"Bronze baby! You sure you packed everything? You did not forget a thing?"
"Yes mom. You've asked the same question ten times in the past ten minutes." Bronze groaned as he yelled his response from the bathroom two floors up.
"Don't stress it, son. She's just stressed out. She's been worried out of her mind for over a year now." Hymn spoke to his phone and casually dropped on the large glass table. He yawned and dropped the long list of items in his hands. He scratched his greying, brown beard and slumped on the comfy armchair he so much loved.
"You are going to make this compulsory departure unnecessarily difficult." He said, facing his wife.
"I just don't understand why he has to go. He already contributes so much to the economy. This sort of compulsion should be left to the poor ones." Chance complained, her eyes red and puffy from her lack of sleep. The mere news that her handsome, six feet five tall, bronze-skinned son had been given a compulsory admission to the military school gave her Insomnia.
"There's nothing we can do about it." Hymn sighed and scratched his scraggy beard. He seriously needed a shave. "It is a mandate that every special kid should be trained specially."
"For the past seven days, I've been wishing he wasn't so perfect." Chance sniffed and rubbed her eyes.
"Don't worry. He's going to be fine." Hymn said with a wave of his hand.
"How can you be so sure?" There was an undercurrent of anger in her voice.
Perhaps Hymn did not notice or he just ignored. He simply turned his head to face her and smiled.
"Because he's our son. God was good and blessed him with both our strengths and none of our weaknesses. And God will remain good and keep him safe for us."
Chance glared at her husband, unsure of what to say in rebuttal. She scoffed and turned away, as if she could not bear the sight of him.
Hymn chuckled and stood up, scratching his beard once again.
Chance suddenly glared at him and screamed:
"Shave that damn thing off!"
"No!" Hymn yelled in return.
'Why not? It is obviously making you uncomfortable." Bronze said, stepping into the large living room filled with travelling boxes. He looked down at the twelve boxes and his eyes twitched painfully.
"Because you are only fifteen and already you are growing a beard. I refuse to look like the child of this family. I'm the father!" Hymn gave his argument.
Chance opened her mouth to speak but no words came out.
Bronze slapped his forehead. He sighed and looked at his sweet, caring and worried mother.
"Who are all these other boxes for?" He asked even though he already knew the answer.
"For you, of course." Chance answered sweetly, with a smile that could have melted hearts if it had its usual vibrancy and did not currently look so weak.
"Mum!"
"Listen to me! You will need underwear and socks and the ones you packed were not even near enough. I don't know if you will be doing laundry over there. What I heard from my friends are that your superiors will make you do nasty jobs that will render your clothes useless so I packed some more for you."
"But mom…"
Chance wasn't done.
"Not to mention, you are only fifteen and you are already this huge. Who knows how much bigger you would get over there, so I got you some oversized clothes as well?"
Bronze looked at the twelve bags, counting them in his head to confirm their numbers.
"But the doctor said I developed early and that I won't grow anymore." He tried to make an argument, but which son has ever won an argument against his own mother?
(A.N: Seriously, if you, as a son, have ever won an argument, please say in the comment. Teach us your superior ways, sensei..)
"That garbage doctor? Wasn't he the same doctor that said you would be still at birth, because you were ridiculously small in my womb? Right, Hymn?" She looked at her husband who was furiously scratching below his chin.
"Please don't drag me into this." Hymn clasped his hands together and said.
Chance suddenly gasped. She stood up and hurriedly walked out of the living room, towards the kitchen, mumbling something under her breath.
Hymn sighed.
"Another meal burned. At this point, I'm really considering contacting that famous psychologist she's always watching."
"You are going to recommend her to a man?" Bronze asked in surprise. He was very well aware of his father's odd insecurities whenever Chance was speaking and smiling with another man.
"Of course not!" Hymn immediately responded. "That bastard is in jail for using unethical means on his patients. I'm talking about her new favorite. An old wise woman."
Bronze nodded. The fifteen-year-old looked at the twelve bags once again. He truly felt helpless.
He looked at his dad. "What's the largest size in there?"
Hymn rubbed his bald head with one hand. His other hand was yet to quit the scratching. His chin, neck and everywhere in-between was already red from all the abrasive, not-gentle movements.
"Hmmm!" He hummed thoughtfully. "What's the dress size of eight feet tall people?"
"Ah…."
Bronze did not know what to say. He had only prepared a single bag for his trip to the Academy, but his sweet mother had taken the pains to do so much extra for him. Sure, he recognized and appreciated her efforts, after all, she was just being the caring mother she always was, but what the hell was with the eight feet?
He was not going to grow that tall.
"Will I?" He mumbled to himself.
"Mm?" Hymn hummed again, but with a rising tone this time. He was asking a question. Bronze shook his head in response. It meant 'don't worry about it.'
Two seconds later, the doorbell rang.
Bronze looked at his dad, his dad looked at the 36-inches tablet-table that had switched on all by itself in the middle of the room.
A projection rose from it, depicting a life-sized image of the people behind the door. Three men in dark-green uniform stood straight in a triangular formation – One in the front, two behind. The two behind held rifles pointed down at the floor. The one in front raised his hand to press the big button that read 'Press Me!'
Bronze and Hymn looked at the projection, gasped, looked at each other and mouthed in tandem.
"It's them!"
They rushed to the door together and opened the door.
The Soldiers looked at the two nervous, gentlemen with a slight glare.
The soldier in front had a star on his breast pocket, signifying he was a real Soldier. One who had spent five full years and graduated from the academy and had served in the army for a period of one compulsory year. Quite unlike the other two behind him who only had two white stripes running across their left shoulder patch, which signified they were merely in their second year in the academy. They still had three more years to go before graduating. If they lived that long, that is. As a result, they will henceforth be regarded as Students.
"Were you waiting for me to ring the bell a second time?" The Soldier growled in a loud, booming voice.
"No, no, Sir. We are sorry, sir." Hymn immediately apologized.
He took a step back and opened the door wider.
"Please, come in!" He invited.
The soldier merely sneered at him. He looked at Bronze who was a head taller than him.
"Is he the one?" He asked, his voice still very unnecessary loud.
"Ye..yes sir. His name is Bronze. Please take good care of him, sir." Hymn responded.
Those last words did not seem to sit well with the officer. He glared at Hymn so viciously that the latter unconsciously shrunk back so much that his back ached.
"Do I look like a babysitter?" That loud voice got even louder.
"No, no, sir."
"No-no? So, you do see me as a giant babysitter."
"No…no sir."
"F*ck! Don't you see my one f*cking star, civilian?"
Hymn looked like he was going to pee himself.
"I…"
The Soldier was not done. He turned around to look at the quiet students behind him who had done a good job of keeping an emotionless visage.
"This weak civilian, just because his son is taller than I am, thinks that he can order me around."
The students' faces did not change. As if they were completely uninvolved in the entire matter. The Soldier did not care for their response. He just kept on going.
"He looked at my one whole f*cking star and thinks it's a representation of that archaic kindergarten rhyme!"
Bronze's eyes involuntarily opened wide. What the hell? Where did all that come from?
The soldier still wasn't done. He twirled around and took one huge step that immediately put him right in front of Hymn. Their foreheads touched as he stared down on his shrunken, weak-kneed victim. All these happened in a blur. One instant, he was facing the students behind him and making ridiculous accusations. The next, he was past Bronze who still stood by the door, had entered a meter into the house and was physically oppressing Bronze's dad.
"Twinkling little one star on the short man's breast, right?" He had a dark scowl on his face.
Hymn whimpered. His bladder gave way, wetting his pants.
"That does it!" Bronze yelled. He grabbed at the soldier's left shoulder from behind.
The soldier grabbed Bronze's hand on his shoulder and crack.
"Aaaaaah!" Bronze yelled in pain and went on his knees grabbing his dislocated shoulder. He felt dizzy, tears rolled down his eyes involuntarily.
The soldier turned back slowly and looked down at the kneeling Bronze.
"Tsk tsk! Weak!" He commented.
He walked past Bronze and stepped out of their house. Then, he turned around and said with a normal tone of voice. "I am Officer Bridgestone, but you will only refer to me and every one of your superiors as Officer or Sir. Do you understand me?"
Bronze looked up at Officer Bridgestone with hate in his eyes.
Bridgestone looked totally unbothered.
"Let me make something clear to you, kid. As of ten minutes ago till the date you will be released from service, you belong to the army. Flesh, blood, bones and power. You will not glare at your superior or even think bad thoughts towards them. You will accept whatever they tell you and will obey their every command to the best of your abilities.
"You will treat your fellow students with respect, your leaders with more respect and your country with the highest accord as if it were your God.
"You will be under my command, obeying my every instruction until otherwise commanded by my superiors and will never, and I repeat, never, do anything to sabotage your fellows, or put your country and fellow student soldiers at risk. Do you understand?" Bridgestone stated, his eyes burning passionately.
Bronze dropped his eyes. He hesitated for a moment. He sighed.
"Yes sir!" He mumbled.
"I can't hear you, kid! Do you understand?"
"Yes sir!" Bronze responded again. His voice was clearer this time.
Officer Bridgestone was not satisfied. He raised his voice; "Sound like a f*cking Soldier of your f*cking country!"
"Yes Sir!" Bronze yelled. "I understand Sir!"
"Music to my ears!" Officer Bridgestone turned around and walked away. His voice ringing out as he moved briskly. "Follow me. Don't take any of those nonsense with yourself."
Bronze sighed and staggered to his feet. He took a look at his fainted father, his frightened mother and the many bags he had no use for.
He quietly walked out, holding his dislocated shoulder. His confidence had just been shattered.
The two students followed after him after closing the door. With one look at each other, their façade broke and they smiled bitterly at each other. They too had been victims in their first year.