Chapter 3: Shadows of the past

The laughter JJ had rediscovered with Light felt like fresh air after a storm, but shadows rarely leave without a fight. Even in his moments of joy, the weight of the past clung to him like an invisible chain.

At night, he often woke in a cold sweat. The echoes of initiation haunted him—commands barked by faceless elders, the sharp sting of pain, the cruel silence he had been forced to keep. His chest would tighten until it felt as though the very walls were closing in. He would lie still, staring at the ceiling, afraid to close his eyes again.

One evening, JJ joined his friends around a small fire near the outskirts of the village. The flames crackled, sparks leaping into the night sky as the boys joked and laughed. But their laughter carried an edge, a pride sharpened by the same initiation they all endured.

“Do you know what they told us?” one of them boasted, chest out. “A real man never flinches, never cries. You take pain and swallow it. That’s how you prove yourself.”

Another laughed, slapping his thigh. “Yes! A man with tears is no man at all.”

Their voices stung JJ like fresh wounds. His heart pounded as anger and sadness wrestled inside him. He wanted to shout—No! You’re wrong. A man can cry. A man can be soft and still be strong! But the words stuck in his throat. His lips trembled, his fists tightened, yet silence chained him again.

As the fire dimmed, JJ excused himself and walked home, his body trembling with emotions he could not release. Each step felt heavier, as if the ground itself resisted him.

When he reached Light’s home, she was waiting at the gate, her eyes worried the moment she saw his face.

“JJ… what happened?” she asked softly.

He shook his head, unable to speak. The silence was choking him, the same silence that initiation had carved into his soul. But Light reached for his hand, her touch grounding him.

“You don’t have to carry their voices inside you,” she whispered. “You’re not bound by their rules. You are more than what they told you to be.”

Her words broke something open inside him. For the first time, JJ realized the scars he bore were not just the result of physical pain. They were the voices of a society that demanded silence, voices that followed him like shadows. If he wanted to heal, he would have to do more than fight his inner battles—he would have to confront the very beliefs that chained him.

That night, JJ lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The thought lingered in his mind: What if other boys are also suffering in silence? What if my voice could be the one that breaks the chain? The fear was still there, but so was a spark—tiny, fragile, but alive.