Black smoke

As time passed, Moto diligently honed his smoke powers, a silent defiance against the world's expectations. He, Sheu, and Sukai found common ground in their shared status as the "weakest" in their elite school. Their bond deepened with every shared laugh, every quiet moment spent avoiding Mukai. But Mukai's simmering anger refused to subside; he remained a coiled spring, constantly seeking an opportunity to "discipline" Moto.

One sweltering Thursday afternoon, the three friends huddled in the scant shade behind their classroom, a temporary refuge. For now, they had successfully evaded conflict, but Moto's frustration was a raw nerve.

"I'm so tired of hiding," Moto muttered, kicking at a loose pebble. "Is this what it takes to survive school?"

"The King is coming home for a family dinner," Sukai interjected, checking the time. "So I must return early."

Sheu's brow furrowed slightly. "Can you ask the King about my father's well-being on his mission?"

Sukai offered a reassuring smile. "I will. Try to stay out of trouble, okay?"

Moto and Sheu continued to train together until sunset, ensuring Mukai would be long gone. They walked home with a newfound spring in their steps, invigorated by their progress. Moto's smoke danced playfully in the air, caught and sculpted by Sheu's unpredictable wind. Sheu focused, trying to guide the thin wisps into the shape of a heart.

"You've almost got it," Moto encouraged.

The amorphous blob of smoke began to take form, but before its completion, a dense, shimmering water bubble materialized from nowhere, violently dissolving the nascent heart.

"Did you think you could run forever?" Mukai's voice dripped with disdain. He emerged from behind a towering tree, arms crossed, a smug smirk twisting his lips.

"Look, we don't want any trouble," Moto began, stepping forward.

"You should have thought of that before you decided to run your mouth," Mukai retorted, his eyes cold.

"What's your problem?" Moto demanded, his patience thinning.

"Weaklings like you shouldn't be in the same class as me," Mukai spat. "You have no respect, and disrespecting me is unforgivable."

Without another word, Mukai unleashed his power. Tendrils of water snaked out, forcing Moto and Sheu into long-distance combat – their inherent weakness. He slammed Moto to the ground with a powerful geyser, then trapped Sheu against a tree with a constricting torrent.

A primal rage ignited within Moto. He'd been looked down on, dismissed, and now Sheu was getting hurt too. As he pushed himself onto his knees, thick, black smoke began to seep from his skin, swirling around him like an enraged entity. The angrier he got, the denser it became, suffocating the air, clinging to the ground until the wind could barely stir it. His gold necklace, usually a dull gleam, glimmered violently for a moment before being swallowed by the impenetrable darkness.

Sheu had never seen Moto like this. Mukai, poised to strike, stepped into the burgeoning black cloud. He hesitated, a flicker of unease in his eyes as he met the raw, unbridled fury contorting Moto's face.

Before his fist could connect, Sukai burst into the clearing, pleading with his brother. "Mukai, stop! Please, this isn't right!"

"Stay out of this, Sukai," Mukai growled, his gaze still fixed on Moto.

"No, I won't," Sukai insisted, tears blurring his eyes. "This has gone too far!"

Eventually, with a disgusted huff, Mukai turned and left them alone, retreating towards home.

Sheu and Sukai immediately moved to calm Moto, whose body still trembled with suppressed rage. Sukai, having missed his family dinner, spent the night tending to their wounds, quietly asking them to forgive his brother.

"I'm really sorry for what Mukai did," Sukai repeated, his voice filled with genuine remorse. "I'll talk to him again. And Sheu, I promise I'll ask the King about your father as soon as I see him."

"Thank you, Sukai," Sheu murmured, exhausted but grateful. "And thank you for stepping in."

"Yeah, thanks," Moto added, forcing a tight smile. "Let's hope things get better from here."

Meanwhile, Najo confided in his grandfather. "I miss my friends," he admitted. "I won't train with Dope tomorrow."

Ginimbi, sensing his grandson's genuine exhaustion, nodded. "You've been working hard, Najo. Take the day and go see your friends."

The following day dawned, and Najo, a rare excitement in his step, went to surprise Moto. Instead, he was met with an unpleasant shock: both his friends were covered in fresh scars and bruises.

"Who did this?!" Najo roared, a lightning spark crackling around his fist. "Was it Mukai?"

Sheu nodded grimly. The single gesture was all Najo needed. He blitzed out of the house, a furious streak of lightning, speeding directly to class. He burst through the classroom door, splintering it with a raw surge of electricity, startling everyone inside.

"Mukai!" Najo thundered, his voice vibrating with barely contained rage. "What did you do?!" Students scrambled, chaos erupting in the once-quiet room.

Mukai, unphased, merely scoffed. "I have nothing to say to you."

Najo lunged, a lightning-charged fist aimed squarely at Mukai's face, but Mr. Jumbo, moving with surprising speed, materialized between them, holding both boys back with effortless strength.

"Calm down, boys," Mr. Jumbo commanded, his voice firm. "This isn't a zoo. Do you wish to have a formal challenge?"

"I'm gonna kick his—" Najo began, still straining against the teacher's grip.

"I accept." Mukai's voice was cold, cutting through Najo's threat.

"Very well then," Mr. Jumbo announced, his gaze sweeping the room. "Meet at the Nyika arena at 2 PM. I'll have it prepared. But until then, you will behave yourselves. Go back to your class, Najo."

Moto and Sheu soon learned of the scheduled battle. Sheu thought it a terrible idea, but Moto's chest swelled with pride. Their friend was truly sticking up for them.

On the other side, Sukai desperately tried to talk Mukai out of the fight. Mukai merely slapped him, his patience worn thin. "Stop telling me what to do!" he snarled. "I see the same weakness in you that I despise about Moto... and our father."

At 1:55 PM, the arena was packed. Students crammed into the terraces, an electric hum filling the air. As far as Moto and Najo were concerned, this battle was about simple revenge. Yet, the palpable tension in the atmosphere hinted at something far grander. The terraces were sharply divided: Lightning students on one half, Water students on the other. These weren't just classmates; these were the two ruling classes of the nation, their rivalry simmering.

Sheu, ever observant, leaned into Moto. "This is a battle between the son of the King and the son of Ginimbi. This fight has political weight to it. Perhaps an intentional decision by Mr. Jumbo to allow this."

Moto, still caught up in the excitement, waved a dismissive hand. "I think you're overthinking it, Sheu."