? How can Ma-qi come from our lungs?"
"Focus!" his father yells as he charges once more.
"You damn woman! You said not to explain the history!"
"Not woman! I'm your mother — and answer the question! Don't go into detail!"
"Argh!"
Gadeon stresses out as his father shifts into a stance, unleashing a flurry of rapid punches. Suddenly, sand and dust burst from Gadeon's palms, blinding his father.
"You little brat!" his father shouts. "He must've grabbed the sand while he was rolling on the ground"
"Our lungs have two layers," Gadeon blurts out. "One for air, and the other produces and transmutes Ma-qi as we breathe in and out. That's how we manipulate Ma-qi — magical life-force particles stored in our lungs. Every individual is born with it. Through it, we can summon innate elements and manipulate them through the motion of our bodies."
"Okay. Now do it!" his mother commands.
"What the hell?! What sort of advice is that?! You just made me repeat things I already know, and
"Stop complaining and just do it!" His father lunges forward with a knee strike, which bulldozes into Gadeon's stomach. A gush of saliva pours from his mouth as he's sent flying backwards.
"Okay, that ends training. Honestly, you've done better. One of your worse training sessions, I guess."
"Honey? A bit too harsh," his mother says.
"What? I know my son, and he can definitely perform way better than today."
"You're seriously pissing me off, old man," Gadeon says sternly.
"You're pissed off? Don't worry — there's always next training to improve—"
"Improve? What about yourself?"
"Sorry?" His father is caught off guard by the question.
"You're getting a boner because you beat a ten-year-old kid?"
"Language!" his mother slams her foot.
However, Gadeon continues.
"Pfft. Without context, if someone saw us, they'd think you're strong — but really and truly, you've never won a fight before. I don't know how the hell you're one of the senior teachers in the dojo. Like the rumours say — you might've bribed them, didn't you? There's no way they'd accept your sorry ass! You can't Flex at all — it's hilarious!
"Heh… ouch. That stings," his father says, rubbing the back of his head while plastering on a smile.
"But am I lying, though?! We don't make enough money… which is strange, because someone in your role should be earning quite enough…"
"Giddie!" his mother says, trying to shut him up. However, he continues.
"It's true, though. I don't know why you married this clown — a man who boasts about a silly win! And now he's being discriminated against with his pay, and not doing anything about it."
"Don't say things you don't know," his mother adds again, growing even angrier.
"I'd love to see you fight a man your own age. Let's see you go up against someone who can really Flex. They'd probably teach you — or maybe they could teach me. Teach your own son something you can't."
"Okay. You're taking it a bit too far," his father says, still smiling, though his eyes narrow slightly.
"I'm taking it far? You're a man who lets his woman do all the work while you stay at home and do fuck all! Not only can she Flex, but she's the breadwinner of the house — it's like I've got two mothers!"
FWWOOOOSH!
A sudden eruption bursts like a volcano, shooting skyward and splitting the air. The temperature around them spikes violently, so hot that the house nearby catches a lick of flame. Even Gadeon and his father feel heat singe their clothes, both of them frantically patting at the fire to put it out.
"You ungrateful child! Apologise to your father!" His mother's face is deadly serious.
"She's going to kill me…" Gadeon mutters without realising it. His body trembles. His breathing turns shaky as the world begins to warp and blur.
Jason went quiet for a moment as his breathing grew unsteady. He inhaled, then exhaled — both shaky.
"Yo, Jason!"
Jason snapped back to awareness as the jewellery-covered man called out to him.
"What happened? You just spaced out," the man asked.
"I'm good," Jason replied quickly. "But anyway, teachers don't earn a lot in this country — so how are you providing for your children financially?" he asked the cowboy-hat man.
"You're right. Financially, I wouldn't say I'm struggling, but it isn't exactly easy. That's where my wife helps a lot. She works as a lawyer, so she earns more than I do."
The young men in the crowd gasped in shock. Jason's expression darkened with visible discomfort.
"Yes, she earns more. But I love what I do, and she does too. When it comes to rent and bills, we split everything down the middle — it makes life much easier."
"So in a way, you aren't the provider or the breadwinner? Sounds more like housemates… co-parenting," Jason said.
"You can say what you want, but we're happy. And it works."
"If that were me, I'd be the one paying the rent and all the bills. My wife wouldn't spend a dime!"
"That's good. And honestly, I strongly recommend that if you're earning a high-paying job. I love my wife so much that if I earn as much money as you do, I wouldn't let her pay a dime either."
"But you let her pay."
"Yeah — because my job doesn't allow me to cover everything. That could change one day if I become headmaster of the school."
"As a man, aren't you embarrassed?" Jason exclaimed.
"Embarrassed because I chose common sense over pride? If I tried to be the man you described just to prove I'm a man, I'd have put us in a worse position. My wife didn't mind. In fact, she loved helping me when I was low and struggling," the cowboy-hat man said calmly.
"Let me be real with you," Jason said coldly. "She won't say it, so I will. Your wife probably thinks you're weak."
"And if my wife were here for you to say that, she'd beat your ass," the cowboy-hat man replied.
A few sniggers rippled through the crowd. Jason clenched his fists, irritation flashing across his face.
"Oh really?" Jason shot back. "Don't tell me you need your wife to fight your battles too. I can see you carrying a gun — for what? Maybe you're right, like what you said earlier."
"What I said earlier?" the cowboy-hat man asked.
"Yeah — about not judging a book by its cover. Normally, someone would be scared seeing a man with a gun. But with you? I felt nothing."
"Pfft. What the hell are you talking about? This is America. With the increase in school shootings, teachers are trained to use guns. I have a license. And if I was a bad person, I could shoot you — but I'm not. However…"
"However?" Jason repeated.
"If you attack me first, by law I could retaliate by using my gun — but guess what?"
"What? You'd shoot me then?"
"Nope. I still wouldn't shoot you. I wouldn't need to."
"Wouldn't need to?" Jason repeated. Offence built inside him as more veins appeared across his face. "What do you mean you wouldn't need to?! You don't see me as a threat!"
Jason's voice grew louder, startling the crowd.
"And that's what I'm trying to say, young men. This right here is what you call self-control. A lion wouldn't fight a rabbit — and think to yourself, why?"
"You're calling me a rabbit now?! You think I'm not a threat?! I can fucking kill you if I want! Don't piss me off!"
"And this is the man you want to become like, guys?" the cowboy-hat man said, completely ignoring Jason's threat as he addressed the crowd instead. "Someone who loses his cool so easily — but covers it up with an expensive suit and a bulky body?"
Jason grabbed the cowboy-hat man by the shirt.
"DON'T YOU DARE LOOK AWAY FROM ME!"
"You see?" the cowboy-hat man continued calmly. "No self-control. You're like a ten-year-old kid with anger-management issues."
Jason ground his teeth, saliva foaming at the corners of his mouth as he glared at the man like a rabid animal.
"Do you know why I said that if my wife were here, she'd beat your ass?"
Jason didn't respond. Bloodlust poured from him unchecked.
"A woman will go crazy if anyone messes with the man she loves. Trust me."
…
Gadeon opens his eyes, shocked that he's still alive.
"In this life — and my last life — women are crazy," he mutters.
A blazing trail of fire surrounds him. The ground beneath his feet is completely destroyed, as if a meteorite has crashed down from the sky.