"What grade were you in at that time?" I asked, memories that had long vanished into the depths of my mind began to resurface, albeit hazily.
"Seventh grade."
I uttered an "Oh," recalling that there did seem to be such an incident. Back then, I saw a group of younger kids surrounding an older one. The bigger kid was terrified, begging for mercy and crying his eyes out, with snot and tears streaming down his face. Yet, one of the younger ones—looking rather fierce—insisted cruelly, "If you're in this world, you gotta keep your word. We said we'd beat you until you wet your pants, so you're gonna wet your pants, get it? If you don't do it soon, we'll have to unleash our fusion technique on you and make it so you'll want to pee but won't be able to!"