— trente-six ; thirty six —

"THE FOXES ARE known for leaving the banquet early," Xander commented, as their coach pulled into the expansive Foxhole Court parking lot. Some other teams had already arrived judging from the other colourful buses already parked right by the stadium. "So I bet they hated that they got drawn as hosts this year. It means they have to stay for the whole thing for once."

"They should leave early. They're a disgrace of a team and they know it," Alixis said spitefully.

Another Raven scoffed. "Everyone knows it."

It was no secret that the Ravens and the Foxes were not friends — their rivalry had been declared ever since Kevin Day transferred from the highest rank team to the lowest rank, and the unprecedented turn the Championships only strengthened that hatred between the teams. The Ravens had not only lost three of their best players that year — Kevin, Riko and Jean — but the pride of their status. A frequent topic of discussion in the Nest was derision towards the Foxes. Their team, the fractures backgrounds of all the players, their audacity to dare trying stealing the title of Champions.

Henri glanced at Soren to see whether he had anything to say on the matter but, as always, he remained silent. Henri had taken a seat next to Loren for the last leg of the journey and in essence declared continued stalemate on their silent war. They'd been checked into the same hotel room for the weekend true to the Master's pairing system and Henri didn't know he felt about that, seeing as he was still giving Soren the cold shoulder. They definitely wouldn't be sharing a bed tonight.

When they filed off the coach, a guard approached and led them around the back of the stadium to lead them through the back doors. The two locker rooms for home and away teams were being used to change and hold belonging. The Ravens were given the home team locker rooms seeing as the USC had occupied the other and Henri changed into his version of fancy for dinner — black jeans and a button up. He'd seen the Trojans red and gold minibus parked in the parking lot and that meant Jean was already out there. Henri wanted nothing more than to lock himself in the bathroom for the whole evening, as cowardly as that was.

"Excited for another brotherly reunion?" Matthias teased, as if reading something on his face.

"No," Henri said shortly.

"I'm excited to see how you guys act in real life, without all those cameras and eyes on you." He grinned when Henri just gazed at him, unimpressed. "Gonna get the claws out?"

"Like I'd tell you."

As much as it freaked Henri out, he was under no obligation to speak to Jean or interact with him in any way. On the talkshow, the basis was around them being together. This was a banquet for all Exy teams and Henri certainly wasn't about to go out of his way to speak to him. He could guarantee Jean would extend the same courtesy to him.

"Speaking of claws," Matthias said, and Henri could see where this was going, "did we just witness your first cat fight with Soren? Or do you normally do it behind the scenes in bed?"

"Again, why would I tell you?"

"Just seemed serious, is all," Matthias shrugged and glanced across the room at Soren. Loren was fixing his hair for him and her eyebrows furrowed slightly in whatever serious discussion they were caught up in. Henri seriously hoped it wasn't about him but he had a bad feeling it was. "So, trouble in paradise? Are the two of you not talking or something?"

Henri narrowed his eyes at the nonchalant series of questions. "Why exactly do you care?"

"Because if you and Soren are done, your heartbroken selves will be searching for a rebound on the market," Matthias said, with a gleam in his eyes. "And we all know I'm the perfect rebound."

"Really?" Henri said, bored. "I'd say you're mediocre."

Aria, hovering nearby as she fixed up her make up in a small compact mirror, sniggered at Matthias' affronted look. "Guess you're not all that, Matty."

"Whatever." Matthias ruffled Henri's hair and grinned when he batted it away with a scowl. "I can change your mind, easy. Just hit me up when Soren gets bored of you too."

Henri's scowl deepened. "Fuck off."

When they were all ready, they were led through the inner court to the orange and white rafters of the Foxhole Court. It had been decked out all Christmassy to spread cheer — tinsel draped between chairs and stands, stick on snowflakes on the plexiglass walls, crackers spread across tables and a giant Christmas tree at the corner of the court which was decked out in all kinds of colour decorations. The court looked small crowded with lots of people and tables, with the place set up for dinner. Two teams shared a table and Henri's stomach bottomed out when he found their black and red seating among the tables.

They were seated opposite the Trojans.

"This has got to be a joke," Henri muttered under his breath.

Lucas shot him a sympathetic look. "Someone probably thought you'd like that, huh?"

Henri spotted Jean at the same moment he looked up, his gaze darkening slightly when their eyes met. Still plenty of hard feelings there. Henri looked away and slipped into the seat between Loren and Kit. Dinner started off as a sordid affair — small talk and Exy discussion made across the table while the food was brought in. Henri stayed out of it for the most part, leaving Kit to chat with Zena on his other side while Loren made polite conversation with the Trojan opposite her. They were a friendly and welcoming team who were willing to leave old grudges behind despite the Ravens making enemies with all teams.

Jean was sat two seats down from Henri and completely ignored him. In fact, he did a decent job or ignoring all the Ravens and didn't contribute to the conversation either until the Ravens decided they'd left him alone for long enough.

"Been a while since you ditched us, Jean," Alixis said, tapping her fork against the plate. Her tone was casual but anyone could hear the passive aggressive undertones. "How's your new life treating you? Getting lots of sun over in California?"

"Not that it's been any help," KJ sneered. "You look as pale as ever."

Jean's response was short. "California is fine."

"It's been great having him," Jeremy Knox, Trojans captain, said cheerfully. There was nothing spiteful or malicious in his word and yet the upperclassmen shot his dirty looks, to which he remained unfazed. "Thank you for letting such a talented player join us."

"Letting?" Jude scoffed. "He was an arrogant nuisance and a prick. We were all glad to see him go."

"You are all arrogant and pricks," Jean said coldly. "Do not act as if I was different in that regard, simply because I played better than all of you."

"Better?" Soren asked.

His tone as neutral but Henri wasn't the only one who looked over in surprise. Usually, he stayed out of the pointless ragging and bickering over who was the best unless it was directed at him. He was looking at his old roommate through narrowed eyes.

"I know what I said," Jean said, without missing a beat. "You think you would have made captain if I was still there?"

"Without a doubt."

"The most arrogant of us all," Jean said scornfully and flicked a look at Henri for the first time all evening. His gaze was steely when he switched to French, knowing only Soren and Henri would understand. "And how are you finding your new roommate? Insufferable, hm?"

"Shut up," Henri retorted on instinct, forgetting to switch to French. He regretted his mistake when everyone along the table turned to look at him at the realisation he was part of this conversation and made sure to change languages when he next spoke. "You don't even know me."

"He's different," Soren said, looking at Henri as he said it, but Henri wanted to think he wouldn't tell Jean that he was sleeping with his brother. Surely he wouldn't go that far no petty they were both feeling. "He doesn't have the cautionary careful streak both you and Kevin had. He's reckless and suicidal in his actions."

"The Master hasn't beaten it out of you?" Jean asked, surprised.

"Not yet," Henri muttered, and returned Soren's look. Just the weight of his green gaze made his stomach flip. "What, are you talking to me now?"

"Who said I wasn't?"

"It was pretty fucking obvious," Henri said. "After you found out about Lewis — "

"You know your stalker's name?" Soren interrupted.

Jean stared at him. "You have a stalker?"

"He's not my stalker!" Henri shook his head in frustration and wished Jean wasn't here for this conversation. There was no way he could switch it back to English when both teams could so easily eavesdrop. "Why have you been ignoring me?"

"I'm not ignoring you, idiot," Soren said, but he sounded more fed up than annoyed. "You've been ignoring me."

"Well, the comment about my father was unnecessary. I didn't tell you about that so — "

"You told him about them?" Jean paled when Henri said nothing. "Tell me you didn't, Henri. You didn't tell him the truth."

"I..."

"You idiot," Jean hissed, with enough venom that conversation around them died down and their teams shot them curious glances. "The Master hasn't hurt you yet? Wait until he finds about this — he'll beat you black and blue. If this information leaks to the press, they'll have a fucking field day. The Moriyamas are already under a lot of scrutiny since Riko's death so you better believe Ichirou will put a bullet right between your eyes if you start causing problems like this."

Henri curled his hands into fists under the table, feeling sick at Jean's bleak words. "It wouldn't leak," he said, wanting to curl up and die under the force of Jean's glare. That sense of helplessness and confusion was coming back to him stronger than ever. "I only told Soren."

"And why the fuck would you do that?"

"Because I asked," Soren said.

Jean looked at him disbelief. "You never asked me. You never even spoke to me unless necessary. Unless..."

He looked between Henri and Soren, his grey gaze calculating, before realisation dawned on his face. "So that's why. Seriously? How did that happen? You know what, I don't want to know," he muttered, rubbing his temples as if just looking at Henri was giving him a headache. "How long has this been a thing?"

Soren's expression was unreadable. "This?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Soren. Is Jude out of the picture then?"

The backliner scowled at the mention of his name. "What the hell did you say about me?" he demanded. "We've been over this shit. You and Kevin did it, now your dumbass brother and Soren. Don't speak French in front of the team."

Jean abruptly stood up, despite the fact dinner was only halfway through. "Follow me," he said in angry English. Other tables were murmuring and looking at them as Jean motioned for Henri to follow him with an imperious curl of his fingers. "Now."

Henri felt inexplicably scared of whatever Jean needed to be alone with him to say. "No."

"No?" Jean barked a laugh. "My apologies, did I make it sound like a choice?"

Xander frowned at his old teammate. "Can't it wait until after dinner?"

"Stay out of this, Alexander," Jean said, not even looking at him. "Do not try to play mediator in matters you do not understand."

"No one cares about your matters," Benjamin growled, growing defensive of his friend.

"Exactly why I was not addressing you. Henri," Jean snapped. "Now."

Henri wanted to tell him to fuck off and go back to his dinner, but he found himself rising to his feet. Jean reminded him too much of his father and Henri had learnt as a child it was always better to follow his orders than risk incurring his wrath. He didn't know whether Jean had inherited that same temper but his usual mouthy attitude had failed him. He could feel that inexplicable sense of dread which had been building over the course of dinner and forced it down with some difficult.

"Is there a problem here?"

Henri turned to see a tall man with shrewd brown eyes and curling tribal tattoos adorning his skin had come to their table. Coach Wymack.

"No problem, coach," Jean said, in a polite voice no one believed for a second. "Just wanted to step outside for a second to speak to my brother in private."

Wymack turned a scrutinising look on Henri. "This true?"

Henri hesitated a second too long and Jean shot him a lethal look. He just nodded in response.

"Fine," Wymack said, waving a dismissive hand. "Go."

Henri swallowed his unease and followed Jean across the stadium into the home team locker room, aware of every set of eyes in the room watching them. The moment they were out of sight Jean grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him against the lockers. "Whatever game you're playing, it's dangerous," he said in a low voice. "I advise you stop it now."

"I'm not playing any games."

"Really?" Jean narrowed his eyes. "Fooling around with Soren is one thing but telling him things he should not know is unacceptable. How much does he know?"

"All of it," Henri said numbly. "The truth."

Jean cursed in aggressive French and glared at him. "The world we're in, it's not one we can escape. Kevin had a father to run to and I had a fluke with the Trojans but you can't push your luck that way. Whether you care or not, our parents died for you and you will not let their deaths be in vain."

Henri was shaking his head before Jean finished speaking. "Soren wouldn't say — "

"You think you know him, that you're in love?" He laughed bitterly at Henri's flinch. "You're just a child, little brother. I know what Soren is really like. He strings them along thinking he cares and drops them the moment it could have any compromise on his future. It happened to Jude, it'll happen to you."

"You think I don't know that?" Henri shoved Jean's arm away. "I know it's not going to last. I know I'm just here to play Exy, okay? So if that's what you brought me here to talk about you're wasting your breath and my time."

"I don't think you do know," Jean said, and raised a hand to cut him off when Henri opened his mouth to speak. "But that's not why I brought you out here. You need to learn how to toe the line or you'll die. Understand? You're an annoying brat but you play Exy well enough that you could survive the five years to escape, if you just keep your head down."

"You think I don't want to do that? That team hates me and they don't make it any easier."

"Cry me a fucking river. This is the last warning I will give you," Jean said. "Don't you dare let our parents have died for nothing. I will make sure you regret it for the rest of your short life if you do."

Henri sank down on the benches long after Jean had left and ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm down. There was no reason for him to be feeling panicky. Everything Jean had said he already knew — Soren didn't actually care about him and he'd probably end the year in a casket. So why could he feel his face getting hot, his heart speeding up? No, no, no. Not this again. Henri couldn't deal with another panic attack and certainly not while he wasn't even on his own court. He tried to control his breathing like Soren had shown him that night but it was already running away from him, harsh and shallow as if his lungs were trying to tell him they needed more oxygen.

Maybe they didn't have enough oxygen. Maybe he was really going to die this time.

He lurched to his feet and pressed a shaking hand against his chest, feeling the racing beat of his heart. It wasn't just his hand — his whole body shook with tremors and Henri didn't know how to make it stop. He found the bathroom and managed to turn the sink on with trembling fingers, already feeling like he was running out of breath, and splashed his face with cold water. It didn't do much so he did it again and again and again until the icy splash brought him a little bit back to reality. Henri gripped the sides of the sink and squeezed his eyes shut as he waited, praying it would end. It was at least ten minutes before his pulse finally slowed down enough for him to breathe properly.

"Oh, this is interesting," an unfamiliar voice said. "You don't look so good."

Henri spun around to see a guy who couldn't have been much older than him leaning against the wall in a lazy stance, watching him with a small unconcerned smile playing at his lips. Henri was positive he'd never seen him before in his life yet there was something vaguely familiar about his dark hair, a few shades away from black, and those electric blue eyes.

"How long have you been standing there?" Henri demanded, feeling strangely violated.

"Long enough," the guy drawled. "Long enough to know whatever issues you have, they'd be enough to qualify you a place on my broken team."

It only took Henri a second to unpick the meaning behind that. "Palmetto State," he said, recognition dawning a second later. "Jack Robinson."

That was why Henri thought he'd seen him before — on TV, playing for the Palmetto State Foxes. The Foxes were given a lot of shit for their tiny team last year and therefore one of the requirements the ERC gave them to continue playing was larger numbers, meaning a considerably higher number of recruits than Wymack usually got. Jack was one of them, the volatile new dealer already having managed to acquire an image of troublemaker despite having only been on court for three months. Henri didn't know much more about him beyond the fights he was good at starting and that he seemed to be clashing heads especially with Neil Josten.

"And you're the famous Henri Moreau," Jack said, tipping his head and regarding Henri through jagged strands of hair. "Everyone's talking about you and Jean, you know. The dramatic little showdown and walk off court. Kevin wanted to follow you to see what was up but daddy dearest stopped him."

"So you thought you'd follow me instead?"

"Free country," Jack shrugged. "Dinner finished and you'd been gone for so long I was bored enough to be curious. These events are so boring — I'm only here because I've been forced into it with a little bribery. Anyway, last thing I was expecting was for that little mental breakdown I witnessed."

"That's none of your business," Henri snapped, feeling his face turn warm despite himself.

"No," Jack agreed. "It's not."

"What do you even want?"

"Me? I don't want anything. Like I told you, I'm just bored."

"Then go be bored somewhere else," Henri said, flicking off the tap he hadn't realised was still running. It was only a matter of time before Loren or someone came looking for him. "I can't be bothered to deal with people like you."

Henri meant is as an offhand comment as he brushed past him but Jack caught his arm, pulling him to a stop. "People like me?" he repeated, but something in his tone had shifted. He wasn't smiling anymore.

"Yeah," Henri replied, meeting his gaze head on. Maybe he was scared of the Master and his own dreams, but he wasn't scared of this guy. Jack must have been around 5'10 and Henri realised a start he'd grown to the point they were nearly the same height. "People like you. Rejects, loners, psychopaths. Isn't that all the Foxes ever recruit?"

Henri expected a violent reaction or some kind of physical response, especially considering the media had labelled Jack as explosive when it came to fights. But he'd clearly been around the Ravens, easily triggered into a punch and falling for anything you baited them into, for too long.

"Maybe it is," Jack said, his lips curling in that same smile that never reached his eyes. "Surely you would have been a better fit among us lonely rejected psychopaths?"

"Maybe I would have. Doesn't change the fact that I'm with the Ravens now."

"Come join us, then." Jack tightened his grip on Henri. "Kevin was the first runaway and look how happy he is. You could be the second one."

Henri tensed when Jack leant forward but he stopped a few inches away, his gaze appraising. He studied for a little longer before releasing his hold on him and turning away to leave without a backwards glance. Henri stared after him and wondered what the hell that interaction was about. He liked to think he was good at sussing out the general vibe of a person and yet he couldn't get a single read on the Foxes' dealer. It made sense now. Jack was good at starting fights, but always on his own terms. He wasn't like the Ravens — he knew when he wanted to start something and it would never be out of defensive aggression.

Those were always the most dangerous types.