Chapter 29: Am I Not Here to Call You to Account?

The freckled boy seemed to sense something and whipped his head around. Before he could even make out the shadow behind him, he was shoved violently forward. Losing his balance, he plummeted in terror.

"Thud!"

His body hit the ground with a heavy, dull impact. The arm that struck first throbbed with a pain as if it had snapped. He tried to stand, but the slightest movement sent a piercing agony through him. Tears and snot erupted instantly. Through a blurred, tear-filled haze, he looked up and saw a figure standing atop the slide.

Homelander looked down at the sobbing, chubby boy on the ground, a smirk playing on his lips.

...

Nighttime. The Kent farm.

"I can't believe he actually did this!" Mrs. York, the mother of the freckled boy, pointed a flushed finger at Homelander, who was standing nearby. "He pushed Dale right off the slide! This is attempted murder!"

"Mrs. York, John would never do such a thing," Peter said, his expression calm. "He isn't that kind of boy. Perhaps Dale simply fell."

Before dinner, the mother of the boy who had been pushed had arrived in a fury, leading her arm-bandaged son to demand justice. Peter knew full well that Homelander had done it, but knowing and admitting were two different things. He had no intention of confessing. After all, the boy had done a decent job—avenging Clark while punishing a bully.

Peter looked at the woman, thinking to himself that she should be grateful she wasn't dealing with the Homelander of his previous life. That version of the boy would have hacked his bullies into pieces.

Mrs. York, oblivious to Peter’s complex expression, was incensed by his claim that Dale had fallen on his own. "So you're calling me a liar?" she roared.

"Gulp."

Clark, who had been standing next to Homelander to face the woman’s flying spittle, swallowed nervously. He snuck a glance at Homelander, who kept his head down, his face a mask of indifference.

"I didn't say that, Mrs. York. I only mean to say that no one saw John push Dale, whereas many people saw Dale push Clark in the school hallway."

Peter’s tone turned stern. "Let’s set aside the unproven for a moment and discuss the proven, shall we?"

Mrs. York faltered at Peter’s words and glanced at her son. "Dale, did you really do that?"

Dale opened his mouth to deny it, but upon catching Peter’s formidable gaze, he swallowed the words back. He lowered his head and muttered, "I... I didn't mean to."

"No, no, that wasn't an accident. If it were, you would have apologized after knocking him down. But you didn't, and you said some very unkind things, didn't you?" Peter stood up, his oppressive gaze bearing down on the boy. "Dale, lying is not a virtuous trait."

For reasons he couldn't explain, Dale felt a surge of fear whenever he met Peter’s eyes. Under that weight, he was forced to admit his bullying of Clark. "I... I didn't mean to."

"Uh-huh. I accept your apology. Clark, what about you?" Peter turned his gaze to Clark with satisfaction.

Clark stared blankly at the scene, only snapping out of his daze when Peter addressed him. "O-oh, yes. I accept Dale's apology, too."

Dale looked at Clark’s seemingly honest face, scratching his head. How did he end up apologizing when he was the one who came to complain?

"Mrs. York, I believe Dale understands he was wrong now," Peter said with an earnest tone. "We should give children a chance to correct their mistakes. I hope you won't punish him for his bullying."

Mrs. York: "..."

It wasn't until she walked off the farm that it hit her. Wait a minute? Wasn't she the one who came here to hold them accountable? Why did she end up getting lectured?

Furious, she mulled it over and concluded it was all her useless son's fault. Seeing him acting as if nothing had happened, she reached out and grabbed his ear. "How are you so stupid? Why would you say all that?"

Feeling "sabotaged" by her son, Mrs. York twisted his ear hard. In the dark of night, Dale’s screams echoed through the air.

Back at the farm, Clark heard the shrill cries. He shuddered and walked quickly toward Peter. "Godfather, thank you. And you too, Homelander."

Clark thanked them both. He thought his godfather was truly incredible for making Dale apologize so easily. He had feared he would get Homelander in trouble, but he hadn't expected it to end like this.

Homelander’s mood seemed unaffected as he stuffed his mouth with a cinnamon roll. "I wasn't avenging you, Clark," he said, refusing to admit it. "I just wanted to beat him up."

"So you are admitting you pushed Dale off the slide?" Peter asked, his tone sharp as he watched Homelander wolfing down his food like a lumberjack.

Feeling Peter’s eyes on him, Homelander stopped chewing instantly. "Dad, I know I was wrong." Whenever his father turned on his "terrifying aura," admitting fault immediately was Homelander’s life creed.

"Very good. And where were you wrong?"

"I was wrong in..." Homelander stumbled, glancing at Clark standing by the table. "I was wrong to push him."

"Yes, you shouldn't have pushed him," Peter nodded. "You should have balled up your fist and landed a punch on his little face. Of course, you shouldn't break it, just make sure he feels the pain."

Homelander and Clark both nodded when Peter said he shouldn't have pushed, but they both froze when he mentioned the punch.

"For bullies like him, swallowing your pride only fuels their arrogance, Clark." Peter reached out and ruffled Homelander’s hair. "So the best way is to make them realize their wrongdoing. Homelander, you were doing a normal thing, so there’s no need to be secretive about it."

"But Godfather..." Clark asked, confused, "didn't you say we weren't allowed to fight?"

"Fighting is not a good thing, but sometimes it is the only way to solve a problem. Unless, of course, you have a better way to handle it."

Clark and Homelander nodded, half-understanding.

"Godfather, why does Dale like to bully people? Doesn't he know it hurts?" Clark asked another question.

Peter thought for a moment and told him, "Because human beings can never truly empathize with one another."

"Empathize?"

"Uh-huh. Clark, you can never truly understand someone unless you walk a mile in their shoes and see things from their perspective. But truly, by the time you've walked their path, you'll find that even just passing through is enough to make you sad."