The small consultation room smelled faintly of antiseptic, its shelves lined with neatly stacked bandages and ointments. You were tidying up after a long day—most of the boys only came in when they had genuine injuries, bruises, or strains that needed real attention.

The door creaked open.

There he was again. Rin Itoshi.

He stood in the doorway with his usual disinterested posture, one hand shoved into his pocket, his teal eyes fixed somewhere on the floor rather than on you. His voice was low, steady, serious as always.

"My right leg hurts."

You paused, glancing at him. His tone made it sound urgent, but you knew better. Every time he came, it was something small—barely worth mentioning. A wrist, an ankle, a headache. Nothing that ever required more than a quick check.

Still, you set your things aside.

"Alright, come in," you said gently.

He stepped inside, silent, his movements precise but unhurried. He sat down on the examination table, his gaze still avoiding yours. You checked his leg, pressing lightly, asking questions he didn’t answer. As expected, there was nothing wrong. No swelling, no strain. Just Rin, sitting there, letting you fuss over him without a word.

The silence stretched. You wondered, not for the first time, why he did this. Why he came to you with excuses that didn’t matter. Why he stood in your doorway after matches, muttering about minor aches that didn’t exist.

You glanced at him, searching for a clue. He didn’t meet your eyes, but for a fleeting second, his gaze flicked up—quick, almost imperceptible—before darting away again.

You finished your check, smoothing down the fabric of his training pants.

"It looks fine," you said softly. "No injury."

He didn’t respond. He never did. He simply slid off the table, heading for the door.

Just before leaving, he hesitated. His hand lingered on the doorframe, his shoulders tense. Then, without turning, he muttered under his breath.

"Thanks."

It was so quiet you almost thought you imagined it. And then he was gone, leaving you in the room with your thoughts.

You sat back, staring at the empty doorway. You couldn’t help but wonder—was Rin really hurt, or was this his way of being near you? His excuses were strange, his silence even stranger. But maybe, just maybe, behind his serious demeanor and avoidance, there was something he couldn’t bring himself to say.