Yang couldn't bring himself to respond. He continued gasping for air, his chest heaving with each ragged breath. Having pushed himself to the brink of collapse, even keeping his consciousness felt like a battle.
Those words didn't bring respite. Instead, they grated against him.
What was this old man even talking about?
"This is the fifth time this week we've done this extra training." The coach's voice carried no anger—only concern. "Though I want to commend your seriousness toward the sport, I'll have to remind you again: rest is just as important."
The old man crouched down, settling into a squat beside the prone youth.
"There isn't a need for me to show up here. I could just force you to sit out." He paused, letting the words hang. "But the team needs you. And I'm sure you're aware of that."
Though his breathing had stabilized somewhat, Yang didn't respond. He didn't even turn to look at the old man.
But he understood.
