Alan let out a quiet sigh and nodded, "Yeah, I know. And I also know he's been overworking himself trying to break free from it. This condition… it's the consequence of that."
Feng exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before slumping into a chair beside Kenzo's bed, rubbing his temples.
"He's not the type to stop. Either he breaks through… or he breaks himself. Nothing else matters to him. And that's what unsettles me," Alan admitted.
Feng frowned, his fingers tightening against his temple, "What about Senior Zachariah? Can't he just undo it?"
Alan hesitated, his expression unreadable. "He could… but he won't. Zachariah never takes back what he does." Feng scowled, and Alan continued, "Because he believes the person will find their own way through it and come out stronger. He must have high expectations for Kenzo. But… this isn't like him. No middle schooler has ever passed a challenge like this before. Even I can't help but feel nervous." his voice softened slightly, the concern seeping through.
Feng blinked at Alan before letting out a small chuckle, "Geez… You actually care about him, even though he argues with you like an idiot."
Alan shook his head, a quiet, amused smile on his lips, "I don't mind. Honestly… I'd rather have him argue with me than see him like this." his voice was earnest, carrying an honesty that left little room for doubt.
Feng leaned forward, ruffling Alan's hair, "Thanks."
Alan flinched slightly at the unexpected gesture but didn't protest.
Feng smirked. "You're a good friend and a senior, though you sure don't look like one," Then, pointing at Kenzo, he added, "But you know… his thick skull doesn't register that."
Alan let out a chuckle. "And if someone even told him that you or any of the high schoolers helped him in this state?" Feng shook his head, "He'd explode like a pressure cooker."
Alan's chuckle deepened.
"And not at you, or them, or any of us," Feng went on, his voice laced with exasperation, "But at himself. What an idiot. Seriously, how can someone be this difficult?"
Alan didn't reply. He simply sat there, a small, disappointed smile lingering on his lips.
Just then, Kenzo stirred once more, his expression contorted in discomfort. His fingers clenched tightly around his right wrist, pressing against it as if in pain.
Alan and Feng exchanged a glance before Feng reached for Kenzo's arm. The moment he pulled up the sleeve, his breath hitched. "What the—?" His voice faltered as his eyes locked onto the sight before him.
Kenzo's wrist was swollen, a purplish-red bruise blooming across his skin. "H-huh?!" Alan's voice wavered, disbelief creeping in.
Feng swallowed hard, then turned to Alan, his expression tense, "He's injured...? But how?" Alan grabbed Kenzo's hand without hesitation, his grip firm as he examined the damage.
Feng shot up from his chair, urgency sharpening his tone. "Stay here. I'll call Coach Seles."
But Alan remained still, his mind whirling. "Kenzo ShahJahan… are you just wired wrong?" His red eyes flickered with frustration, "Because if you are, I might have no choice but to knock some sense into that thick skull of yours."
Just as Feng turned to leave, Alan let out a sharp exhale, his fingers tightening around Kenzo's injured hand. "Wait, Feng," he commanded, voice edged with something unreadable.
Feng halted, watching Alan intently.
"Give me a moment. I'll be back." Without another word, Alan strode out of the room.
"Huh?! Are you going instead of me?" Feng called after him, but Alan was already gone.
A while later, Alan returned, holding up a small ointment container as he approached Kenzo's bed.
"We're really not telling Coach Seles?" Feng frowned, "What if it gets worse?"
Alan exhaled as he carefully took Kenzo's wrist, his touch light but deliberate, "Feng… if we say anything, how do you think he'll react?"
Feng hesitated. The answer was obvious. "He'll get mad, sure," he admitted, "But isn't that better than letting him play through the pain? The match is tomorrow, and he's a substitute. Who knows when he'll be needed? And with all the upcoming matches, do you really think he won't step onto the field?"
"I know, Feng. But…" Alan's voice trailed off as he gently wrapped a cloth around Kenzo's wrist, feeling the faint tremor in his fingers with each movement.
Feng watched, sensing the hesitation behind Alan's silence. He sat down across from him, voice softer this time, "Are you afraid… that he'll blame you? That he'll start another fight?"
Alan's brows knit together slightly, but Feng simply sighed. A small, knowing smile tugged at his lips, "I get it. You and him, you're like fire and water. But if you don't want to be involved, then let me take the fall. He won't even know you had anything to do with it. I'll handle whatever happens."
Alan shook his head, "It's not about that, Feng. I'm not scared of what he'll say or do. What I'm scared of… is that if you cover for him, he'll push himself even harder." his grip on the cloth tightened, "I know what it's like to be desperate to prove yourself, not just to others, but to yourself. I used to be just like him." Alan swallowed, "That's why… I want to trust him. And I want you to trust him too, Feng."
Feng clicked his tongue, frustration flashing across his face. "I get that you don't want him getting hurt, but once someone falls into this kind of drive, nothing can stop them. Either he'll break under it… or he'll shatter it and rise even higher,"
Alan let out a quiet sigh, his gaze falling to Kenzo's charred hand. His fingers hesitated before carefully taking it again and gently caressing his fingertips, his mind lost in memories of a time when he had fought the same battle. When he, too, had refused to let himself break.
(FLASHBACK)
"Show me!" Nidou's voice cut through the air like a blade, sharp with barely contained anger as he held out his hand. His eyes burned with fury.
Alan met his glare with equal intensity, his crimson gaze unwavering, "Oh? Now you suddenly care?" he scoffed, a bitter smirk tugging at his lips, "Please. Spare me the act."
Nidou's teeth clenched, his patience fraying, "Do you despise being here so much that you'd rather throw your life away just to escape?" his voice was cold, reprimanding, each word laced with a quiet, simmering rage.
Alan let out a hollow laugh, one devoid of warmth, "Oh yeah. I hate it to my core. It makes me sick." The words fell from his lips like poison, deliberate and cutting.
That was the final straw.
Nidou's restraint snapped. His hand shot up, "Alan!"
Alan flinched, eyes squeezing shut as he instinctively stepped back. But before Nidou's hand could move any further, Sairah caught his wrist mid-air, gripping it tightly. "Stop it, Nidou! Are you insane? She's just a kid!" she hissed, her fingers digging into his arm.
Nidou turned away, jaw clenched, his hands trembling. Silence weighed down on the room, heavy and suffocating. Seles, who had stood quietly until now, stepped forward and pulled Alan into a firm embrace.
Alan stiffened, his breath uneven. He turned his face away, trying to mask the fear that had already betrayed him. His heart pounded so hard that Seles could hear it, sweat beading on his forehead. His pupils were blown wide, his body trembling from the adrenaline coursing through his veins.
Seles murmured in a soothing tone, rubbing slow circles on Alan's back. "It's okay… Just breathe. Calm down."
Meanwhile, Sairah loosened her grip on Nidou, prepared to say something, only for him to pull away and leave without a word. She watched his retreating figure in silent confusion before turning to Seles who looked back at her concerned.
Taking a slow step toward Alan, Sairah spoke gently, "Alain, will you show me your hand?"
Alan hesitated, his brows knitting together.
But even without his consent, Sairah reached forward, taking his clenched fist into her palm. His body was still trembling. She exhaled softly and began to pry his fingers open. The moment she saw his hands, her breath hitched.
Bruised. Bleeding.
Seles swallowed hard, his expression darkening.
For a moment, Sairah only stared. Then, wordlessly, she pulled out a handkerchief and began to clean his wounds.
Alan's fingers twitched under her touch, pain flashing across his face but not once did he let out a sound. His lips remained firmly pressed together. After a while, his voice broke the silence, quiet and unsteady, "D-don't… c-call me that."