Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

BoBoiBoy sat stiffly in the metallic chair across from Commander Koko Ci’s desk, the hum of the spaceship’s engines filling the heavy silence between them. The faint glow of the control panels around the room threw shifting shadows across the commander’s face, making his frown seem deeper than usual. BoBoiBoy’s gaze stayed fixed on the floor tiles, unable to meet his commander’s eyes. His chest still felt tight, as though the battle hadn’t truly ended.

The mission had begun with such promise. He and his friends had been sent out to secure a wandering Power Sphere before it fell into enemy hands. Everything had gone smoothly, at least at first. Ying’s speed, Gopal’s resourcefulness, Fang’s cleverness and Yaya’s strength had worked perfectly in harmony, each of them covering one another’s weaknesses like they always did. They had moved like a team—like a family. For a while, BoBoiBoy had even allowed himself to believe nothing could go wrong.

But then he had gotten involved.

The enemies had been stronger than expected, relentless in their assault, and without thinking twice, BoBoiBoy had pushed himself into a transformation—BoBoiBoy Halilintar. The crackle of electricity had surged through his veins, the raw power of thunder at his fingertips. He had defeated them—of that there was no doubt. The enemies were scattered, overwhelmed, and forced into retreat. The mission was a success on paper.

But the aftermath… the aftermath told a different story.

The ground had been scorched black where his lightning struck, buildings reduced to rubble, walls fractured and smoking. The air reeked of burnt ozone and ash. His enemies weren’t just defeated—they were left bruised, battered, and trembling from wounds that had not needed to be so harsh. And worst of all, BoBoiBoy couldn’t explain it. He knew better. He always knew better. He was aware of the balance between strength and control, of what he should and shouldn’t do in a fight. Yet in those moments, with thunder roaring inside him, something had slipped. He had gone too far.

Why?

Why had he done that?

The question gnawed at his thoughts like a parasite, looping endlessly, giving him no peace. He clenched his jaw and shut his eyes, replaying every strike of lightning, every careless blow, and every scream.

A weary sigh broke the silence.

BoBoiBoy’s eyes shot open. Commander Koko Ci leaned back in his chair, shaking his head slowly. But instead of anger, there was only weariness on his face, the kind of expression belonging to someone who had seen this happen many times before.

“BoBoiBoy,” Koko Ci said at last, his voice calm but firm, “I understand what happened out there. You let the heat of battle take over. It happens to everyone sooner or later. This was just a lapse in judgment.”

BoBoiBoy swallowed, shame pressing down on his shoulders like iron weights.

The commander leaned forward, folding his hands on the desk. “But listen carefully—what matters isn’t that it happened. What matters is that you learn from it and make sure it doesn’t happen again. You’re not the first to struggle with control, and you won’t be the last. So don’t tear yourself apart over this. I’m not angry with you. I just want you to be better next time.”

Those words—meant to reassure—twisted like a blade in BoBoiBoy’s chest. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Better next time. Stronger next time. In control next time. But what if he couldn’t be? What if the power always threatened to break free like that, no matter how hard he tried?

The commander noticed the boy’s silence and gave a small nod. 

“That’s all, BoBoiBoy. You’re dismissed.”

With stiff, deliberate movements, BoBoiBoy rose to his feet. His body obeyed the reflex of discipline even though his mind felt clouded with doubt. He raised his hand in a sharp salute, the motion practiced and precise, though his clenched fist betrayed the storm still raging inside him.

“Sir,” he said quietly.

The door slid open with a hiss as he stepped into the empty corridor. The metallic hallway stretched endlessly before him, cold lights humming above. The door sealed shut behind him, cutting him off from the commander’s steady presence. Alone again, he walked forward, his pace heavy, his fist still tightly clenched—so tight it hurt.

And with every step, the question echoed louder in his head.

Why had he lost control?

BoBoiBoy sat alone in the quiet corridor, his hands pressed tightly against his knees, his head bowed low as though the very weight of his thoughts was dragging him down. Inside his mind, a storm raged louder than any thunder he could summon.

He kept replaying the battle in his head—every flash of lightning, every tremor of earth, every cry that had followed in his wake. The images struck like shards of glass, cutting into him from the inside. He couldn’t let go of the same question, over and over again.

Why? Why did I do that?

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Not with him. Not with the hero his friends depended on. He clenched his fists until his nails dug into his palms, but no amount of pressure could silence the voices in his head.

He had never been like this before. Sure, he had made mistakes in past battles. Who hadn’t? A broken wall here, a dented streetlight there—small, accidental things that were easy to laugh off once the mission was done. But this was different. This time he hadn’t just caused damage. This time, people had been hurt.

And worse—this wasn’t just a one-time mistake.

BoBoiBoy knew it. He had been noticing it for a while now, even if no one else had dared to point it out. Every time he transformed into one of his elemental forms—Halilintar with his roaring lightning, Taufan with his powerful winds, Gempa with his earth-shaking strength, Blaze with his searing flames, Ice with his freezing power, Thorn with his healing vines, or Solar with his burning light—it always ended the same way. No matter how carefully he tried to control himself, something went wrong.

Buildings crumbled. Streets cracked. People got hurt.

Even when his intentions were good, even when all he wanted was to protect his friends, destruction seemed to follow him like a shadow he couldn’t outrun. He thought about the time he had become BoBoiBoy Thorn, determined to stay in the backlines to heal his team if they got hurt. That should have been safe, harmless. But even then, something had gone wrong—his vines had grown out of control, blocking escape routes, tangling around his enemies, turning a moment of support into a moment of chaos.

Then there was Gempa. He had told himself he would only defend, that he wouldn’t use his power for anything but shielding his friends from enemy attacks. And yet, with just one misplaced stomp, he had cracked the battlefield beneath their feet, sending rubble flying in all directions. A move meant to protect had ended up hurting the very people he was trying to save.

It was always like that. Always.

And the more he thought about it, the more it terrified him. Because it wasn’t just that he was messing up—it was that he was getting worse. When it first started happening, it was small, barely noticeable. A scratch on an enemy here, a bruise there, a little too much damage to the surroundings. Things that could be brushed off, forgotten. But now? Now the mistakes were growing larger, more dangerous, impossible to ignore.

Why? Why was this happening?

His heart ached as the thought clawed deeper into him: Was it me? Am I the problem?

He didn’t want to hurt anyone. He didn’t want to cause destruction or make his friends doubt him. So why did this keep happening? Was it because he wasn’t concentrating hard enough? Because he wasn’t smart enough to control so many powers? Or was it something far darker?

The thought made his stomach twist: What if deep down, I actually enjoy it?

His throat tightened. He could almost hear the crackle of his own lightning in his ears, sharp and violent. What if some part of him liked the destruction, the chaos, the raw force of power breaking free? What if he wasn’t a hero at all, but a danger that no one had noticed yet?

The idea horrified him.

He pressed his face into his hands, trying to shut it all out, but the storm inside his mind only grew louder. He didn’t notice the sound of footsteps echoing down the hall until a familiar voice cut through the whirlwind of his thoughts.

“BoBoiBoy!”

His head snapped up. Through the blur of his doubts, he saw them—his friends, hurrying toward him, faces etched with concern. Ying’s eyes wide with worry, Gopal’s mouth pulled into an uncharacteristically serious line, Yaya hovering just behind them with her arms folded but her expression soft and Fang looking at him with soft eyes full of concern.

They had found him.

And as their voices called his name again, BoBoiBoy’s chest tightened. Part of him wanted to run, to hide away before they could see the cracks spreading inside him. But another part—smaller, quieter, but stubborn—ached for their presence, for the comfort of not carrying this storm alone.

The hallway lights flickered faintly overhead, their cold glow casting long shadows along the metallic walls. BoBoiBoy sat slumped against the wall, his fists resting tightly on his knees, his thoughts still heavy and storming inside him. He was so wrapped up in his guilt that he didn’t even notice the footsteps until they came to a stop right in front of him.

“BoBoiBoy!”

The voice belonged to Ying, gentle but urgent, filled with concern. When he finally looked up, his friends were standing there—Ying, Yaya, Fang, and Gopal—each of them wearing the same expression: worry.

Ying crouched down first, her eyes scanning his face. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.

BoBoiBoy forced his lips into a tight smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He nodded stiffly. “I’m fine. Really. You don’t have to worry about me.”

But the words rang hollow, and they all knew it.

Gopal’s brows furrowed as he glanced at the others, then back at BoBoiBoy. Yaya crossed her arms, watching him with a mixture of sympathy and frustration, while Fang remained quiet, his sharp gaze narrowing as if he could see straight through the flimsy mask BoBoiBoy had put up.

They had been his friends for years, through countless missions, countless victories and failures. They knew him better than he sometimes knew himself. To them, he was an open book—and right now, the words written across his face screamed that he was not fine.

Without hesitation, they all sat down around him, forming a quiet circle in the corridor. The warmth of their presence pressed in against the cold emptiness that had been suffocating him moments before.

“BoBoiBoy,” Yaya said firmly, her voice gentle but unyielding, “don’t do this to yourself. You don’t have to carry this weight alone.”

Gopal leaned forward, trying to catch his friend’s eye. “Yeah, bro, don’t beat yourself up. Things like this… mistakes… they happen. All the time. To everyone.” He gave a small shrug, trying to lighten the mood, though his smile wavered. “You just made a mistake. It’s not the end of the world.”

BoBoiBoy’s tight smile faltered, and he shook his head. “But I hurt people,” he said, his voice low, raw, almost breaking. “Even if I didn’t mean to… even if it was an accident… they still got hurt because of me.”

At that, the group fell silent for a moment. The weight of his words pressed down on them all. They couldn’t deny the truth in what he said. Their grimaces betrayed what their words couldn’t fully hide: it was true, people had been hurt.

Fang was the one who finally broke the silence. His tone was calm, steady, like a blade honed on experience. “In our line of work, that’s unavoidable,” he said, meeting BoBoiBoy’s eyes without flinching. “We fight to protect people, but battles are messy. Sometimes there are injuries. Sometimes things break. It’s bound to happen sooner or later.” He paused, softening just slightly. “What matters is that you care. That’s why you feel guilty. But you can’t carry that guilt forever.”

BoBoiBoy’s chest tightened. He wanted to believe Fang’s words, but the guilt inside him refused to quiet down. He looked down again, his fingers curling against his knees. “But… it doesn’t change the fact that I messed up. That people got hurt because of me.”

Ying reached out gently, resting her hand on his shoulder. “They weren’t hurt that badly,” she said kindly. “Fang’s right—it happens. A few scratches, a few bruises, maybe some stitches. But they’ll heal. What matters is that you’re still here, still fighting with us.”

The sincerity in her voice made him look up at her, though his eyes still held doubt. His friends could tell—he wasn’t convinced. 

That was when Gopal, who had been unusually serious until now, suddenly clapped his hands together with a sharp smack. The sound startled everyone, even BoBoiBoy.

“Alright, enough doom and gloom!” Gopal declared, forcing a grin onto his face. “You know what the best cure for this kind of mood is? Food!” He pointed dramatically toward the end of the hall. “The cafeteria is calling our names, my friends. And we are not going to ignore it!”

BoBoiBoy blinked at him, utterly bewildered. “Wait… what?”

But before he could protest, Gopal was already pulling him to his feet, his hands gripping BoBoiBoy’s arms with surprising strength. “Come on, bro. You can sulk later. Right now, you need a big plate of curry rice, maybe some fried chicken, and a dessert the size of your head.”

Yaya rolled her eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at her lips. “Food isn’t going to solve everything, Gopal.”

“Maybe not,” Gopal shot back with mock seriousness, “but it solves something.”

The others laughed softly, and in that moment, the tension seemed to ease just a little. They all rose to their feet, gently guiding BoBoiBoy along with them. Ying gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, Fang gave him a subtle nod of encouragement, and Yaya hovered close, her quiet strength surrounding him.

Before he knew it, they were walking together toward the cafeteria, their footsteps echoing side by side.

And though BoBoiBoy still carried the storm inside him, it didn’t feel quite as unbearable anymore. Surrounded by his friends, the weight seemed just a little lighter.

When they finally reached the cafeteria, the familiar hum of chatter and clatter of trays greeted them. They grabbed their food—piled high thanks to Gopal’s insistence—and sat down together at one of the long tables. For the first time since the battle, BoBoiBoy allowed himself to breathe a little easier.

The cafeteria was buzzing with the usual evening chatter—metal trays clattering, the scent of fried food drifting through the air, laughter echoing from every table. When BoBoiBoy and his friends sat down together with their meals, it felt almost normal.

Almost.

At first, BoBoiBoy had been stiff and quiet, poking at his food without really tasting it. His storm of guilt still pressed against his chest, threatening to swallow him whole. But his friends refused to let him sink into silence.

Gopal exaggerated every bite he took, humming dramatically as if the fried chicken was the greatest treasure in the galaxy. Ying told funny stories about how many times Gopal had tripped earlier that day, and Yaya chimed in with her usual sharp jabs, rolling her eyes at their antics but smiling all the same. Fang didn’t say much, but every so often he smirked at Gopal’s foolishness, which only encouraged Gopal to get louder.

Little by little, the tension in BoBoiBoy’s shoulders eased. He found himself laughing—not forced, not fake, but genuine laughter bubbling up between bites of rice and sips of soup. For the first time since the mission, he wasn’t thinking about lightning strikes or scorched buildings. He was just… a boy at dinner with his friends.

They finished their meals slowly, stretching out the moment by trading jokes and lighthearted teases. By the time their trays were empty, the storm inside BoBoiBoy had quieted, though it still lingered like distant thunder.

That was when Fang leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, and said evenly, “We should hit the training room. Work off some energy before bed.”

The suggestion immediately perked up the group. Gopal slammed his hands on the table with a grin. “Yes! Finally, I can prove once and for all that my punches are faster than Ying’s!”

Ying arched an eyebrow. “You mean slower, right?”

Everyone laughed, and the energy between them grew light and excited again. Even BoBoiBoy, still uncertain, found himself nodding. Maybe some training would help. Maybe if he sparred, if he let some of the pressure out in a controlled way, he could stop feeling like he was about to explode.

So together, they left the cafeteria and made their way to one of the training rooms.

The training hall was vast and echoing, its walls reinforced to withstand powerful abilities. Soft white lights hummed overhead, casting a glow over the clean, polished floor. It smelled faintly of metal and ozone—a place meant for sweat, focus, and growth.

They spread out, stretching and warming up. Ying tied back her hair with practiced motions, Yaya bounced on her toes to loosen her legs, Gopal cracked his knuckles with unnecessary theatrics. BoBoiBoy shrugged off his jacket, tied it around his waist, and rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the unease still clinging to him.

Pairs were chosen naturally. Yaya and Gopal started bickering about who would win before they even touched hands. Ying moved toward a corner, practicing her speed dashes alone. Fang, silent as ever, walked toward BoBoiBoy with an unreadable expression.

They faced each other.

At first, it was simple—footwork drills, dodges, harmless exchanges of light punches and kicks. BoBoiBoy fell into the rhythm easily, his muscles remembering what his mind wanted to forget. Sparring was familiar, grounding.

But then, instinct—or something deeper—pushed him further. Lightning tingled at his fingertips, and before he realized it, he had shifted into BoBoiBoy Halilintar. Electricity danced around him, illuminating his eyes with a sharp, dangerous glow.

Fang didn’t flinch. He summoned his shadows, meeting Halilintar’s intensity head-on. The two collided—thunder against darkness—sparks flying with every clash. At first, it was exhilarating, the kind of spar they both secretly enjoyed.

But something began to change.

Halilintar wasn’t fighting to train anymore. His movements grew sharper, harder, more aggressive. Every strike cracked with too much power, every dash left scorch marks across the reinforced floor. He wasn’t sparring Fang—he was attacking, as if trying to prove something to someone, as if there was some audience he just had to show just how strong he could be.

It was no longer a friendly match. It was dangerous.

“BoBoiBoy!” Ying called from across the room, her voice tense. “Slow down!”

But Halilintar didn’t hear her. The storm inside had taken over.

Then it happened. A bolt of lightning, faster than thought, tore across the floor and struck Fang. He staggered back, his clothes scorched, smoke rising faintly from his shoulder where the attack had hit.

The sound of the impact echoed in the hall like a gunshot.

BoBoiBoy froze. His glowing hands trembled as he looked at them in horror. Then his wide, terrified gaze snapped to Fang—his friend, standing there hurt because of him.

“No…” The word slipped from his lips, fragile and broken. “No, no, no…”

He stumbled back a step, his chest heaving as panic surged through him. His lightning fizzled out, leaving only trembling hands and a face twisted in fear.

“I—” His voice cracked. “I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry—I…”

He looked around wildly. Ying, Yaya, and Gopal were rushing forward, their faces full of concern, their voices trying to reach him. “It’s okay, BoBoiBoy! He’s fine! Calm down!”

Fang, though wincing, shook his head. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch—”

But BoBoiBoy couldn’t hear them. The storm in his chest had burst free, drowning everything else out. His breaths came fast, uneven, his vision blurring.

“I’m sorry!” he shouted, the words torn from his throat. “I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry!”

And before any of them could stop him, he turned and ran.

The door hissed open, then slammed shut behind him, leaving his friends standing in stunned silence. None of them chased after him. They could see the panic in his eyes, the way his hands shook. Chasing him now would only make it worse.

So they stayed behind in the training room, exchanging heavy glances. They knew BoBoiBoy needed time. Time to calm down. 

Alone.

The door to BoBoiBoy’s room slammed shut with a hollow clang, the sound echoing through the empty room like the toll of a bell. He leaned against the doorframe, chest heaving, his breath ragged and uneven as if he had just sprinted a marathon. His hands trembled violently at his sides, sparks of leftover energy still crackling faintly at his fingertips.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry, but the panic didn’t ease. The image of Fang wincing in pain burned itself into his mind—his friend staggering backward, smoke rising from the singed fabric of his shirt. No matter how many times BoBoiBoy blinked, the memory stayed, vivid and sharp, like a scar carved into his heart.

With a choked gasp, he pushed himself away from the door and stumbled toward the bathroom. The lights flickered on automatically, flooding the small space with a sterile, white glow. He gripped the edges of the sink so tightly his knuckles went pale, the cold porcelain grounding him just enough to keep him from collapsing.

“Why… why did I do that?” His voice cracked, the words barely louder than a whisper.

He twisted the faucet, and a stream of icy water gushed forth. Without hesitation, he splashed it over his face—once, twice, again and again—hoping the cold would shock him out of the spiral clawing at his chest. Droplets ran down his cheeks, mixing with the tears he refused to acknowledge. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, water dripping from his hair and chin.

The boy staring back at him didn’t look like a hero. He looked broken.

BoBoiBoy pressed both hands to his face, digging his fingers into his skin as though he could rip out the shame festering inside him. Why am I like this? The thought screamed in his mind. Why can’t I control myself? Why am I so stupid?

He pulled his hands away slowly, staring down at them as they shook. These hands that his friends trusted. These hands that were supposed to protect people. Tonight, they had betrayed him.

His gaze drifted downward, landing on the sleek watch around his wrist—the very device that stored and channeled his powers. For a moment, all he could do was stare. Then a dark, twisting emotion rose in his chest.

Hatred.

He hated the watch. He hated the powers it gave him. They were supposed to be his strength, his gift. But lately, they felt like a curse, a burden he could never carry properly. Every transformation only brought destruction. Every element only brought pain.

And worst of all… he hated himself for needing them.

A sharp breath escaped him, shaky and uneven. He wanted to tear the watch off, throw it across the room, smash it until nothing remained. But his fingers hovered over it uselessly, paralyzed. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. Because without his powers, who was he? Just a boy? A failure pretending to be a hero?

The silence of the bathroom pressed down on him, broken only by the steady drip of water from the faucet. Finally, he reached for a towel, scrubbing his face dry with rough, hurried motions. His reflection still looked hollow, but at least the water hid the redness in his eyes.

With a heavy sigh, he turned off the light and shuffled back into his room. Every step felt like walking through mud, his body weighed down by exhaustion—not just physical, but emotional, mental, soul-deep exhaustion.

He changed into his sleep clothes with slow, mechanical movements, tossing his jacket onto the chair in the corner. Then he crawled into bed, pulling the thin blanket over himself. The mattress felt colder than usual, the silence heavier.

Lying there in the dark, his thoughts circled endlessly. Fang’s pained expression. The worried faces of Ying, Yaya, and Gopal. The way their voices had tried to reassure him, but he couldn’t believe them. He clenched his jaw, staring at the ceiling as the guilt gnawed at him.

I’ll apologize tomorrow, he told himself firmly, as if the promise alone would stop the ache in his chest. I’ll look Fang in the eye, and I’ll say I’m sorry. I’ll say it to all of them.

But even as he thought it, doubt crept in. Would they forgive him? Or worse—what if they already doubted him, already feared him, but just didn’t say it out loud?

The storm inside him whispered and howled, but his body was too drained to keep fighting it. Eventually, his eyes fluttered shut. His breathing slowed, and at last, BoBoiBoy slipped into restless sleep.

But even in his dreams, the lightning followed him.

Inside the watch, silence reigned.

It was not the kind of silence that brought peace, but the heavy, suffocating kind that made even the air itself feel burdened. The seven Elementals sat scattered around the couch—each caught in their own thoughts, each weighed down by the same guilt. Their master was asleep in the outside world, but his words, his feelings, had reached them like knives.

BoBoiBoy’s pain was theirs to share. And tonight, it burned more than ever.

Blaze was the first to break the silence. He paced restlessly in a wide circle, flames flickering sharply across his arms and shoulders. Sparks trailed behind his every step, evidence of the agitation boiling inside him. Finally, he growled through clenched teeth, “He hates us.”

Thorn, seated cross-legged on the floor with vines coiled protectively around him, immediately raised his head. His green eyes narrowed in protest. “No, Blaze. Don’t twist it. He doesn’t hate us.”

“Yes, he does!” Blaze snapped, whirling around, the firelight casting sharp shadows across the room. “I heard him, Thorn. We all did. Clear as day. He looked at that watch, at us, and he said he hated it. He hated himself, and he hated us along with it!” His voice cracked with a mixture of anger and despair. “Our own master despises us, the very powers that make him who he is!”

The others stirred uncomfortably. Solar bowed his head. Ice wrapped his arms around himself, his usual sharp words never coming. Even Taufan, normally brash and loud, sat slouched against the couch, wind swirling weakly around his ankles as though he didn’t have the energy to argue.

Thorn lowered his gaze. Blaze’s words stung because they were true. They had all heard it. BoBoiBoy’s voice, filled with hatred and despair, declaring he loathed the powers he couldn’t control.

Halilintar, who had been standing motionless in the corner, finally spoke. His tone was low, heavy, and broken. “It’s my fault.”

All eyes turned toward him. Halilintar’s frame seemed smaller than usual, shoulders hunched, lightning crackling weakly along his arms like a dying storm. He stared at the floor, unable to meet their gazes. “Every time he loses control, it’s when I appear. My lightning… my temper… my recklessness. It’s me. I push him too far. If not for me, maybe he wouldn’t be suffering like this.”

“No,” Gempa said softly, shaking his head. His voice carried the steadiness of the earth itself, but even he sounded tired. “You can’t carry this alone, Halilintar. This problem didn’t start with you. We’ve all seen it. This has been building for weeks, months even. Every time he uses us—we lose control. Balance, control, focus. It isn’t just lightning. It’s all of us.”

Halilintar looked up then, anguish sparking in his eyes. “But when it happens with me, it’s the worst.”

Gempa opened his mouth to answer, but no words came. Because again, Halilintar wasn’t wrong.

The room fell into silence once more. One by one, the Elementals lowered their gazes. Blaze’s eyes dimmed, Solar’s eyes flickered weakly around the room, Ice let out a brittle sigh that froze the air around him. None of them could argue against what had been said, because the truth was undeniable.

They had failed him.

Again and again, they had tried to prove their worth, to guide their master without him even knowing of their existence. They had whispered strength into his heart, lent their power to his limbs, tried to give him the control he so desperately needed. But all their efforts had been for nothing. Instead of helping him grow, they had dragged him down further.

“He hates us,” Blaze repeated bitterly, his voice curling inward like a dying ember. “He doesn’t even know we’re alive, and still… we’ve managed to disappoint him.”

Thorn pressed a hand to his chest, curling up tighter, his voice softer now. “He doesn’t hate us. He hates what he thinks he’s becoming. And we… we are the ones causing him that pain.”

The room grew unbearably still.

For the first time in a long while, none of the Elementals had anything left to say. Their heads bowed, their eyes fixed on the floor, each of them drowning in the same heavy thought:

They weren’t helping him anymore. They were only making things worse.

And so, they sat in silence, sharing the weight of their master’s despair.

The silence inside the room was unbearable. The room seemed colder than usual, its usual warmth dimmed as if even the very heart of this place reflected their despair. The Elementals had been sitting in quiet agony for what felt like hours, weighed down by the echo of their master’s words.

It was Taufan who finally broke the silence. He shot up from where he had been sitting, his jaw clenched tight. His voice came out rough, but determined.

“We can’t give up,” he declared, looking around at the others with eyes burning like storm clouds. “Not now. Not ever. He’s our master—our BoBoiBoy. If we give up on him, then what’s the point of even existing? We have to keep trying. No matter how hard it gets.”

Solar, who had been looking down at the floor, let out a sharp, bitter laugh. His eyes flickered like a candle about to go out. “Keep trying?” he repeated, his tone dripping with frustration. “Taufan, look around you. Our trying led to this. Every time we push harder, every time we try to prove ourselves, things only get worse. He loses control. He hurts people. He hates himself. He hates us. You call that trying? I call it failure.”

The words struck the others like a slap. Blaze turned away, grimacing. Thorn’s hands tightened protectively around him. Ice looked down. Even Halilintar, strong and fierce, flinched slightly at Solar’s words.

But Taufan didn’t back down. He stepped forward, his voice rising with conviction. “I know we’ve failed him. I know! I was there every time my power knocked things out of control. I felt it every time he panicked because of us. But that doesn’t mean we quit. If we stop now, then we’re admitting that we’re worthless—that he is right to hate us. And I refuse to believe that!”

His words hung in the air.

For a long moment, no one spoke. Then Ice finally lifted his head, his pale eyes glinting like shards of frozen glass. His voice was soft, but steady. “Taufan’s right. We can’t give up. If we do, then there’s no hope left for him… or for us. He needs us, even if he doesn’t realize it. We just… we just have to try harder. Find a way to help him, even if it means failing a hundred more times.”

Gempa, who had been silent through most of the exchange, finally stirred. His voice echoed through the room, steady and calm.

“So,” he said slowly, “do we all agree?”

One by one, the Elementals raised their eyes. Blaze’s eyes flickered back to life, the fire in them smaller than usual but steady. Thorn looked up and gave a soft nod of his head. Ice straightened, his nod sharp. Solar hesitated the longest, his eyes wavering uncertainly. But in the end, even he sighed, lowered his head, and nodded once.

Halilintar’s fists clenched at his sides. His voice was low, full of guilt but also of resolve. “If we are to keep going… then we will give it everything we have.”

Taufan gave a sharp grin, though there was pain behind it. “That’s the spirit. If we’re going down, we’re going down fighting for him.”

At that, Gempa exhaled heavily. He nodded once, a solemn acceptance that carried the weight of all their burdens. “Then it’s decided. We don’t give up. Not now, not ever. We’ll give it everything we have, and we’ll prove ourselves to BoBoiBoy. No matter how long it takes.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, the despair clouding the room began to lift. Their master still struggled. Their bond was fragile, perhaps even breaking. But now, in this moment, hope returned to their eyes.

It wasn’t much. But it was enough to begin again.

Chapter Text

The next morning came far too quickly.

BoBoiBoy woke with heavy eyes and a chest that still felt tight from the storm inside him the night before. The memory of what had happened in the training room—Fang staggering back from his lightning strike, the horrified looks of his friends—clung to him like chains. For a long while, he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wishing he could disappear under the covers and avoid everyone forever.

But he couldn’t.

They were his friends. His family. And if he wanted to keep being part of this team, he had to face them.

So with a deep breath, he dragged himself out of bed, got dressed, and made his way through the quiet hallways of the base. Every step echoed in his ears, each one heavier than the last. When he finally turned the corner, he found them—Yaya, Ying, Fang, and Gopal—sitting together in the lounge area, already talking and laughing softly among themselves.

The sight of them hit him like a punch. They looked so normal, so at ease, while he carried this gnawing guilt inside him.

He hesitated in the doorway, his hands curling into fists at his sides. Then he forced himself forward, his footsteps drawing their attention. One by one, their eyes lifted toward him, and the conversation died down.

BoBoiBoy stopped a few paces away, his head bowed, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor. “I… I’m sorry,” he said quietly. His voice trembled, and his fingers clenched tighter. “For yesterday. For losing control. For hurting you.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. He could feel their eyes on him, feel the weight of their concern pressing against his skin. He braced himself for anger, for disappointment—anything he was certain he deserved.

But instead, Ying spoke first, her voice gentle. “BoBoiBoy, it’s okay. We don’t blame you.”

“Yeah,” Yaya added firmly. “It was just a mistake. Things got intense, that’s all. It happens to all of us.”

Fang, the one who had been struck, gave a small shrug. His expression was calm, his tone steady. “I told you before, it wasn’t that bad. A scratch. Nothing more. You don’t need to feel guilty.”

Gopal chimed in with his usual brightness, though his smile was softer than usual. “Exactly! Besides, if you’re going to knock anyone flat, it should be me, not Fang. He’s too serious all the time.”

They all chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, but BoBoiBoy’s heart twisted. He clenched his fists tighter, nails biting into his palms. Their kindness was overwhelming, but it hurt too. They forgave him so easily, yet he couldn’t forgive himself.

He wanted to believe them, wanted to accept their words and let the guilt wash away. But the memory of Fang flinching, the sound of his own panicked voice crying out apologies—it replayed in his mind like a wound that refused to close.

He was grateful for them. More than they knew. But he couldn’t bear to hear them absolve him of something he thought was unforgivable.

He forced himself to look up. They were all watching him, waiting. He summoned a small, strained smile and whispered, “Thank you.”

Their faces softened. Ying reached out and gave his shoulder a squeeze. Yaya let out a relieved sigh. Fang nodded in quiet approval. Gopal grinned so wide it almost looked genuine again.

“No problem!” Gopal said brightly. “That’s what friends are for.”

The heaviness in the air lightened just a little. Soon enough, their conversation shifted, moving away from apologies and guilt. They began talking about how exhausting the last few days had been, about how maybe what they needed wasn’t another mission or training session—but a break.

“A relaxing day,” Ying suggested with a smile. “Something normal.”

Yaya nodded. “We’ve been through enough. We deserve it.”

Fang gave a small grunt of agreement, and even Gopal’s excitement dimmed into something softer.

BoBoiBoy listened quietly, his smile still plastered on his face. When they turned to him expectantly, waiting for his answer, he nodded. “Yeah… that sounds good.”

And so it was decided. They would spend the day together, just hanging out, doing nothing heroic—nothing dangerous. Just being kids again.

As they stood and began to plan what to do, BoBoiBoy followed along, laughing when they laughed, speaking when spoken to. On the outside, it looked like he was fine, like he had accepted their forgiveness.

But deep down, the storm was still there, whispering that he didn’t deserve this peace. That no matter how much his friends smiled at him, he had crossed a line he couldn’t undo.

Still… he walked with them. Because for now, even if he couldn’t forgive himself, he needed them more than ever.

The lights illuminated the sleek metal of TAPOPS headquarters, warm and golden, but BoBoiBoy hardly felt it. Even though his friends had convinced him to spend the day relaxing, part of him still wanted to hide away in his room and avoid everyone. But Gopal wouldn’t take no for an answer, and Fang’s quiet but firm tone didn’t allow argument.

So here they were—Yaya, Ying, Fang, Gopal, and BoBoiBoy—standing together in the spaceship bags slung over their shoulders, casual clothes replacing their usual uniforms.

“Destination: Earth,” Ying announced with a grin, pressing the console.

The spaceship shimmered, swirling with light, and a second later the five of them were on a journey that whisked them away from TAPOPS and back home.

The moment their feet touched solid ground again, the air changed.

It wasn’t metallic or cold like TAPOPS—it was warm, familiar, alive. The soft breeze carried the scent of the ocean and the faint sweetness of nearby bakeries. Birds sang from treetops, and the sounds of life—distant chatter, rolling carts, laughter—echoed around them.

BoBoiBoy blinked against the sunlight. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed this.

“Welcome home, BoBoiBoy!” Gopal shouted dramatically, stretching his arms. “Ah, smell that? That’s the smell of freedom! No missions, no Koko Ci yelling, no training drills!”

Yaya rolled her eyes but smiled. “We’re here to relax, not destroy the town, Gopal.”

Fang chuckled softly, hands in his pockets. “Let’s just keep it simple today.”

Privately, the others exchanged glances. They’d all quietly agreed that bringing BoBoiBoy down to Earth would help him unwind. Here, among familiar faces and places, maybe he could breathe again—away from the pressure of being a hero.

BoBoiBoy gave a small smile, still looking around. “Let’s go see Tok Aba first.”

The mention of his grandfather lit up his face, even if only for a moment, and that was enough for the others.

They walked through the sunny streets of Pulau Rintis, laughing and teasing each other. For a little while, things almost felt normal again. Then, rounding a corner, they saw the old sign swinging above.

Tok Aba’s Kokotiam.

The cozy little shop looked just the same as ever—warm and bright, and the smell of roasted coffee and cocoa drifting out the kokotiam. BoBoiBoy’s chest tightened with affection as they stepped closer. The soft hum of chatter greeted them, and behind the counter, Tok Aba turned at the sound of the door.

The moment his eyes landed on BoBoiBoy, his entire face lit up.

“BoBoiBoy! My boy!” Tok Aba exclaimed, rushing out from behind the counter with surprising speed for his age. “You didn’t tell me you were coming back!”

BoBoiBoy laughed, and for the first time in days, it sounded genuine. He ran forward and hugged his grandfather tightly. “Surprise, Tok Aba. We finished a mission early, so we thought we’d visit.”

Tok Aba chuckled warmly and ruffled his grandson’s hair. “Well, this is the best surprise I’ve had all week! Come, come, all of you—sit! You must be tired. I’ll make some hot chocolate.”

They all sat down at one of the tables near the front. Gopal was already scanning the menu, Yaya and Ying were chatting about their plans for later, and Fang leaned back in his chair, quietly observing as always.

BoBoiBoy sat across from Tok Aba, smiling as his grandfather fussed over the cups and whipped up cocoa with extra marshmallows, “just like when you were little.”

For a while, BoBoiBoy just listened to him talk. The simple rhythm of his grandfather’s voice, the clink of mugs, the smell of chocolate—it all felt safe.

And for a fleeting moment, the weight in his chest lightened.

But then it came back.

Every laugh, every kind word, every moment of warmth reminded him of how undeserving he felt. How, just a day ago, his hands had crackled with lightning and pain, how he’d lost control and hurt someone he cared about. He didn’t belong in this peace.

He tried to push the thought away. Don’t ruin this, he told himself. Not here. Not in front of Tok Aba.

Tok Aba leaned forward, smiling kindly. “You look tired, BoBoiBoy. Are you sleeping well?”

BoBoiBoy froze for half a second, then forced a grin. “Yeah! I’m fine, Tok Aba. Just… you know, lots of missions lately.”

The old man chuckled, nodding. “You’ve been doing great things, my boy. I’m so proud of you.”

That hit harder than anything else. Pride. BoBoiBoy swallowed, keeping his expression steady even as his chest ached. “Thanks, Tok Aba.”

He didn’t deserve that pride. Not when he couldn’t even control himself. Not when he might hurt the people he loved most.

Still, he smiled. He had to. Tok Aba didn’t need to know the truth—the fear that haunted him every time he used his powers, the anger at himself he couldn’t explain. Not when they finally had this rare chance to see each other.

So he hid it, like always. He wore his fake smile—one he had perfected over the years. It wasn’t a happy smile; it was a shield.

After they finished their drinks, Yaya suggested they go for a walk around the town. The others agreed eagerly, stretching and laughing. Tok Aba patted BoBoiBoy’s shoulder warmly as they stood.

“Don’t forget to come back before evening! I’ll make something special for you.”

BoBoiBoy nodded, smiling up at him. “We’ll be back soon. Promise.”

As they waved goodbye and stepped back into the sunlight, the others were chatting happily, their voices light and carefree.

BoBoiBoy smiled too, walking a step behind them, letting their laughter fill the air around him.

But his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

He’d learned long ago how to fake it—how to look strong when he was breaking inside, how to hide the hurt that never really went away. Because if he showed them how much he was hurting, they’d only worry more.

And he couldn’t let that happen. Not to his friends. Not to Tok Aba.

So he kept walking, his fake smile bright under the morning sun, even as the guilt followed him like a shadow he couldn’t escape.

The day in Pulau Rintis drifted on gently, the kind of warm, golden afternoon that made the sea shimmer and the air smell faintly of salt and cocoa.

BoBoiBoy and his friends wandered through the familiar streets at an easy pace, taking their time. They didn’t have to return to TAPOPS for a few hours yet, and for once, the world wasn’t in danger.

Gopal walked at the front, enthusiastically juggling snacks he had bought from a street vendor—fried banana fritters in one hand and a bag of chips in the other. “Now this is living,” he declared, his mouth already full. “Who needs alien missions when you can have food this good?”

Yaya rolled her eyes with a smile. “You say that every time we come back home.”

“I say it because it’s true!” Gopal said proudly, crunching another chip.

Ying laughed and darted ahead, the soft whoosh of her speed leaving a faint breeze behind. “Come on, slowpokes! You’re walking like grandpas!”

“Ying, we’re supposed to be relaxing,” Fang called after her, hands stuffed in his pockets, his usual calm expression softening just a little.

They were all laughing—laughing more than usual, BoBoiBoy realized. The kind of laughter that was too loud, too frequent, too deliberate. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what they were doing.

They were trying to make him feel better.

It was in the way Yaya kept glancing at him between sentences, the way Gopal’s jokes were even more ridiculous than usual, the way Fang, normally reserved, stayed close by as if to make sure he didn’t drift too far away in his thoughts.

BoBoiBoy knew all of it. He could see right through their efforts.

And because he knew, he decided to play along.

He laughed when Gopal pretended to trip over nothing, grinned when Ying teased Fang about his stoic face, and even joined in when Yaya started imitating Koko Ci’s dramatic speeches. Every laugh he gave felt a little forced at first, but the sound came easier the more he heard his friends’ genuine joy around him.

They’re trying so hard for me, he thought, guilt swelling quietly in his chest. The least I can do is pretend to be okay.

So he smiled. And the others smiled back, believing it. For a brief while, everything almost felt right again.

They walked past the docks where small boats rocked gently against the tide, past the park where children ran barefoot chasing kites, past stalls filled with colorful trinkets and sweet pastries. The town was alive in that simple, familiar way that BoBoiBoy loved—the same streets where he’d once run errands for Tok Aba, where his biggest worry had been missing the ice cream cart.

And yet, even here, he couldn’t shake the weight inside him.

Every laugh, every step, every ray of sunlight seemed to press against his chest, whispering: You don’t deserve this peace.

Still, he smiled. Always smiling. Always pretending.

They had just sat down on a bench overlooking the ocean when the peace broke.

A faint, rhythmic beeping came from their wrists. All five of them froze, exchanging glances.

“Please tell me that’s a lunch reminder,” Gopal muttered hopefully.

Yaya sighed, already tapping her watch. “I doubt it.”

BoBoiBoy lifted his wrist, the blue light of the watch flickering to life. A small holographic projection shimmered into view above it, forming the unmistakable image of Commander Koko Ci’s face. His usually playful expression was gone, replaced by tight urgency.

“Cadets,” Koko Ci began, voice sharp but steady. “I know you’re on break, but we have an emergency situation. You’re needed back at TAPOPS immediately.”

Ying straightened, her playful grin fading. “What happened, Commander?”

“I’ll explain once you arrive,” Koko Ci said quickly. “No time for details now. Just get here as fast as possible.”

“Yes, sir!” they all answered in unison.

Koko Ci nodded, and the hologram blinked out. The glow from their watches faded, leaving behind a heavy silence.

For a moment, no one spoke. The cheerful warmth from earlier evaporated, replaced by the familiar pulse of duty. The five of them exchanged glances—half concern, half determination.

“Guess vacation’s over,” Fang said quietly, standing first.

Gopal groaned dramatically, tossing the last of his chips away. “Just when I was starting to digest properly…”

Yaya elbowed him gently. “Come on. You can eat on the ship.”

BoBoiBoy stood last, his fake smile slipping away at last. Duty. That was something he understood. Duty didn’t ask him to feel, to heal, or to forgive himself. It only asked him to act.

He took one last look around the town—the calm streets, the laughing children, the peaceful sky—and then turned toward his friends. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice steady now, the mask of confidence sliding easily back into place.

They all nodded and went to where they had left their spaceship and went back inside. In a flash of blue light, Pulau Rintis vanished behind them, replaced by the sterile metallic corridors of TAPOPS once again.

As the hum of the engine faded, BoBoiBoy exhaled softly and tightened his gloves. Whatever awaited them next, he’d face it. Not because he felt ready… but because he didn’t know how to do anything else.

The air inside TAPOPS was thick with urgency.

As BoBoiBoy and his friends stepped through the docking bay doors, their shoes echoing against the polished metal floor, the familiar hum of machinery and distant chatter greeted them. But something felt off. The usual warmth and humor of the base was gone. The entire room seemed sharper, colder.

Commander Koko Ci stood at the central holo-table, his expression grim, arms crossed tightly behind his back. Data screens around him flashed streams of information—coordinates, encrypted signals, and blurry satellite images of a distant planet.

BoBoiBoy had never seen him look quite like this.

The group hurried over, forming a loose half-circle before him. The tension was palpable, and even Gopal didn’t make a single joke.

Koko Ci turned toward them. His voice, though steady, carried an edge of exhaustion.

“I’m sorry,” he began, glancing at each of them in turn. “I know I pulled you away from your break on Earth, but this couldn’t wait. We’ve got a situation that needs your immediate attention.”

Fang straightened, hands slipping into his pockets with casual calm. “It’s fine, Commander. What’s going on?”

Koko Ci tapped a control on the holo-table, and a 3D image of a small, green-and-blue planet flickered into view. A pulsing red dot blinked across one of its continents.

“We received a distress call an hour ago,” he explained. “A Power Sphere sent out a signal before communications went dark. The message was fragmented, but it was clearly under threat. The coordinates match a lawless sector near the outer systems.”

BoBoiBoy’s brow furrowed. “A Power Sphere? Alone?”

“That’s right,” Koko Ci said. “Our scanners picked up energy readings consistent with high-level pursuit ships in the area. Whoever’s after it isn’t just some small-time thieves.”

The commander’s tone grew graver as he turned off the hologram. “I need your team to locate the Power Sphere and secure it before those criminals can get away. I’ve already arranged a ship for you. The details of the distress call are being uploaded to your devices now.”

Yaya nodded firmly. “Understood, sir. We’ll handle it.”

“Good.” Koko Ci hesitated, the faintest flicker of concern showing through his usual composure. “Be careful. The energy readings from that area are… unstable. And we don’t know what kind of Power Sphere you’re dealing with.”

BoBoiBoy met his gaze and gave a crisp salute. “We won’t let you down, Commander.”

Koko Ci returned the gesture with a tight nod. “I know you won’t.”

With that, the briefing was over. The team turned and hurried toward the hangar, where their small TAPOPS ship—sleek, silver, and ready for launch—awaited them.

As the engines came to life, the ship lifted off smoothly, breaking through the atmosphere in a flash of blue light. The stars stretched into long streaks as they entered warp speed, the hum of the ship steady beneath their feet.

Inside, the mood was serious. Yaya sat at the navigation console beside Ying, who monitored the scanners. Fang leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in thought. Gopal munched quietly on a snack bar—though even he wasn’t joking.

BoBoiBoy sat by the window, watching the endless stars rush past. He could feel that same pressure building again—the weight of responsibility, the fear of losing control—but he pushed it down. He couldn’t afford to let it show now. Not when they were heading into danger.

After several tense hours, Ying’s voice broke the silence. “We’re approaching the planet.”

The ship slowed, the streaks of light snapping back into the glittering stillness of space. Ahead of them floated a rugged, forest-covered world bathed in golden sunlight.

As they entered the atmosphere, turbulence rattled the cabin. Yaya gripped the controls tightly, bringing them down into a wide canyon that offered cover. The ship landed with a low hum, thrusters kicking up clouds of dust and leaves.

Once the ramp lowered, the group stepped out into the alien air. The forest was dense and humid, filled with the scent of moss and strange flowers. The sunlight filtered through the canopy in flickering patterns, painting their armor in shades of green and gold.

“Alright,” Yaya said, scanning the horizon. “Ying and I will scout ahead. We’ll find out what we’re dealing with.”

BoBoiBoy nodded. “Stay in contact. If you see anything suspicious, don’t engage—just come back.”

Ying gave a thumbs-up, and with a burst of wind, she was gone in a blur of motion, Yaya flying up into the treetops right behind her.

That left BoBoiBoy, Fang, and Gopal waiting near the ship.

They waited for what felt like hours, tension growing with each minute. The quiet rustle of leaves was the only sound around them.

Finally, the communicators on their wrists lit up, and Yaya’s voice came through, low but urgent. “We found them.”

The three of them froze.

Yaya’s hologram flickered into view, followed by Ying’s beside her. Both looked tense.

“The Power Sphere’s here,” Yaya said. “But the criminals found it first.”

Ying nodded, her voice quick. “They’re getting ready to leave. Their ship’s already powered up. If they launch, we’ll lose them.”

Fang frowned, arms crossing tightly. “Then we hit them before they can take off. Fast and clean.”

Gopal raised an eyebrow. “Fast and clean? Fang, we don’t even know what the Power Sphere does yet! What if it explodes or something?”

“Then we don’t give them the chance to use it,” Fang replied.

The group fell silent for a moment, weighing their options.

BoBoiBoy looked up at the hologram, his mind already racing through possible outcomes. His heartbeat quickened, that familiar electric hum building just beneath his skin.

“We’ll launch a surprise attack,” he said finally. “We’ll move in from the east side, where the terrain’s steep—they won’t expect an approach from there. Fang, Gopal, and I will handle the criminals. Yaya, Ying—you focus on securing the Power Sphere and keeping it safe.”

The others nodded, determination replacing hesitation.

Yaya’s expression hardened. “Got it. We’ll move into position now.”

The hologram blinked out, leaving only the forest’s soft rustling once again.

BoBoiBoy turned to Fang and Gopal, lightning already crackling faintly along his gloves. “Let’s end this quickly.”

“Just try not to fry anyone this time,” Gopal muttered with a grin that didn’t quite hide his nerves.

BoBoiBoy gave a small, tight smile. “I’ll do my best.”

With that, they moved out—five friends, five heroes, descending into the heart of another battle. Above them, the sunlight faded as storm clouds began to gather, a low rumble echoing in the distance.

It seemed the storm was coming again.

The battle started perfectly.

At first, everything went according to plan. BoBoiBoy and his friends had struck from the eastern ridge, catching the criminals completely off guard. Explosions of light and energy burst across the clearing as the TAPOPS heroes charged in, their teamwork sharp and synchronized after countless missions together.

Yaya soared high above the battlefield, creating a shimmering pink barrier to block enemy fire. Ying dashed between blasts of energy, moving so fast she was almost invisible, disarming and disabling the criminals before they could react. Gopal shifted between defensive shields and counterattacks, covering Fang as he engaged in close combat, his shadows slicing through the chaos with precision.

And then—there was BoBoiBoy.

He moved like lightning itself, darting between enemies, his eyes blazing with determination. Electricity crackled through the air as his powers surged, the storm inside him growing louder and louder with each passing second.

At first, he had everything under control. Every movement was deliberate, every strike precise. But then the criminals regrouped, forming a tight circle around the Power Sphere, their weapons glowing with unstable energy. The situation was spiraling, and BoBoiBoy knew he had to end it quickly before someone got hurt.

That’s when he made the decision.

That’s when it all went wrong.

He clenched his fists, feeling his energy spike dangerously. “Elemental Split—!”

The world seemed to shatter into light.

A crack of thunder echoed across the canyon as three figures burst forth from his body—Taufan, Halilintar, and Gempa—each one radiating immense confidence. The air rippled from the force of their arrival.

Inside their shared consciousness, the elementals felt it—BoBoiBoy’s call, his need for them.

Their master needed them.

And this time, they were going to make him proud.

“Finally!” Taufan shouted, winds swirling wildly around him. “Let’s show Master what we can really do!”

Halilintar’s grin was sharp, his eyes gleamed with eagerness. “About time he called us.”

Gempa cracked his knuckles, the ground trembling beneath his feet. “Let’s make this quick!”

They didn’t wait for BoBoiBoy’s command. They didn’t even think—just acted.

In their eagerness to prove their worth, they unleashed everything they had.

Halilintar shot forward in a flash of blinding light, striking enemies with bolts so powerful the air burned around him. Taufan soared above, creating tornado-like gusts that scattered debris and enemies alike. Gempa slammed his fists into the ground, sending shockwaves that split the terrain and toppled the criminals’ ship where it stood.

For a few fleeting seconds, it was spectacular.

It was power in its purest, most breathtaking form.

And then the destruction began.

The forest shook violently. Trees splintered, earth cracked open, and the enemy forces screamed as shockwaves sent them flying. One of Yaya’s barriers shattered under the strain of Halilintar’s lightning colliding with Gempa’s seismic blasts. Ying tried to dash in to protect the Power Sphere, but a gust from Taufan’s wind sent her tumbling back.

“Stop! You’re overdoing it!” Gopal yelled, his voice nearly lost in the storm of chaos.

“Guys, that’s enough!” Fang shouted as he tried to shield himself from falling debris.

But the elementals couldn’t hear them—not really. They were too focused, too desperate to impress their master. Each thought they were helping, each wanted to be seen as the strongest, the most useful.

Inside, BoBoiBoy could feel everything unraveling.

It was like watching through fogged glass—he could see what he was doing, but he couldn’t control it. Their energy was overwhelming, spilling out in waves that even he couldn’t contain.

And then, in a single horrifying instant, it all went silent.

The smoke began to clear. The enemies were unconscious or fleeing. The once-green forest was now a cratered wasteland. The earth smoked, the air burned, and sparks danced in the lingering haze of destruction.

Yaya drooped down as she surveyed the damage. Ying was kneeling beside a broken tree, her breathing heavy. Fang and Gopal exchanged a look—half shock, half sorrow.

And standing at the center of it all was BoBoiBoy, his body flickering with residual energy as his elementals merged back into him. The power drained from his limbs, leaving him pale and trembling.

When he opened his eyes, he was surrounded by devastation.

It took him a moment to realize that he had done this.

His breath hitched. His vision blurred. His heart pounded painfully in his chest.

“No… no, no…” He stumbled forward, staring at the cracked earth, the burned trees, the scattered pieces of what had once been their battlefield. “What… what did I—?”

“BoBoiBoy,” Fang started, stepping forward cautiously, “hey, it’s alright. You just—”

But BoBoiBoy didn’t hear him. The sounds of the world seemed to fade into a low hum, like static in his ears. His hands shook as he looked down at them, still faintly glowing with the remnants of lightning and wind.

He’d hurt people again. He’d lost control again.

“BoBoiBoy, it’s okay!” Yaya called gently.

But he couldn’t move. Couldn’t answer. Couldn’t breathe.

His mind went blank, the world around him dimming at the edges.

Everything—the shouting, the concern, the voices of his friends—became distant.

He was there, standing in the middle of the wreckage, but his soul felt far, far away.

Fang reached him first, gripping his shoulder. “Hey—look at me. It’s over, okay? You’re safe.”

But BoBoiBoy’s eyes were unfocused, glassy. His lips parted slightly, but no words came. His mind had slipped somewhere else entirely—away from the ruined battlefield, away from his friends, away from himself.

The boy who could command storms now stood in eerie stillness, caught in the quiet aftermath of the destruction he never meant to cause.

And the storm inside him, though silent now, was far from over.

The trip back to TAPOPS was suffocatingly silent.

Inside the ship, the soft hum of the engines was the only sound that filled the air. The usual chatter—the playful teasing, Gopal’s jokes, Ying’s excited rambling—was gone. Even Yaya, who always tried to lift everyone’s spirits, sat quietly with her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

BoBoiBoy sat near the viewport, staring out into the endless expanse of stars. The light of distant galaxies washed faint reflections over his face, but his eyes were vacant—unfocused, lost somewhere far beyond what he was seeing.

His friends tried to talk to him at first.

“Hey,” Gopal murmured softly, breaking the heavy silence. “You okay, bro? You were amazing out there—just, you know, maybe a bit too amazing.”

Yaya shot Gopal a warning look, and he quickly shut his mouth. Ying leaned forward instead, her voice careful and kind. “We know you didn’t mean for that to happen, BoBoiBoy. Everyone’s fine. Nobody’s hurt badly.”

But BoBoiBoy barely reacted. Their words reached him like muffled echoes, as if he were underwater and their voices were drifting from far above the surface. He nodded faintly, offering a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, before turning back to the window.

Fang, sitting across from him, watched quietly. He could see the way BoBoiBoy’s hands were trembling, clenched tight against his knees. He wanted to say something—to tell him it wasn’t his fault—but every time he opened his mouth, the words died on his tongue.

When they finally landed back at TAPOPS, the metallic hiss of the ship’s ramp lowering felt deafening after the long silence.

The team disembarked slowly. BoBoiBoy moved like a ghost, his steps heavy, his shoulders slightly hunched. The familiar hangar—bright, humming with life—felt strangely distant. Normally, returning from a mission meant laughter, high fives, and jokes about near misses. This time, the air felt fragile, like a single wrong word could make it all shatter.

Commander Koko Ci was waiting for them near the command table. His expression was unreadable—part exhaustion, part concern, and something else that BoBoiBoy couldn’t quite name.

Fang stepped forward first, his tone steady and factual. “Commander, the mission was a success. We recovered the Power Sphere and neutralized the enemy forces.”

Koko Ci’s eyes gleamed with approval as he nodded. “Good work. I received your transmission on the way back.”

Fang hesitated, glancing briefly at BoBoiBoy before continuing. “There… was some collateral damage, though. The terrain took a hit. The criminals, too. It wasn’t intentional—BoBoiBoy lost control of his powers for a moment when he did his Elemental Split.”

BoBoiBoy flinched slightly at his own name, lowering his head.

Koko Ci let out a slow sigh, rubbing his temple. “I see.”

For a few seconds, the commander said nothing. He turned toward the large holographic display, watching it flicker with mission data. The faint buzz of electronics filled the silence between them. Then he turned back to BoBoiBoy.

“No one’s blaming you,” he said finally. His tone was calm but heavy, every word deliberate. “You did your duty. You protected your team. But… I think it’s clear you need a break.”

BoBoiBoy’s head snapped up. “A break?”

Koko Ci nodded. “You’ve been under immense pressure lately. You’ve taken on more missions than anyone else in your division. Maybe it’s time for a change of scenery—a short rest back on Earth. Clear your head before things get worse.”

The words were phrased gently, but BoBoiBoy heard the truth beneath them. He saw the careful way Koko Ci avoided looking him directly in the eyes.

He didn’t believe this was just about rest.

He thought BoBoiBoy was unstable.

A liability.

A risk to his friends.

BoBoiBoy straightened, his pulse pounding in his ears. “I can control it,” he said quickly, his voice trembling despite his best efforts. “I just need more training. I can handle it—please, Commander, I can do better next time.”

Koko Ci’s expression softened, but his decision was already made. He shook his head slowly. “BoBoiBoy, this isn’t a punishment. It’s just… what’s best for you right now. And for everyone else.”

The finality in his tone struck like a blade. BoBoiBoy wanted to argue, to shout that he wasn’t dangerous, that he was fine—but the words stuck in his throat.

When Koko Ci turned away, it felt like a door quietly closing.

“Take a few days,” he said as he walked toward the exit. “Spend time with your grandfather. When you’re ready, we’ll talk again.”

The automatic doors slid shut behind him, leaving the team in silence once more.

BoBoiBoy stared at the floor, his hands shaking faintly in his lap.

Gopal crouched beside him. “Hey… it’s not a bad thing, you know. Everyone needs a break sometimes.”

“Y-Yeah,” Ying added quickly, smiling with forced cheer. “You’ve been working nonstop lately. This is your chance to relax! Eat some of Tok Aba’s food! Sleep in!”

Yaya rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. “They’re right. You’ve done so much for everyone. It’s okay to take care of yourself too.”

BoBoiBoy looked up at them—at their kind, worried faces—and forced a smile. “Yeah… you’re right. I guess I could use a little rest.”

It was a perfect smile. Small. Soft. Convincing.

And completely fake.

His friends didn’t notice. Or maybe they did, but they wanted to believe it anyway.

They helped him pack later that day, chatting lightly about places he should visit on Earth and food he needed to eat. BoBoiBoy nodded and laughed at all the right moments, though his voice felt far away in his own ears.

By evening, the TAPOPS ship was ready. The engines hummed quietly as BoBoiBoy stood at the ramp, looking back at his friends.

“We’ll visit soon!” Gopal called out.

“Don’t you dare eat all of Tok Aba’s chocolate without us,” Ying added with a grin.

Fang gave a simple nod, his expression calm but his eyes full of unspoken concern.

And Yaya smiled softly. “Take care of yourself, BoBoiBoy.”

BoBoiBoy nodded. “I will.”

The ramp lifted, the ship rising into the sky. His friends waved until the distance swallowed them from sight.

As the stars stretched out before him once again, BoBoiBoy leaned his head against the window. His reflection stared back at him—a boy who once believed he could control anything.

Now, he wasn’t so sure.

And for the first time in a long while, the quiet of space didn’t feel peaceful.

It felt like guilt made visible.

When BoBoiBoy returned to Earth, the blue sky above felt strangely heavy.

He had expected to feel relief the moment he stepped out of the TAPOPS ship—to breathe in the familiar scent of sea breeze and earth, to feel the warmth of the sun on his skin. But instead, there was only a hollow ache in his chest, like a piece of him had been left behind in the stars.

The quiet streets of Pulau Rintis greeted him like an old friend. The sound of cicadas buzzed faintly in the background, and a gentle wind rustled the trees that lined the road to his grandfather’s house. He stood there for a long moment, staring at the wooden door, his reflection faintly visible in the glass.

He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed this place. And yet, now that he was here, it didn’t feel like home.

Taking a deep breath, BoBoiBoy lifted his hand and knocked softly.

The door creaked open almost instantly.

“BoBoiBoy?”

The familiar, warm voice of Tok Aba made something in his chest twist. His grandfather’s eyes widened in surprise before they softened, and in the next moment, he pulled BoBoiBoy into a hug—tight, strong, and full of love.

“Boboiboy, what a surprise! You didn’t even call ahead!” Tok Aba exclaimed, his laugh rumbling like the comfort of old days.

BoBoiBoy hugged him back, feeling the ache in his throat tighten. “Heh… surprise,” he said softly.

When Tok Aba finally let go, he took a good look at his grandson. His smile faltered slightly. There was something off—the dark circles under BoBoiBoy’s eyes, the tired slouch of his shoulders, the quiet that hung around him like a shadow.

“You’re back early,” Tok Aba said, trying to sound casual. “What happened? Mission cut short?”

BoBoiBoy forced a smile, his voice light but not convincing. “Nah, nothing like that. Commander Koko Ci said I could take a break. Just some time off, you know? To… rest.”

Tok Aba nodded slowly, still watching him carefully. He could read his grandson easily—he always could. BoBoiBoy might have grown stronger, faster, older… but he still wore his emotions in his eyes.

Something had gone wrong.

But Tok Aba didn’t press him. Not yet.

“Well, a break, huh?” he said, smiling again as he stepped aside. “Then you came to the right place. Come in, come in. You look like you could use some of my hot chocolate.”

BoBoiBoy let out a small, genuine laugh—the first real one in days—and stepped inside.

The house was exactly as he remembered it: the faint aroma of roasted cocoa beans, the neat shelves, the cozy warmth that made the air feel alive. For the first time in a while, he felt a spark of something almost like peace.

And then, a cheerful metallic voice broke the silence.

“BoBoiBoy!”

Ochobot zoomed in from the side room, his mechanical arms flailing slightly in excitement. His bright blue eyes glowed happily as he hovered right up to BoBoiBoy’s face.

“You’re back! You’re really back!”

BoBoiBoy smiled—this time a bit wider, a bit warmer. “Hey, Ochobot. Miss me already?”

“Of course!” Ochobot chirped. “It’s been forever!”

BoBoiBoy chuckled softly. “It’s only been, what, two or three weeks?”

“That’s a long time when you’re stuck here with Tok Aba talking about cocoa beans every day,” Ochobot said dramatically, and Tok Aba laughed from the kitchen.

“Hey! My cocoa beans are very interesting!” the old man called.

BoBoiBoy laughed again, shaking his head. “You two haven’t changed at all.”

The sound of laughter, the smell of chocolate, the light shining through the open windows—it all felt so normal, so familiar, so safe.

For a little while, he let himself pretend that everything was okay.

They sat together in the small dining area while Tok Aba busied himself at the stove, humming an old tune as he made BoBoiBoy’s favorite drink. Ochobot hovered near the table, recounting every little thing that had happened while BoBoiBoy was away—from running out of batteries to accidentally overcharging himself and shorting the television.

BoBoiBoy smiled through it all, his voice calm and easy, but somewhere deep down, he could feel the guilt still there—pulsing quietly, like a heartbeat he couldn’t turn off.

Tok Aba placed a steaming mug of hot chocolate in front of him. The smell alone was enough to make BoBoiBoy close his eyes and breathe deeply. It was warm. Comforting. Familiar.

“Eat, drink, rest,” Tok Aba said gently. “You can tell me everything later, if you want to. Or not at all. I’m just happy you’re home.”

BoBoiBoy nodded, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, Tok Aba.”

They ate together—Tok Aba, BoBoiBoy, and Ochobot. The room was filled with soft laughter and little jokes, just like old times. For a moment, BoBoiBoy could almost believe he was just a normal boy again, with no powers, no missions, no responsibilities.

But when the laughter faded, the silence crept back in.

And so did the thoughts.

When dinner was over, Tok Aba insisted he go rest. “You look exhausted, Boboiboy. Go upstairs, wash up, and get some sleep. Everything else can wait till morning.”

BoBoiBoy nodded, grateful for the excuse to escape before his smile cracked.

He waved goodnight to Tok Aba and Ochobot, climbed the narrow stairs to his room, and quietly shut the door behind him.

The room was just as he’d left it—posters on the wall, a few action figures on the shelf, his old desk cluttered with little trinkets and memories. But it felt different now. Smaller. Quieter.

He went through the motions automatically—brushing his teeth, changing into his pajamas, turning off the light—his body moving while his mind was miles away.

When he finally sank into bed, the softness of the pillow should have been comforting. Instead, it made the silence louder.

His eyes drifted to the watch resting on his bedside table—the same device that had changed his life all those years ago. It gleamed faintly in the dim light, a quiet reminder of everything he’d gained. And everything he’d lost.

His stomach twisted.

He reached out and picked it up, holding it tightly in his hand.

“I shouldn’t have accepted you,” he whispered bitterly. “If I hadn’t… none of this would’ve happened.”

Memories flashed behind his eyes—his friends’ worried faces, the destruction he’d caused, the fear he saw reflected in their eyes even when they tried to hide it.

A lump formed in his throat, and his grip tightened until his knuckles turned white.

“I hate this,” he muttered. “I hate these powers… I hate myself for not being able to control them.”

He stared at the watch for a long moment, his heart pounding painfully. Then, slowly, he set it back on the table and turned away.

Curling into his blanket, he pressed his face into the pillow to hide the burning in his eyes.

His final thought before sleep took him was quiet—a whisper that barely made it past his lips.

If only I’d never met you…

And in the stillness of the night, the soft hum of the watch pulsed faintly—almost like it had heard him.