Chapter Text
The tremor deepened, vibrating through the soles of their feet and rattling the underbrush. A few birds scattered from the trees, their wings a sudden flurry of motion in the quiet.
“Okay, definitely not normal,” Kim muttered, crouching slightly and glancing around. “Anyone else feel like we’re about to get crushed by a boulder?”
“Could be a natural quake,” Luna said, though her hand hovered cautiously near her weapon. “But… that felt close.”
“Maybe someone’s testing another trap,” Henry said, scanning the woods with narrowed eyes.
Crab instinctively spread her stance, arms half-raised. “If the earth opens up and swallows us whole, I’m blaming Uni.”
“I’m flattered you think I have that much power,” Uni said dryly, brushing a leaf from her shoulder. “But I swear, this one wasn’t me.”
The shaking slowly faded, replaced by the uneasy stillness of the forest. A few leaves drifted down in the silence.
“Well… that was weird,” Ren said, rolling his shoulders like he could shake off the tension. “But if no one’s dead and the sky didn’t fall, I vote we keep moving.”
“Agreed,” Bug said. “But keep alert. I don’t like surprises.”
Crab gave the ground one last suspicious glance before muttering, “If I trip again, I’m setting the forest on fire.”
“That's my job,” Sun said with a smirk. “Get your own aesthetic.”
Crab just rolled her eyes and kept walking, brushing past Uni with a playful bump of her shoulder.
“Seriously,” Sierra said to no one in particular, watching the group resume their usual chaos. “Is it always like this with you guys?”
Henry sighed softly. “Unfortunately… yes.”
The group had been walking for hours.
Chaos had never really stopped talking. Her energy had barely dimmed, even after the quake. She darted around, asking questions, pointing out interesting rocks, poking at bugs, occasionally stumbling into someone’s personal space without meaning to.
Squid and Spirit weren’t far behind. The two had formed an unholy alliance of mischief and noise, Squid messing around, and Spirit humming along to a song only they could hear.
It was around the fifth time Squid accidentally zapped something with her still-unreliable lightning powers that it happened.
Ren had been walking in silence for the past few minutes, jaw tight, fists clenched. He was usually calm—lazy, even—but now his shoulders were stiff with a kind of bottled rage that had gone unnoticed until it cracked.
Squid let out a shriek of laughter as Spirit startled her with a soft, carefully-aimed pulse of sound, and Chaos ran to show them a strange-looking beetle she’d found—talking a mile a minute, right into Ren’s personal space.
“Ren! Look at this guy! It’s like a beetle and a shrimp had a baby—do you think I could keep it?”
“Guys, guys, listen—” Spirit started, voice quiet but warm.
“THIS ISN’T A GAME!”
Ren’s voice exploded through the trees like thunder. Everyone froze. Even the wind seemed to pause.
Chaos blinked, mid-sentence. Squid flinched. Spirit froze where they stood, lips slightly parted but saying nothing.
“You think this is just one big adventure?” Ren shouted, turning on them. His face was red, his eyes wild. “We almost died back there! We could still die! And you’re laughing. You’re laughing! Like this is all just a joke!”
None of them responded.
“You don’t take anything seriously! Ever! Chaos, you never shut up—do you ever even listen? To anyone? Or do you just expect people to clean up your messes when something explodes?”
Chaos took a step back like she’d been slapped. Her mouth opened, then closed again.
“And Squid—do you even know what you’re doing with your powers? You’re dangerous! One wrong move and you’ll fry one of us! And Spirit—what are you even doing here? Humming your way through the woods like it matters? This isn’t a stage, it’s survival!”
His voice cracked.
“We can’t afford to babysit you anymore! I can’t!”
That did it.
The silence that followed was thick and awful. Squid looked down at her feet, blinking rapidly. Chaos had gone utterly still.
Spirit didn’t move. They lowered their head slightly, arms tucked tight against themselves. Their lips pressed into a thin line. No words. No music. Just quiet.
Ren’s chest heaved. He looked at the three of them, eyes wide with a kind of disbelief at his own words—then without another word, he turned and ran. He didn’t wait for Bug, or Henry, or anyone. Just bolted into the trees.
“Ren!” Kim called, but he didn’t stop.
The trees swallowed him whole.
Chaos was the first to move. Slowly, carefully, she crouched down and placed the beetle on the ground where she’d been standing. She didn’t say anything. Her hands were shaking.
Squid rubbed her sleeve across her eyes angrily, pretending she wasn’t crying.
Spirit stayed where they were, barely breathing, gaze fixed on the forest floor like they could disappear into it if they stood still enough.
No one knew what to say.
Even Uni and Crab stopped joking. The weight of Ren’s words lingered in the air, heavy and bruising.
Bug exhaled slowly, stepping toward the three. “That wasn’t okay,” he said quietly. “Not what he said. Not how he said it.”
Henry nodded, eyes still on the shadows between the trees. “I’ll go find him.”
Chaos slowly sank down to sit cross-legged on the ground where she’d placed the beetle. She didn’t fidget. She didn’t speak. Her shoulders were trembling.
It was the stillness that scared the others most. Chaos wasn’t supposed to be still.
Squid stood stiffly a few steps away, jaw clenched tight. Her eyes were rimmed red, but she refused to cry—not in front of everyone. Not even as her arms hugged herself, fingers digging into her sleeves like she was trying to hold herself together.
Spirit hadn’t said a word, and still didn’t. They just stood there, still as a statue, gaze flicking between Chaos and Squid with quiet, unreadable worry. But their fingers tapped nervously at their sides, betraying the storm beneath.
Kim was the first to speak again, their voice soft. “He didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yes, he did,” Chaos muttered, the words sharp and brittle. “He meant every word.”
Bug knelt beside Chaos, not touching her yet, just offering his presence. “Chaos…”
“He’s right,” Chaos whispered, voice cracking. “I do talk too much. I do mess things up. I don’t mean to but—” she choked on a breath, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m just… I thought I was helping. I thought… if I kept smiling, and laughing, and being me, it would make things better. For everyone.”
Squid turned away sharply, her back to the group, trying to hide her face. “I never asked for this,” she snapped, voice wavering. “I didn’t want powers. I didn’t want any of this. And now I’m dangerous, apparently. Great.”
“You’re not dangerous,” Bug said gently. “You're learning. Just like the rest of us.”
“Ren doesn’t think so.”
“He’s scared,” Bug said. “That doesn’t make what he said right. But it’s not the whole truth either.”
Chaos finally looked up at Bug, her eyes huge and wet. “Do you think I make everything worse?”
Bug took a slow breath, steadying himself before answering. “No, Chaos. You don’t make things worse. You make them... different. Sometimes messy, yeah, but also more entertaining. We need that.”
Squid’s shoulders sagged, the fight leaking out of her as she wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her suit. Spirit quietly moved closer, sitting beside Chaos and resting a tentative hand on her shoulder—a silent offer of comfort.
Kim stepped forward, voice calm and steady. “Ren’s outburst wasn’t fair, but it comes from fear. Fear doesn’t justify hurting people you care about, but it does explain why he lost control.”
Spirit shifted closer to Squid, Squid didn’t say anything at first, but she didn’t pull away either. Instead, she let out a shaky breath and rested her head briefly on Spirit’s shoulder.
Midnight, who had been watching from a short distance, stepped forward softly. Her voice was low, almost like a whisper meant only for them. “Ren’s outburst was way out of line, you didn’t deserve to be yelled at like that.”
Squid blinked up at Midnight, surprise flickering in her eyes. “Why do you care?”
Midnight shrugged, though her expression was sincere. “Because I know what it feels like to be scared of your own powers. To feel like you’re a danger just by existing.”
Squid’s lip trembled, and she looked away, but Spirit squeezed her hand gently, encouraging her to stay.
Chaos, still sitting nearby, wiped her eyes and let out a soft sigh. “I hate feeling like I’m the reason people get hurt. Like I’m not good enough.”
Midnight gave a small, sad smile. “None of us are perfect. But none of us should have to face that alone.”
Spirit nodded quietly, squeezing Squid’s hand again, while Squid’s breathing slowly evened out.
Henry found Ren sitting alone on a fallen log, the forest’s shadows deepening around him. The ninja’s shoulders were hunched, and his face was tense — eyes fixed somewhere beyond the trees but not really seeing.
Henry approached slowly, careful not to startle him. “Ren,” he said, voice steady but firm. “We need to talk.”
Ren didn’t look up. “Not now,” he muttered.
Henry didn’t move. “No. Now. What you said back there — it wasn’t okay. You know that, right?”
Ren’s jaw tightened, but his eyes stayed on the ground. “I know.”
“That’s not enough,” Henry pressed. “You hurt them. Chaos, Squid, Spirit — they’re hurting. And you think walking off alone fixes that?”
Ren’s gaze finally flicked up, sharp and tired. “I didn’t say I fixed anything. I just need some space.”
Henry folded his arms, frustration creeping in. “Space doesn’t mean silence and shutting everyone out. Especially not when they need you.”
Ren’s voice rose, edged with anger. “Maybe I need them to shut up for once. Maybe I need to stop being the one everyone expects to hold it together.”
Henry’s expression didn’t soften. “That’s exactly why you can’t afford to blow up like that. You’re the leader. They look up to you. They need you. You can’t just throw that away because it’s hard.”
Ren shook his head, voice bitter. “You don’t get it. You don’t have to carry this. You don’t feel what I feel.”
“I don’t have to carry it alone. But I’m here. You’re not alone, Ren. None of us are. That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you.”
Ren’s laugh was hollow, almost bitter. “Tell me that when I’m the one they’re scared of. When I’m the one they don’t trust. Maybe then I’ll believe it.”
Henry stepped closer, voice low but fierce. “They don’t fear you because of who you are. They fear what this mission is, what’s at stake. And yeah, you lost control, but they know you care. They know you’re human.”
Ren’s eyes flashed with anger again. “Care isn’t enough. Not when it breaks people.”
“But walking away like this? That breaks them too.” Henry’s tone hardened. “If you’re going to be part of this team, then be part of it — all of it. Not just when it’s easy.”
Ren stood abruptly, the tension in his body raw and trembling. “Maybe I’m done trying to be the hero. Maybe I’m just done.”
Henry didn’t flinch. “If you walk away now, you’re not just done with the hero part. You’re done with us. Is that what you want?”
Ren’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. He didn’t answer.
Henry watched him for a long moment, the tension between them thick. “You’re angry. I get that. But don’t let it consume you. Don’t let it destroy what little we have left.”
Ren turned, eyes blazing. “Maybe I want it to consume me.”
With that, he stormed off into the trees, leaving Henry standing alone on the edge of the clearing.