Chapter 1: where evil resides
Chapter Text
April 27th, 2007
The first thing he felt was the smell of decay.
However, strangely, it was a beautiful day. The sky stretched wide in a cloudless blue, sunlight weaving through branches heavy with flowers. The air was warm, but there was a light breeze dancing through the atmosphere, providing his skin with the brief moment of relief it needed. It was spring at its finest. Bright, fragrant, alive.
Spring hadn’t been so kind that year. Torrential storms came and went without warning, as if the weather itself couldn’t make up its mind. Even when the rain paused, the sky remained heavy, painting the view above in a suffocating pale gray, teasing everyone in Palmetto State with the uncertain threat of another storm.
But not today. Today, at the end of April, spring seemed truly ready to show off all its glory. Today was the kind of day families would drive to the beach or to a public pool. It was the kind of day PCU students would head to the campus green to sit on the grass and let their bodies be bathed in sunlight. Kevin imagined that Dan and Matt were having a romantic picnic right now, that Aaron had taken advantage of the warmth to read a book under the shade of a tree, that Allison was strolling around with her fabulously oversized sunglasses, an iced coffee in one hand and a pink phone in the other. Neil and Andrew were probably on the roof, quietly enjoying each other's company while a cigarette burned slowly between them. It was the kind of day that felt like it should belong to a happy memory.
And Kevin knew the universe was mocking him.
Because while everyone else enjoyed their perfect spring day, Kevin was at a cemetery in West Virginia, wearing a black suit to watch Riko Moriyama be buried six feet underground.
He shut the taxi door and murmured a “thank you” to the driver. He glanced briefly around and took no more than five steps before a crowd swarmed him, camera flashes blinding his face and thousands of questions being shouted at once.
Yeah. This wasn’t his idea of a perfect spring day.
He knew this would happen, and he was prepared. In truth, Kevin had spent his whole life dealing with the press, starving reporters and cameras that seemed designed to blind him. He was twelve years old when he first saw his name in a magazine. Thirteen when he first appeared on TV. Fifteen when he realized he could never escape the image of his own face.
So today wouldn’t be the day reporters got to him. He wouldn’t give them the headline they were so desperate for.
Kevin Day crumbles as he bids farewell to Riko Moriyama one last time.
Kevin Day tells reporters to “go to hell” at Riko Moriyama’s funeral.
Kevin Day doesn’t shed a single tear at the funeral of his friend and brother, Riko Moriyama.
He didn’t know which of those headlines they wanted most. It depended on who the reporters worked for, and how they wanted to shape his image. A sports magazine with strong ties to the Moriyamas and the Ravens would likely prefer the second or third. A Palmetto State news outlet, on the other hand, would probably go with the first. But in the end, regardless of who they worked for or what they wanted, Kevin was just an empty vessel for them to fill however they saw fit. He was a lump of clay ready to be molded into whatever they needed—weak, rude, or heartless. Kevin didn’t even know if he truly was any of those things. Maybe he was all of them.
But that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was keeping his head above the tide and getting away from that crowd as quickly as possible. So he kept moving forward, eyes on his feet as he cut through the sea of people. Kevin tried to ignore what they were yelling, but some voices rose above the rest.
"Mr. Day, any news on Coach Tetsuji’s whereabouts?"
"Mr. Day, how do you think the death of the Ravens’ captain will affect the upcoming season?"
"Are you the only Fox attending the funeral, Mr. Day? Aren’t your teammates going to pay their respects?"
"How do you feel about Riko’s death, Mr. Day?"
That last question rang louder than the others. Kevin even made the mistake of glancing at the reporter’s face for a second before quickly looking back down at his feet.
It should’ve been a stupid question. How was Kevin feeling about the death of Riko Moriyama, his best friend, his brother, the boy who had grown up with him and was supposed to be his partner on the court for the rest of his life? Everyone thought the answer was obvious: he felt like shit. Paralyzed with grief. Consumed by sorrow. Inconsolable. Devastated.
However, what no one knew was that it wasn’t that simple. It should be, but it wasn’t. And the truth was, Kevin had absolutely no answer to that question.
How did he feel about Riko Moriyama’s death?
He had no fucking idea.
Kevin wanted to know. He wanted to look that reporter in the eye and give him a clear, undeniable answer. But he couldn’t even answer that question for himself.
So he just kept walking.
It felt like hours had passed before Kevin finally broke free from the crowd. He took a deep breath, only now realizing that his heart was pounding in his chest, slamming against his ribs with inhuman force. He placed a hand over his chest and tried to calm down, but before he could feel any trace of relief, he saw the scene before him and knew instantly that the pain in his chest wasn’t going anywhere.
There were hundreds of people at the cemetery. Some faces were vaguely familiar. The Edgar Allan board of directors, businessmen affiliated with the Moriyamas, a few ERC members, philanthropists, athletes, and mostly, Ravens. Kevin quickly recognized Jenkins, Williams, Reacher, and Johnson, as well as some older players who had graduated years ago—veterans back when Kevin, Riko, and Jean were just freshmen. He saw Rodriguez and Perry, and with them came the realization that he might be here too. His blood froze. Kevin looked around briefly, eyes scanning anxiously for another face, but thank God, he didn’t find it. He allowed himself a quiet sigh of relief.
Those familiar faces felt like optical illusions. Eyes, mouths, and noses that gave him an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu. He was sure he’d seen some of them before, but couldn’t remember when or where.
All those people were ghosts from his past, fragments of his former life he still couldn’t piece together. Seeing them reminded him that no matter how much time had passed, or how much Kevin had changed, his past still existed. It had many names and many faces, and it could never be erased.
Kevin thought focusing on the people he definitely didn’t know might be more comforting, but he quickly realized that wasn’t the case. Familiar or not, every single face in the crowd was staring at him.
Kevin swallowed hard, feeling the weight of that undivided attention hit him like a punch. He was used to being in the spotlight, but this was something else entirely. There wasn’t a single look of solidarity, not even pity. People were staring at him as if he were the corpse about to be buried.
For a moment, he couldn’t move, suddenly regretting the decision to come here alone. Wymack had offered to come with him, and even Andrew had been willing to stand by his side.
"It’d be my pleasure to watch them dump his body in the ground," he’d said.
But Kevin had turned them both down, because he knew that behind Wymack’s kindness and Andrew’s sadism, there was nothing but concern. They were worried because they were certain Kevin wouldn’t be able to handle this on his own, that he’d crack under the pressure. He just wanted to prove them wrong, out of pure stubbornness, and maybe a hint of childish defiance. Ever since the new deal with the Moriyamas—and consequently, the end of his deal with Andrew—Kevin had been trying to prove himself. He wanted everyone to finally see that he wasn’t a coward, that he didn’t need to hide behind anyone’s back, that he could face something like this with his head held high.
But now, with all those eyes fixed on him, he realized just how terribly wrong he’d been.
His first instinct was to run. He could feel his blood rushing down to his legs, preparing his body to sprint as fast as possible. But somehow, he held his ground. He clenched his fists and thought, I can’t run. I have to show them I’m not afraid anymore.
With that, he stepped forward, trying his best to appear confident and ignoring the way every head turned to follow him. Kevin had been running from the Ravens and the Moriyamas for years, and this had to end now. If he couldn’t be brave with Riko lying in a casket, he’d never stop being afraid.
That’s what he kept repeating to himself as people approached to greet him. He shook several hands, most of them belonging to people he had never seen before in his life. Not a single Raven spoke to him—and Kevin wasn’t sure which god he should thank for that—but that didn’t stop them from trying to burn a hole through his skull with their eyes. Williams stared at him like she was trying to calculate exactly how hard she’d have to punch him to kill him on the spot.
Kevin kept trying to ignore them, pretending to be invested in whatever the unfamiliar faces were saying. Many offered him empty words of comfort. He heard plenty of “my condolences” and “I’m sorry for your loss.” Kevin simply nodded and said thank you, but he wasn’t even sure what those words meant to him. Your loss, they said. But what had Kevin lost, exactly? A friend? A brother? A former teammate? His owner? His executioner? The devil on his left shoulder?
The hollow condolences were accompanied by passive-aggressive remarks.
“Must’ve been tough getting that kind of news right after your big win,” said an older man in a suit.
“Poor thing, you must be devastated. Especially considering how close you two were,” said a woman from Edgar Allan’s board of directors.
“Don’t worry, son. I’m sure Riko was thinking about you till the very end,” said a man from the ERC.
Kevin was many things. He could be selfish, self-centered, insensitive, stubborn, intolerant, impatient, arrogant—and, of course, a coward. But he definitely wasn’t stupid. Kevin knew what those words meant. He knew what was hiding behind the handshakes and the pats on the back. He knew this was just a veiled way of saying: This is your fault. You did this.
But all Kevin could do was bite his tongue. Bite down hard enough to split it in half between his teeth. By the fifteenth handshake, he could already taste blood in his mouth.
While he pretended to listen to some Japanese guy he'd never seen before, he saw something behind his shoulder. Or rather, someone. A familiar face that he wasn't afraid of.
Thea looked very elegant, wearing a black blazer and heels. She had never been very fond of dresses or skirts, preferring the comfort of pants and shorts. Kevin loved that about her, her androgynous style. Her braids were tied up in a ponytail, and her makeup was so subtle you could barely notice it.
Kevin stopped pretending to listen to the guy.
"Excuse me," was all he said, brushing past his shoulder.
He walked towards her, and when their eyes met, Kevin felt so much relief that he could have cried. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and kiss her, right here and now, in front of everyone. But then, a part of him reminded him that he couldn’t do that anymore.
They stared at each other for a few long seconds before Kevin remembered how to speak.
"You came," he said.
"Of course I came," she replied, with that sulky look he loved so much. When they were still in the Nest, she always had a scowl on her face, and Kevin used to poke her forehead with his finger just to annoy her.
Suddenly, her expression softened, and she took a step forward before opening her arms, silently inviting him for a hug.
Kevin was surprised, but he responded to the embrace without a second thought. He buried his face in her shoulder as she ran her hand across his broad back, squeezing him just a little. It had been so long since he’d smelled her perfume and felt the warmth of her hands. Thea wasn’t a delicate person, not in the slightest. Her touch had always been firm and decisive. She never waited for Kevin to make the first move. She pulled his hair when she wanted to kiss him, and she pushed him onto the bed when she wanted fuck him. And Kevin absolutely loved that. He had always been drawn to strong people, people he could lean on, people who made him feel safe. Thea was exactly that. She had an iron fist and fire behind her eyes.
The hug ended quickly, faster than Kevin would’ve liked. They pulled apart and looked around, noticing some people nearby were staring at them.
"So," Thea began, clearing her throat. "How are you?"
Another simple question that Kevin didn’t know how to answer.
"Fine, I guess," he replied, shrugging. He didn’t want Thea to worry about him, but the way she furrowed her brow made it clear he had failed miserably.
"You guess?" she repeated, clearly not satisfied.
Kevin cleared his throat and scratched his jaw.
"Thea, let’s not talk about it," he whispered. "It’s... it’s complicated."
"Don’t you dare say that word to me again."
He sighed, disappointed in himself. That was exactly what he had said to her a few weeks ago, the first time they met after years of chaos. Kevin knew he could sound like a broken record sometimes. His teammates complained about it all the time. Aaron had been brutally honest when he told Kevin that if he heard him say “you can’t run any faster even if your life depended on it" again, he’d shove a racket down his throat.
"Sorry," he said, embarrassed. "How are you?"
Thea let out a humorless laugh and looked around at all the people still staring at them.
"Couldn’t be better," she replied sarcastically.
Kevin allowed himself a small laugh.
"Williams wants to kill you," she said.
"And who doesn’t?"
"Well, you do have a talent for annoying people, Kevin."
"Neil says it’s my second-best skill."
Now it was her turn to laugh, covering her mouth so no one would see. When she removed her hand, her expression suddenly became dark.
"You think he’s coming?" she asked, whispering nervously, a tone of voice that didn’t fit her at all.
"Who?"
She lowered her voice even more, so much that Kevin could barely hear her.
"His brother."
Kevin tried to swallow, but something got stuck in his throat.
"He has to come," he replied, almost as quietly as Thea.
She pressed her lips together and ran a hand over his shoulder.
"It’s going to be okay, Kevin," she said, with a rare gentleness in her voice.
Kevin didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. He desperately wanted to believe Thea, but the lump in his throat seemed to suffocate him slowly.
"And Jean?" she asked. "Is he...?"
She didn’t finish the sentence, but it wasn’t necessary. Kevin simply shook his head, his expression heavy.
It made sense for Thea to be here. She had never liked Riko, she had never even respected him. But she was a Raven. It didn’t matter that she had graduated years ago and was now a professional athlete with her own collection of achievements. Once you entered the Nest, you never really left. It was the first undeniable truth they drilled into your skull. Once a Raven, always a Raven.
But Jean?
Jean wouldn’t set foot in this cemetery even if they dragged him here.
Kevin suddenly wondered if he should talk to him. The weight of his phone in his pocket became impossible to ignore. However, he knew that even if he called Jean, there was a big chance he wouldn’t even bother to pick up. The last time they saw each other was... messy, to say the least. Jean had made it clear that he didn’t want anything to do with Kevin anymore. He would just be humiliating himself if he insisted on reaching out to him. But still, there was something inside him that couldn’t let Jean go.
However, before Kevin could do anything stupid, he heard a commotion.
He and Thea immediately looked toward the cemetery gate, seeing a large black car with dark windows parking in the lot. The same reporters who had surrounded Kevin when he arrived rushed towards the car, gathering around it like vultures sensing the smell of rotten meat.
A massive security guard placed his hand on the car’s handle, opening the door. A Japanese man stepped out of the car with the confidence and elegance of an emperor. He was wearing an entirely black suit and black gloves, despite the heat. Kevin saw his face and felt as though someone had punched him in the stomach.
For a moment, he saw Riko’s face, and something similar to triumph filled his chest. He wanted to shout to everyone in the cemetery: I knew it! I knew you were all wrong! Riko didn’t die, he’ll never die! There’s no one in this world who can kill him!
His lips quivered, but he didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh, cry, or vomit.
However, the triumph died in his chest because, of course, it wasn’t Riko. It was his older brother, Ichirou Moriyama.
"I told you he was coming," Kevin said to Thea, hoping that would mask the paleness on his face.
Ichirou ignored all the reporters with cold indifference and walked up the cemetery hill, accompanied by four bodyguards who looked like they could eat Kevin for breakfast. He greeted a few people in Japanese but promptly passed by everyone he deemed insignificant. And no one dared approach him, obviously. You could only talk to Ichirou Moriyama if he spoke to you first.
With Ichirou’s arrival, the ceremony finally began.
Everyone took their seats around the casket, and each person had a designated spot. Curiously, Kevin’s seat was in the very front row, directly in front of the casket. Thea was seated much farther back, five or six rows behind him. On the opposite side of the casket, there was only a single chair, where Ichirou sat. He put on his dark sunglasses, which, disturbingly, made him look even more like Riko.
As the ceremony went on, Kevin couldn’t help but notice how incredibly strange everything felt. It was like some awkward blend of a traditional Japanese funeral and a typical Western one. Most people were dressed in black suits and dresses, but a few Japanese guests wore plain black silk mofukus. The person leading the ceremony was a Buddhist monk, yet the cemetery was clearly Catholic. Everything seemed hastily thrown together, like it had been planned without much care or thought.
On the other hand, the seating arrangement seemed to have been meticulously calculated. Kevin sat in the first row, directly facing Ichirou, with only Riko’s corpse between them. There was nowhere for him to run. With the only person who could offer him comfort out of sight, Kevin had no choice but to look at either Ichirou or Riko.
And he had the gut feeling that behind the dark lenses of his glasses, Ichirou had been staring straight at him the entire time.
His hands started to shake, and he had to resist the urge to pick at his cuticles. If Ichirou really was watching him, Kevin couldn’t afford to show a single sign of weakness.
He tried to focus on the monk’s words as a distraction, but that only made everything worse. The speech was shallow and hollow. The monk spoke of Riko’s career, his dedication to Exy, his role as a leader and captain—but nothing more. Nothing about Riko’s personality, nothing about his family or friends. The more Kevin listened, the worse it got. He looked around, trying to find someone who was actually grieving. Someone crying, or angry, or even smiling fondly while reminiscing on Riko’s memory. But he found no one. There were hundreds of people there, and not a single one of them seemed to be mourning. Everyone acted like they were at a business meeting rather than a funeral, as if it were just another long, tedious obligation they were forced to attend.
He looked at all those people, at Ichirou sitting like a statue in his privileged seat, and a horrifying thought crossed his mind.
Kevin realized that he was probably the only person there who was truly close to Riko.
The taste of bile rose in his throat, but he forced it down.
After what felt like decades, the ceremony finally began to draw to a close. Everyone was given an hour or two to approach the casket and say their goodbyes individually. Some lit incense and said a brief prayer; others just stared at Riko for a few awkward seconds, unsure of what to do or say. It was all painfully uncomfortable.
Kevin knew he had to go up to the casket. He didn’t want to, but he had no choice. If he didn’t say goodbye to Riko personally, he couldn’t even imagine what people would say. The Moriyamas, the Ravens, the media—they’d tear him apart.
So even with his hands trembling and the persistent taste of bile in his mouth, Kevin got in line with the others heading to the casket. With every step forward, something inside him seemed to crawl up from his stomach, trying to tear its way out.
Kevin didn’t know what he was about to see. He had read Riko’s cause of death over and over, and now the words spun endlessly in his mind. Self-inflicted gunshot wound, the news had said. The rational part of Kevin’s mind knew the body must have undergone a meticulous restoration process, after all, they wouldn’t have placed him in an open casket if they hadn’t managed to fix the damage. But the other part of his mind—the cowardly, paranoid part—kept insisting that Riko’s face would be horribly disfigured and unrecognizable, that there’d be a gaping hole in the middle of his forehead exposing the inside of his brain, that blood would be smeared across his face.
He tried to block out the horrific image his mind had conjured, but the closer he got to the casket, the more vivid it became. Kevin could practically taste the blood—until he realized he was biting his tongue again.
There were only three people in front of him now.
Would someone catch him if he passed out?
Just two.
Or would they just leave him there to die?
Just one.
Would they bury him alongside Riko?
He blinked, and suddenly there was no one left in front of him.
Kevin held his breath and stepped forward.
He blinked again.
And there he was.
Of course, the logical part of his brain was right. Riko’s face looked exactly as Kevin remembered it, except for a small scar on his forehead, so faint it didn’t seem like the result of a gunshot wound at all. His skin was pale and gray, and his lips were a bit dry. But despite all that, Riko still looked... like himself. The tattoo—a Roman numeral I—was still there, etched into his left cheekbone just beneath his closed eye. It looked like he was just sleeping, and Kevin was sure he could wake him up. All he had to do was call his name, and Riko’s eyes would flutter open, locking onto him with pure fury and rage before lunging forward to grab him by the throat.
Kevin shuddered at the thought. Riko would’ve loved to know that even in death, Kevin was still afraid of him.
The news that Riko Moriyama had died came out the same night the Foxes won the Spring Championship finals. Kevin had been in a hotel room with his teammates, celebrating. He was holding a beer bottle in his left hand when Wymack called. He remembered dropping it the moment he heard the words, shattered glass scattering around his feet.
After the Foxes defeated the Ravens in a historic match and took home their championship trophy, Riko couldn’t handle the loss. As soon as the game ended, he went to the top of the East Tower, where he shot himself in the head and died instantly. His body was found hours later by a staff member at Castle Evermore, lying in a pool of his own blood and with a revolver in his hand.
The story was perfectly believable. Riko Moriyama—the king of Exy, the Number One, the boy who had literally dedicated his entire life to the sport his family created—had chosen to take his life after losing to the Foxes. It was his first and final defeat, transforming him into a tragic, heroic figure. The player who would rather die than lose. The myth, the martyr. The Kurt Cobain of the Exy world, so to speak. It was scandalous. It was dramatic.
And it was a complete lie.
The moment Kevin heard the story, he knew that’s all it was. A story.
Kevin had spent nearly his entire life by Riko’s side. They grew up together, played together, lived together. So he knew better than anyone that Riko would never, ever commit suicide.
Riko was the king’s piece on a chessboard. He remained on the outskirts of the battlefield, simply watching as his army fought in his name. He would gladly sacrifice the lives of everyone around him to preserve his own, and he did it without the slightest hint of remorse or regret.
Riko was the number one. There was nothing in this world more important to him than his own life. And now the media wanted Kevin to believe that Riko had chosen to kill himself? Oh, please. Losing to the Foxes had destroyed him, yes. It was humiliating from every possible angle. The Ravens lost their national title for the first time to some pathetic team from Palmetto State, made entirely of broken misfits. Kevin could accept the possibility that suicide may have crossed Riko’s mind, but he knew it would never have gone beyond that.
Could Riko have gotten as far as placing that cold gun to his forehead? Sure.
But would he have had the guts to pull the trigger? No fucking way.
Kevin knew something was off. Even when the autopsy confirmed suicide, he refused to believe it. Riko didn’t kill himself. He knew it in his heart.
Maybe that’s why Neil didn’t bother lying to him. Kevin remembered that right after the game, Neil had been summoned to the East Tower—the same place where Riko’s body would be found a few hours later. That wasn’t a coincidence, and Kevin was absolutely sure Neil knew something the rest of the world didn’t. So he confronted Neil, demanding the truth. And, to his surprise, his teammate didn’t even try to lie.
Neil told him everything. He had been there, and he’d seen the moment Ichirou pressed a gun to Riko’s forehead before pulling the trigger.
Kevin had been right. There was no suicide. Riko had been murdered by his own brother, and his death had been meticulously crafted, down to the smallest detail.
A part of Kevin wished he could tell this to Riko right now. Would he be proud of Kevin? Or would he just be angry that Kevin had been the only one who never believed the story that painted him as a tragic hero?
He was still staring at Riko’s corpse, patiently waiting for him to wake up. Riko’s chest was stiff like a stone, but Kevin kept waiting. Maybe he should try shaking his shoulder, or poking his face. But the mere thought of touching Riko sent chills down his spine. Every time Kevin had felt Riko’s touch, it had been followed by excruciating pain. Kevin immediately remembered all the times he had been shoved against the court wall, all the times he had felt fingers squeezing his throat, all the times his wrists had been pinned to the floor. Suddenly, a sharp pain hit his left hand, and he looked down. He stared at the scar that painted the thin layer of skin there, and it almost seemed to move—pulsing, as if it were alive.
There was a time when Riko’s touch didn’t come with pain. In fact, there was a time when his hugs and his pats on the back meant everything to him. They were a reminder that Kevin wasn’t alone, that even though his mother was gone, he still had a family. A brother. A brother not bound to him by blood, but a brother life had chosen for him.
When was the last time Riko’s touch had been gentle? Maybe it was years ago, when they were kids and Kevin hurt his knee while playing Exy. Riko had reached out a hand to help him up while everyone else laughed. Or maybe it was that time he placed his fingers over the bruise on his neck when they were fourteen. Or maybe it was much later, when Kevin was eighteen and Riko found him naked and shuddering on the court floor. Kevin remembered that Riko had covered his body with something (a blanket or a jacket?) and then given him a bath.
Seriously, Kevin. What did you expect?
Riko’s voice sounded so real inside his head that Kevin flinched. He immediately looked at the corpse in front of him, but its lips remained sealed and dry.
Kevin looked around, only now realizing everyone was staring at him. Even Ichirou seemed to be observing him with a detached sort of curiosity, though his expression was impossible to read. How long had Kevin been standing there, eyes locked on the corpse lying before him?
He swallowed hard and tried to take a deep breath, but the air stung his lungs. He looked at Riko’s face one last time and tried to think of something to say. No words came to his mind.
In the end, Kevin walked away in silence.
Not long after, he was watching Riko being buried. As the gravediggers threw thick layers of soil over the casket, Kevin had another thought. He had spent a good portion of his life around Japanese people, beyond just Riko and the Master. Over the years, he’d had plenty of time to grow familiar with certain aspects of Japanese culture. He knew that, in traditional funerals, bodies were cremated—not buried. It had something to do with fire being purifying, and with the release of soul. Kevin knew that Lord Kengo, Riko’s father, had been cremated in New York. So it made no sense to him that they were now burying Riko in West Virginia.
Kevin risked a glance at Ichirou, and something seemed to snap inside his brain. Was this a form of punishment? A final way to humiliate Riko before he left this world once and for all?
All Riko had ever wanted was to be seen as part of his family. Everything he did had been built around the hope that one day, his father would look at him, acknowledge him. He would’ve done anything to feel like his father’s son. He would’ve stepped over everything and everyone, not caring about the trail of blood he left behind.
Riko had lied, cheated, blackmailed, bribed, and even killed. But none of it got him anywhere. His father died without ever recognizing him, and he lost in the game he had played his entire life. And when there was nothing left to fight for, Ichirou pressed the cold barrel of a gun to his head and got rid of whatever was left.
And now, he was being buried in the soil of West Virginia, miles away from his father. He would rot beneath the earth. His body wouldn’t be purified. His soul wouldn’t be set free.
Riko would never be a Moriyama. Not in life, not in death. Ichirou had made sure of that until the very end.
Kevin felt something in his chest, but he couldn’t say what it was. All he knew was that the sun was already setting when they finished filling the grave with dirt.
And as he stood there, he felt the earth shift beneath him, as if there were hands scratching the soles of his feet.
The sky was painted in pale blue and vivid orange when people began leaving the cemetery, one by one.
Kevin desperately wanted to leave. He had no idea what he was supposed to do with himself after all this, but he knew for certain he couldn’t stay here any longer. With the sun retreating into rest, the wind was growing colder, as if all the ghosts buried in that cemetery were crawling out of their graves. Kevin didn’t want to think about Riko’s ghost slithering after him, following him all the way back to Palmetto, to grab his ankle at night and scratch at the walls of his bedroom.
But as much as he wanted to run, he wanted to wait for Thea. There were things he needed to say to her, things they hadn’t gotten the chance to talk about.
Life, however, seemed to have other plans for him.
“Kevin Day,” a deep voice said his name.
Kevin turned around quickly and came face-to-face with one of Ichirou’s bodyguards.
“Come with me,” was all the man said.
Kevin felt his heart drop straight to the pit of his stomach. Part of him wasn’t surprised—he had known, the moment he decided to attend the funeral, that there would be no escaping Ichirou. Still, he’d wanted to believe he could get through the day without facing the man who held his life in the palm of his hand.
Refusing wasn’t an option, so Kevin followed the man without saying a single word. They walked across the cemetery, down the hill, toward a small chapel hidden among the trees. The bodyguard stopped beside the chapel door, a silent command for Kevin to enter. He took a moment to glance around, noticing that not a single soul was nearby. It was as if the chapel stood right on the edge of the world, where no one would hear his screams—or a gunshot.
Kevin felt the wave of a panic attack coming towards him, ready to crash over him and pull him under. He couldn’t let that happen. He needed to stay in control. His brain was doing what it always did, convincing him that the worst possible outcome was inevitable. He had to push that fear and paranoia aside and think logically.
Ichirou wouldn’t kill him. Not here, not now. If there was one thing their new deal had made clear, it was that Kevin was far more valuable to Ichirou alive than dead. He had proven that. He had shown all of them that not even years of Riko’s abuse had been enough to break him. Kevin was worth every cent the Moriyamas had invested in him, and he would only bring them more profit if they allowed him to keep playing. If Ichirou truly believed he was worthless, Kevin would’ve been dead a long time ago.
He kept repeating those words in his head as he opened the chapel door, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he could still picture Ichirou placing a gun to his head and blowing his brains out—just like he’d done to Riko.
Before he even noticed, the chapel door shut behind him.
The chapel seemed larger on the inside than it looked from the outside. At first glance, there was nothing remarkable about it. The floor was made of dark wood, but the aisle leading to the pulpit was covered by a long crimson carpet. The walls were adorned with Renaissance biblical paintings in gilded frames. About ten pews were lined up one behind the other, and the gothic windows caught the light of the setting sun, bathing the chapel’s interior in a vivid orange glow. It was beautiful, and for a moment, Kevin didn’t mind the idea of dying here.
But it was the back of the chapel that caught his eye. On the far wall, just behind the pulpit, a painting stretched from the ceiling to the floor, covering every inch of the surface. The vivid hues of blue and red were striking, but the only figure Kevin could immediately recognize was Jesus Christ, placed at the center, surrounded by a golden halo.
Ichirou stood with his back to him, silently staring at the painting. His black suit and dark hair stood in stark contrast to the explosion of color before him.
Kevin ignored the nausea rising in his stomach and made his way down the aisle until he was only a few steps behind Ichirou.
“Lord Ichirou,” he greeted, his voice barely escaping his dry throat.
Calling someone “Lord” in such a gothic setting made him feel as though he’d stepped into the Middle Ages, a vassal about to swear fealty to his liege. Kevin might as well have knelt down and kissed Ichirou’s hands then and there, promising never to betray his lord and to remain loyal until death. Amusingly, the thought didn’t feel all that far-fetched.
Ichirou didn’t bother to respond—he didn’t even turn around.
Kevin buried his hands in the pockets of his suit to keep from picking at his cuticles. He waited for Ichirou to say something, anything, but he remained silent. A long, excruciating silence.
Of course. Ichirou Moriyama was not the kind of man who started conversations. He was the kind of man who made you wait, who made it abundantly clear that everything would happen on his time and on his terms. And he did so without uttering a single word.
He knew Ichirou would drag out that silence for as long as necessary, and that the conversation would only begin the moment Kevin spoke. Yet, he had no idea what to say. He felt that any word out of his mouth might result in his immediate death.
So, for some reason, the first words that slipped past his lips were...
“My condolences.”
The second Kevin heard his own voice, he instantly regretted it. Ichirou finally turned to look at him, his expression cold and composed, but the slight arch of his eyebrow revealed his disdain. That look alone was enough for Kevin to understand that Ichirou had no intention of ignoring the elephant in the room. Somehow, he was fully aware that Kevin knew the truth about Riko’s death. Maybe he knew Neil would tell him, or maybe he simply expected Kevin to find out on his own.
Ichirou made a quick, strange movement with his mouth—almost like he wanted to laugh but didn’t know how. Still, his face returned to its stone-like expression in the blink of an eye, and he turned his back to Kevin once again, still saying nothing.
For a few more seconds, the only sound echoing through the chapel walls was Kevin’s breathing, growing increasingly uneven. And then, suddenly, he heard Ichirou’s voice—calm and emotionless—yet Kevin flinched as if he had shouted straight into his ear.
“Spectacular work, don’t you think?” he asked, without looking at Kevin.
It took a moment for Kevin to realize that Ichirou was referring to the painting on the wall. He didn’t reply, but he didn’t need to. Ichirou simply went on, calmly.
“Despite my complete disdain for the Catholic Church, I have to admit they had an interesting eye for art. For a religion so obsessed with the notion of purity, they knew exactly how to depict evil.”
Ichirou lifted his arm, gesturing toward the painting.
“This is The Last Judgment , by Giotto. Not the original, of course. The original is in the Scrovegni Chapel, in Padua. This one’s a decent replica, though.”
Kevin stared at the painting, more confused than ever. His stomach churned as his mind tried to decipher where this conversation was going.
“The name is self-explanatory,” Ichirou continued, either unaware or unconcerned with Kevin’s discomfort. “It portrays the Last Judgment, the moment God decides who will be blessed with eternity in paradise, and who will be cast into the burning, shadowed pits of hell.”
He stepped forward, pointing to the lower right corner of the painting.
“This,” he said. “Is Giotto’s vision of hell. Here, take a look.”
Kevin shuddered before taking a hesitant step forward, leaning in to examine the painting more closely. His eyes focused on where Ichirou was pointing, and only then did Kevin truly absorb the dark details of the piece.
Most of the painting was composed of typical Catholic symbols—heaven, saints, and a choir of angels. But the lower right corner, stained in dark shades of blue and red, revealed a series of disturbing images. Kevin saw naked men and women being dragged by bluish demons into the depths of hell. He saw bodies hanging from tree branches and serpentine creatures clinging to the skin of the damned. All the tormented souls were being herded toward a massive horned monster, with snakes slithering out of its ears, coiling around the sinners. Probably Satan, Kevin thought. A naked body was clenched between the monster’s teeth, its legs and buttocks sticking helplessly out of its mouth. The painting was chaotic, with too much happening all at once, and only after squinting did Kevin realize that the creature was simultaneously devouring and defecating people.
A chill ran down his spine. The image was terrifying, but now Kevin couldn’t look away. He could practically hear the screams of pain, despair, and agony. He could feel the terror of the sinners gathered around the gluttonous beast, witnessing the grotesque scene and knowing exactly what awaited them.
“It’s interesting to note that the Bible doesn’t actually offer many descriptions of what hell looks like,” Ichirou’s voice cut through the atmosphere like a razor. “So all of this comes from Giotto’s own imagination. Fascinating, isn’t it? That the most terrifying evil we know resides within our own minds.”
Kevin felt sick. The nausea was becoming harder and harder to ignore, and the image of Satan defecating human bodies wasn’t helping. For a moment, Kevin wondered what kind of person would hang a painting like this inside a chapel. Wasn’t this supposed to be a peaceful place, to find sanctuary? Ichirou had said the original painting was also inside a chapel, in Italy.
Religious people are weird as fuck.
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Mr. Day,” Ichirou said, suddenly switching to Japanese. “I wanted to see for myself the boy who became the catalyst for my brother’s ruin.”
Kevin stared at Ichirou, eyes wide. He couldn’t tell if the words were meant as admiration or accusation. Ichirou’s voice was flat, and his eyes were devoid of emotion. The young Lord was uncharted territory for Kevin. He was used to Riko’s manic fury, to the Master’s severity. But nothing had prepared him for Ichirou.
Kevin didn’t know if that was Ichirou’s intention, but the words drove into his chest like a stake. Hearing the man who had literally put a bullet in Riko’s brain say that Kevin was the reason behind his downfall felt strangely infuriating. A part of him wanted to defend himself, like a petulant teenager, but he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.
“I believe there are certain things we need to discuss,” Ichirou went on, showing no interest in Kevin’s reaction. “I assume you’re aware of our new… arrangement.”
Kevin stared down at his feet and had to remind himself that he spoke Japanese.
“Yes, my Lord.”
“And you are aware of the terms and conditions of this arrangement?”
“Yes, my Lord.”
Ichirou nodded before continuing, his tone almost academic.
“In order for this arrangement to function properly, there are some very important things you need to understand.”
There was a brief silence as Ichirou cast a not-so-subtle glance at Kevin’s left hand.
“I don’t want you to get the impression that I am anything like my brother. Riko was… an insect. A spoiled little creature who believed he was far more important than he truly was. He spilled blood everywhere he went, and blood leaves a trail, Mr. Day. Cleaning up after my brother’s messes was an inconvenience, to say the least. So I have no intention of spilling any more blood unless it is absolutely necessary.”
Kevin almost asked what exactly he considered "absolutely necessary," but kept quiet.
“So don’t treat me as if I were my brother. Unlike Riko, I am an incredibly patient man.”
There was a long pause, and Ichirou stepped forward, getting dangerously close. Kevin did his best not to flinch.
“However,” he began, his voice lower and deeper now, “I know how to train my dogs.”
Every hair on the back of Kevin’s neck stood on end. The atmosphere inside the chapel shifted entirely, the air was suddenly too heavy to breathe.
“I see everything, Mr. Day,” Ichirou said, eyes fixed on Kevin’s face, burning into his skin like acid. “And if you step out of line, if you even think about violating our agreement, trust me, I will know. And I will not hesitate to take care of you.”
Kevin had been with the Moriyamas long enough to know exactly what take care of you meant in their vocabulary.
“So don’t be foolish, Mr. Day. I’m offering you a chance to prove your worth—don’t waste it. Do not mistake my patience for generosity.”
Kevin nodded, wanting nothing more than for this to be over. But Ichirou wasn’t finished yet. He had driven the knife into Kevin’s chest, and now he was ready to twist it.
“Let me make one thing very clear,” he pronounced every word in perfect English, as if to ensure Kevin didn’t misunderstand a single sentence. “You may no longer be in the Nest. Riko may be dead. But you are still mine, and you will remain mine until I say otherwise. I want you to know that no matter where you are, that even if you feel safe, I will always be just behind you, watching your every move. So let me offer you a friendly piece of advice, Kevin Day. Never forget where you came from, or who you belong to. Because I certainly won’t.”
Kevin stared at the painting on the wall, avoiding Ichirou’s dark eyes. He wasn’t a religious man, but he tried to find solace in the holy images before him—in the saints and the angelic choir. However, his gaze was dragged to the lower right corner by some haunting force, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the horned monster chewing on human bodies.
A long, morbid silence settled between the two men. It felt like a decade had passed before Ichirou finally said,
“You may go now.”
Kevin fought the urge to sigh in relief and bowed a perfect three hundred and sixty-five degrees before heading toward the chapel door, trying to stop his feet from breaking into a desperate run.
Just as he was about to place his hand on the doorknob, Ichirou’s voice echoed off the walls, laced with an almost sanctified resonance that froze every movement in Kevin’s body.
“I hope this is the last time we see each other, Kevin Day. Because if we meet again, know that my face will be the last face you’ll ever see.”
Kevin stood frozen for several seconds. His bones felt like they had been frozen solid by the cold words. He blinked, and the red paint on the wall behind Ichirou suddenly looked like blood.
That was what finally made Kevin’s body move.
He opened the chapel door and stepped outside. The sky was still orange, the birds were still singing. The rest of the world remained untouched, blessedly unaware that Kevin’s inner world was falling apart.
He tried climbing the hill, but his lungs were failing to catch any oxygen and his legs felt like they had turned to paper. He had to stop halfway up, doubling over with his hands on his knees like an old man. Anyone who saw him now wouldn’t believe he had the ability to sprint down a hundred-yard court in full gear from head to toe. He wheezed and gasped like he was choking on hot coal, as if his throat was a dusty, crumbling chimney. He was sweating beneath his suit, feeling his white dress shirt cling to his skin. The tie around his neck felt like a rope tightening, so he yanked at it, loosening the knot.
Kevin tried to steady his breathing and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He looked to his left, toward the parking lot, trying to distract himself while his chest fought to keep him breathing.
He watched absentmindedly as people climbed into their cars and left the cemetery. He was pretty far from the lot, but if he squinted, he could still make out some faces. A Japanese man with round glasses. An elderly woman being pushed in a wheelchair. A blonde woman talking on her cellphone. A bearded man pulling keys from his pocket. Crooked teeth smiling at him.
Kevin’s gut turned to stone.
A bizarre chill crept up his spine, crawling over his skin like a thousand spiders.
Kevin stopped breathing altogether. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t blink.
It was him.
Kevin stared at that face, trying to convince himself he was wrong, that he was seeing things—but no. That face was unmistakable. He was taller, older, uglier, but the smile was the same. The malice, the perversion, the cruelty. It was all still carved into those crooked teeth.
Kevin expected him to run toward him, like a rabid animal chasing its prey. He didn’t know what he’d do if that happened. Maybe Kevin would try to kill him with his bare hands, like he’d fantasized for years. But more likely, he’d just start crying.
But the man simply turned his back, and Kevin watched as he climbed into a black car and drove away.
Kevin just stood there. Motionless.
Then the air rushed into his lungs all at once, and he started coughing violently. He bent over, clutching his neck, the pressure in his throat ripping at his larynx, and he thought he might start coughing up blood. The coughing eventually stopped, but his stomach twisted like a worm writhing inside him.
Kevin climbed the hill. He started walking, but his feet picked up speed on their own, and before he realized it, he was running. He didn’t know where he was going. The adrenaline was making his head spin. His skin was burning. There was a thunderous churn in his stomach and something was forcing its way out of his body. The nausea that had plagued him from the moment he stepped into this cemetery had finally taken hold.
He braced himself against a tree, feeling saliva flood his mouth, and he knew what was coming. Kevin was far too familiar with this sensation.
His body convulsed violently as he threw up, expelling the single apple he had eaten for breakfast and the glasses of whiskey he had downed before the funeral. For someone with an almost empty stomach, he nearly threw up his own guts out. It felt like it lasted forever until there was nothing left but spit.
Kevin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He was shaking from head to toe, his blood vessels felt like they were about to burst, and the bitter taste on his tongue would’ve made him vomit again if there’d been anything left in his stomach. He could barely breathe, but he needed to move. He needed to get out of there.
Thea, he thought. Where’s Thea?
He kept walking, aimless and directionless, stumbling like a drunk. People looked at him with confusion, pity, and disdain, but he couldn’t have cared less.
The faces around him blurred together, forming a haze of eyes, mouths, and noses. Some of them he recognized for a moment. Others, not at all. His past, present, and future were all blending together, and he stood at the center of it all. Kevin couldn’t tell what was what anymore. He couldn’t say which faces were real and which weren’t. He saw, like smoke in a fog, Jean’s gray eyes, the Master’s wrinkled nose, and Riko’s smile. That same smile Kevin had seen the day his hand was broken.
He was going to faint. He could feel his arms and legs giving out. His head was growing heavier. But just when the edges of his vision began to darken, he saw a face. Not a pair of eyes. Not a nose. Not a mouth. A whole face.
Kevin stumbled and let himself fall, hoping Thea would catch him. And she did.
“Kevin?” she said his name with a tremble in her voice, gripping his arms with a firm hold. “Are you okay? Jesus…”
He tried to say something, but not a single word escaped his lips. He just held onto Thea, afraid she’d vanish, disappear into the blur of eyes and mouths.
“Kevin,” she called again, sounding ready to slap him back to reality. “Kevin, look at me. What happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
He wanted to tell her he’d seen many ghosts today, but all he could manage to say was…
“Let’s get out of here.”
Thea looked at him for a few seconds, then nodded, more determined than ever.
“Yeah,” she said. “Let’s get out of here.”
Thea practically dragged him to her car. He collapsed into the passenger seat, and she started the engine.
As they passed through the cemetery gates, Kevin waited to feel relief. But it never came.
Instead, he looked into the rearview mirror, and it felt like Riko’s ghost was sitting in the backseat.
The sky had already gone dark by the time they arrived at the hotel where Thea was staying. Kevin had asked her to take him back to his own hotel, but he could tell she was reluctant to leave him alone that night. He silently thanked her for that—because he was scared of being alone too.
They took the elevator up, and Thea used a key card to unlock the door.
The room was small but cozy. A queen-sized bed took up most of the space. The sheets were white and clean, and a navy-blue blanket was folded neatly at the foot of the mattress. Across from the bed was a fairly large TV, and below it sat a minibar that was probably stocked with ridiculously overpriced drinks. On the left side of the room, near the window, there was a blue couch with gray pillows. That’s where Kevin collapsed the moment he walked in, burying his face in his hands and letting out a heavy sigh. The air smelled like some kind of citrus-scented cleaning product, which made his nose itchy.
"Are you okay?" Thea asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Do you need anything?"
Without thinking, Kevin replied,
"A drink."
Thea nodded and stepped away for a moment, crouching in front of the minibar. She pulled out a cold bottle of water and offered it to him, but Kevin just stared at it, unable to hide his embarrassment.
"I had something alcoholic in mind," he said with a small voice.
Thea looked him straight in the eye, and her expression was sharper than a blade. Kevin shrank. Thea was one of the few people who truly understood just how self-destructive he could be. She and Jean—but Jean wasn’t here. If he were, his reaction would have been much more verbal than Thea’s, who seemed content to strangle him with her gaze.
"Just for tonight, Thea," Kevin pleaded, his chin nearly touching his chest. "Please? I think that today, of all days, I really deserve a drink."
She pressed her lips together. Something in her expression told Kevin she was disappointed, or genuinely concerned. Maybe both.
But she didn’t say anything. She just stepped away, picked up the phone on the bedside table, and called room service to request a bottle of white wine. When she hung up, she turned to Kevin and said,
"Well, if you’re going to drink, then at least we’re drinking together."
"Why?"
"So you don’t drink the whole bottle by yourself."
Kevin didn’t think it was possible to lower his head any further, but somehow he managed. A few minutes later, room service arrived with a bottle of white wine and two tall glass flutes. Thea opened the bottle and filled both glasses.
Kevin wasn’t particularly fond of wine, he always found it too dry. He preferred vodka or whiskey, stronger drinks that burned on the way down as he took one after the other. Thea knew that, which might’ve been exactly why she chose wine, hoping he wouldn’t drink too much.
Well, she was wrong. Kevin downed the entire glass in less than three seconds.
"Take it easy, or I’ll punch you in the face," Thea warned, with all the grace of a bull.
He chuckled as he refilled his glass.
"I think that might actually help. If you hit me hard enough, maybe it’ll reset my system or something."
"What happened at the funeral, Kevin?"
His whole body froze for half a second.
"Do we really need to talk about that?"
"Well, I’d ask if you want to talk about it, but I know that if it were up to you, we’d never talk about anything. So, what happened?"
Thea Muldani, always straight to the point. God, he’d missed her.
"Nothing really... happened."
"Was it Ichirou?"
"Yeah," he answered, even though that was only half the truth. He would never tell Thea about him. He would never tell anyone. The only people who knew were Riko and Jean. And well—Riko was six feet under, and Jean never wanted to see him again, so at least that problem was solved.
Thea took a deep breath, analyzing him the same way she analyzed a particularly complex Exy match.
"Did he say something to you? Did he do something to you?"
Kevin trembled from head to toe, but then he remembered she was talking about Ichirou, and that calmed him a little bit.
"No, he didn’t do anything. But he... said a few things."
"What did he say?"
Kevin took a sip of wine with a trembling hand. Thea didn’t know about the new deal he, Neil, and Jean had made with Ichirou. And she would never know. He knew he was being a complete asshole for still keeping things from her, and he knew she’d be furious if she ever found out. But, honestly, Kevin didn’t care. Even if Thea hated him for the rest of her life, he still wanted to keep her far away from his mess.
Most of the people Kevin cared about had ended up tangled in his chaos. Jean, the Foxes, Wymack. He was sick of it. He just wanted to deal with his own shit without bothering anyone, without putting anyone at risk.
“He just told me to keep my mouth shut,” he said, unable to look at Thea. “You know, not spread things around about Riko and the Nest.”
“He threatened you?”
Kevin nodded. He could still feel Ichirou’s black eyes piercing into his skin.
“He told me not to forget where I came from, and… who I belong to.”
There was a pause while Thea finished her glass of wine. She rubbed her fingers against her temple and closed her eyes like she had a migraine.
“Fuck, Kevin. You know he was just trying to scare you, right? You don’t belong to him anymore. You don’t belong to anyone. So Ichirou Moriyama can fuck off.”
Kevin took a deep breath. Thea had no idea, but Kevin still belonged to Ichirou. Even after everything he had been through, after risking everything and everyone, he was still chained to the Moriyamas. He knew he should be grateful, that things could have been much worse. Kevin could have been dragged back to the Nest, the same way sinners were dragged to the depths of hell in The Last Judgment. He could be dead, buried right next to Riko for the rest of eternity.
Things could have ended much worse. That’s what Kevin told himself every time he felt that weight on his chest. But he still couldn’t help thinking that he would never own his life, that there would always be someone’s shadow looming over him. First Riko, now Ichirou. He would never be free.
Before those thoughts got too loud for him to ignore, he poured himself a little more wine. Thea’s plan really wasn’t working. She had just finished her first glass, and Kevin was already pouring his third.
“Can we talk about something else?” Kevin practically begged.
“Like what?”
“Anything.”
Before she could argue, Kevin asked,
“How long are you staying here?”
Thea looked at him for a few seconds and then sighed, like she was accepting defeat.
“I’m leaving tomorrow morning.”
“Where are you living, again?”
“Right now? New York.”
Kevin tried his best to offer her a smile.
“I bet you miss West Virginia. New York must be so boring in comparison.”
Thea tried not to laugh, but gave in quickly.
“Oh, sure,” she rolled her eyes. “The bars? The clubs? So boring.”
“You know where the real heat is?”
“Where?”
“In Palmetto.”
Thea laughed out loud before punching Kevin’s arm. It was supposed to be playful, but she was so strong that it hurt a little. Kevin didn’t mind, though. He liked making her laugh.
“God, Kevin,” she said, still laughing. “You’re such a nerd. You’re like an old man.”
“No, I’m not,” he tried to sound offended, but the smile was still stuck to his face.
“Yes, you are. Who reads history books and listens to classical music voluntarily at twenty-one?”
“I do.”
“Exactly. Because you’re an old man trapped in a twenty-one-year-old body.”
Kevin laughed and let his head fall back against the couch. For a second, things felt normal. It was just him and Thea in a hotel room, sharing a bottle of white wine. The moment was so ordinary it didn’t feel like it belonged in Kevin’s life.
But it only lasted a second.
Soon, everything came rushing back. Ichirou. The Nest. Riko’s body rotting beneath the earth at this very moment.
Him.
Kevin’s expression must have darkened, because Thea furrowed her brows.
“Hey, what is it?” she asked gently, brushing her hand against his cheek.
“It’s just—” his voice faltered. “This is so fucked up.”
Somehow, Thea seemed to understand exactly what he meant.
“I know,” she said, still stroking his face.
“The funeral was awful. Nobody cared, nobody…”
“I know, I know,” she nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, I just—” he cut himself off with a heavy sigh.
Kevin wrapped his arms around Thea and buried his face in her shoulder. He thought she might push him away, but she just welcomed him into her embrace and ran her fingers through his black hair. Kevin closed his eyes. He just wanted to be held.
They stayed like that for a long time. Kevin tried to focus on Thea’s touch to drown out the thoughts in his head. He tried to concentrate only on her fingers in his scalp, her hands moving across his back, the warmth of her skin against his. But the more he tried, the louder the thoughts became.
He saw Ichirou’s eyes. Riko’s corpse. The blue demons painted on the chapel walls.
A smile of crooked teeth.
Being held wasn’t enough to chase those images away. He needed more.
Kevin didn’t think. He simply placed his hands on Thea’s face and kissed her. He was sure this would earn him a broken nose, but Thea kissed him back, holding his shoulders and closing her eyes.
It started innocently. A comforting kiss, stripped of any desire. But then Kevin began to lose himself in it. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d kissed Thea. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d kissed anyone . And it wasn’t until he kissed someone for the first time in so long that he realized how much he’d missed it.
He started to deepen the kiss, and that’s when Thea pulled away. Kevin felt a trace of hesitation in her lips as she withdrew.
“Kevin,” was all she said.
“Please,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her cheek. “It's been so long…”
“We can’t.”
“Why not?” he knew he was being pathetic, but he didn’t care. He would drop to his knees if he had to. He just wanted to take refuge in Thea’s body, he just wanted to feel something other than this thing that had been eating him alive since he found out Riko was dead.
Thea cupped his cheeks in her hands and made him look at her.
“We never had a normal relationship,” she said, staring straight into his eyes. “You know that.”
Kevin felt like he’d just been slapped across the face.
Yes, he knew that whatever he and Thea had could never be defined by a single word. They weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend, but their connection was too deep to be just a casual fling. Maybe if they had met somewhere other than the Nest—a place where they were free to build a real relationship—things would’ve turned out very differently. Maybe they would’ve fallen in love, gone on dinner dates, celebrated Valentine’s Day and made plans together. Maybe they would’ve gotten married, and even had a couple of kids. Or maybe not. Maybe they were doomed from the start and it was never meant to be.
Maybe Kevin would always ruin everything, no matter the time or place.
He told all his teammates that Thea was his girlfriend because it was easier that way. He wasn’t going to waste time explaining that, in the Nest, it was strictly forbidden for Ravens to date each other. It was seen as too much of a distraction, a source of drama that could hurt the team’s performance. And the Master would never allow it. Relationships in the Nest were purely carnal, and that’s how it started between him and Thea—though, deep down, they both cared too much about each other to believe it was just that.
If it had only been about sex, Thea wouldn’t have been so worried when Riko broke Kevin’s hand and he vanished off the face of the earth for a whole year.
The last time Kevin and Thea had spoken felt like years ago, but it had only been a few weeks. That day was still a blur in Kevin’s mind. He remembered they had a long, long conversation. Thea was hurt and concerned, and Kevin had felt like a cornered animal, unsure how to react. He’d finally told her the truth—everything that had happened after the day Riko broke his hand—and she couldn’t understand why he’d never tried to reach out. She would’ve helped him, she said. She would’ve been there for him.
But what someone like Thea, strong and fearless, could never truly understand was that all Kevin wanted was to protect her. And the only way a coward like him knew how to do that… was to stay as far away from her as possible.
But no matter how hard Kevin tried, Thea would never truly stay away—not completely. She came to support him during the finals, and she was the first person to message him after Riko died, to make sure he was okay.
“But we’re no longer in the Nest,” Kevin said. “Maybe things don’t have to be so complicated anymore…”
He had no idea what he was talking about. There was no more chance for Kevin and Thea. In truth, there never had been. And judging by the way Thea looked at him, she understood that better than he did.
“Kevin…” she let out an exasperated laugh. “Things are always going to be complicated between us. We were together for, what, three years? And ever since then, it’s like there’s this…” she gestured with frustration. “This distance between us.”
Kevin looked down at his feet, ashamed. Thea was just saying what he already knew.
“You always kept me at arm’s length,” she went on. “You never wanted me to leave, but you also never let me get too close. And it confused me so much. Most of the time, I was just left wondering if you even liked me. I used to think it was because of the Nest, because of Riko. But now I know it’s much deeper than that, that there’s always going to be part of you that you’ll never let me see.”
She took a deep breath, and her voice was even softer when she spoke again.
“And that’s okay, Kevin. I accept that. What we had was special, but it was never built to last. We both know that.”
Kevin lowered his head, feeling a heavy weight settle on his shoulders. He wasn’t sure if it was guilt or regret.
He wanted to tell Thea she was wrong, but he knew she wasn’t.
His relationship with Thea had been born under the strangest, most unfavorable conditions imaginable. Thea was right—there had always been a distance between them. Kevin never let her in. He was scared. And after Riko broke his hand, that distance became a giant abyss. Kevin had always known he was never the best… what? Boyfriend? Partner? Friend? Whatever it was, he’d failed miserably at it. And he always would.
It wasn’t fair to make Thea go through that just because he didn’t know how to be alone.
Kevin took her hand and inhaled deeply.
“I know it’s probably too late for this,” he began, brushing his thumb gently across the back of her hand, “but I want you to know you’ve always been special to me. And I’m sorry I never knew how to show that to you. You deserve better than this. You deserve someone who makes you feel loved.”
Thea squeezed his hand tightly.
“So do you, Kevin,” she said. “You deserve to love someone without having to be afraid.”
Her words hit him straight in the chest.
Kevin closed his eyes and felt the tears coming, but he fought them back with everything he had.
“I really like you, Thea,” he said at last, his voice trembling.
She smiled—one of the most beautiful smiles he’d ever seen on her face. Then, she gently cupped his face in her hands.
“You like me,” she said, and leaned in to kiss his forehead. “But you don’t love me.”
She didn’t say it with bitterness or as a form of accusation. It was just the plain, honest truth.
Kevin thought the realization would devastate him. But strangely… all he felt was relief. It was over. He and Thea could finally move on. What “moving on” meant, Kevin didn’t know. But that was a concern for another day.
Now, he was content just to kiss Thea again. First gently, and then more intensely, with growing desire. He parted his lips and allowed her tongue to explore him.
He doesn’t remember how the two of them ended up in bed, naked. All he knows is that he savored every inch of her body, and she did the same to him. They kissed and touched each other patiently, as if they had all the time in the world. He caressed her breasts, and she took him into her mouth. He kissed her neck, and she pulled his hair.
He climaxed with her on top, riding him. He held her hips, but let her do all the work. Thea knew how to take care of him.
As the orgasm burst through him, he closed his eyes and soaked in every second, because he knew this would be the last time.
Kevin had a nightmare.
That wasn’t unusual. Kevin had nightmares almost every night. About the Nest, about Riko. Sometimes about his mother. But most of his nightmares weren’t really nightmares—just unwanted memories, laced with absurd and fantastical elements that reminded him none of it could be real.
But tonight was different. There were no old memories in this dream. Instead, he dreamed of The Last Judgment by Giotto.
In the nightmare, Giotto’s painting was no longer a painting—it was real. The image of Hell that adorned the chapel walls had come to life, fully materialized. Kevin was there, but he wasn’t really Kevin, he was just a bodiless spectator, watching the horrors unfold before him. He saw sinners being dragged into Hell, and they were no longer made of paint. They were real human bodies, flesh and bone. He heard the screams echo through the pit of fire, so distorted by agony they no longer sounded human. He saw the horned beast, a thousand times larger than he remembered from the painting, making the bodies of the sinners seem minuscule in comparison, as if they were just tiny insects, moving its tiny arms and legs, futilely trying to escape.
The monster devoured and defecated the bodies unceremoniously. Its bloated belly bulged and rumbled in a grotesque way, the sound reverberating off the infinite walls. The stench that surrounded it was putrid—a blend of burnt flesh, feces, and bile. There was someone caught between the beast’s massive, jagged teeth, but Kevin could still see their legs and feet kicking frantically as the creature chewed slowly, as if savoring the sinner’s pain like a fine delicacy.
He could hear the person screaming inside the monster’s mouth. The screams were so loud and desperate they barely sounded human, but something in Kevin recognized the voice. And then it struck him. It was Riko’s voice.
Kevin woke up to the sound of chewing.
He jolted upright, gasping for air. And immediately tasted blood in his mouth.
He gagged, pressing a hand to his lips, pure terror in his eyes. He scrambled out of bed, his muscle memory guiding him toward the bathroom. He slammed into a wall, and only then remembered he wasn’t in Palmetto, but in Thea’s hotel room. His eyes searched frantically for the bathroom, and when he found it, he switched on the lights and threw himself in front of the toilet.
Kevin was sure he was going to vomit, but all he managed was to spit. He looked down and saw that he had spat blood.
Panic surged through him as he rushed to the mirror. He opened his mouth and stared at his reflection. He didn’t know what he expected to find there. Flesh? Muscle? Bone? Severed fingers?
There was absolutely nothing inside his mouth. Kevin was confused for a moment, until he noticed a dull ache on the side of his tongue. He leaned in closer and examined it carefully, spotting a small cut on the left side. Kevin shivered.
He had been chewing his own tongue in his sleep.
He sighed and stepped out of the bathroom. Thea was still sleeping peacefully in bed, the white sheets covering half of her naked body. Unlike Kevin, who could wake up to the sound of a butterfly’s wings, Thea slept like a rock. He envied that, wondering what it felt like to just close your eyes and sleep, without needing alcohol or pills.
Speaking of alcohol…
He looked for the bottle of white wine and found it resting on the coffee table, exactly where they had left it. He sat down on the couch and drank straight from the bottle. There was still at least half of it left. Thea was going to be furious when she woke up and found out Kevin had finished the entire thing by himself. The wine made the cut on his tongue sting a little, but he didn’t mind. In fact, he kind of liked the sensation. It was like putting ointment on a scraped knee. It burned, but it meant it was healing.
He was grateful Thea was such a heavy sleeper, because if she woke up and saw him now, she’d either kill him or laugh in his face. Kevin was completely naked, sitting on the couch and drinking wine straight from the bottle, with the most exhausted expression painted across his face.
Kevin didn’t think he’d ever had a single good night’s sleep in his life. Nightmares and insomnia had haunted him ever since he went to the Nest, and that happened when he was just ten years old. Since then, Kevin had always needed to lean on something just to get a semblance of decent sleep. He’d push himself to the limit with Exy, torturing his body and draining every last drop of energy from himself so that by the time he collapsed into bed, he’d just pass out. Sometimes even that wasn’t enough, so he’d take sleeping pills or drink until he blacked out.
Before the Nest, his mother used to put him to bed. Kevin remembered. She’d read him stories, sing him lullabies, stroke his hair. She wouldn’t leave until he was already asleep, always leaving the little dinosaur-shaped nightlight on because Kevin was afraid of the dark.
That was the only period in his life when he slept well, when he felt safe and sound. No amount of pills, alcohol, or Exy could compare to the touch of his mother’s fingers in his hair or the soft sound of her voice singing him a lullaby. When was the last time she put him to bed? If Kevin had known that would be the last good night’s sleep of his life, he would have enjoyed every second, memorized the feel of her touch, the songs she sang to him.
Kevin drank the wine. Jesus Christ, what was he doing? Thinking about his mother, of all things? Tonight ? Was he trying to kill himself?
He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was four in the morning. Thea had told him her flight back to New York was at eleven. He should leave before then.
Kevin finished the wine, got dressed, and wrote a short note for Thea, telling her he had to leave early and thanking her for everything. He left the note on the nightstand and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead before leaving.
He stepped out of the hotel, the cold night wind wrapping around his body. He called a cab, and as he sat in the back seat, he checked his phone. Five missed calls. Three from Wymack, one from Neil, and one from Andrew.
Fuck. Kevin had forgotten to let them know he’d be spending the night with Thea.
He called Wymack first, hoping his coach would still be asleep. However, the man picked up almost immediately.
“Where the fuck are you?”
No pleasantries, as always.
“I’m fine. I’m still in West Virginia. I spent the night in Thea’s hotel room.”
He heard a heavy sigh on the other end of the line, a mixture of relief and frustration.
“Christ, Kevin,” Wymack muttered. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”
“I forgot. I’m sorry.”
Wymack muttered something again. Kevin could practically see the older man digging his fingers into his scalp.
“We were worried about you, we thought—”
“I know,” Kevin cut in. “I’m sorry.”
He didn't want to hear again about how worried everyone was about him. Kevin knew he’d screwed up, but he couldn’t stand being treated like a child, like something fragile that needed constant protection. He’d made it clear he didn’t want to be that person anymore. Wymack had probably stayed up all night waiting for Kevin’s call. Was all this worry really necessary? Riko was dead. They had a new agreement with Ichirou. Kevin’s life wasn’t under threat anymore, so why were they all still acting like it was?
But deep down, he knew it wasn’t that simple. Because even without Riko or Ichirou, everyone knew Kevin was a threat to himself.
“How was the funeral?” Wymack asked, reminding Kevin that he was still on the line. “Are you okay?”
And there it was. That fucking concern again. The way Wymack even softened his voice, like that question alone could shatter Kevin. He clenched his fist. Why did he care so much? Why did he need to know where Kevin was, who he was with, what he was doing? Why did he even give a shit—
And then Kevin remembered.
Wymack wasn’t just his coach. He was also his father.
Kevin shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable.
“I’m fine,” he said with a sigh. “Look, I’ve gotta go. I’m heading to the airport. I’ll text you when I get there.”
“Alright,” Wymack replied, his voice still laced with that ever-present worry. “See you soon, kid.”
And then he hung up.
Kevin looked out the window, watching the empty streets and the buildings with all their lights turned off. His body still felt drained. Every time he blinked, his consciousness threatened to slip away. But his mind refused to rest. Without Thea’s touch to ground him and without the haze of an orgasm to dull the noise, the images in his head were relentless. His thoughts kept pulling him back to the funeral. To Riko’s gray face. To the smell of dirt. To the sound of rain. To the weight of a heavy hand on his left shoulder.
Kevin opened his eyes. Rain? It hadn’t rained at Riko’s funeral. The sun had been shining while they lowered him into the ground.
And then, the realization hit him. He was mixing up the memories.
It hadn’t rained at Riko’s funeral.
It had rained at his mother’s.
March 11th, 1996
Kevin was trying to remember the last thing his mother had said to him.
It felt like the last time he saw her had been centuries ago, but he knew it had only been a few days. How could he have already forgotten? It had to be something important, because she must have known that would be the last time, right? She had to know.
He was also thinking about what he would say to her when she came back. He’d ask why she did it, if she was angry with him, if he had done something wrong. Kevin remembered all the times he refused to do his homework, all the times he kept playing Exy even after his mother told him to go take a shower. Maybe he should have been more obedient, better behaved. He’d tell her he was sorry, that he’d be a good boy from now on, that he’d do everything she asked. All she had to do was come back.
The adults kept telling him she wasn’t coming back. A police officer had sat beside him and held his hands when she told him his mom had turned into a little star, that she was in heaven now, watching over him from above. But that made no sense at all. Of course she was coming back—she had only gone on a quick trip. Just three days, she promised.
“Then why can’t I go with you?” he had asked.
Kayleigh Day was moving frantically, pacing back and forth, zipping up suitcases.
“Because I have to take care of some things, my love,” she said, rummaging through her purse. “It’s just three days. I’ll be back before you even have time to miss me. And Martha’s going to look after you.”
Martha was his babysitter, the woman his mother only called when there were no other options. Kevin rarely stayed with his sitter, because whenever his mom needed to go somewhere or do something, she always took him along. To the grocery store, to the bank, to everywhere. Even when she had a last-minute work trip to Chicago, she told Kevin to pack his bags in under an hour and took him with her—and they’d shared a bed at the hotel. Kevin and his mom were always together. Nothing could separate them.
So Kevin didn’t understand why she didn’t want to take him this time.
“Don’t make that face, baby, you’re killing me,” she said, pinching his cheek the way she always did.
“But I want to go with you,” Kevin whined.
Mom sighed heavily, and Kevin noticed her hands were shaking a little bit. She was gripping her purse tightly, and her breathing was unsteady. Suddenly, she knelt in front of him, placed her hands in his hair, and gently stroked it.
“Listen to me, sweetheart,” she began carefully, smiling at him. “Mommy has to do something very important. When I get back, I’ll tell you everything. But right now, I need to go alone, okay? It’ll be quick, darling. Just three days. I promise. Alright?”
It wasn’t alright at all. Kevin was always by his mom’s side, and three days without her felt like forever. But he didn’t want her to worry about him—she already worried too much. She worried because he was too shy, because he struggled to make friends, because the other kids at school sometimes made fun of him. She had more important things to think about now, so Kevin simply nodded, his head bowed.
His mother smiled wider and brushed his bangs away from his eyes.
Kevin contemplated his mother’s face, and at that moment, it felt like his brain took a photograph. He captured every tiny detail. Her forest-green eyes, her black wavy hair, her fair skin, the smile that deepened her dimples, the faint freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose. Kevin had always been told he looked just like his mother, and he wanted that to be true so badly. He wanted to be just like her when he grew up. But it wasn’t just her beauty he wanted—he wanted her talent, her strength, her sense of humor, her determination. He wanted to make her proud.
Kevin was so lucky to be his mother’s son.
She kissed his forehead and pulled him into a long, tight hug.
“Things are going to get even better now, Kev. Trust me.”
He hugged her back and breathed in her sweet perfume. As he closed his eyes, he thought, it doesn’t get any better than this.
His mother stood up, grabbed her bags, and walked through the door. And before she closed it, she waved and said something.
And now Kevin was trying to remember what it was she had said.
He had a feeling it was something important, something he was supposed to remember for the rest of his life. But if it had been truly important, surely he would remember it now, wouldn’t he? It would’ve burned itself into his memory, wouldn’t it? Maybe she hadn’t said anything special, maybe it was just a quick “bye” or “love you”. Maybe she hadn’t said anything at all, and Kevin was making this up.
That was the problem. The memories from that day were hazy and unclear. He couldn’t say for certain whether her hands had really been shaking, whether she’d been gripping her purse tightly, or if her breathing had actually faltered. And worst of all, he couldn’t remember the last thing his mother had said to him before walking out that door, or if she’d said anything at all.
Kevin would have to ask her when she came back.
They told him there had been an accident on the road. But he refused to believe it. He refused when his babysitter picked up the phone and looked at him with horrified eyes. He refused when the police officer sat down beside him. Who were they to tell him his mother wasn’t coming back? They didn’t know her. They didn’t know she never broke her promises, and she had promised Kevin that she would return.
So all he had to do was wait.
He waited when social services showed up at his door. He kept waiting when they took him to the cemetery. And he only stopped waiting when he saw his mother inside the casket.
When Kevin saw her, he felt utterly confused. What was she doing there? And why was everyone acting like she was gone when she was right there, in front of him?
His mind was spiraling with questions. Not knowing what else to do, he reached out and touched his mother’s arm—only to pull his hand away immediately.
Her skin was cold as ice.
That wasn’t right. His mother’s skin was never cold. Her hugs had always been so warm, he had always felt so safe in her arms. But this? This felt wrong. Terribly wrong.
That couldn’t be his mother. It was something else. A replica, a mannequin. But Kevin looked at her face, and everything in him said that it was his mother’s face. It wasn’t possible. The face was hers, but her skin was far too pale, and her chest didn’t rise and fall.
And that’s when it hit him.
His mother was there, but at the same time, she wasn’t. Only her body remained. Everything else that made her her was gone.
She was gone.
Everything Kevin had been denying over the past few days hit him all at once. He would never see her smile again. He would never hear her voice singing lullabies. He would never wake up to the smell of her pancakes. He would never play Exy with her in the backyard. He would never walk home from school holding her hand. He would never feel her fingers brushing through his hair. She was gone.
She was gone. She was gone. She was gone.
Kevin didn’t know when he started to hyperventilate, or when his vision was blinded by tears. He felt someone trying to hold him, and he tried to pull away. He screamed and kicked and begged. More hands reached for him, but none of them were his mother’s, so he didn’t want them.
She was gone.
She was gone, and he was alone.
Oh, God. What was he supposed to do now? He was all alone.
Kevin sat on a bench, listening to the sound of the heavy rain. He had screamed and cried for endless hours, and now, there was nothing left inside him.
Voices he didn’t recognize kept talking around him. Somewhere nearby, he could hear two women whispering to each other.
"Poor boy, where will they take him now?"
"I don’t know, he only had his mother. It makes me sick just thinking about it."
Kevin didn’t care where they would take him now. That unknown woman was right—his mother was all he had. Kevin was the only child of an only child. He had no uncles, no cousins. His grandparents had died before he was even born. And his father…
Kevin never had a father.
It had always just been him and his mom, but Kevin had never minded that. Every time someone asked about his dad and he simply replied that he didn’t have one, he was met with a look of shock and pity. But he never understood that reaction. His mom had always been enough. As long as he had her, he didn’t need anyone else.
But now she was gone, and Kevin was completely alone.
He had never thought he would be without his mother. Nothing had prepared him for this. It had all happened so suddenly, so unfairly. She was supposed to be gone for just a three-day trip, and now she was never coming back. How was that possible? How could something like this happen?
He’d thought three days without her would feel like an eternity, and now he would have to spend the rest of his life without her.
Kevin had no idea what was this feeling that clung so tightly to his chest. He was confused, but he was also angry, and scared, and miserable. He was feeling so many things all at once that the emotions began to cancel each other out, until he couldn’t feel anything at all. Until all that was left was the deepest kind of emptiness.
Kevin didn’t want to think about what would happen to him now. He just wanted time to stop, even if only for a few seconds. He wanted to pause the rain and silence the whispers soaked in pity and discomfort. He just wanted everything to stop so he could think, just for a moment, about what he was supposed to do now—how he was supposed to move forward after all of this.
But time never stopped. It only moved forward, steady and unrelenting, like the current of a river. Time wouldn’t wait for him to catch up, wouldn’t wait for him to understand.
The universe made that painfully clear when he felt the heavy touch of a hand on his left shoulder.
"Let’s go, child," said a man’s voice.
Kevin had to summon all the strength he had left just to lift his head. He was met with a semi-familiar face.
Tetsuji Moriyama was a short man, with wrinkled skin and deep-set eyes. His hair was dark, streaked with a few white strands hidden in the receding hairline. He held a long black cane in his right hand, and his lips formed a rigid, thin line, like they had never learned how to smile, or how to laugh.
Tetsuji was an old friend of his mother’s and his godfather. Kevin had only seen him a few times, and even then, he had been too young to remember them clearly.
The story was well-known and widely told: his mother had invented Exy along with Tetsuji while studying abroad in Fukui, Japan. She had the idea; Tetsuji had the influence—and together, they turned Exy into an international phenomenon.
What nobody else knew was that his mother and Tetsuji hadn’t spoken in years. Kevin didn’t know the details—he had been too young, and his mother had never told him everything—but he knew that when he was around six or seven, his godfather and his mother had a falling-out. He vaguely remembered playing Exy on a court, watching from a distance as Tetsuji and his mother argued—the kind of low, restrained argument adults had when they didn’t want to make a scene. Whatever it had been about, it had left his mother furious. On the ride home, he could see her hands trembling with rage on the steering wheel. Kevin asked what had happened, and she had only said,
"I think Tetsuji and I have very different coaching methods."
Kevin hadn’t understood what she meant by that—and to this day, he still didn’t. All he knew was that she had never spoken to Tetsuji again after that day.
And now Kevin was being forced to live with him.
He had no other choice. His mother had been his only family, and Tetsuji was the only other person with any legal ties to Kevin. The men in suits from social services had told him that Tetsuji had “kindly offered” to take care of him, and that Kevin was lucky to have such a generous godfather.
But Kevin felt the opposite of lucky. His mother was gone, and he would have to live with a man he barely knew. How was that luck? It felt like a punishment, and Kevin had no idea what he had done to deserve it.
Still, he had no choice. Either he went with Tetsuji, or he had no one. And he hated that. He hated not having a choice, not having the power to speak for himself. But even if Kevin had that power—even if someone had bothered to actually listen to what he had to say—what good would it have done? Kevin was more lost and confused than anyone. He didn’t want to go with Tetsuji, but the only thing he truly wanted was the one thing he could never have: to be with his mother again.
Kevin had no other option but to accept that he had no control, not anymore.
The only thing he could do was take Tetsuji’s cold, wrinkled hand and allow him to guide him to an unknown destination.
It was a long ride from Washington to West Virginia.
Kevin sat inside a large black car with darkened windows. A man he didn’t know was at the wheel, and Tetsuji sat beside him in the back seat. Yet, he didn’t say a single word to Kevin throughout the five hours on the road. The older man kept his eyes fixed on the window, occasionally exchanging words in Japanese with the driver, completely ignoring Kevin’s presence, as if he weren’t even there. And Kevin wished he truly wasn’t.
The weight in his chest grew heavier with each passing hour. Every second spent inside that car was a painful reminder that he was further and further away from home.
Kevin had been born in Ireland, but he and his mother came to the United States when he was still a baby, so he had spent his entire life here. They’d lived in San Diego for two years before moving to Washington, where Kevin had lived ever since. Or rather, where he used to live.
He thought of their two-story brick house with the paneled roof in the suburbs, and a flood of memories played like a short film in his mind. The green lawn surrounded by white fences, where he and his mother used to play Exy, where she planted her orange daylilies and grilled barbecue on sunny days. The cozy fireplace in the living room that she lit on cold winter nights. She would make hot chocolate and sit beside him in front of the fire, wrapping them both in a blanket. His mother’s voice echoing from the kitchen as she made pancakes for breakfast, her wavy hair tied up in a ponytail. The soft blue walls of his bedroom, filled with toys, stuffed animals, books, and Exy posters.
What would happen to that house now? Kevin had been told to pack all his clothes and Exy gear—but what about everything else? His toys and books? Suddenly, he remembered his stuffed polar bear he’d had since he was a baby, the one that slept beside him every night. His heart ached just thinking about leaving it behind.
And then he thought about all the photos inside that house. Him and his mom wearing matching sweaters on Christmas in 1993. His mother standing beside the Eiffel Tower. Five-year-old Kevin with Mickey Mouse ears during that summer they went to Disneyland. His mother holding a newborn Kevin in her arms. All the proof of the life they had shared. Kevin hadn’t taken a single one of those pictures with him. But they had to give them to him eventually, right? He needed them. He needed concrete evidence of those memories, because that was all he had left of his mother now.
He thought about asking Tetsuji, but the coldness that radiated from that man made Kevin shiver at the thought of just speaking to him. So he remained silent for the rest of the ride.
Kevin was so lost in thought that when they finally arrived at their destination, he barely noticed.
The large black gates of Edgar Allen University appeared suddenly before him, and before he could fully register what was happening, the engine had been turned off and another suited man opened the car door. Kevin hesitated before stepping out.
He was guided by Tetsuji and the suited men through a dark, hidden part of the university campus. They walked for several minutes before reaching another locked gate, which Tetsuji promptly unlocked. Kevin walked through it—and his heart skipped a beat.
They were inside Castle Evermore, the very first NCAA Exy stadium in the United States, and the largest one in the entire country.
Kevin had been here before. His mother had brought him a few times to watch the national championship games. He remembered the adrenaline of watching a match from the best seats in the house, the roar of thousands of fans echoing against the walls, the way he could feel every strike of the racquets. Kevin used to look at the players on the court and imagine himself there one day, scoring goals and igniting a wave of thunderous applause, looking up into the crowd and finding his mother’s eyes shining with pride and joy.
But the stadium he was seeing now was completely different from the one he remembered.
Empty and without the blinding lights or the electrifying screams of an ecstatic crowd, Castle Evermore looked far more sinister and menacing. A dark hole devouring everything in its path. A vacuum where every sound was absorbed and transformed into silence.
Kevin felt impossibly small as he crossed the court, terrified that the towering black bleachers would close in around him, swallowing him whole like the dark jaws of a colossal beast.
They reached yet another gate, which led them to the inner ring, and then climbed a long flight of stairs that took them up to the outer ring. After crossing a long corridor, they stepped into an elevator with the word EAST written in bold red letters above the door. One of the guards pressed the button, and the elevator began to rise, sending a jolt through Kevin’s stomach—like the slow, ascending climb of a roller coaster.
When the doors slid open, the guards remained behind. Only Tetsuji walked forward into the hallway, the sharp tap of his cane against the floor echoing off the walls. Kevin hesitated, glancing over his shoulder before following the older man with reluctant steps.
Tetsuji opened the door at the end of the corridor, revealing a spacious room with two black sofas and a wide window that overlooked the entire court. He entered and sat on one of the sofas, but Kevin froze in the doorway. With a quick motion, Tetsuji gestured to the seat across from him, and his calm voice struck like thunder through the heavy silence of the room.
“Sit down, child.”
An order, not a request.
Kevin swallowed hard and did as he was told, sitting on the couch and finding himself face to face with Tetsuji, who watched him with those hollow, unreadable eyes.
“Your mother was an incredibly brilliant woman,” he said, the kind words clashing with the flat, emotionless tone of his voice. “It’s a shame that someone with such an honorable legacy should die so suddenly.”
Kevin shivered. All the other adults had spoken to him in metaphors. They said his mother had turned into a star, that she was in heaven, or that she had simply passed on. But not Tetsuji. There were no softened words or sugarcoating from him—only the brutal, unyielding truth. His mother was dead.
“Your mother wanted the best for you, child,” he continued. “And that is exactly what I intend to offer you—the best.”
Kevin still couldn’t look at the man, let alone speak to him. His eyes were drawn instead to the cane resting between Tetsuji’s hands. It was only then that Kevin noticed the silver raven perched atop it, its eyes set with two tiny rubies that glowed a vivid red, gleaming in the dark as if staring straight at him.
Tetsuji didn’t wait long for a response. He simply rose from his seat and crossed the room, sitting beside Kevin. Kevin flinched when the man placed a hand on his back. The touch wasn’t comforting—it was heavy, just like it had been at the funeral.
“I know you feel lost, child,” he said. “But I want to help you find your way. I want to lead you down a path your mother would be proud of.”
Kevin lifted his head at that last sentence, meeting Tetsuji’s gaze for the first time.
“You’re in pain. I know that. I can see it. Your mother was your whole world, wasn’t she? She left you too soon, and now you feel like there’s no reason to keep fighting now that she’s gone. But you have a reason, child. You do. And I’m going to show you.”
Tetsuji rose suddenly, extending a hand to Kevin, whose face was now streaked with tears. Kevin took his hand and was gently led to the far end of the room. They stood before the wide window, and almost at that exact moment, the lights in the arena below turned on. The sudden beam of light cutting through the darkness caught him off guard, but his eyes soon adjusted to the brightness, and he stared out at the massive court laid out before him. It was breathtaking. It was terrifying. And yet, Kevin felt strangely drawn to it, like a moth to a flame, like a fisherman lured to the depths of the ocean by a siren’s song.
“You are blessed with a natural gift,” Tetsuji said, holding Kevin’s left hand tightly, and for the first time, his voice was filled with some kind of emotion—fire, and conviction. “You carry your mother’s blood in your veins. You have the power to carry her legacy forward.”
“You really think so?” Kevin asked, looking up at the older man. “You think I can carry her legacy?”
Tetsuji met his gaze.
“I believe you can do anything you set your mind to, child,” he said. “As long as you’re willing to fight for it.”
More tears welled in Kevin’s eyes. All he had ever wanted was to make his mother proud, to live up to her legacy. She was gone now, but that didn’t mean Kevin couldn’t reach for his dream. Tetsuji had just shown him that.
“You’re in pain,” the man said. “But we’re going to take that pain and mold it into gold. You may not believe me now, you may be too young to understand, but greatness is born from pain. And you can be great, child. Just let me show you. Let me guide you. If you let me, I promise you’ll never feel lost again.”
Kevin looked down at the court bathed in light and felt a fire burn beneath his skin. The emptiness his mother’s death had left in him was finally being filled with something new. A purpose. Kevin had a reason to fight. He could make his mother proud, wherever she was. He could be great. He didn’t have to feel alone and afraid anymore.
“Will you let me guide you, child?”
That question felt like exactly what Kevin had needed to hear.
He looked into those deep-set eyes, and for the first time in days, he felt like he had control over his life again.
“Yes, I will,” he said, the words leaving his lips without hesitation.
Tetsuji held his gaze, and something that resembled a smile touched his thin lips.
Kevin looked back out at the court. The pain of his mother’s death was still there—he could feel it tearing through his heart—and he was sure it wouldn’t go away anytime soon. Maybe it never would. But that thought no longer scared him.
Because if greatness was truly born from pain, then Kevin would endure every ounce of it.
Chapter 2: weak boys
Notes:
im back
thank u all so much for the kudos and the comments, it makes so so happy to know people are enjoying this story. I hope you all like this chapter :)
quick disclaimer before we begin: i know Jack, Sheena and Robin are characters that only appear later in canon, but to be honest i needed new characters for the sake of the plot and i didn't feel like creating more OCs lol. So let's just ignore that right now, ok? And also, let me know if i accidentally murdered the english language in the comments
without further ado, lets get into it. Have a nice reading everyone <3
Chapter Text
August, 2007
Kevin learned at a very young age that time never stops. No matter what happens, time always moves forward, unstoppable and merciless, with or without you. And yet, he still found himself surprised by how quickly it moved. He blinked, and suddenly it was August—the start of a new semester at Palmetto State University.
The semester had barely begun, and Kevin was already drowning in obligations, responsibilities, and commitments. Books he had to read, academic articles he needed to study, papers to write, practices to attend. For the first time in years, the Foxes were under the spotlight thanks to their historic win in the Spring Championship, and no one had expected the number of tryouts for the team’s new lineup to explode the way it did. Boys and girls from all over the country were now desperate for a chance to join the infamous team that had dethroned the Ravens from their permanent seat atop the podium. It was the girls’ final year, and the team needed at least six new players to replace them. He, Wymack, Dan and Neil had already begun scouting rookies with potential, but now that the pool of candidates had tripled, they would need to analyze all these new players.
Kevin had a stack of files filled with information on promising recruits, alongside a tower of books his professors had assigned him. They were all piled in a corner of his dorm room, dominating every inch of his desk, and Kevin had barely touched any of it.
He wasn’t a procrastinator by any means. He always tried to get things done on time and as quickly as possible. He hated putting things off, hated the anxiety and guilt that festered in his chest whenever responsibilities began to pile up. Just looking at that untouched mountain of work was torture for him.
He tried to do what he was supposed to. Every now and then, he forces himself to sit at his desk and start reading a file or a book. But he can barely get through three or four pages before his mind begins to slowly drift away, like a balloon slipping from someone’s hand. At first, Kevin thought it was just the sluggishness that came with the beginning of a new semester, that temporary brain fog. But half of August had already passed, and he’d still managed to finish almost nothing.
It took him a while to realize it wasn’t laziness or procrastination, it was something else, something harder to control. Time was moving on, but Kevin’s mind couldn’t keep up. Nights turned into days, seconds into hours, but he remained stuck in the same place. He was still trapped in April.
Kevin had spent his whole life walking on unsteady ground, a surface cracked and fragile, threatening to break with every step he took. Riko’s death had been a blow of an axe to those shaky foundations—it had shattered the thin surface completely, crumbling the ground beneath his feet and leaving him with nothing to stand on. Since April, Kevin had been falling into a dark, bottomless pit, with nothing to hold on to.
It had been four months since Riko’s death, and yet it still felt like it had happened just yesterday. He could still hear Wymack’s voice over the phone, could still feel the glass shattering around his feet. Time had moved forward, everyone else had moved on. And he had been left behind. Falling.
It didn’t matter where he was or what he was doing—during practice, in class, at the library, in the cafeteria, in the backseat of Andrew’s Maserati—that feeling haunted him. A persistent fog between him and the rest of the world. Kevin was there, and at the same time, he wasn’t.
Riko’s death had caused some kind of rupture. And now, Kevin felt like nothing more than a spectator, watching events unfold from a distance.
He knew he was in the locker room right now, surrounded by the other Foxes. And he had a vague hunch that today’s practice was important for some reason. Still, he couldn’t quite remember why.
Kevin was sitting on the bench, staring at nothing when fingers snapped right in front of his eyes.
“Hey, Kev, are you in the room with us?”
Kevin blinked and followed the voice, finding Nicky staring at him with a teasing smirk tugging at his lips.
“What?” he asked, blinking again.
“I said, are you in the room with us?” Nicky repeated, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “Damn, what’s up with you lately?”
“Leave the poor guy alone,” came Matt’s voice from somewhere nearby. “He’s still crying over his ex, give him a minute.”
Oh. Right. Kevin had told the Foxes that he and Thea had broken up. Well, technically, he told Neil, who told Andrew, who casually brought it up in front of Aaron and—boom. He knew that whatever he had with Thea didn’t even count as a relationship, but he said they had broken up because he figured it was the best way to get his teammates to stop asking about her. He’d tried to keep it low-key, hoping the team wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. But of course, nothing ever worked that way with the Foxes. Nothing went unnoticed, and everything was an excuse for a goddamn bet.
The whole team had placed wagers on why the breakup happened, spinning hypothetical tales of cheating and love triangles. Nicky thought he was the king of comedy when he said Thea had dumped Kevin because “Exy was the most important woman in his life”.
“Shit, that’s right,” Nicky said, smacking his forehead. “My bad, Kev. But hey, silver lining—you can sleep with whoever you want now! There’s a mile-long line of guys and girls dying to fuck you, you know that, right? I mean, I’ve been waiting in that line since—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Aaron cut in, scowling. “Just ‘cause he’s single now doesn’t mean he’s gonna wanna fuck you, you idiot.”
“A man can dream, Aaron!”
“Dream in silence, for the love of God.”
“Hey,” Neil’s voice suddenly echoed across the locker room. “Get your asses to the court. Kevin, I need to talk to you.”
It took Kevin a full second to realize Neil was talking to him.
He stood up and followed Neil toward the court.
“I need you to keep an eye on that Jack guy,” Neil said as they walked. “Dan’s taking Sheena, I’ve got Cross. Alright?”
Kevin just stared at him.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, genuinely confused.
Neil shot him a look. At first, he seemed to think Kevin was joking, but then his expression twisted into frustration and disbelief.
“The freshmen,” he said, like it should’ve been obvious. “It’s their first practice with the whole team today. We’ve been talking about this for days.”
Something clicked in Kevin’s brain. So that’s why today was important.
“Right, sure,” he mumbled, quickening his pace to avoid Neil’s gaze. “I’ll take care of Jack. No problem.”
Neil opened his mouth like he was going to say something else, but closed it again almost immediately.
They reached the court, and Kevin scanned the scene. Robin Cross, the new goalie, was doing some warm-ups. Dan stood on the far end of the court, holding a racket firmly in front of Sheena, who was watching her intently. In the left corner, far away from the others, Jack and Andrew stood face to face, locked in a conversation that didn’t look remotely friendly.
As Kevin approached, Andrew turned his back to Jack and left him standing there, seething.
“Finally,” Andrew muttered as he brushed past Kevin. “Put a leash on your mutt before I do.”
With that, he walked away.
Jack’s face was red with anger. Kevin didn’t know what the fight was about—and frankly, he didn’t care. Before the freshmen could say a word, Kevin shoved a racket into his chest.
“Alright, rookie,” he said. “Shut the fuck up and show me what you’ve got.”
The practices in the following weeks are chaotic, to say the least. And they’ve become a testament to Kevin’s absolute lack of patience.
The freshmen are a pain in the ass. Dan and Neil told him it was to be expected because, well, they are freshmen. His captain and vice-captain keep insisting he should go easier on them, or at least try to be more careful with his words.
Kevin promptly told them to fuck off.
They might be freshmen, but they’re not amateurs—and there are certain kinds of mistakes they simply shouldn’t be making at this point. There are even moments when Kevin tries to take a deep breath and cool his head, but then he sees the clumsy footwork, the half-assed passes, and the rage boils right back up to the surface.
Kevin’s honestly surprised his vocal cords still work.
Jack’s been especially difficult. He’s skilled and experienced, but he doesn’t take criticism well and has a serious attitude problem. He picks fights with basically everyone at least once an hour. Neil is his favorite target for some reason. He seemed to hate the vice-captain the second he laid eyes on him.
Andrew blamed Kevin for that, of course—Kevin had handpicked Jack for the team. Andrew kept calling him Kevin’s “lapdog” and insisted it was his job to keep the guy in check. But just because Kevin chose him doesn’t mean he’s responsible for him. And it’s not Kevin’s fault Jack’s a dick. He never picked players based on their personalities, his decisions were always about skill and experience, and Jack had plenty of both. All he needed was discipline.
Jack reminded him too much of Seth, which felt like the universe’s twisted idea of karma. Kevin had caused Seth’s death, and now this bizarre reincarnation had shown up to mess with his life. It was a really fucked-up form of divine justice.
When Seth died, all the blame fell on Neil. Allison blamed him. Even Neil blamed himself. He was the easiest one to point fingers at, because everyone knew Riko only did what he did because Neil pissed him off and humiliated him on national TV. But everyone seemed to forget Kevin’s share of the blame in all of it. He was the one who dragged Riko and the Moriyamas into the Foxhole Court. The Ravens didn’t give a damn about the Foxes until Kevin joined them. If you looked at the chain of events, it all started and ended with Kevin. He was the flap of a butterfly's wings that caused a tornado in everyone's lives.
All of it was, in one way or another, his fault. Seth’s death. Drake. Baltimore. If you really think about it, even Riko’s death could be traced back to him.
He started yelling just to shut up his own thoughts.
“Jack! Fucking move!”
Jack, who was running to the other side of the court, picked up his pace. He launched the ball toward the goal, and Robin failed to block the shot. As soon as he scored, Jack dropped to his knees, his face red and sweaty like he was going to explode. Kevin marched toward him, grabbed him by the shirt, and yanked him to his feet.
“You’re too fucking slow,” he spat, clutching the collar of Jack’s uniform. “If you don’t want to spend the whole season benched, I suggest you start using those damn legs.”
“I’m running as fast as I can,” Jack sneered through clenched teeth.
“Run faster,” Kevin enunciated each word like Jack didn’t understand English, then turned to Robin. “And you—what the hell was that? Jack’s running around the court like a mammoth and he still scored on you. Twice. Pull yourself together, Cross.”
She nodded, determination flashing in her eyes. Robin was the rookie he liked best, but he’d never admit it.
He finally let go of Jack and shoved him away, nearly knocking him over.
“Again,” was all he said as he turned his back.
As he walked away, someone grabbed his arm.
Dan looked at him, her expression hard as steel.
“There’s a vein popping out of your neck, Kevin. You’re going to give yourself an aneurysm.”
Kevin jerked his arm free from her grip, pulling it back sharply.
Practice went on, and things only seemed to get worse. Kevin was yelling and swearing at the top of his lungs, but nothing he said seemed to help. He watched the new striker, Sheena, and couldn’t help noticing she was even slower than Jack. She seemed to drag her body across the court and gasped with every step she took. Kevin studied her from head to toe and seemed to pinpoint the problem. The words came spilling out of his mouth before he could stop himself.
“How much do you weigh?” he asked, bluntly.
Sheena froze in her tracks.
“What?” she looked at him like she wasn’t sure he was talking to her.
“How much do you weigh?” he repeated the question, loud and clear.
The girl froze, and she wasn’t the only one. In the blink of an eye, everyone on the court stopped what they were doing, their eyes locking on Kevin, who was still patiently waiting for an answer.
Sheena cleared her throat, suddenly uncomfortable. Kevin didn’t move a muscle.
“I dunno,” she murmured, trying to hide the flush on her cheeks. “Around 165 pounds, I guess?”
“Yeah, we’re going to need to fix that,” Kevin said, completely ignoring the wave of stares now crashing over him. “You’re pretty tall, so you’re not overweight. But if you want to be faster, you’re going to have to lose a few pounds. Got it?”
Sheena nodded, but he noticed how tightly she gripped her racquet, like she was trying really hard not to shove it down his throat.
The court was drenched in an awkward silence. Everyone was staring at him, stunned.
Except Allison. Because Allison wasn’t stunned. She was furious.
“What the fuck, Kevin?” she yelled, her voice so loud it seemed to rattle the walls. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“What? She’s an athlete, her weight affects her performance,” Kevin shrugged.
“That doesn’t give you the right to talk about someone’s body like that! In front of everyone, that’s—” she growled, like she was so angry she couldn’t even speak. “I knew you could be an asshole, but I never thought you could be cruel.”
That was the word that pushed Kevin over the edge.
“Cruel?” he repeated, his voice rising. “You think that’s cruel? You don’t know what cruelty is, Allison.”
“Oh, I do. Want me to show you?”
Kevin and Allison locked eyes in a silent standoff, and if looks could kill, both of them would’ve dropped dead on the spot.
The tension was thick in the air until Dan clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention.
“Sheena, Jack, Robin—please give us a moment,” she said, her voice straining with the effort to stay calm. “The veterans need to talk.”
The freshmen hesitated, glancing at one another with uncertain eyes. But eventually, they did as they were told, silently leaving the court. As they grabbed their things and walked toward the door, the tension only grew, and Kevin and Allison didn’t look away from each other even for a second. He stared into those sharp, light eyes, and she stared right back, pupils blown wide. It wasn’t until the sound of the door closing echoed through the court that Dan finally spoke.
“Okay, Kevin. You want to tell us why you’ve been so insufferable lately?”
He turned his gaze away from Allison to face his captain.
“Funny,” he laughed sarcastically. “I was told I’m always insufferable.”
“More insufferable than usual, asshole,” Matt corrected. “You’re in a shitty mood and you keep using the freshmen as punching bags.”
“Oh, give me a break,” Kevin rolled his eyes. “You want me to treat them differently just because they’re freshmen? You want me to be nice and coddle them every time they screw up? That’s not what’s going to get us to nationals.”
“I think you’re missing the point, Kevin,” Renee chimed in, her voice calm and gentle in the middle of all that chaos. “This isn’t about the freshmen.”
“What is it about, then?”
“It’s about you acting fucking weird,” Nicky answered for her.
Kevin widened his eyes.
“What? I—I’m not—”
“Yes, you are. You’ve been off since the start of the semester. Seriously, Kev. What’s going on?”
“Nothing! I’m fine, everything’s fine!” he started shouting, sounding more desperate than angry.
“If this is your version of fine, I can’t even imagine what you look like when you’re not fine,” Andrew, silent until then, suddenly decided to join in.
For some reason, hearing those words from Andrew struck a nerve. Kevin scoffed and looked him dead in the eye.
"You're one to talk," he said, his voice cold and eerily calm.
Andrew just stared back at him with that expression that gave absolutely nothing away.
Silence settled over the court for several seconds. No one seemed willing to speak again—until Neil finally decided to talk, in a timid tone that didn’t suit him at all.
"Kevin, come on. You can't seriously think this is normal. And I'm not talking about you tearing the freshmen apart, we’re already used to that. I’m talking about how different you are, about how you—"
He cut himself off.
"How I what, Neil?" Kevin challenged.
Neil sighed and looked him straight in the eye, and his voice felt like it weighed a thousand pounds when he said,
"Like you’re not even here."
Kevin clenched his jaw. He looked around, seeing everyone on his team staring at him, eyes pinned to his skin. It felt like he was at Riko's funeral all over again. And he could almost see someone standing in the darkest corner of the court, a tall figure. A man. A man smiling at him with crooked teeth.
"I'm not doing this," he muttered, walking toward the door. "Fuck all of you."
He slammed the door behind him.
April, 1996
There were far too many rules at the Nest. But Kevin was a quick learner, and he had already memorized several of them. At least the important ones.
The first thing he learned was that, from now on, he’d have to refer to Tetsuji as “Master”. Kevin thought it was a little strange and old-fashioned, but the older man had explained that he was much more than a coach or a guardian, so those terms didn’t apply to him. He was the one who would shape Kevin into the best version of himself, who would turn every weakness into strength, every fear into triumph. He wouldn’t just teach him Exy—he’d teach him how to be indestructible. Master. The word suited him.
The other rules came to him naturally. The more time he spent in the Nest, the more he adapted to it. The “Nest” was what the Master and the Ravens called the dormitory where all the team members lived. It was located beneath the court of Castle Evermore, completely separated from the rest of the university campus. The Ravens did everything there. They ate, slept, trained. And Kevin, despite being only ten years old, lived there too. Not with the rest of the team, obviously. His room was in a separate wing, a few floors above the Ravens’ quarters.
One thing about the Nest—it was huge. Much bigger than it seemed. Its tunnels felt endless, and its long corridors were filled with dead ends and doors that led nowhere. It was like a maze, and Kevin could easily get lost in it if he didn’t pay close attention to where he was going.
Kevin’s room was quite large, much bigger than the Ravens’ rooms. But he had the feeling it only seemed so spacious because it was so empty. Kevin didn’t have many belongings. No toys, no stuffed animals, no books. All he owned were his clothes and his Exy gear.
From time to time, Kevin would ask the Master if he would ever get his things back from his old house, and the man would always say he was too busy at the moment, but he’d take care of it as soon as he could. So Kevin waited.
And he kept waiting for a very, very long time.
He also found it strange that he never got the chance to leave the Nest. His mother used to take him everywhere. He was used to being in a car, walking down the sidewalk, going to the park, the grocery store, the movies, restaurants. And suddenly, he realized that he was spending most of his days in the exact same places. He would wake up in his room, go to the cafeteria for meals, and then head to the court for practice. That was it. Room, cafeteria, court. Day after day, night after night.
He didn’t even go to school anymore.
The Master told him he would be homeschooled from now on, right there in the Nest. Kevin wasn’t upset when he found out he wouldn’t be going back to school. He never liked it much anyway. He struggled to make friends, and some kids would often tease him—mocking his weird obsession with history, calling him a nerd, laughing at how shy and sensitive he was, how easy it was to make him cry. Throughout his entire life, Kevin had always struggled to fit in, to feel like he truly belonged. He had always felt like an outsider, as if there was something within him that set him apart from everyone else. At school, the children would gather in groups and run off to play, while Kevin stood watching from a distance, wondering what he had done wrong.
It was bad enough that the principal had called his mother in a few times, saying she was concerned about Kevin’s difficulty fitting in. That he was too shy, too sensitive, that maybe he needed to “come out of his shell a little bit”.
His mother had listened patiently to everything the principal had to say, then shrugged and said,
“Maybe your other students are just assholes.”
Kevin had been shocked and embarrassed by her words that day, but he also laughed. His mother would always be on his side.
So no, Kevin wouldn’t miss school anytime soon.
His teacher was a Japanese man named Mr. Hotaru, who gave him lessons in English, math, science, and history. He also had Japanese classes because, according to the Master, Kevin would be a sports star one day, and if he wanted an international career, he needed to learn multiple foreign languages. He would start with Japanese, not only because it was the language spoken by the Moriyamas, but also because Japan had the second-best Exy team in the world, right behind the United States. The language was difficult, but again—Kevin was a quick learner. So he wasn’t too worried about that.
Spending all his days inside the Nest, however, was slowly driving him insane.
Kevin once asked the Master if he could leave the Nest. The older man looked at him like it was the strangest and most senseless question he’d ever heard.
“You have everything you need in the Nest, child. Why would you want to leave?”
He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe, and Kevin truly felt stupid for even asking. The Master wasn’t wrong, the Nest did have everything. Bedrooms, bathrooms, a kitchen, a cafeteria, a court. There was even a room the Ravens called the “Common Room”, which had books, a radio, and a television. But that room was almost always locked.
Besides, Kevin didn’t even have much time to think about that, since every hour of his day was consumed by Exy.
Kevin had always been dedicated to the sport, but in the last two months, it had become the center of his universe. Everything he did revolved around Exy. What he ate, what he studied, what he breathed. Everything was done with the sole purpose of improving his technique or increasing his abilities. Anything that didn’t contribute to his development as a player was promptly discarded and thrown away.
And that included his grief.
He felt it every day, all the time. He used to think that losing someone you loved was painful, difficult, but something you only had to face once. But as the days went by, it became more and more clear that this wasn’t true—that it wasn’t nearly as simple as his childish mind had once imagined. Kevin was confronted with his mother’s absence every day. The smallest, stupidest things would bring her back to his mind. He’d eat the bland food at the Nest and remember the pancakes she used to make for breakfast. He’d see the color burgundy and think of how it was her favorite color, how beautiful she looked when she wore it. He’d look at the Master’s stern, unyielding face and realize how much he missed her smile, the sound of her laugh.
His mother’s death had left an open wound in his heart, one that bled into his chest. Kevin always felt like he was going to drown in it—but he never did. Sometimes the pain was so unbearable that he didn’t want to do anything but lie in bed and cry. The world seemed colorless, and life, meaningless.
But then he’d remember the Master’s words.
“Don’t let the pain drag you down,” he would say. “Feel it. Let it run through your veins, let it thicken your skin and strengthen your bones. If you can do that, child, there will be nothing in this world capable of destroying you.”
Kevin took all those horrible feelings and turned them into something else, something that pushed him forward instead of holding him back. He poured all his pain into Exy. He used it to become stronger, faster, more resilient.
So every time Kevin thought of his mother, instead of crying, he gripped his racquet tighter and ran for the goal. He would make it all worth it. He would find purpose in his hopelessness. The Master was demanding, but Kevin was eager to offer himself.
Still, Kevin had a lot to learn, and the process would unfortunately take longer than he wanted. There was still a part of him that clung to that sorrow, that begged him to curl up in a corner and cry. But he would overcome it, eventually. He had people guiding him. He had the Master. And he had Riko.
When the Master told him he had a nephew of Kevin’s age, he hadn't imagined anyone like Riko Moriyama. The boy had black hair and dark eyes like the Master, and there was something in his expression—something that didn’t seem to belong to a ten-year-old boy.
On the day they were introduced to each other, the Master said,
“Exy is a team sport, so learning to cooperate is an essential part of your training. Your skills mean nothing if you can’t set your selfish desires aside and think about what’s best for the team. The Ravens do everything in pairs to learn this lesson, and it will be no different for you. From today on, you are a pair. You will eat together, sleep together, and train together. One’s success will be the other’s success, just as one’s failure will be the other’s failure. You will rely on each other to reach the top. Together.”
And so it was decided. From that day forward, Kevin and Riko spent literally twenty-four hours a day together. They shared the same room, had lessons with the same teacher, and, most importantly, practiced Exy together. But just because they were constantly in each other’s company didn’t mean they were best friends. In fact, they barely spoke to each other.
Riko unsettled Kevin. He couldn’t understand the other boy, no matter how hard he tried. Riko always kept those dark eyes fixed on him, tracking his every move and studying his expressions, looking at him as if Kevin were a child and he, an adult. He didn’t care that Kevin was visibly uncomfortable with his stares, on the contrary, sometimes Kevin had the impression that he enjoyed his discomfort. Every time Kevin dared to stare back, Riko never looked away. Instead, he made direct eye contact, like he was challenging him, testing him. And when Kevin shrank away in embarrassment, Riko would laugh. A small, quiet laugh, like the chirp of a cicada.
Kevin did his best to keep their coexistence at least harmonious, so they could work well as a pair. Luckily for him, Riko seemed just as determined to become a better player. He might be strange and off-putting, but on the court, he was focused and driven. A bit fussy and prone to complaining, but overall, dedicated. That, at least, was one thing the boys seemed to have in common: they both wanted to be the best.
For weeks, Kevin and Riko had barely spoken to each other, limiting most of their conversations to practice. That, however, changed one day.
The boys didn’t train only with each other. Twice a week, Castle Evermore welcomed other children their age who played in the little leagues. The Master had told Kevin they did this to scout new young talents and potential athletes, keeping an eye on them in hopes of one day bringing them into the Ravens. It was also a valuable opportunity for Riko and Kevin, who got the chance to practice Exy with a larger group of players.
Kevin liked playing Exy with more people, it taught him a lot more than practicing alone or just with Riko. However, he didn’t like the kids he played with.
He had always known he was an easy target for bullying. He was sensitive and shy, but at the same time, fiercely competitive and annoying. He got on people’s nerves, especially kids who either didn’t understand him or couldn’t stand being around him. Since he was little, he’d grown used to cruel jokes, nasty comments, and the way other kids went out of their way to exclude him from games and conversations.
It didn’t matter that he no longer went to school—Kevin was still Kevin. And as long as he remained who he was, he would never be loved. The only person who had ever loved him for who he truly was, despite all his flaws, was dead. And now there was no one left to reassure him, to hold him close and wipe his tears away, to remind him that he was worthy of love, that he didn’t need to change, that he was perfect just the way he was. All that remained was mockery, cruelty, and loneliness.
The kids from the little league reminded him every day that he didn’t belong.
Some things he could ignore—the dumb jokes, the annoying nicknames. But most of it hit him straight in the chest, deepening wounds that had never really healed.
There was this one kid named Rodney, though everyone called him Rod. He was the tallest and oldest kid in the league, already built like a gorilla at eleven years old. He was coarse, stupid, and violent. Strong and resilient, sure—but that didn’t make up for his attitude or lack of skill. His only real purpose seemed to be harassing the smaller boys, using Exy as a way to hurt others without facing consequences.
Kevin became his main target the very first time they met. Rod constantly called him a coward, a loser, and gay. While they played, Rod would take every opportunity to shove Kevin to the ground, hit him with his racquet, elbow him in the stomach. Kevin tried not to look like a joke, but Rod was so much bigger than him, tossing him around like a sack of potatoes.
One day, while Kevin was running toward the goal with the ball in his racquet, Rod appeared out of nowhere and body-checked him, slamming him into the wall with excessive, unnecessary brutality. Kevin hit the floor and rolled across the court. He was too stunned to move for a good two minutes, feeling a burning pain in his knee. His skin was scraped, and blood ran down his leg. Kevin tried not to cry, but he could already feel tears burning at the corners of his eyes.
Everyone laughed, pointing and mocking him for being a crybaby. Rod laughed the loudest.
Kevin stayed there, sprawled on the floor, too ashamed and too hurt to move. And then, someone came over to him.
Riko was standing in front of him, holding out his hand. Kevin looked at the hand, then at his face. There was no empathy in his expression—not a single comforting smile or trace of sympathy in his eyes. Nothing. He just stood there, silently waiting.
Hesitantly, Kevin took his hand. Riko pulled him up and draped Kevin’s arm over his shoulders, helping him walk to the locker room without saying a single word.
Once they got there, Riko sat Kevin down on one of the wooden benches and disappeared for a few seconds. When he came back, he was holding a small first aid kit. He sat beside Kevin and opened it, pulling out a cotton ball and a bottle of saline solution.
“You can’t let them treat you like that,” Riko said suddenly, startling Kevin. “You’re Kayleigh Day’s son. Your mother invented the sport they’re playing right now. They should be eating out of the palm of your hand.”
Riko pressed the cotton soaked in saline against Kevin’s wound, making him flinch and suck in a sharp breath through his teeth. Despite the pain, Kevin noticed Riko was surprisingly gentle.
“My mom invented the sport, not me,” Kevin said, trying to distract himself from the stinging sensation in his knee.
“So what?” Riko shrugged, keeping his eyes on the wound. “That still makes you more important than any of them.”
Kevin had never felt so confused. For the past few weeks, Riko had barely spoken to him, let alone tried to be nice. Rod had been tormenting him since day one, and Riko had never lifted a finger to defend him, or even to comfort him. What changed now?
“You can’t show weakness, Kevin,” he said, now wiping the blood running down Kevin’s leg with a clean cloth. “The moment they see your weaknesses, they’ll use them against you. Why do you think Rod won’t leave you alone? It’s because he can see how much it hurts you. You can’t let that happen. You have to put him in his place. Remind him you’re above him.”
Kevin lowered his head. He didn’t feel above anyone—his mother may have invented Exy, but she never acted like that made her better or more important than others. But Riko was right about one thing: Kevin was weak. He had to stop being such a coward and finally learn how to defend himself. But...
“I don’t know how to do that,” he confessed, whispering.
Riko looked straight at him for the first time. He studied Kevin’s expression for a few seconds, as he always did, and then a small smile formed on his lips.
“Don’t worry, Kevin. I’ll show you.”
He only found out what that meant in next week’s practice.
Rod was being insufferable, as usual—calling him names and shoving him against the court wall as hard as he could. Kevin spent the whole time waiting for Riko to say something, do something, but the boy just stood at a distance and watched as Kevin was humiliated.
Then Rod started mocking him, saying something about Kevin being gay, and that finally seemed to be enough for Riko. He walked toward Rod with slow, measured steps, while the taller boy was too busy laughing at his own joke to notice.
“Hey, Rod?” Riko called.
Rod turned at the sound of his name.
Riko didn’t give him a chance to react before slamming his racquet into Rod’s face.
Blood sprayed from his nose, splattering the court floor red. Riko was much, much smaller than Rod, but the taller boy had been completely caught off guard. He collapsed to the ground, and Riko didn’t give him a second to recover. He just kept hitting him with his racket—on the back, on the shoulders, the ribs, the legs. Again and again and again. The blows were so brutal everyone instantly stopped what they were doing to watch, too horrified to move or say a single word.
Kevin was frozen. He didn’t know what he’d expected when Riko said he’d “show” him, but he definitely wasn’t expecting that. He just stood there, wide-eyed and mouth agape, while Rod screamed and writhed in pain, no longer seeming so big or intimidating. Kevin’s gaze lifted to Riko’s face, and what he saw sent a chill racing down his spine. Riko was grinning from ear to ear, his eyes alight with excitement. He was enjoying this. Every second of it.
After what felt like hours, Riko finally stopped beating Rod, stepping on his back to keep him pinned to the ground while he leaned down and spoke in his ear.
“He’s Kayleigh Day’s son. His mother invented the sport you're using to bully boys half your size. You should be kissing his feet, you rat.”
“I’m sorry…” Rod whimpered.
“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to him.”
He grabbed Rod’s hair and yanked his head up, forcing him to look directly at Kevin, who flinched at the sight of the boy’s bloodied nose.
“I’m sorry,” Rod said again, his voice barely audible.
“Louder,” Riko growled, tightening his grip.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he cried out, sobbing.
Riko looked up, his dark eyes locking with Kevin’s.
“So? What do you think? Did he learn his lesson?”
Kevin finally snapped back to reality.
“I-It’s okay, Riko,” he stammered. “I think that’s enough. H-He learned his lesson.”
Riko stared at him for a long second, then widened his smile and whispered to Rod again.
“You hear that, rat? Looks like today it’s your lucky day. Because if it were up to me, I’d break every bone in your body so you’d never step on a court again.”
With that, he finally let go of Rod’s hair and stepped off him. Rod remained on the ground, whimpering. But before he could feel relieved, Riko suddenly said,
“But for now, this will do.”
And then he brought his racquet down with all the strength he could muster, smashing it into Rod’s right hand. The crack sound echoed across the court, loud enough for everyone to hear.
Rod screamed in agony, clutching his index finger like it was about to fall off. Kevin watched in horror as the boy writhed on the ground like a crushed insect. Riko walked past him, but must have noticed Kevin’s expression, because he said,
“Don’t give me that look. It was just a finger, it’ll heal in a month.”
But Rod never came back to Castle Evermore.
And none of the kids in the little league ever tried to bully Kevin again.
Kevin thought about what had happened for days. He didn’t know how to feel about any of it. He obviously hated Rod, but a part of him couldn’t help but feel sorry for the boy when he saw him crying in pain. And Riko’s smile terrified him. If he did all that just to protect Kevin, then why did he look like he was enjoying it so much? Even Kevin, who had been the direct target of Rod’s relentless bullying, hadn’t felt any satisfaction watching the way the boy cried and writhed. And to break his finger at the end? Riko had gone too far. Rod would have gotten the message with the first hit to the face, but Riko dragged it out because he was having fun.
Kevin knew he shouldn’t condone that kind of behavior. He knew it was wrong, that Riko was exactly the kind of boy his mother would’ve warned him to stay away from. And yet… it was also the first time someone who wasn’t his mother had stood up for him. He had been feeling so painfully alone lately, and seeing someone actually do something for his sake felt comforting, even if he didn’t agree with the way it was done. Riko might’ve gone too far, but it was his violence that had finally made the other kids in the little league leave Kevin alone. Maybe Riko had seen the weakness in Kevin from the moment they met—and maybe now he was trying to protect him from it. Riko seemed to know what happened to weak boys.
Since his mother’s death, Kevin had forgotten what it felt like to be protected. And he missed that. He missed having someone he could count on. The Master was his mentor, sure, but Kevin had never felt safe with him. Riko, on the other hand, carried a kind of strength that Kevin couldn’t fully understand yet—but he knew it was real. He knew he could trust it. As strange as Riko still felt to him, Kevin was now filled with an uncontrollable desire to understand him, to decode him like the lock on a safe that hid something precious inside.
So a few days later, as they were leaving the locker room, Kevin made a decision.
“Hey, Riko,” he called.
Riko turned toward him, and Kevin tried to offer a small smile before saying, very quietly,
“Thank you.”
Riko just stared at him for a while, saying nothing.
Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face—not the one Kevin had seen when he was beating Rod, but a real smile. A genuine one. Almost innocent.
August, 2007
The days following his team’s pitiful attempt at an intervention were deeply uncomfortable.
But Kevin was doing his best to act like it hadn’t been a big deal, like the words his teammates had thrown at him that day weren’t still playing on an endless loop in his mind, like their stares hadn’t carved themselves into his memory. He showed up to practice the very next day after all that melodrama as if nothing had happened, talking to the Foxes like usual and still tearing the freshmen apart every chance he got.
He wanted to pretend it had been just another fight. That’s how things worked with the Foxes, right? One minute they were ready to kill each other on the court, and the next they were at the cafeteria arguing over the best ice cream flavor (it was vanilla, obviously). They fought, they yelled, and then they made up. That’s how it always went.
That’s what he kept telling himself, despite all the signs pointing to the opposite. The way his teammates glanced at him out of the corner of their eyes made it obvious. They always acted like they were walking on thin ice around Kevin, and they kept exchanging looks whenever he tore into the freshmen. He could feel all the silent conversations happening behind his back lately, and he hated it.
Neil was the hardest to ignore. Kevin could feel those blue eyes on him, tracking his every move like he might snap and go for someone’s throat at any moment.
But he wouldn’t let that get to him. He wouldn’t crumble under the weight of their stares. If there was one thing Kevin Day excelled at, it was stubbornness. They could try to dissect him all they wanted—dig as deep as they pleased—but they’d never find anything. He was running on pure teenage rage, the kind that made you want to slam doors and blast music until your ears rang. He was absolutely furious because, deep down, he knew they were right.
There was something wrong with him. Kevin couldn’t explain it, but he knew it was there, stalking him, consuming him. A bleak sensation that had always lurked at the back of his mind, and after Riko’s death, it became impossible to ignore.
Neil’s words kept hammering into his skull. It’s like you’re not even here, he’d said. And Kevin had been so fucking pissed when he heard that, because how dare Neil be so goddamn right about him?
Kevin really did feel like he wasn’t there. In truth, he felt like he was in a thousand different places all at once. The present felt like a black-and-white film playing somewhere in the background.
But of course he’d never admit that. If he did, he’d be making it real. He’d be acknowledging that something was happening, something he couldn’t control.
So, he’d ignore all of it until it finally went away. Maybe it’d take a while, but he knew it couldn’t last forever. If he just kept his head up and carried on like everything was normal, that feeling would eventually fade.
And maybe he would have succeeded. Maybe he could’ve convinced everyone—especially himself—that everything was perfectly fine.
But then next week’s practice happened.
It was a Monday, and the monsters were all piled into Andrew’s Maserati, as usual. Andrew was behind the wheel, Neil in the passenger seat, and Kevin sat in the back with Nicky and Aaron, watching the campus slide by through the window. They were nearing the Foxhole Court when Aaron pulled a pill bottle from his pocket and swallowed one.
“What’s that?” Kevin asked, frowning.
“Aspirin,” Aaron replied flatly. “Your screaming during practice has been killing me.”
Kevin rolled his eyes.
“You’re such an idiot—”
“I want one too,” Nicky said.
Aaron placed a pill in his palm.
“Me too,” Neil said, holding out his hand.
Aaron handed him one.
Andrew silently reached into the bottle and took one pill for himself, too.
Kevin couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this offended.
“You’re all assholes.”
“Says the king of assholes,” Aaron shot back.
“Wouldn’t queen of assholes be more accurate?” Nicky added, rubbing salt in the wound. “I must say, Kev, for a guy who swears he’s straight, calling yourself a ‘queen’ is kinda—what the fuck is that?”
Nicky suddenly cut himself off, his eyes frozen on a fixed point. Kevin followed his gaze and saw a crowd gathered right in front of the main entrance, between gates 1 and 24. At first, Kevin assumed it was a group of students, but why would anyone who wasn’t a Fox be there on an ordinary Monday?
That’s when he saw the cameras and microphones.
“Reporters?” Aaron asked, peering out the window with confusion all over his face. “What the hell are they doing here?”
Kevin kept his eyes locked on the crowd. There were no games coming up, the season hadn’t even started yet. And it wasn’t just one or two reporters. No, there were at least twenty. The Foxhole Court didn’t look like this even the day before a match, so why the hell was there a swarm of bees at the gate on a regular practice day?
None of his teammates seemed to have an answer. They were all staring at the reporters with equal parts curiosity and confusion.
Andrew parked the Maserati.
“We’re not walking through that, are we?” Nicky asked.
“I don’t know what they’re doing here,” Neil said as he unbuckled his seatbelt, “but I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Let’s just take it casually, alright? Don’t answer any questions and keep your heads down.”
“Oh, would you look at that,” Andrew mocked, sliding his keys into his pocket. “If making you vice-captain was all it took to get you to shut up, coach should’ve done that the second you signed your contract. Would’ve saved us a lot of trouble.”
“Fuck off. Let’s go.”
Neil jumped out of the car before anyone could argue. Andrew was next, then Aaron opened the back door with an exasperated huff and a teenage eye roll, followed by Nicky. Kevin was the last to get out. Theoretically, he should’ve been the least fazed by all this—he was used to the press following him like a shadow. But like Neil said, something about this felt wrong. He couldn’t think of a single reason why the press would be here, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.
The group started walking toward the entrance, Kevin hanging back a few steps. The second the reporters spotted the Foxes, they turned and surged forward, shoving cameras and microphones in their faces, shouting a bunch of questions. They dove into the crowd, forcing their way toward the front doors. The reporters were yelling so many things, so fast and all at once, Kevin couldn’t even tell what they were asking. It was better this way. If he couldn’t understand their words, it was easier to ignore them.
But the crowd was particularly interested in him, ignoring the others as they pushed their mics in his face. He could see Neil holding the door open up ahead—just a few more steps and he’d be in the clear.
Unfortunately, that’s when his ears caught a single question.
“What do you have to say about the accusations that you’re to blame for Riko’s death, Mr. Day?”
His feet froze on the spot.
“What?” the reaction was instinctive. He didn’t even think before whipping his head around to stare straight at the reporter, offended and shocked.
He never found out what the reporter said in return, because Andrew grabbed his arm with a firm grip and yanked him through the doors.
Aaron slammed them shut behind them, and the five stood staring at one another.
“What the fuck was that?” Nicky was the first to speak, eyes wide.
Then all eyes turned to Kevin, as if he had all the answers—when really, he was the most confused of them all.
Neil looked like he was about to ask him something, but he didn’t get the chance. They heard hurried footsteps at the end of the hallway and followed the sound.
Dan appeared, not giving them a second to say a word.
“Lounge. Now.”
They weren’t stupid enough to keep standing there.
They followed Dan to the lounge. The entire team was already there, including Wymack, who was pacing back and forth. The moment he saw Kevin, he stopped. In half a second, they read each other’s expressions perfectly.
“Uh, Coach?” Nicky laughed nervously. “I really hope you have an explanation for all of this.”
Wymack didn’t say a word. He just sighed and gestured for everyone to sit. The team settled into their usual spots, the Monsters taking their place on the couch. Everyone went quiet and looked at Wymack, who ran a hand over his scalp like he needed a twenty-year spiritual retreat just to detox his stress.
“As you all know,” he began, “Riko’s death was ruled a suicide.”
None of the Foxes missed the careful choice of words. The only people who officially knew what really happened were Kevin and Neil, but after everything the team had gone through with the Ravens and the Moriyamas—especially after Seth’s death—they all knew things were never as simple as they seemed when that family was involved. When Riko died, everyone suspected there was more to it than a suicide. But they had made an unspoken agreement not to say it out loud. Especially not around Kevin.
“After a suicide, it’s normal for people to ask questions,” Wymack continued, “and Riko didn’t leave a note, which only adds to the mystery.”
That was one thing the Moriyamas got right when they staged Riko’s suicide. He would never leave a note. He would have loved leaving people to speculate about him for as long as possible.
“The Ravens’ fans have been wondering why Riko would kill himself. They started an online forum to discuss his death and share their theories. And last night, everything blew up. The fans decided to take their theories to the press, and now it’s gone very public. And well…”
He let out a long, exhausted sigh.
“They’re basically blaming us for Riko’s suicide.”
“What?” Aaron asked, full of scorn. “The guy decides to blow his brains out and somehow that’s our fault now?”
“According to the fans, yes,” Wymack said, picking up the TV remote. “And they’re being very vocal about it.”
He pressed a button and tuned into a sports news channel. Every Fox turned toward the screen, watching footage of enraged Ravens’ fans spewing their fury into microphones.
“Riko killed himself right after the finals. There’s no mystery here. It’s obvious why he did it.”
“The Foxes need to take responsibility. They should come forward and apologize for all of this.”
“First they take Kevin, then the championship? Of course he was pushed over the edge! They took everything from him!”
“Kevin was trying to break him. He leaves the Ravens, humiliates Riko on national television, and then blames him for his own injury? That’s not just cruel, it’s sick!”
“Riko did everything for him! And how does Kevin repay him? By stealing everything and turning it against him the first chance he gets! Why are we pretending he’s not responsible? How long will Kevin Day be protected?”
“How do you think Riko felt after the finals? Kevin was his best friend, his brother. It wasn’t just about losing the championship. Riko felt betrayed. He might have pulled the trigger—but to me, it was Kevin Day who loaded the gun.”
Wymack shut off the television immediately.
“That’s enough,” he said, gripping the remote so tightly Kevin worried he might crush it in his hand.
The silence in the room spoke louder than a thousand words. The Foxes were trying not to look at Kevin, their eyes glued instead to the floor or the walls. Wymack was doing his best to shield Kevin from it all, but it was a useless effort. The truth was as clear as daylight.
People weren’t blaming the Foxes for Riko’s death.
They were blaming Kevin.
No one said anything for a long, long time—until Dan finally took a deep breath and found her courage.
“So what are we going to do about it?”
“That’s exactly why we’re here,” Wymack said, arms crossed over his chest, head lowered. “So you, as a team, can decide how we’re going to handle this.”
“Well, isn’t it obvious?” Neil jumped in, looking ready to punch someone. “We tell them to fuck off. We can’t let them tear Kevin apart on national television.”
“I agree,” Dan said. “None of this is our fault. Riko did that to himself.”
“But wouldn’t that just make everything worse?” Renee asked, calmly ignoring the death glare Neil gave her. “If we fight back, we could come off as aggressive and defensive. Wouldn’t that just add fuel to the fire?”
“Yeah, I’m with Renee on this one,” Matt said, shrinking his massive frame into the chair. “We’ve been dealing with the Ravens’ fans for too long. I haven’t even finished paying off the insurance on my new car.”
“So what do you suggest we do instead?” Allison asked sharply. “Just sit back while they accuse us of being responsible for someone’s death?”
“I know how bad it sounds, Ally,” Renee said, her voice soft in contrast to Allison’s tone, “but think about Kevin. If we say something the Ravens’ fans don’t like, he’ll have to suffer the consequences more than any of us.”
At the mention of his name, all eyes turned to Kevin, silently begging him to say something. He stayed quiet, staring at some random spot on the floor, doing his best to detach himself from the situation, but the weight of his teammates’ stares anchored him to that moment, refusing to let him slip away.
The awkward silence was the only sound left in the room.
“Kevin?” Wymack said his name gently, like he was afraid it might break him.
And maybe it would.
He took one last glance at the faces of his teammates before finally sighing and saying,
“Matt’s right. We can’t keep dealing with their bullshit.”
“But—” Neil immediately tried to interrupt.
“The fans are still grieving. The last thing we need to do right now is provoke them. If we don’t give them any more reasons to be angry, they’ll get tired of this eventually.”
“Kevin, the martyr,” Andrew said, deciding this was the perfect time to finally speak up after being quiet all along. “Taking one for the team.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“These are the same people who stuffed a dead fox in my car. Do you really think letting them humiliate you on national television is going to quench their thirst for blood?”
“Well, that’s what we’re going to find out.”
“And you?”
“What about me?”
“Can you handle the pressure?”
Kevin bit the inside of his cheek.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
Andrew stared at him for a moment, his eyes vacant but his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Of course you are.”
They locked eyes for a long moment, and Kevin clenched his fists to keep himself from doing something violent.
“Kevin,” Wymack said his name again in that careful tone Kevin hated, “are you sure this is the right call?”
Kevin tried to ignore the way the older man was looking at him.
“Yes, Coach. They’ll move on eventually.”
Wymack nodded.
“Alright then. It’s settled,” he announced, despite the uncertain glances the Foxes exchanged. “I’ll deal with the reporters outside. You idiots worry about practice. I heard that shit’s more chaotic than a mall on Christmas Eve. Pull yourselves together. Go, go.”
The team silently accepted the order, standing from their seats and heading toward the door. But before Kevin could follow, Wymack called out to him.
“Hey, kid.”
He stayed behind as his teammates exited the room, until it was just the two of them left. Kevin’s feet itched to get out of there.
“Those Ravens’ fans,” Wymack began, “they share a single collective brain cell. You know that, right? You don’t have to give a damn what they say about you.”
“I don’t care,” Kevin shrugged.
Wymack cleared his throat.
“Right. Sure.”
Kevin’s whole body felt like it was leaning toward the exit, and he was nearly out the door when Wymack called to him again.
“And hey, kid. You got plans Thursday night?”
For a second, he considered lying. But in the end, he told the truth.
“Thursday? No, not really. Why?”
“Abby’s making dinner,” the man explained. “And I thought it might be nice if you, I don’t know, joined us.”
Kevin scratched his jawline. This had been happening more and more lately—Wymack’s awkward attempts to connect with him as a father. He invited Kevin over for dinner, offered him rides he didn’t need, and bought him ridiculous amounts of a fruit he’d once heard Kevin say he liked.
These efforts made Kevin feel unbearably strange. On one hand, he appreciated that Wymack was trying, but on the other, these moments were so painfully awkward for both of them, neither knowing quite how to act around the other.
But in the end, Kevin always said yes to Wymack’s attempts, no matter how weird his presence made him feel.
“Okay,” he said, staring at the floor. “I’ll come by Thursday.”
Wymack exhaled, almost in relief.
“Good. Good. Abby’s making tuna casserole,” he froze for a second. “Wait—you like tuna casserole, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“Oh, thank God. Alright. See you Thursday, kid.”
Kevin tried to offer him a smile before practically sprinting out of the room.
So somehow, all of this ended up being his fault.
Riko was truly impressive. Even dead, he still managed to make everyone believe Kevin was the villain. It was so absurd he had to laugh. His fault. How could this possibly be his fault? Oh, Riko would love to see this. His deranged fans pointing fingers at Kevin, placing all the blame on him. Kevin could almost see the satisfied smile on his face.
Kevin wanted to scream. He wanted to punch a wall until his hand bled. He just wanted to tell everyone the truth and not care about the consequences. Riko wasn’t some tragic, suicidal hero. There was no fucking poetic, dramatic reason behind his death. He was murdered. Ichirou Moriyama shot him in cold blood. If those lunatics were so desperate to point fingers, they could blame the actual killer. Kevin didn’t care if the Moriyamas killed him on the spot. He just wanted the whole world to know it wasn’t his fault.
But obviously, he couldn’t do that. All he could do, as always, was bite his tongue and hold it all in. Let them use him as a scapegoat until they got tired of it. Kevin had been a scapegoat his entire life, it was a role he played with expertise. All he had to do was keep his head down, his mouth shut, and every time the rage grew too strong to hold back, he would let it out somewhere else. On the court, in a bottle, or on himself.
He had done it before, and he’d do it again, for as long as it took, until this was all over. Until Riko finally stopped whispering in his ear that it was his fault, his fault, his fault.
After practice, Kevin locked himself in his room and lay down on the bed, hoping he could sleep and escape his reality for a few seconds. But Riko wouldn’t shut up. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that pale, lifeless face. In his mind, the hole Ichirou had left in his skull was gaping and bleeding, and despite the blood streaming down his face, Riko was smiling.
“Stop it, Riko,” Kevin whispered to the empty room, like a madman. “Stop it.”
But of course he didn’t stop. Riko loved scaring him. Cruelty had always been his specialty. Ever since they were kids, he knew Kevin was afraid of him, and he used that fear to entertain himself when he was bored. He always mocked Kevin for being such a coward, for crying so easily. Sometimes, Kevin lost his temper and snapped: Okay, Riko. You got me. You scared me. Can you stop now? Haven’t you had enough?
Riko didn’t answer, he just kept smiling at him, his face painted in red. It was never enough for him.
Kevin got up from the bed and stormed into the kitchen like a hurricane. His roommates had left and he had no idea where they were, but he didn't want to know either. He opened the fridge and grabbed the bottle of vodka, cold and viscous. He filled a glass and downed it quickly, feeling it burn like fire down his throat. Then he poured another. And another. Before he poured a fourth, he ditched the glass and drank straight from the bottle.
Feeling dizzy, he leaned on the kitchen counter and shut his eyes. Most of the time, alcohol helped to drown out the voices and images in his head. Some things—the beatings he took from the Master, the cruel jabs Riko threw at him—were easier to forget. But others were carved so deep into his flesh that no amount of alcohol could wash them away. Kevin could be drunk out of his mind, and he’d still hear Riko laughing, still hear him screaming insults in his ear. All the times Riko stitched his heart back together just to break it again.
Seriously, Kevin. What did you expect?
He saw Riko’s corpse smiling at him again, but this time, his teeth were crooked.
He immediately opened his eyes and drank more vodka, nearly finishing the entire bottle in one gulp.
Kevin also couldn’t get him out of his head. Every time he thought he was starting to feel safe, he remembered what he’d seen at the funeral, that vile man smiling at him. What had that smile meant? Why had he looked at Kevin like that? What did he want?
Hadn’t he already taken everything?
Kevin took another swig. The walls around him seemed to shrink, the room closing in, suffocating him. He sank to the floor and buried his head in his hands, trying to keep that old fear from rising, but he was only lying to himself, wasn’t he? He’d never stopped being afraid.
The more he thought about him, the more confused things became. Kevin hadn’t seen him throughout the entire ceremony. Sure, there were hundreds of people at the cemetery, but how could Kevin not have noticed him the whole time? During the sermon, while they were lowering the casket? Had he been hiding from Kevin on purpose? Or had he been there all along, and Kevin had just chosen not to see him? Neither answer made sense. To Kevin’s misery, he could recognize that smile anywhere. He’d spent years trying to forget it, erase it from memory, but those crooked teeth had bitten into his brain and left an eternal scar there, marking him for the rest of his life. And if that man really had been trying to stay hidden during the entire funeral, why reveal himself at the very last moment? No. He wanted Kevin to know that he was there. That he was watching.
Unless Kevin had imagined it all. Unless he was seeing things that weren’t really there.
No, that couldn’t be. Kevin wasn’t crazy. In his head, Riko laughed. Okay, maybe his sanity wasn’t the most reliable thing in the world, but he didn’t see things. That man was there. He saw him. He smiled at him. But Kevin was pretty far away and completely shaken by his encounter with Ichirou. Maybe his mind had played a trick on him. Maybe he saw someone who looked like him, and his brain distorted it all.
“But he looked so real,” Kevin started whispering to himself again. “He was real, wasn’t he?”
And at that moment, Riko finally went quiet.
He could feel his phone in his pocket. Jean was the only living person who knew. The only one who might understand. Maybe, if Kevin tried to reach out, Jean would listen this time. But then Kevin remembered the last words Jean had said to him, and all hope crumbled in his chest.
If I see you again, I’ll fucking kill you.
Kevin finished what was left of the vodka. The images and voices finally began to fade, and his consciousness started to pour like water. Not too long ago, two or three glasses would’ve been enough to do that. It was a little alarming that now it took an entire bottle. But he didn’t care. He’d always reach for whatever helped him forget, even for a moment.
He’d get through this. He’d endure the stares the Foxes gave him, the blame piled onto his shoulders, Riko’s voice whispering in his head day and night. He wasn’t weak. He could stay in control.
He had to stay in control.
April, 1996
It started very suddenly. It must have been around eight p.m, and Kevin and Riko were in their room, each lying on their own bed. Kevin was studying history, and Riko, math. That was pretty much all there was left for them to do when they weren’t playing Exy. The room had no toys, and they were only allowed to watch TV during the day. They also had to be asleep by exactly ten o’clock. The Master came to their room at that exact time every night to make sure they were both in their pajamas and already in bed. Kevin didn’t know what would happen if he wasn’t asleep by then, and he had no desire to find out.
Riko, however, didn’t seem to fear the Master the way Kevin did, because that night, he suddenly shut his book and said,
“I’m bored. Let’s go out.”
Kevin looked up from his own book and stared at his roommate.
“But we’re not allowed to…” Kevin murmured, wondering how Riko could even think of something like that.
“I’m not talking about leaving the Nest, Kevin,” Riko laughed. “I just meant for us to get out of this room. Go somewhere else.”
“But if the Master finds out—”
“The Master,” Riko echoed the word in a mocking tone. “He won’t find out, Kevin. All we have to do is be back before ten.”
Riko was using that tone again, speaking as if he were much older than Kevin, even though they were the same age.
“Where would we even go?” Kevin asked.
“I’ve got an idea,” the other boy replied, not even trying to hide his mischievous smile.
When Kevin remained silent, the uncertainty and fear written all over his face, Riko rolled his eyes, grabbed something from his nightstand, and headed for the door.
“You’ve got to stop being such a scared little boy, Kevin. I’m going, and you can either come with me or stay here like a baby, I don’t care.”
Kevin watched as Riko opened the door, feeling torn in two completely different directions. He didn’t want to disappoint the Master. Not just because he feared him, but also because the man was doing everything for Kevin. He had so much faith in his abilities and spent literally the entire day teaching and guiding him, and all he asked in return was that Kevin follow a few rules. Kevin wanted to show the Master he was worthy of his attention, of his time.
And yet, when Riko opened that door, something rebellious stirred inside him.
The truth was that Kevin was bored too. He’d been bored for a long time. That repetitive routine was such a drastic change from the one he’d had before, and he was struggling to adjust to it. His days basically consisted of playing Exy or studying, and he just wanted to do something else. Anything.
And when Riko was just about to leave the room, something inside Kevin screamed with urgency.
“Wait,” he said, and Riko turned to look back at him. “I’m coming with you.”
The other boy simply smiled.
They walked through the endless tunnels beneath Castle Evermore. Riko led the way, while Kevin followed behind, stepping carefully and glancing over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure no one was going to catch them. He knew there were guards patrolling those tunnels at night, and if they saw the boys out of their room past curfew, they’d report it to the Master. Riko, however, didn’t seem even slightly worried about getting caught. He walked those halls with unshakable confidence, and Kevin could tell he’d done this before.
“There it is,” Riko said after a while.
Kevin stopped walking and looked ahead. A dark wooden door stood before them, with a silver plaque that read COMMON ROOM.
“But that door is always locked,” Kevin whispered.
Riko didn’t say anything. He simply widened his smile and pulled a small key from his pocket, dangling it in front of Kevin’s face.
“How did you get that?” Kevin asked, both impressed and shocked.
“I stole it,” Riko shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Not the original, of course. A copy. My uncle has at least one spare key for every room in the Nest, and he keeps them all in a hidden spot behind his bookshelf. I took it one time when he called me into his office.”
“How did he never notice it was missing?”
“Because he barely uses the spare keys. Besides, I only take it every now and then, and I always put it back before he notices.”
With that, Riko unlocked the door.
“Come on,” he said, encouragingly.
Kevin stepped hesitantly into the room, closing the door behind him. Riko turned on the lights, and Kevin looked around.
He had never been inside the Common Room before. It was about twice the size of his bedroom and entirely paneled in dark wood. The décor was old-fashioned, reminding Kevin of the illustrations in his history books about the 1950s. Thick Armenian rugs with golden embroidery covered the floor. The sofas and armchairs were coated with heavy brown leather. A towering bookshelf stretched all the way to the ceiling. Dark green porcelain lamps were placed on top of the end tables. The only two items that seemed remotely modern were a television and a jukebox tucked into the far right corner.
"Pretty cool, huh?" Riko said, noticing Kevin's wide-eyed expression. He flopped onto the leather couch, grabbed the remote from the coffee table, and turned on the TV.
Kevin kept wandering his gaze, mesmerized. His first instinct was to approach the jukebox. It looked like something straight out of a movie. He touched the smooth surface and peered through the glass at the CD title cards inside. But before he could do anything else, Riko called out,
“It doesn’t work. You need coins to play anything.”
“Then why is it even here if we can’t use it?”
Riko just shrugged.
Kevin left the jukebox behind and began circling the room, taking in all the relics proudly on display. Inside a glass case mounted against the wall was an old Ravens jersey, with an old-fashioned design. A wooden cabinet with glass doors housed a collection of shining gold trophies and medals, too many to count. Kevin was practically drooling at the sight, swept away in a daydream of someday holding one of these in his own hands. Photographs lined the walls, every inch covered with memories of past Ravens teams dating all the way back to the seventies. He stopped in front of the oldest one—a black-and-white picture of twelve people standing side by side in Castle Evermore. On the frame, the year 1975 was engraved in gold letters.
“Do you know who that is?” Riko suddenly appeared beside him, pointing to a Japanese man standing on the far left.
Kevin studied the photo for a few seconds, but nothing came to mind.
“No. Who is it?”
“That’s the Master.”
Kevin’s jaw dropped. He turned to Riko, stunned, unsure if he was even allowed to laugh. But when he saw the grin on Riko’s face, he let out a laugh that burst from his chest like a storm.
“That’s him?” he asked, voice cracking, which only made Riko laugh louder.
“Creepy, right? He used to be so young and full of life.”
“He had hair.”
That set them both off again, collapsing into laughter, clutching their stomachs and wiping tears from their eyes.
Kevin laughed and giggled, and suddenly, he stopped.
“What is it?” Riko asked right away, catching the sudden shift in his expression.
“Nothing, I just…” Kevin’s voice trailed off.
He stared into space, brows furrowed, as if trying to grasp something elusive, a thought just out of reach. It took a while for the realization to hit him.
“I haven’t laughed since my mom died.”
It was, perhaps, the saddest thing Kevin could have said. And yet, he didn’t feel like crying at all. Everything just felt… strange. Laughing had always come so naturally to him, and he hadn’t even noticed he’d simply stopped. How? How hadn’t he noticed?
He expected Riko to be just as baffled as he was, but the look on the other boy’s face was one of immediate understanding. In fact, it almost seemed like Riko understood Kevin better than Kevin understood himself.
“Your mom…” Riko began. “Do you miss her?”
“Every day,” Kevin answered without hesitation.
Riko nodded slowly.
“You know the more you think about her, the more it’s going to hurt, right? The longer we dwell on what we feel, the stronger those feelings get. Stronger than ourselves.”
He placed both hands on Kevin’s shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes.
“You have to control your emotions, Kevin. Otherwise they will control you. And this pain you’re feeling right now will never go away. Do you understand me?”
Riko said it with such certainty, but it didn’t sound like the words were truly his. It was like he was just repeating what he once heard.
“Who told you that?” Kevin asked.
“My uncle,” Riko replied.
He let go of Kevin’s shoulders and stepped back, as if something had unbalanced him. He sighed and sank into the couch again.
“My dad had just left me,” he said, voice heavy but hollow. “We were living in New York, and one day he told me we were taking a trip to West Virginia to visit my uncle Tetsuji.”
He laughed, but it was nothing like the laughter from moments earlier. This one held no trace of joy, only bitterness.
“Turns out, it wasn’t a trip. Not for me, anyway. He just dropped me off here to be raised by my uncle, then went right back to New York.”
Kevin stepped forward, stunned.
“But… why?”
Riko kept staring straight ahead, avoiding Kevin’s wide-eyed gaze.
“Because he didn’t have time for me,” he said, and now the bitterness was seeping through every word. “Because he already had a son. My older brother was the one that mattered. I was just the spare. The useless child. The burden he couldn’t be bothered with.”
Kevin shook his head, refusing to believe it.
“That makes no sense.”
Riko laughed again, but it sounded even darker than before.
“That’s how things work in my family, Kevin. Second sons don’t matter. If you want to be someone, you have to be the first."
He felt like Riko was speaking to him in another language. Kevin was an only child and had never had siblings, but he couldn’t understand how any of this could matter. Why would Riko’s father even care which son was born first? They were both his sons, regardless of age. Kevin had always known adults had a bunch of rules that made no sense, but what Riko was saying now sounded downright absurd.
The two of them fell silent. Riko was still staring straight ahead, his eyes seeming even more distant, as if he were slowly slipping out of the room and going back in time.
“He didn’t even say goodbye,” he said, voice tight and strained. “He didn’t even explain to me what was happening. Uncle Tetsuji was the one who had to tell me my father went back to New York without me. I…”
He drew in a shaky breath.
“I never saw him again.”
“How old were you?”
“Six.”
Kevin was horrified. His mother’s death may have been sudden and unbearably painful, but at least he knew she had loved him until her very last breath. He had spent ten wonderful years bathed in unconditional love and unwavering devotion. His mother might be gone, but her love would never die. It had become part of him, like a second heart that would never stop beating.
He couldn’t even imagine not being loved by his mother. Riko, however, hadn’t been so lucky. His father was still alive, but he had chosen to never see his son again. And honestly, Kevin thought that was even worse.
He reluctantly sat down beside Riko.
“I cried nonstop that day,” Riko went on. “And that’s when the Master saw me. He told me crying wouldn’t get me anywhere, and if I wanted to see my father again, I had to earn his respect. Then he put a racket in my hand and told me to use it, to take all that pain I was feeling and turn it into…”
“Something great,” Kevin whispered.
Riko finally looked at him for the first time in a long while.
“Yeah. Something great.”
The room fell into silence for a few moments, and then Riko’s expression changed. There was a light in his eyes—a glint of something fierce and luminous, like a ray of light piercing through sheer darkness, like the spotlights at Castle Evermore. And just like Kevin had been captivated by that court, he was captivated by Riko now, by his magnetic and terrifying presence.
“I’m going to become the greatest Exy player this world has ever known. If my father doesn’t want me because I’m the second son, then I’ll show him I can be the number one, with no one above me. I’ll show them all.”
The light in Riko’s eyes burned even brighter as he turned to Kevin.
“And what about you, Kevin Day? What’s your reason to reach the top?”
Kevin felt something stir in his chest—something that reminded him of the moment the Master had held his hand and shown him Castle Evermore for the first time. A sense of belonging.
“I’m going to carry on my mother’s legacy,” he said with absolute conviction. “I’ll keep her memory alive, even if it’s the last thing I ever do.”
Riko smiled, and Kevin smiled back.
“We’ll make it, Kevin. You and me.”
We, Kevin echoed in his mind. We’ll make it.
He wasn’t alone anymore.
They looked at each other for what felt like an eternity, until Riko finally said,
“You know, I’m starting to think I was really lucky to have met you.”
Kevin’s smile widened as his left hand reached for Riko’s.
“I feel the same way.”
Kevin could see Riko’s true colors shining clearly now, like a thick lens had been lifted from his eyes and he was seeing him for the very first time. Everything about the boy in front of him suddenly made sense—he could see all the traces of a six-year-old, upset and confused, abandoned by his father in another state to be raised by an uncle he didn’t even know. They had more in common than it seemed. Kevin felt so alone, and raw with the need to be protected. And he saw the same thing in Riko, who poured everything he had into the court, straightening his spine at the slightest flicker of approval from the Master.
Riko was no longer a stranger to him. Kevin looked into his dark eyes and saw a reflection of himself.
Chapter 3: behind a mask
Notes:
hi
hope yall had a nice week. Charlie Kirk got shot in the neck and my country's former fascist president was arrested, so i am absolutelly BALLING. Anyway, lets get into it. As aways, thank u all so much for the kudos and comments <3
Quick disclaimer: this chapter contains depictions of child physical abuse, so please proceed with caution.
have a good reading everyone
Chapter Text
December, 1996
The year 1996 passed like an epilogue far too long in a memoir. Days flipped by like pages in a book. The weeks dragged, yet the months vanished in an instant. Winter killed summer in the blink of an eye, dimming the sunlight and chilling the winds. Time felt as if it moved in circles, spinning around Riko, who had become the center of Kevin’s life.
He carried a montage of moments carefully tucked away in a safe corner of his mind. He didn’t remember dates or context, but he didn’t need to. The things that truly mattered were preserved in vivid color and distinct sounds. He and Riko breaking into the Common Room to watch TV and flip through dusty photo albums of the Ravens. Watching Exy games and talking about their favorite players, swearing they would be just like them when they grew up—only better. Measuring each other’s heights on the door frame and celebrating every time one of them gained another inch. Running through the rain with only their backpacks over their heads, trying and failing to shield themselves from the heavy drops.
“Come on, Kevin!” Riko shouted, looking back at him with a smile that bared small, rounded teeth. That smile that challenged him, pushed him, dared him to run faster, try harder, fly higher.
Kevin thought of those moments often—the rain on his skin, clothes clinging to his body, water seeping into his shoes, their high-pitched laughter. The pure joy of boyhood, preserved even after his mother’s death. And it was all thanks to Riko, who was always by his side.
It didn’t matter that time seemed to move differently within the walls of the Nest. All that mattered was that Kevin wasn’t alone anymore, that he had someone who saw him, someone who made him feel real.
That feeling was everything he needed to hold on to, and he would never let it go.
August, 2007
Dinner at Wymack’s was always awkward, but Kevin should have known something was off that night.
Abby opened the door for him, her blue eyes looking wider than usual. She smiled, and he couldn’t help but notice the way the corners of her mouth trembled.
“Kevin,” she said, her voice thin. “Come in!”
He stepped inside with his hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie, shoulders hunched, feeling far too big for the small apartment. Wymack was in the living room setting the table, and he raised his eyebrows the moment he saw Kevin.
“Hey, kid. Sit down. Dinner’s almost ready.”
Kevin did as he was told, watching the two adults move back and forth in the kitchen. Every step they took only deepened his suspicion that something weird as hell was going on. They looked anxious, restless. Abby was moving around like a headless chicken, seemingly unaware that she was spilling sauce all over the place. When she pulled the casserole out of the oven, she forgot to put on an oven mitt and burned her fingertips. She hissed and cursed, but when Kevin and Wymack offered to help, she brushed them off and bounced back quickly.
Wymack was better at keeping up appearances, maintaining his usual gruff demeanor, but Kevin could still see through the cracks. The man couldn’t keep still, opening and closing the fridge, rummaging through drawers for no reason at all.
When they finally sat down to eat, no one seemed willing to say a word. The scrape of forks and knives on porcelain plates rang out sharp and shrill, slicing through the air. The uncomfortable silence wasn’t anything new—Kevin and Wymack’s clumsy attempts at bonding often ended up like this—but usually, Abby stepped in to save the moment, making up something to talk about, trying to start a conversation about literally anything.
Tonight, though, she was quieter than both of them, staring down at her plate and chewing slowly.
When the silence became unbearable, Wymack cleared his throat and said,
“How’s it going, kid? The freshmen are still giving you a hard time?”
Here we go, Kevin thought.
His conversations with Wymack were so predictable they might as well have been scripted. They always started with Exy, because that was the only thing they seemed to have in common. They talked about past games, upcoming games, the Foxes, the championships, practice. Sometimes Wymack even tried to bring up other topics, but they always circled back to the same thing.
“They need to try harder. We’re never making it to finals if they don’t put in the work,” Kevin said flatly, playing with the food on his plate.
“Heard that Jack kid’s a pain in the ass.”
“He’s a brat with an attitude problem. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“What about the girls?” Abby chimed in, still not lifting her eyes from her plate. “One of them seemed really sweet.”
“Robin?”
“Yeah, she had a kind smile.”
Kevin shrugged.
“She’s okay, I guess.”
The silence that followed made it clear that the topic was dead.
And that was the worst part—that long, drawn-out stretch of silence that always came when they ran out of Exy to talk about. That’s when Wymack would usually try to keep the conversation alive, asking the exact same things every time. How are you? How’s Thea? Anything new?
But today, the question was…
“And are you feeling any better?”
Kevin looked at his coach for the first time, brows furrowed.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” he asked, immediately defensive.
Wymack leaned back slightly, like Kevin might launch himself across the table.
“Because there’s been a lot of shit going on lately,” Wymack said, watching him closely. “And I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
Kevin sighed, gripping his fork so tightly the tips of his fingers turned white. He was sick of being asked that. Sick of constantly having to prove himself. How was he supposed to feel better when everyone kept asking if he was okay?
“Things are just rough lately. You know, because Thea broke up with me,” he lied.
Wymack raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. But Abby, sensing the tension, stepped in.
“It’ll get easier, sweetheart. I know how much you cared about Thea, but you’re still young, and there are so many girls out there who can make you happy. It might take time to find the right one, but love always finds us, eventually.”
As she finished, Wymack reached out and quietly took her hand. Abby smiled and interlaced their fingers.
For the first time during that entire conversation, Kevin felt his muscles loosen, letting himself take in the tender, genuine moment that almost made the dinner feel normal.
For years, the Foxes had speculated about Abby and Wymack’s relationship, placing bets on whether they were together or not. Kevin had never cared much either way, but when the truth that Wymack was his father came out, the man had sat him down and told him everything. He’d been honest, straightforward, and said they’d been dating for a long time, way before the team even started gossiping. They’d never told anyone because they didn’t think it mattered. Their personal lives weren’t their students’ business, anyway.
That changed when they found out who Kevin really was. When they told him, they knew it was only a matter of time before the rest of the Foxes caught on. By the end of summer break, the whole team knew, putting an end to years of rumor.
Everyone assumed Kevin would be uncomfortable with their relationship, but the truth was that he couldn’t care less. He really liked Abby, and he knew Wymack wasn’t using her as some replacement for his mother or any bullshit like that. They never talked about his mother—mostly because Kevin avoided thinking about her—but he knew whatever had happened between her and Wymack had ended a long time ago. His father didn’t have to live haunted by her ghost the way Kevin did.
Abby, and especially Wymack, had always done their best to make him feel included. They invited him over for dinners, asked about his life, and genuinely wanted to get to know him. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but they were trying. And some part of Kevin knew it was his fault that the wall between him and his father still existed.
Wymack tried so hard to make their relationship feel normal, and Kevin never made the same effort. He pushed Wymack away, shut down every conversation, and couldn’t bring himself to call him “dad”.
He didn’t know why he was sabotaging everything. He’d spent most of his life convinced he had no family left, that there was no one out there to take care of him. And now his father was right there, doing everything he could to be in Kevin’s life. Most men would’ve been furious to find out they had a kid after twenty years. Any other guy would’ve denied it, rejected Kevin completely, and refused to be involved in his life. But Wymack wasn’t like that. He was shocked, upset, maybe a bit angry—but he didn’t run. He accepted the truth without hesitation, and took the responsibility without thinking twice.
Kevin had been unbelievably lucky. And he was throwing it all away.
As soon as they finished eating, Abby gathered all the dishes. While she cleared the table, she and Wymack exchanged a series of looks, carrying on a silent conversation. Kevin’s suspicions only grew stronger, and his skin was practically itching with the urge to ask what the hell was going on.
“Well, if you’ll excuse me,” Abby said, trying to hide the tremble in her hands. “It’s been a long day, so I’m heading to bed. Good night, Kevin.”
Before leaving, she placed a hand on Wymack’s shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze, as if giving him some strength. He held her hand for a few seconds and nodded, and then she practically ran out of the kitchen.
Now only Kevin and Wymack remained, sitting across from each other at the table, a blatant emptiness settling between them.
“What’s going on?” Kevin finally asked the question that had been burning in his throat since he set foot in the apartment.
Wymack let out a heavy breath, running a hand over his patchy beard. It was only then that Kevin noticed how tired he looked.
“Look, I really don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to say it, alright?”
It felt like an eternity of silence passed before he finally spoke.
“Abby’s pregnant.”
And just like that, Kevin’s world flipped upside down.
He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. The simple words crashed down on him with the weight of the entire universe. For half a second, he couldn’t even comprehend what this meant for him—for them. But the realization hit him with the speed of a bullet, tearing through his chest so fast he didn’t even notice when he started to bleed.
Wymack’s brown eyes were fixed on him, waiting for something, anything, but Kevin remained frozen, the only trace of a reaction being his slightly dropped jaw.
“What?” was all he could manage to say, so dazed he sounded drunk.
“We didn’t mean for this to happen,” Wymack said quickly, defending himself. “Abby and I never planned on having kids, and we were always careful, but it just… happened. We were just as shocked as you, kid. But I think you, more than anyone, know that life doesn’t always go the way you planned it.”
Kevin felt like he might fall out of his chair. He blinked once, then twice. His throat had gone suddenly dry, but somehow, he managed to find his voice again.
“When did you find out…?”
“Three weeks ago. And before you say anything, we didn’t tell you right away because you had a lot going on, and we had no idea how you’d take the news. We thought it’d be best to wait a bit.”
Wymack paused to catch his breath. He was trying to keep a strong front, but anyone could see he was terrified from miles away. The guilt was forged into his face like steel and flame.
“I’m sorry, kid,” Wymack said, his voice hoarse.
And that’s when Kevin got pissed.
“There’s nothing to feel sorry for,” he tried to sound indifferent, but a sharp anger crept into his voice, revealing something even he hadn’t realized was there.
“Look, I know this isn’t ideal, but I don’t want you to be upset—”
“Why would I be upset? This has nothing to do with me.”
Before he even realized it, he was already out of his chair and heading toward the door.
“It has everything to do with you,” Wymack insisted, raising his voice for a split second. He took a breath, collecting himself, trying to sound gentle. “Come on, just sit down. I want to know how you feel about this, kid.”
“How I feel doesn’t matter,” Kevin snapped, and when the older man opened his mouth to protest, he cut him off, louder this time. “Look, I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He stepped out of the apartment, but before he left, he quickly glanced over his shoulder and said,
“Congratulations, by the way.”
Then he shut the door just as Wymack looked like he was about to say one more thing.
December, 1996
Kevin was giving it his all, and somehow, it still wasn’t enough.
He devoted his body, mind, and soul to Exy. He pushed past his limits, running faster even when his legs burned like hell, gripping his racquet tightly even when it felt like his fingers were about to crumble into dust. And yet, despite all his effort, the Master never seemed satisfied with his performance. Kevin never heard words of praise—only that severe, impassive gaze, those dark eyes that looked utterly uninterested in his blood, sweat, and tears.
For a long time, Riko served as a distraction from his new and frustrating reality. Kevin could ignore how badly his legs and arms ached after hours of the Master's relentless training. He could leave it all behind because Riko was by his side, encouraging him, keeping him company. Unlike Kevin, Riko never seemed weighed down by their brutal routine. Sure, sweat dripped from his forehead after practice, and he woke up every morning with the same dark circles under his eyes. But he carried his exhaustion as if it weighed no more than a feather. No matter how long the Master tormented them, Riko’s determination remained unshaken.
“Don’t you ever get tired?” Kevin asked one day.
They were in their room. Kevin was lying on his bed, arms behind his head. Riko stood in front of the closet mirror, admiring his brand-new sneakers.
“Tired of what?” Riko replied with a question of his own, still fixated on his reflection.
“Of… all of this.”
He glanced at Kevin briefly through the mirror, then shrugged.
“I guess I got used to it. You will get used to it too, Kevin. Just give it time.”
It took Kevin a while to figure out how the other boy remained so unaffected. Riko was so utterly convinced that his uncle’s lessons would turn him into the most spectacular Exy player in the world that it never even crossed his mind to doubt the Master’s methods. And Kevin wanted so badly to be like him. He wanted to be absolutely sure that all of this was worth it, that one day he’d look back and never regret a thing. He wanted Riko’s conviction, his unwavering resilience. He was tired of feeling weak.
So, he took Riko’s advice and gave it time. A lot of time. Too much time.
He waited for that same fire he saw in his friend to ignite within him—but it never did.
When winter arrived and Kevin was forced to practice for hours in the freezing cold, he started to wonder how much longer it would take.
It didn’t help that he couldn’t stop thinking about his mother.
Kevin had spent all those months pouring everything he had into Exy, hoping his pain would transform into something else, something easier to bear. But as time went on, he began to fear that he’d never be able to do that. Grief had become a heavy weight in his chest, dragging him down. He kept thinking about his mother, despite all his efforts to fill his mind with anything else.
October was especially hard because it was her birthday month. Kevin remembered how, when he was five, he made her a crayon drawing as a gift. He’d drawn the two of them holding hands in a flower field and written “I love you, Mom” inside a big red heart. The drawing was nothing special, but his mother loved it. She pinned it to the fridge and never took it down. Just one more thing in his old house that Kevin would never see again.
His grief, combined with his exhaustion, was directly affecting his performance. He wasn’t trying as hard as before, and the Master could see it. His reprimands grew harsher, his gaze colder. Even Riko was growing frustrated with him, calling him lazy and weak. And he was right.
Kevin knew he needed to learn to control his emotions, just like Riko had told him. But he couldn’t. He just let them fester everything around him. And suddenly, he was tired of it all—tired of staring at the same dark walls of the Nest every day, tired of repeating the same Japanese words until his pronunciation was flawless, tired of eating the same bland meals.
That morning, they were on the court, practicing under the Master’s sharp eyes. Kevin was well aware that he wasn’t giving his best, and the older man was clearly dissatisfied, ordering him to be stronger, faster. And Kevin was trying. He really was. But his efforts never seemed to lead anywhere.
The more Kevin failed, the more the Master shifted his attention to Riko, who was loving every second of it. After spending months with him, Kevin had realized Riko was addicted to attention. That was the fuel that kept his fire alive. Every time he noticed his uncle’s focus turn to him, he basked in it, unable to hide the proud smile on his face. The Master never said anything affectionate to him, but Riko didn’t seem to mind. After all, he’d spent his whole life with a father and a brother who didn’t even acknowledge his existence—so having someone to just look at him was already enough.
Kevin, on the other hand, who had always been used to his mother’s unconditional love, needed far more than that.
The Master was trying to get Kevin to score a goal from a certain distance. He was giving it everything he had, but no matter how hard he tried, he just kept missing.
"Again," was all the Master said.
And Kevin kept trying. And trying. And trying.
It still wasn’t enough.
"Again."
At this point, he could barely feel his arms. Sweat was dripping down his entire body, and each breath burned in his chest. Still, he kept going. And he kept failing.
"Again."
He gripped his racket, feeling it slip through his sweaty fingers. There was a sting in his shoulder that was becoming harder and harder to ignore.
"Again."
His knees were too weak to support him. His heart was pounding painfully against his ribs. He threw the ball toward the goal—and missed one more time.
"Again."
At that moment, Kevin gave up.
He dropped the racket to the ground and collapsed to his knees, running his hands through his sweat-soaked hair and gasping for air. It was winter, but his skin burned as if he was being boiled alive.
"What do you think you’re doing, Kevin?" the Master asked. "Get up and pick up your racket."
Kevin had no idea what came over him when he said,
"No."
The massive court was swallowed by silence. The only sound echoing off the walls was his ragged breathing.
Riko immediately stopped what he was doing and turned to stare at Kevin, eyes wide. Kevin couldn’t tell if he was furious or just shocked. Maybe both.
The Master, however, didn’t move a muscle. His expression remained terrifyingly stoic, and when he spoke, his voice was calmer than ever.
"I’ll say it one more time. Get up and pick up your racket."
The older man’s sheer indifference sparked something inside Kevin. The grief and exhaustion that had been building inside him twisted into something else—rage.
"No!" Kevin shouted, suddenly on his feet. "I’m sick of this! Of all of this! You keep telling me this is going to make me stronger, but I’ve never felt worse!"
Kevin screamed the words that had been stuck in his throat for months, with a fury he didn’t even know he had.
The Master wasn’t impressed.
"You’ve only got yourself to blame for that, Kevin. You keep getting distracted, focusing on the wrong things. You’re not putting in the effort."
"I am!" he cried, desperate. "I’m trying! I… I just…"
"You just what, Kevin?"
"I’m tired!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.
The shift in the Master’s expression was minimal, but it was more than enough for Kevin to instantly realize that was possibly the worst thing he could have said.
"Tired," the man repeated, venom dripping from his teeth. "Oh, you’re tired."
Kevin swallowed hard. He had never heard the Master’s voice sound like that before. He wasn’t yelling—but he didn’t need to.
There were a few unbearable minutes of silence as the Master stared at him, something awful lurking behind his eyes. All the anger Kevin had felt vanished into thin air, and now he could feel his blood rushing through his body, pulsing in his veins, and every muscle, bone, and organ inside him seemed to scream the exact same thing.
Run.
"Do you know why I chose to take care of you after your mother died, Kevin?" he asked, colder than a winter’s breeze. "Because I believed in you. I had no obligation to look after you, Kevin. It wasn’t my duty to be your guardian. But I took you under my wing anyway, because I thought you were special."
He raised his voice on that last word, letting it echo across the court.
"Do you have any idea what would have happened to you if I hadn’t stepped in? Do you? You had nothing and no one, Kevin, and I gave you everything. And I only asked for one thing in return. Just one. That you fight for it. I placed all my faith in you, and you have the audacity to look me in the eye and tell me you’re tired. I devote all my efforts to unlocking your full potential, and all I get in return is your ingratitude. Your selfishness. I thought you could be something great, but you’re still the same scared little boy I saw the day I brought you here."
Kevin hadn’t even noticed the tears streaming down his face. He regretted ever saying anything. He wished he could go back in time and keep his mouth shut. Somehow, he felt even worse than before. He felt filthy. Disgusting. Like a monster.
The Master lowered his head, disappointed.
"Now I see I overestimated you."
Kevin shook his head.
"No…"
"Very well. Since you’re so tired, I’ll have lower expectations for you from now on."
With that, he began to walk away.
And in that moment, Kevin felt an overwhelming desperation.
"No!" he cried. "Master, wait… I didn’t mean it…"
"I know exactly what you meant," the man said without even turning around.
The Master walked toward the exit, placing his wrinkled hand on the doorknob. At that second, an image flashed before Kevin’s eyes: his mother waving at him and saying something he still couldn’t remember, just before she closed the door and never came back.
He was leaving. He was abandoning him.
No, Kevin couldn’t be alone. The feeling he had felt when he realized his mother would never come back was something he could never feel again. He’d rather die than feel that again. He couldn’t be alone. He couldn’t be left behind. He had no one else, nowhere to go…
Kevin ran after the man, tears blurring his vision.
"Master, please! I’m sorry!"
"I don’t want your apologies, Kevin. I want you to be better."
"Just give me one more chance! I promise—"
"I don’t believe in promises. You have to prove yourself to me."
"I will! Please, I’ll do anything…"
The Master finally turned around and looked at Kevin’s tear-streaked face. He seemed to study him for a few seconds before saying,
"Very well. Then kneel before the bench."
He motioned with his cane toward the wooden bench at the corner of the court.
Kevin frowned, having no idea what that meant. His gaze quickly found Riko’s, who stared back at him with a somber expression, as if he knew something Kevin didn’t.
Still confused, Kevin obeyed, walking to the bench and kneeling in front of it.
“Now lift your shirt and show me your back.”
Kevin turned his head toward the Master, more lost than ever.
He looked at the older man’s face, waiting for answers, but he didn’t say a word. Then his eyes fell to the cane in the man's hand—he was gripping it tighter than usual. And somehow, something in Kevin's mind clicked.
A shiver ran down his spine, and he felt the blood drain from his face. He looked at the Master, praying silently that he had misunderstood. But the man just stared back at him, eyes unwavering.
“Master…” Kevin pleaded.
“You said you would prove to me that you can be strong,” the Master stated. “One can only be strong when they learn to conquer pain.”
Kevin was trembling from head to toe. Something primal inside him begged him to run, but in the end, he simply grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it up, baring his back.
“Now place both hands on the bench.”
Again, he did as he was told, obediently bending forward and holding onto the bench.
The Master raised his cane, and Kevin whimpered in fear, squeezing his eyes shut and inwardly begging his mother to save him.
But she couldn’t protect him anymore, and all Kevin could do was scream in pain as the cane struck his back.
Kevin’s mother had only ever hit him once. He didn’t even remember it—he had been far too young—but his mother told him the story from time to time. Kevin was five years old, walking hand-in-hand with her along the sidewalk. She got distracted for a single second to call a taxi, and something across the street caught Kevin’s attention. He had no idea what it could have been. All his mother ever told him was that, suddenly, he let go of her hand and bolted toward the road. A car came speeding toward him, but his mother was quick—she grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back, her blue-painted nails digging into his skin.
The scare had been so overwhelming that all she could feel was anger, and before she even realized it, she smacked him. Kevin had burst into tears while his mother screamed at him for being so reckless. But as soon as she began to calm down, the guilt hit her like a tidal wave. She knelt down in front of Kevin and wrapped him in her arms, her hands still trembling with fear.
“I’m sorry, baby,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Mommy didn’t mean to hurt you, it’s just... you scared me. I’m so sorry.”
She promised she’d never do it again, and she never did. Kevin could remember her being angry with him, yelling at him, grounding him. But she never hit him again, not once. Even that single moment of violence had been proof of her love.
What Kevin was feeling right now was nothing like that.
The blows to his back weren’t impulsive. They were deliberate. Calculated. They were meant to hurt.
It burned. It burned as if someone had flayed his skin and poured acid over it. The pain cut through his back and into his muscles, his bones, his soul.
The Master gave him no time to recover. He struck again. And again. And again. Kevin’s whole body convulsed, but he clung to the bench with such force that his palms went numb. More tears streamed down his face, and he knew how awful he must look, distorted by pain.
“How long…?” Kevin managed to ask, his voice barely there.
“Until you stop crying,” the Master answered before striking him again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
Each time the cane landed on his back, Kevin screamed and sobbed louder. He was sure the whole world could hear him now, and he hoped someone—anyone—would come to save him.
But no one came.
Kevin didn’t know how many times it took before he realized crying wouldn’t help. He simply swallowed his sobs and bit down on his lips, using every inch of his body to stop the tears. He had no idea how long it took before he finally stopped crying.
At some point, to escape the pain, his mind began to drift away. Then, all of a sudden, something very strange happened—he felt as if his mind and body had completely split apart. Kevin could see himself in third person, like a spectator. And slowly, he slipped farther and farther away, his mind carrying him to places far from here.
The cane still burned his skin, but he no longer felt the pain. His thoughts were elsewhere. A shirt he lost and never found again. A fluffy white dog he once saw at the park. The name of his old history teacher who used to put gold stars on his homework. A drawing of him and his mother holding hands pinned to the fridge.
Riko helped him back to their room, since Kevin could barely walk.
It took them a long time to get there—Riko was exhausted and weak, too. The Master hadn’t exaggerated when he said one’s failures would be the other’s as well. According to him, it took twenty-four strikes for Kevin to stop crying, so Riko had to run twenty-four laps around the court.
It was a miracle they both made it back in one piece.
Riko carefully sat Kevin on the bed, then disappeared into the bathroom for a few seconds. He returned with a jar of ointment.
He sat behind Kevin and helped him take off his shirt. It took a long time—Kevin’s back was still excruciatingly sore, and he could barely raise his arms. When the shirt was finally off, Riko began applying the ointment. It stung, and Kevin flinched a little, but Riko kept going. The cold cream against his burning skin sent strange chills down his body, but Riko’s touch was so gentle that, after a while, he got used to it.
Kevin stared into nothingness, eyes vacant. He hadn’t fully returned to his body, and he wasn’t sure he even wanted to. He would do anything to never be himself again. He could spend the rest of his life as a bystander, watching events unfold without ever feeling anything.
His eyes remained empty, his body still. His back still burned, but he no longer had the strength to care. He was powerless. An empty shell of aching flesh and bone.
“I don’t understand…” he said with a voice that didn’t sound like his own. “How is this supposed to make me stronger…?”
He hadn’t expected a reply, so he was a little surprised when Riko answered.
“One can only be strong when they learn to conquer pain.”
Kevin closed his eyes for a moment, his eyelids heavier than they had ever been.
“Do you really think that’s true…?”
“I know it’s true.”
“How…?”
Riko didn’t answer. He just turned around and lifted his own shirt, revealing his bare back.
It was covered in scars, crawling all the way up to his shoulders. Kevin stared, unable to speak. He wondered if his back would end up like that too, if those same marks would one day be etched into his skin.
Riko pulled his shirt back down.
“I’ve lived with my uncle a lot longer than you, Kevin.”
Yes, but Kevin had never imagined the Master would do something like that to his own nephew.
“Did it work?” Kevin asked.
Riko gave him a small, proud smile.
“I haven’t cried since I was seven.”
With that, he sat behind Kevin again and resumed applying the ointment to his wounds.
Kevin was shocked. And impressed. He thought maybe Riko was lying, but then he realized he had never seen Riko cry—not even once.
He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live without crying. Kevin cried over literally everything. He cried at cute animals and sad book endings. Once, he even cried watching Cinderella with his mom, just because he felt so sorry for the poor princess. He remembered how his mom thought it was the sweetest thing, drying his tears with gentle fingers as she called him her “sweet little boy”.
But she had been the only one who saw his sensitivity as a virtue. Everyone else had always used it against him—to mock him, to humiliate him. The older Kevin got, the more convinced he became that tears were nothing but a sign of weakness, proof of how incapable he was of controlling himself, of how easily overwhelmed he became.
Once again, he wished he could be just like Riko. He wished he could have this kind of control over himself, wished to never be mocked again, to never let anyone use his weakness against him.
“I know this feels wrong,” Riko said, his fingers brushing gently over Kevin’s wounds. “But it’s not, Kevin. You have to trust the Master. You have to trust me. We’re a team, remember? Everything that happens to you, happens to me too.”
Kevin thought of Riko running his twentieth lap around the court, drenched in sweat and gasping like he might collapse, and guilt squeezed tight around his heart.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I never wanted you to be punished.”
There was a moment when Riko looked at him and Kevin was sure he was about to say something mean, but then the look faded into something else entirely.
“It’s okay. Just don’t let it happen again. I keep telling you that you have to control your emotions, and I mean it. The Master will guide you, but he can’t work miracles. You have to give it your all, Kevin. You have to be stronger than this.”
And in that moment, Kevin made a decision.
I’m sorry, Mom, he thought, but your sweet little boy has to die.
August, 2007
Looking back, the last few days felt like an omen, a quiet warning that things were about to get worse. He couldn’t see it before because he’d been too busy keeping himself distracted, convincing himself that everything was perfectly normal—even when it was painfully clear that it wasn’t.
He chose to ignore the bomb Wymack had dropped on the dinner table a few days ago, refusing to look at the crater it had left between them. Kevin stepped onto the court with a placid expression, going out of his way to talk to Wymack about practice and the freshmen, just to show his coach that the news hadn’t made the slightest difference in his life, that he wasn’t bothered by them at all. He could feel Wymack’s discomfort during those brief conversations, could see how those brown eyes studied him closely, always searching for something beneath the carefully performed apathy. That was a talent Kevin had picked up after years of dealing with the press—the ability to flash empty smiles and deliver false opinions with the ease of a Hollywood actor.
It was obvious Wymack wanted to talk about it, but Kevin dodged the topic as effortlessly as water slipping through fingers.
“Hey, kid,” Wymack called one day during practice.
Kevin jogged over, sweaty and breathless, bouncing lightly on his feet, eager to get back on the court.
“Yes, Coach?” he asked, as if he didn’t already know from Wymack’s expression exactly what this was about.
“You…” the man started, making it painfully obvious how much he was restraining himself, trying to fill a role that didn’t fit him. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”
Kevin shrugged.
“No. Why would I be mad at you?”
He asked it so naturally it nearly sounded genuine, but there was a veiled accusation behind his words. He wanted Wymack to acknowledge why he might be angry, to admit that this whole situation was absolute bullshit. And for a few seconds, it seemed like he was about to—but then he shook his head and looked away from Kevin, backing down at the last moment.
“Right.”
“Can I get back to the court now? Jack and Neil are going to kill each other if I don’t keep an eye on them.”
Wymack just waved a hand, silently giving Kevin permission. Kevin turned and jogged back to practice with his chin lifted, like he’d just won an argument.
He spent the next hour spitting insults at everyone on the team, swinging his racquet through the air with enough brute force to crush someone’s skull. He scored goal after goal on Andrew just to show he could. Just to prove he still had his shit together. Just to prove to Wymack that nothing could throw him off. That he didn’t give a damn Abby was pregnant. That he couldn’t care less that he’d only just begun reconnecting with his father and now had to share him with someone else. That Wymack would eventually grow tired of him and devote all his energy to the child who needed him the most, the one he hadn’t had to wait twenty years to meet, the one who would accept his attention and devotion without resistance. That, eventually, he would be replaced. Kevin didn’t give a shit. Not at all.
He didn’t care about the Ravens’ fans using him as a punching bag, either. He ignored everything they said about him online—the comments on social media calling him a traitor, a murderer. He didn’t think about that time he and Andrew went into town to buy a new coffee machine, and some guy hurled a strawberry milkshake at their windshield before sticking his head out of his car and yelling at Kevin to “go to fucking hell”. He acted like the reporters who randomly cornered him throughout the day were nothing, like he couldn’t hear the accusations blaming him for Riko’s death. And he was doing a pretty good job. No one needed to know that Kevin went to his room after dinner with Wymack and drank a bottle and a half of vodka, that Riko’s voice inside his head was getting louder with each passing day. And as long as no one knew, it was like none of it was really happening.
All those disturbances and nuances were deliberately pushed aside by Kevin, who had a quiet suspicion that it would all blow up in his face eventually. He just hadn’t expected "eventually" to come so soon.
On Friday, he was jolted awake by someone pounding on his door. At first, he thought he was dreaming, that Riko’s furious voice would soon start screaming in his ear. But the voice he heard belonged to a woman, and that’s when he finally opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the clock on his nightstand, showing it was six thirty in the morning, far too early for anyone to be waking him up.
Kevin stumbled out of his room and into the living room, his face puffy and hair messy. He opened the door and was met with Allison’s pale, terrified face.
“We need to go to the locker room. Now.”
“What happened?” he asked, narrowing his eyes as he tried to focus his blurry vision.
“We don’t know. Wymack called. The Ravens’ fans—it sounds bad.”
He didn’t want to hear anything more. He ran to wake Andrew and Neil, ignoring their questions and telling them to get dressed as fast as they could. Kevin threw on the first shirt and pants he could find and dashed for the door. The Monsters met in the parking lot and piled into Andrew’s Maserati, heading straight for the Foxhole Court.
They arrived almost at the same time as Matt’s pickup truck, which had given all the girls a ride. Kevin recognized Jack’s silver Honda Civic parked beside the gate and knew the freshmen had already arrived. Besides the Foxes, campus security was also there, running in circles like they had no idea what to do.
They passed through the gate with hurried, anxious steps, racing down the hallways and finding more security guards along the way. Matt was in the lead, so he was the one who opened the doors to the men's locker room. Kevin thought the horror in his eyes would be a good enough warning, but nothing could have prepared him for what he saw next.
It looked like a tornado had ripped through the locker room. Trash littered the floor—beer cans, scraps of wax paper, greasy sheets of aluminum foil, shattered glass bottles, dirty paper plates, and rotting food remains. The wooden benches had been turned upside down. But most of the damage had been done to the walls, which were vandalized with black spray paint. Words like "traitor", "backstabber", "drunk", and "cripple" were scrawled across the white tile. On the bathroom door, someone had drawn a fox with crossed-out eyes.
The team stood staring at the crime scene with pale faces and wide eyes. The freshmen looked like they already regretted signing their contracts. Wymack stood in front of them, face flushed, veins bulging in his neck, as if he were holding in his fury so tightly that it was physically hurting him.
Surprisingly, Kevin was the first to step into the locker room, his eyes stunned as they swept over the destruction.
“Watch your step, there’s glass on the floor,” Wymack said, but Kevin didn’t even acknowledge him, the crunch of shards under his shoes being the only response.
The rest of the Foxes filed in behind him, their silence deafening as they took in the chaos.
“Coach…” Nicky called out, and Wymack immediately began to speak.
“People reported hearing loud noises around five in the morning. Campus security ran to the stadium, but it was too late. A group of about five people was seen climbing into a large van and driving off. The guards went through the stadium and checked every room, but everything was untouched. It wasn’t until later that they came into the men’s locker room and saw... all this.”
He gestured around at the mess.
“And the women’s locker room?” Dan asked, her voice uneasy.
Wymack shook his head.
“Not a single scratch. This was the only place they chose to destroy.”
“Did you call the cops?” Matt asked next.
“Yeah. They’re on their way.”
The whole team was stunned. Their expressions made it clear they were all thinking the same thing, but it was Aaron who voiced the thought out loud.
“Okay, I know PCU has the worst security of any college in the U.S., but how the fuck did this happen?”
“We’re still trying to figure out how they even got into the stadium,” Wymack replied, as if he’d asked himself that same question a hundred times already.
“They might’ve found a way to force the main gate open, right?” Renee offered. “They could’ve—”
“There’s no sign of forced entry on any of the gates,” Wymack interrupted. “And even if they had broken through, the alarms would’ve gone off immediately.”
“But if they didn’t force their way in…” Aaron began, but couldn’t finish the sentence.
“That leaves only one possibility,” Wymack said grimly. “Whoever did this knew the passcode to open the gate.”
“B-But... how—” Nicky stammered.
“I don’t know,” the man admitted, lowering his head in defeat. “I have no fucking clue.”
The suffocating silence clung to them like poison in the air. This was one of those rare moments when the Foxes could communicate perfectly without saying a single word, their eyes conveying every thought. They were all terrified. The team was used to the constant pursuit by the Ravens and their fanatic fanbase, but this was something else entirely. This was the first time something had happened inside the stadium, and that realization brought a new, looming threat. The line that marked their safety had been crossed. No place was safe anymore—not even where they showered and put on their uniforms.
That’s when Kevin noticed it. All the lockers were intact. Except one.
The metal of Kevin’s locker was twisted and crushed, as if someone had taken a machete or hammer to it again and again, driven by pure rage. The bright orange was stained by a single word sprayed in vivid red paint, making it look as though each letter had been written in blood.
Murderer.
But it wasn’t the violence etched into the metal or the word written in blood red that terrified him. What made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end was the rotting stench emanating from inside the locker.
He could feel the entire team staring at him, but he didn’t register any of their faces.
“Kevin—” Wymack called, stepping forward, but Kevin didn’t listen. He simply lifted his arm and, with a slow and hesitant movement, opened the locker door.
Something fell out of the locker with a heavy thud. Kevin quickly stepped back, preventing the thing from landing on his feet. It took him a few seconds to process what he was looking at.
A dead raven, blood speckled beneath its black feathers. The putrid smell intensified, and most of the Foxes immediately covered their mouths, coughing and gagging. Kevin, however, just stared at the lifeless animal. His face was pale, but his eyes were empty, almost like Andrew’s.
“Kevin…” he heard Wymack call again, but he didn’t move.
And then he saw it.
The raven’s left wing was broken.
Somehow, he didn’t have a panic attack. He wasn’t even shocked. It was as if some part of him had always known this was going to happen, and he had just been lying to himself all along, refusing to see it. But the dead animal at his feet and the words written all over the walls made the truth undeniable. All of this, every bit of that display of unbridled rage, was meant for him to see. The rest of the Foxes were just witnesses. Kevin was the target.
Someone was speaking to him, but he didn’t recognize the voice. It was only when the voice grew louder that he realized it was Riko.
Kevin was suddenly struck by a memory. It was the night of the Spring Championship finals, the Foxes and the Ravens were about to face each other on the court when Riko approached him, speaking in Japanese so only Kevin would understand. Neither of them knew at the time, but those would be the last words Riko ever spoke to him.
“It’s exhausting, isn’t it?” he had said, his voice savoring the cruelty on his tongue. “Hiding behind a mask, trying to convince yourself you’re in control. But I know how broken you are inside, Kevin. And I can see you’re already falling apart. Don’t worry though, you won’t have to pretend much longer. Soon, they’ll all see it too.”
December, 1996
Sometimes, Kevin had the impression that he was the only one who truly knew Riko. Even though they had only spent a few months together, it felt like decades had passed, as if the two boys had known each other for a lifetime. Riko could be impatient, rude, and mean sometimes, but Kevin simply couldn’t bring himself to feel angry with him. Every time Riko threw a tantrum during practice or said something unnecessarily harsh to someone, all Kevin could see was a six-year-old child who had been left behind. He knew the other kids were afraid of Riko, but he wasn’t, not anymore.
He had basically become Riko’s shadow, following him wherever he went. They spent most of their time on the court, stealing a few brief moments of rest throughout practice. Kevin would let Riko lie down with his head on his lap, and he would listen as Riko spoke of his life in New York and how much he missed his old home, just like Kevin missed his own home left behind in Washington. Kevin often wondered how Riko had so many vivid memories of that time, considering he had only spent six years living with his father before moving to West Virginia. But he never voiced those questions, because he could see how happy Riko was to share those memories with someone—things he’d never had the chance to talk about. And Kevin, too, was happy. Happy to be the first person to hear these treasured details Riko kept so close to his heart. Happy to see the light in his eyes and the smile on his lips, to know just how rare that glimpse was, and that he was the only one allowed to witness it.
People feared Riko because they never got to see the parts of him he kept hidden. They never saw Riko watching Exy games on TV, narrating everything that happened to Kevin, distracted and full of joy. In those moments they spent together, he seemed like a completely different person—like the boy he used to be. And that was all Riko really was. A boy, just like Kevin. He often forgot they were the same age, because Riko was always on high alert, constantly trying to behave older, tougher. But those rare instances where he allowed himself to just be himself were enough to remind Kevin that they were the same. Two boys trying to claim their place at the top. The sadistic smiles and cruel words were nothing more than rounding errors, leftover traces of a loveless childhood.
The moments after the Master’s punishments were when Riko showed the most physical warmth. The Master never used his hands, only his cane. He usually struck their backs, sometimes the palms of their hands. There was one time Kevin had accidentally rolled his eyes at something the Master said, which earned him a blow to the back of the head. Later that day, Riko had run his fingers through Kevin’s scalp, searching for the swelling hidden beneath strands of black hair, and when he found it, he held an ice pack to it, keeping it in place so Kevin's arms wouldn’t get tired.
Riko was always doing small gestures like that—cleaning Kevin’s wounds, putting bandages on his skin, massaging his swollen feet. Those gestures made the Master’s punishments more bearable. Pain was easier to endure when he knew Riko would take care of him afterward.
This past month, the Master had been growing increasingly dissatisfied with their performance. The punishments had become more frequent for both of them, though Kevin had far more bruises scattered across his skin. Still, that day, the Master seemed particularly disappointed with Riko, hitting his back every time he missed a goal. When practice ended, Riko tried to hide the pain he was feeling, but Kevin noticed when he struggled to even bend down and grab his backpack from the floor.
They went to their room, where Kevin gently applied ointment to Riko’s wounds. But the gesture wasn’t enough to tranquilize him.
He didn’t say a single word until they were about to fall asleep.
“We’re making too many mistakes,” he said into the darkness.
“I know,” Kevin replied, playing with the loose threads on his blanket.
“We need to fix that.”
“We will. Just give it time.”
“I don’t have time to waste,” Riko snapped, suddenly sitting up in his bed. “We need to try harder.”
“Riko, we are trying our hardest.”
“No, we’re not. We need to practice more. Not just with the Master or the little league. We can’t wait around for other people’s encouragement. The initiative has to come from us.”
Kevin stayed quiet. He considered saying that they were already practicing too much, that ninety percent of their days were dedicated to Exy. He couldn’t understand how Riko could possibly believe that what was missing was even more practice.
But Riko seemed totally convinced that this was the issue.
“Actually, we should go practice now.”
He got out of bed and turned on the lights, walking quickly to the closet.
“What?” Kevin asked, expecting Riko to tell him it was just a joke. But the other boy took off his pajamas and started putting on his uniform.
“I know the passcode to the court gate. The Master won’t be mad if he finds out we’re using our sleeping hours to practice more.”
“But Riko, it’s eleven p.m…”
“So? The Ravens have night practices, you know. They practice more than any other collegiate team in the country. That’s why they’re the best.”
Kevin remembered all the times he had played Exy in his backyard until the sky went dark. His mother would always call him in to shower and sleep, reminding him that effort had to be equally matched with rest. And well, his mother had invented the sport, so Kevin assumed she knew exactly what she was talking about.
But Riko was already fully dressed now, staring at Kevin with a confused and impatient look on his face.
“What are you doing? Get up and get dressed, Kevin. We have work to do.”
Kevin swallowed hard. He didn’t know how to tell Riko that he hadn’t agreed to any of this.
“Riko, I don’t know if I want to do this right now…”
“Why not?” Riko asked, genuinely not seeming to understand how absurd the idea was.
“Because it’s been a long day and I’m—”
He shut his mouth the moment he realized what he was about to say, but it was already too late. Riko knew exactly what word had nearly escaped his lips.
“You’re what, Kevin?” he challenged.
Kevin flinched, the ghost of the Master’s cane striking his back.
“I just… I don’t want to, Riko.”
He said it as gently as possible, knowing how deeply it would wound the other boy.
“Fine,” Riko said, nodding, seemingly trying to remain calm.
His restraint didn’t last even a second. He didn’t say a word, but his face said everything. Riko looked Kevin straight in the eye, his pupils seeming to devour his irises. His skin flushed red, and his lips pressed tightly into a straight line—just like the Master’s.
Riko was furious.
Kevin trembled. He had never seen that look on Riko’s face before. The sudden change in his expression—and the terrifying resemblance to the Master—caught him completely off guard, like the quick bite of a snake hidden in tall grass.
But then Riko shook his head, visibly upset and disappointed, and the look vanished.
“Fine. I thought we were a pair, but I guess I was wrong.”
“What? No, I—”
“Fuck it. I’ll go alone.”
And with that, he went to the door.
Kevin felt something similar to what he had felt when he’d watched the Master turn his back on him. That same fear of getting left behind.
He couldn’t let Riko go.
“Wait, Riko…” Kevin pleaded, but Riko didn’t seem to hear him, throwing the door open. “I’m sorry!”
That last word froze Riko in place, like it had flipped a switch inside him. As if that was all he’d needed to hear.
He stood in front of the door, staring down at his feet, trying to gather himself. He looked so hurt—a rare and heartbreaking sight for Kevin, who climbed out of bed and approached him.
“It’s just—” Riko stammered, his voice softer than usual. “None of this makes sense without you.”
That sentence shattered Kevin’s heart and then immediately healed it. Hearing Riko admit how much he mattered to him was like nectar for his soul, blooming flowers in his chest. He instantly felt like the worst person in the world for ever having doubted Riko, for even considering not standing by his side. They were a pair. No, more than that. They were a team. Just the two of them against the world.
“I know,” Kevin said, smiling gently and placing his left hand on Riko’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
He repeated the word like a mantra now that he knew how much it meant to Riko.
“I’ll come with you. Just give me a second to get dressed.”
Riko nodded, holding Kevin’s hand—and Kevin could feel his gratitude in the tips of his fingers.
A few minutes later, Riko was unlocking the gate to the court. It was completely dark, but somehow Riko also knew how to turn on the lights. They dropped their backpacks on the benches and began their practice with the drill that the Master had been trying to teach them earlier that afternoon.
“Get the cones,” Riko ordered.
Kevin opened the cart where all the cones were stored.
“The red ones,” he said, sounding impatient.
Kevin grabbed all the red cones and set them up on the court, mimicking the exact pattern the Master used.
They practiced for two hours. Riko was laser-focused, while Kevin spent most of the time swallowing his yawns. But by the end, they were both drenched in sweat and gasping for air.
They walked over to the benches, and when Kevin sat down, it felt like he could fall asleep right there. He knew it was already past midnight and that he had to wake up early the next morning, and just thinking about it made him want to throw himself into a dumpster and stay there for eternity. But then he saw the satisfied look on Riko’s face, and suddenly, all that exhaustion felt worth it.
Riko hadn’t sat down yet. He stood there, drinking water so quickly that his throat moved in waves.
“We need to do this more often,” he said. “We’re going to get better. I can feel it.”
Then he laid his head on Kevin’s lap, closing his eyes and sighing like his bones were as soft as a pillow.
“I didn’t push you too hard, did I?”
Kevin shook his head and smiled.
“No, of course not.”
That was a lie. Riko had been pretty demanding during practice, groaning in frustration every time Kevin let his fatigue show. But Kevin knew he wasn’t trying to be cruel, he was just pushing him to be better
They sat there for a while, without saying a word. The silence between them wasn’t tense or awkward. For a second, Kevin even thought Riko had actually fallen asleep on his knees, but then he suddenly heard his voice.
“When’s your birthday?”
It was a simple question, but he didn’t expect it.
“February twenty-second,” Kevin replied.
“Eighty-six?”
“Yeah.”
“Ha,” Riko chuckled. “I’m older than you.”
“Really?”
“Yup. By forty-two days. I was born on January eleventh.”
Silence stretched for a few more seconds while Riko seemed to be thinking deeply about something.
“You know, I’ve always wanted to be an older brother.”
Kevin smiled.
“I never had any siblings.”
“Did you ever want any?”
“I don’t know. I never really thought about it. But I guess it could’ve been fun.”
Riko got even more comfortable in his lap.
“It’s kinda crazy, isn’t it? Even our birthdays sort of match.”
His eyes then drifted toward the ceiling, and Kevin could tell something had just passed through his mind.
“I have an idea,” Riko said before sitting up.
He walked quickly and excitedly over to his backpack and opened it. He pulled out a permanent black marker and brought it over to Kevin with an enthusiastic smile.
“Can you write the number one on my face?”
Kevin took the marker, frowning.
“The number one?”
“Yeah, right here,” he confirmed, pointing to his left cheekbone. “But do the one Mr. Hotaru taught us in math class.”
“A Roman numeral?”
“Yeah, that one.”
Kevin was confused by the request, not understanding the reason behind it. But Riko looked so excited, like he’d just had the brightest idea of the century. Soon enough, Kevin caught his energy and smiled wide, getting up to stand in front of him.
“Okay, don’t move,” he said, gently holding Riko’s chin.
Kevin carefully wrote the number in the exact spot Riko had pointed to. When he finished, he felt pretty proud of himself.
“Done.”
“How does it look?”
“It looks good! Here, let me show you.”
He turned Riko toward the court’s transparent plexiglass walls. The reflection was faint, but the number was still clearly visible on Riko’s face.
“Do you like it?” Kevin asked.
“It’s perfect,” Riko said, fascinated by his reflection.
He spent a few seconds admiring himself, then took the marker from Kevin’s hand and said,
“Your turn. Come here.”
Kevin stepped forward and offered his face willingly. He closed his eyes when he felt the cold ink of the marker on his left cheekbone. Both boys were trying not to laugh, like they were pulling off some wild secret plan.
“All done,” Riko said, stepping back. “Look!”
Kevin eagerly looked at his reflection. He was expecting to see the number one written on his face—but instead, he saw the number two, marked in black ink against his skin.
The smile faltered on his lips.
“Why do I have to be the number two?” he protested, like a little girl whining about having to play with the ugliest doll.
Riko looked at him like he was an idiot.
“Because I’m older,” he said with a shrug. “And because I was born on the eleventh, and you on the twenty-second. Come on, Kevin. It’s not that hard to get.”
No, it wasn’t. Still, Kevin hated seeing that number on his face. The intensity of his anger took him by surprise. It was just a joke. He was taking it way too seriously. But something in Riko’s eyes told him this wasn’t a joke at all, and that made the ink feel like it was burning into his skin.
“Look at us,” Riko said, beaming. “Look.”
Kevin hesitantly stared at his reflection, seeing himself and Riko side by side, the numbers one and two perfectly aligned on their faces. He forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes just to satisfy Riko.
When they got back to their room, the first thing Kevin did was splash water on his face, scrubbing off that number as fast as he could.
Lagopus__muta on Chapter 1 Mon 01 Sep 2025 09:16PM UTC
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bittercup on Chapter 1 Wed 03 Sep 2025 01:46PM UTC
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mnnyards on Chapter 1 Sun 07 Sep 2025 03:57AM UTC
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bittercup on Chapter 1 Sun 07 Sep 2025 01:18PM UTC
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Powodzenia on Chapter 2 Sat 06 Sep 2025 03:13PM UTC
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bittercup on Chapter 2 Sun 07 Sep 2025 01:19PM UTC
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mnnyards on Chapter 2 Sun 07 Sep 2025 04:47AM UTC
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bittercup on Chapter 2 Sun 07 Sep 2025 01:46PM UTC
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mnnyards on Chapter 2 Sat 13 Sep 2025 04:57AM UTC
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mnnyards on Chapter 3 Sat 13 Sep 2025 05:43AM UTC
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