The training ground had emptied long ago.

The sun had dipped low, bathing the field in a gentle amber glow that stretched long shadows across the turf. But there, in the fading light, Barō was still relentless.

His movements were sharp, fierce—every sprint, every strike at the ball driven by an intensity few could match.

Sweat poured down his face, muscles straining as he pushed through one drill after another. His brow furrowed in concentration, jaw clenched tight, the hunger for perfection burning in his golden eyes.

You had watched for a while, silent, knowing the danger in his stubbornness.

Because Barō never knew when to stop. Then, the inevitable happened. One quick pivot, a sudden change in direction, and a sharp hitch in his step.

He faltered.

A tight grimace crossed his features as his knee buckled slightly beneath him. The silent alarm bell in your chest rang out. He stumbled but didn’t fall, grinding his teeth against the sudden sting.

But the movement was off—unnatural. The kind of pain that didn’t scream, but whispered warnings he couldn’t afford to ignore.

Slowly, carefully, you approached.

Barō’s pride fought for control. He didn’t want to admit defeat, didn’t want to seem weak. But the slight limp in his step betrayed him.

You wordlessly offered your hand for support. He accepted. The walk back to the dorms was quiet, tense—but steady. Once inside, you guided him to sit.

His usual bravado faded into exhaustion, pain flickering behind his eyes.

You knelt beside him, careful not to rush. Gently, your hands found his knee, warm against the cool evening air. Your fingers pressed softly, coaxing tight muscles to release.

Barō’s face twitched as the tension eased under your touch.

You worked methodically—kneading, massaging with precise pressure along the sides and behind the knee, easing the strain.

You traced slow circles, the quiet rhythm a soothing contrast to his usual fiery energy. Barō’s breathing slowed, his muscles loosening beneath your hands.

Though he said nothing, the tension in his shoulders eased. You stayed like that—quiet, patient, attentive—until the harsh edge of pain dulled to a dull ache.