Chapter Text
He felt like he was floating.
Just drifting, light and unanchored, as if his body had been placed on a current he didn’t need to steer. Sound came to him muffled and distant, like voices carried through muddy water. Light filtered in and out, warm and steady.
He wasn’t alone.
It wasn’t exactly a thought, more an awareness he couldn’t trace to any moment in particular. For some reason, the certainty was already there, existing in the dark as if it had never needed to arrive. There were echoes of others nearby—fragments of colors and feelings that didn’t particularly belong to him, yet felt as familiar as his own breath.
Something shifted.
A small pull, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind him that something was waiting for him somewhere else. The fleeting moment of tranquility began to fade, replaced by the sudden, heavy feeling that comes after a brutal battle.
A soft groan slipped from his throat as the drifting sensation faded away entirely. The weight of his own limbs returned all at once, pressing him down into a thin mattress that smelled lightly of antiseptic and dirt.
“Boboiboy’s awake!” Ochobot’s sharp, mechanical chirp shattered the last of the silence. His eyelids fluttered, squinting against the bright rays of the sunlight as the world rushed in—not the darkness of his unconsciousness, but the interior of a TAPOPS mobile medical tent. Immediately, the space around him was crowded—Yaya, Ying, Gopal, Fang, and even Papa Zola and Pipi leaned in, their faces a blur of colors before snapping into focus.
“Boboiboy!” Gopal cried, relief flooding into his voice. He hears a faint ‘he’s awake?’ from the cot beside him, to which he shrugged off in favor of observing his friends. They looked relieved and exhausted, with grime caking their clothes lightly and soft bruises littering their face and limbs, but they were here. They were alive.
Boboiboy’s chest tightened at the sight of them.
“Are you okay, Boboiboy?” Gopal asked anxiously. The question landed heavier than it should have. Boboiboy swallowed hard, his throat feeling like it was lined with sandpaper, making a slow effort to push himself upright. His body protested, muscles aching and head throbbing, but nothing felt broken. He was whole.
“I’m okay,” he said, voice coming out hoarse. He forced a small, instinctive smile. The one he always wore for them. “How about you guys?”
“We’re all okay," Ying answered immediately, concern evident on her face.
“Don’t worry about us,” Yaya added with a firm shake of her head, smiling softly. She reached out to give Boboiboy a reassuring squeeze on his left wrist before letting go. He stared at his wrist for a bit, warmth lingering on the area she just touched. The tension in his chest loosened just a little.
“I’m glad to hear that…” He muttered in relief, looking up once again to take in the faces of his friends, making sure they were really there. “Thank you for helping me out earlier.” He said softly.
The words were automatic.
Gratitude was always easier than thinking of what happened. Easier than examining the strange hollowness behind his ribs, like something had burned through and left an echo behind. His gaze drifted past them, toward the opening of the tent, where he caught sight of movement outside. Mushroom-like aliens were working in the debris, lifting heavy tree trunks and planting sproutlings under the guidance of people in TAPOPS uniforms.
“Huh?” Boboiboy squinted, his brow furrowing. “Who are those people?”
The answer came with footsteps.
Several figures approached from outside, their unmistakable presence radiating authority. Commander Koko Ci marched in, followed by the towering forms of Admiral Tarung, Ramenman, Captain Kaizo, and the silent Maskmana.
“They’re the Cendawa Race from Planet Rimbara.” Commander Koko Ci explained, arms crossed behind his back as he gave Boboiboy a proud smile.
“They’re going to be here for some time…” Admiral Tarung added, his voice deep and hands on his waist. He glanced at the Cendawa people, “... to oversee the rebuilding process on Earth.”
Boboiboy watched them for a moment, amazed by the alien cooperation, and let out a languid sigh.
Rebuilding.
The word echoed strangely in his head.
His hands curled slowly into fists, feeling a faint spark dancing on his fingertips.
I managed to… defeat him, he thought. I did it…
A distant rhythmic honk sounded across the clearing, interrupting his thoughts. Everyone turned as a van rolled into view, kicking up dust as it stopped near the tent. The door flew open with a resounding shout of his name. Before he could react, someone collided with him in a crushing embrace.
Tok Aba.
His grandfather’s arms wrapped around him tightly, so tight it knocked the breath from his lungs. Some part of him protested the tight hug, but Boboiboy paid it no mind as Tok Aba buried his face against his shoulder. He took a glance at his friends reuniting with their own parents before he leaned into the familiar scent of home in his grandfather’s arms. Ochobot hovered nearby, his blue sensors glowing with quiet contentment.
“Aish, you scared me half to death,” Tok Aba muttered fiercely, his voice thick with emotion. Boboiboy let out a startled laugh, squeezing his grandfather’s arms as both an apology and reassurance. For a moment, everything felt right, the faint smell of cocoa on Tok Aba’s sweater grounding him further.
Too right.
Because beneath the warmth of Tok Aba’s arms, beneath the noise and movement and relief, something inside Boboiboy shifted.
It wasn’t pain nor fear, just… something. Like something stirring where there shouldn’t have been any. A flicker of awareness brushed the edges of his thoughts, gentle and curious, like someone peeking through a curtain. Almost immediately, another presence settled deeper, steady and grounded, as if bracing him from the inside.
Something was watching.
Boboiboy stiffened in Tok Aba’s arms, heart thumping wildly against his ribs.
“What’s wrong?” Tok Aba asked, pulling back just enough to cup Boboiboy’s face. His wrinkled hands were trembling slightly, his eyes searching his grandson’s for any sign of pain.
“N-Nothing.” He answered too quickly, forcing a smile that felt a fraction too slow. “I’m just… tired.”
Adrenaline, he told himself, the thought echoing hollowly. The fight really took a lot out of me.
Tok Aba studied him for a moment, his brow furrowed with a lingering worry he couldn’t quite shake off. Finally, he nodded. “You did well, boy,” he said softly, his voice full of pride that made Boboiboy’s throat close up. “Rest now.” He leaned in, giving Boboiboy a soft peck on the forehead.
But the adrenaline was still humming in Boboiboy’s veins.
“I’m okay, Tok. I want to go out,” he insisted, wincing slightly as he swung his legs over the side of the cot. Tok Aba sighed but offered a sturdy arm, helping Boboiboy hobble toward the tent’s entrance. The moment they stepped out, the peaceful atmosphere was punctured by a high-pitched scream.
“Why did you bring our little girl with you?!” Mama Zila shrieked as she marched toward Papa Zola, her face a mask of absolute fury.
“Oh no! Forgive me, my darling!” Papa Zola squealed, scrambling backward and trying to use a bewildered Gopal and his father as a human shield. Gopal, completely unfazed, continued to eat the chicken curry his dad had brought to him.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared of your wife?” Tok Aba, supporting a chuckling Boboiboy, raised an eyebrow.
“Hey, but of course!” Papa Zola grinned as he struck a dramatic pose, though his knees were visibly shaking. “Justice is always scared of his wife!” He caught a glimpse of Mama Zila’s hand twitching and lost his nerve completely. “Run!”
He bolted into the other makeshift tents with Mama Zila in hot pursuit, while Pipi chased after them, clapping her hands. “Wait for me! I want to play tag, too!”
Boboiboy let out a long, genuine sigh of relief. His friends gathered around him, Gopal throwing a heavy, curry-scented arm around his shoulder, Yaya and Ying smiling nearby, and Fang standing coolly beside Gopal. For the first time in days, the air felt light.
That was when a small, rhythmic clip-clop of horseshoes drew their attention. Hang Kasa trotted past them on his tiny horse, looking calm as if he were taking a stroll through a park rather than someone who had been beaten up by their ex-friend a couple of hours earlier.
“Use your Elemental Powers for good, Boboiboy…” Hang Kasa said, his voice trailing behind him like a sage’s proverb.
The group looked at each other in confusion. Boboiboy’s jaw dropped. Inside his mind, something stirred violently. It was a sudden, chaotic rush of movement behind his eyes that made his head swim. He felt a heavy pressure in his chest, like a solid weight anchoring his heart in place. A second later, a spark of hot, frantic confusion flickered through his nerves, followed immediately by a wave of unnatural cold that settled in his bones.
It was as if several people were pressing right up against a frosted glass window inside his head, all trying to see through his eyes at once.
“Tok Kasa?!” Boboiboy yelled, nearly tripping over his own feet as the internal ‘noise’ momentarily blurred his vision. “You’re still alive?!”
Hang Kasa stopped the tiny horse in surprise, letting out a few gibberish words, then laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head as he stepped off the horse. “Gopal, why didn’t you tell him?”
“Huh? Me?” Gopal pointed a finger at himself. “How is it my fault?”
Boboiboy didn’t wait for an explanation. He broke away from his group and rushed forward, throwing his arms around the old master. “You’re alive! Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you were gone!”
As he hugged Hang Kasa, the strange pressure shifted. The weight in his chest seemed to relax, and the heat in his veins settled into a dull hum. It was a strange, collective sense of relief that didn’t feel like it belonged entirely to him.
Hang Kasa patted his back with a mischievous and understanding glint in his eyes as he gently pushed Boboiboy back. “If I had told you, you wouldn’t have released those Supra Supreme Stuff!” He said, adding some dramatic flair to his words.
“Aish… Tok Kasa!” Boboiboy groaned, half-laughing and half-annoyed, running a hand through his hair. A few feet away, Tok Aba leaned toward Gopal, squinting at Hang Kasa.
“Who is that, Gopal? His new grandpa?”
“It’s a long story…” Gopal muttered dramatically, staring off into the distance. Tok Aba stared at him exasperatedly.
“Cut it short.”
“Yes.”
Tok Aba glanced back at his grandson and his newly acquired grandpa in bafflement as he let out an anguished ‘What?!’. Gopal chuckled as the others made their way closer, watching Boboiboy bicker with Hang Kasa.
Boboiboy shook his head, a genuine smile finally breaking through his fatigue. But as the laughter of his friends and the bickering of his grandfathers filled the air, he felt a strange, lingering sensation. It was faint—a phantom pulse against his consciousness, like a heartbeat that wasn’t his own, steady and watchful. He rubbed his chest, a small frown tugging at his lips.
I must be more tired than I thought, he told himself.
The sun began to set, casting dramatic shadows across the clearing. As the families began to gather around a makeshift campfire, Boboiboy sat back down on his cot, which had been moved closer to the tent’s opening so he could watch the stars. He had a cup of Tok Aba’s special cocoa in his hands, but he hadn’t taken a sip yet.
He was staring at his own reflection in the dark liquid.
Something strange throbbed through him. It wasn’t exactly physical, more like a sudden, inexplicable sense of fullness. For a split second, the silence in his head felt… crowded. It was the distinct feeling of a room you think is empty until you realize someone is standing right behind you, just out of sight.
He glanced over his shoulder. No one was there, just boxes filled with medical supplies, machines, and other cots. Adudu and Probe had already left while he was catching up with Hang Kasa, as Fang told him.
Strange, he thought, rubbing his temple. Maybe Tok Kasa was right. Maybe the elements really do leave an echo.
“Boboiboy?”
He jumped slightly, the hot liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim of the cup. Fand was standing a few feet away, his arms crossed, looking at Boboiboy with his typical piercing gaze that shone with concern.
“You’ve been staring at the cup for five minutes,” Fang noted, stepping closer. “Are you sure you’re ‘okay’?”
“Yeah,” Boboiboy said, forcing his voice to stay steady as he adjusted his cap. “Just… thinking. It’s quiet now.”
Fang looked back out from the tent, scanning their other friends talking animatedly with their parents, and back at Boboiboy as he let out a tired exhale. “It won’t stay quiet for long. You saw the Commander and Admiral’s faces. Retak’ka came really close to destroying the galaxy. TAPOPS is going to be on high alert from now, and they’re going to expect more from us. Especially you.”
Boboiboy looked down at his watch. It was dormant, screen flickering with a faint static before going completely black. It had malfunctioned after the final blow against Retak’ka, since it wasn’t built to accommodate the raw power of the fusions he’d unleashed. Ochobot had mentioned that it would need an upgrade capable of stabilizing not just the fusions, but the potential of a third-tier evolution. For now, it was just a regular watch.
Yet, despite that, he could feel a faint hum beneath his skin. It wasn’t a mechanical hum. It felt warm. It felt steady. And just for a fleeting second, he felt a wave of calm wash over him—a sense of protection that didn’t exactly feel like it originated from himself. It was as if someone had placed a comforting hand on his shoulder from the inside.
He frowned, shaking the feeling off. “I know. I just hope I’m ready for whatever ‘more’ means.”
“You’d better be,” Fang said, though his tone was soft despite the seemingly harsh words. “Don’t let me take your spotlight of being the galaxy’s best hero.” He joked lightheartedly, giving Boboiboy’s shoulder a soft pat before stepping back.
As Fang walked away to join the others by the fire, Boboiboy finally took a sip of the warm cocoa. It was sweet and familiar. But as he swallowed, he felt the same phantom sensation—like a soft sigh of contentment that wasn’t his own, vibrating within his chest. It felt like the shared breath of several people finally finding a moment of peace.
He shivered, despite the warmth of the drink.
He was home. He was safe. But for the first time in his life, Boboiboy felt like the “I” he used to describe himself wasn’t quite as simple as it used to be.