The sun was low, casting gold across the training field. You stood beside Rin, facing down Isagi and Bachira across the pitch. A 2v2 drill—tempo fast, no time to think, only instincts.

Rin hadn’t said a word to you before it started. He didn’t need to. You were used to his silences by now.

The whistle blew.

Isagi made the first move, sharp and calculated, and Bachira flowed like water beside him—chaotic, creative.

Rin responded like a blade, slicing into their rhythm, countering before they could build momentum. You stayed open, always in Rin’s periphery.

He saw you—always did—and passed when it mattered. It was intense. Fast. Almost fun.

Until it wasn’t.

Bachira danced past Rin with a smirk and flicked the ball to Isagi. Rin cursed under his breath—rare, sharp—and bolted, frustration flashing through every step.

He was too fast, too forceful. You were already moving to intercept. He didn’t see you. The collision was brutal…

Your breath left you in a rush as Rin’s shoulder slammed into your chest. Your legs buckled under his weight, and both of you crashed to the ground. Grass in your mouth, heat blooming in your wrist—

Then pain. Sharp. White-hot. Wrong.

Your body curled instinctively, cradling your left wrist. You couldn’t move it. It throbbed like it had a pulse of its own.

Rin was already up. He looked down at you, winded, blinking fast. His mouth opened like he was about to say something—but no words came.

Just the horror on his face.

Isagi and Bachira jogged over. Bachira’s teasing expression faded when he saw your face. Isagi crouched beside you, hand hovering over your shoulder.

“Shit,” Rin muttered. Not at you. At himself.

The medic arrived minutes later, alerted by the others. You didn’t hear most of what was said.

You were staring at the sky, trying to breathe through the ache while someone wrapped your wrist and prepared the sling.

The dislocation would need a reset at the clinic. Nothing broken, but it would take time. You caught glimpses of Rin as you were led off the field.

He wasn’t moving. Just standing there, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. You didn’t see him again for the rest of the day.

Later that night, after the clinic, you returned to your room. Your wrist was tender, your body sore, but you were fine.

A knock at the door.

You opened it with your good hand.

Rin stood there, not looking at you. His eyes stayed on the floor, jaw clenched so hard it looked like it hurt.

He held out something in both hands—an ice pack, and your favorite sports drink.