tw: use of the cane (mild)

— vingt-neuf ; twenty nine —

SEPTEMBER PASSED BY IN a blur and October came faster than Henri was expecting. Without meaning to, he settled into a routine — Exy, classes, Exy, and then the rest of the evening spent alone with Soren. Sometimes, the last part of the evening didn't work, because Henri had work or Soren wanted to rewatch matches and read tactics instead for upcoming games. That excuse always managed to piss Henri off but it's not as if he could make a dent in his Exy obsession. Soren would always choose Exy over him, any day, and Henri knew that. There were also the days he took his tutor duties seriously and made Henri study to save his grades, which was arguably the worst for him.

Their next two matches passed much the same as the others — wins in the favour of the Ravens, without even coming close. These were the small fry, the teams that qualified but never made it to finals, and no one expected the results to go otherwise. Henri didn't play in those games, which was what he'd expected. The freshmen were kept on the sides as subs. This delegation seemed to appease the other upperclassmen, who pretty much left him alone. Jude and KJ would never like him, but Aria, Benjamin and Alixis had become fairly indifferent to him. Henri had figured out when it came down to it those three didn't care enough to bother him.

Matthias and Xander were more confusing. Henri hadn't forgotten that they were part of the group that messed with him just because he'd been allowed to play, but under most circumstances, they acted perfectly friendly towards him. Henri was more inclined to forgive the latter, seeing as he'd tried to stop the others, but Matthias was relentless. He'd bug Henri, during practice and after, to the point it was just easier to talk to him rather than ignore him. Henri still didn't trust him but he didn't exactly have a choice about interacting with him.

Henri reached the ball Matthias threw seconds before Alixis did, and was running in the same breath he snatched it up. He knew Alixis was on his heels and feinted to the right on his fourth step, twisting with the racquet protected by his body so Alixis couldn't steal possession, and then sprinted right past her when she turned to follow his movements. He passed off the wall on a rebound to Soren just a second before Alixis checked him, but she'd already missed her window. Soren passed to Aria, who passed back, and then the goal lines lit up red when Soren made the shot. The Master blew his whistle to call the end of the scrimmage.

Alixis tugged her helmet off and looked at Henri as ran fingers through her short black hair. "Not bad," she admitted grudgingly, as if the words pained her.

Henri watched her walk off court with some bewilderment at the first sign of any approval she had given, even if it wasn't much. "She's realising the same thing I did," Soren said, coming up alongside him. "As annoying as you might be, you're not completely useless on our court. You had bad habits when you first came here but you learn and improve quickly."

Henri touched his chest in mock shock. "Approval from two Ravens in one day? Has the world gone mad?"

"Don't let it get to your head," Soren said. "You have potential, but you still have a long way to go. You're thinking more but your playing style is still too instinctive, especially in the heat of the moment — "

"Yeah, yeah," Henri said, waving a dismissive hand over his shoulder as he made his way to inner court. "Heard it all before, Soren. Try a new song and dance."

"Idiot," Soren muttered from behind him.

They were the last two of court from the scrimmage and the others were already discussing feedback from practice, with the exception of Jude. He was watching the two of them through narrowed eyes, but Soren didn't even notice, adding to the improvements Alixis was giving. Henri raised an eyebrow at his gaze and Jude just scowled, turning back to the group. Henri figured he had something to say, and sure enough, he held out a hand to stop him when Henri when to step off to follow the others to the lockers. Soren stopped and glanced back when he saw Henri wasn't behind him. He hesitated only for a couple of seconds when Henri shook his head before continuing.

Henri flicked a look at Jude. "What do you want?"

"It won't last," Jude said. "Whatever you think you have with him, it won't last because it's not real."

"That's all you wanted to say to me?"

"I want you to know that there's nothing special about you." Jude's blue eyes gleamed with loathing. "He seems like he cares about you now, doesn't he? And you care about him."

It wasn't a question, but Jude waited for an answer anyway. "You don't know anything about me."

"I know I'm right. I can see it in your face," he said. "I was the same as you, thinking I could change his mind, but you will always care about him more than he cares about you. It's inevitable he'll grow bored of you. He told me so himself."

"When?" Henri narrowed his eyes. "Last I checked, he doesn't even speak to you."

"The day he took me aside after practice, to talk on the court. You were his newest toy to play with and he was awfully hostile when I brought up the possibility he might actually like you. He made it clear, under no circumstances, that that was a possibility."

Henri knew which day he was talking about. It was the day Soren had dragged Jude aside because of his illegal playing, and also the day Soren had made it clear Henri meant nothing to him. It was also the day Henri had vowed to cut things off between them, to avoid ending up broken — now look where he was. He should have known he'd never be strong enough to stay away, because he'd always been bad with giving in to temptation. Soren was his biggest temptation and he'd crumbled after a week.

"Great," Henri said, shoving Jude's hand out of the way. "Is that all? Stop wasting my oxygen by speaking."

He didn't wait for a response. Most of the others were still in the locker room, and Matthias, true to his annoying nature, leant against the locker next to Henri's as he began removing his gear. "Had a nice heart to heart with Jude?" he wondered. "I can't ask when Jude's here, because he'll punch me in the face."

"And I won't?"

"Nah, you're nicer than him."

"Questionable," KJ muttered from across the room.

"No one is bleeding," Henri said, ignoring KJ. "Take that how you will."

"Did you battle to decide who gets Soren?"

Henri glanced at Soren, but unsurprisingly, he paid no mind to their conversation despite having been mentioned. True to his Exy-only-no-friends mindset, he never joined the conversation between Ravens unless he was invited into it or it was to do with Exy. Henri knew the only time he could have any kind of meaningful conversation with him was when they were alone.

"Shut up," Henri said, his go-to response when he couldn't be bothered to deal with Matthias. "Go bug someone else."

Matthias grinned. "But it's just so fun bugging you."

Jude entered the room and for once Henri was grateful, because that was Matthias' clue to finally shut up. "By the way, Henri," Xander said, "the Master wants to speak to you."

Henri stuffed his gear into his locker. "About what?"

"He didn't tell me," he replied. "Just said you need to go to his office after practice."

Henri swallowed the irrational dread rising in his chest. The Master rarely called him aside, but there could be any number of reasons why he wanted to speak to him. He didn't need to immediately jump to the conclusion that the Master was about to beat him for a mistake he hasn't realised he'd made or that Ichirou was waiting with a gun in hand because he hadn't been good enough. That's when it occurred to him that this could be about this grade. Until Soren's reality check, he'd been getting consistently bad grades and the Master might be about to let him know why that wasn't okay, using his cane.

Soren seemed to be having similar thoughts as to his random summoning. "What have you done?" he asked, in French.

"Nothing. I...I don't know." Henri's response also in a different language was enough to get the attention of the other Ravens, but he looked at Soren. The older boy was already watching him in a way that suggested he was looking at a dead man walking. "I brought my history grade up to a B. I'm not failing anymore."

"That you were failing at any point is enough," Soren frowned. "He won't tolerate any risk. What are you going to do?"

"The only thing I can do," Henri muttered. "I have to go see him."

"You can't."

Henri blinked. "What?"

"He'll hurt you. He put you in hospital last time," Soren said, as if Henri didn't remember that. "I've seen the things he did to Jean and Riko, and Kevin, while he was here. You can't go."

"I don't have a choice, Soren," Henri said, trying to hide his surprise that he even cared at all. All the Ravens were openly watching their conversation despite not understanding a word and Jude was looking at Soren because of the edge in his tone. "Trying to avoid him will just make the punishment worse. It's fine. He can't hospitalise me in the middle of the season — it'll raise too many questions."

He didn't look entirely convinced and Henri wasn't so sure he believed it himself either, but Soren just pressed his lips into a grim line and didn't bother arguing any further. He seemed to understand they wouldn't get anywhere discussing the matter.

"What was that about?" Matthias asked curiously, when Henri flicked his locker shut and turned to leave.

"Wouldn't you like to know," Henri said, brushing by him out of the locker room.

He paused outside the Master's office for a moment longer than he needed and took a deep breath before knocking. He pushed the door open and stepped inside at the Master's call, closing the door and sticking close by it as if that would someone save him if the Master decided to wield his cane, which was leaning against the desk by his hand. Unfortunately for Henri, he couldn't keep the comfort of solid wood at his back.

"Sit," the Master ordered, motioning to the chair in front of his desk.

Henri perched on the edge of his chair, prepared to bold at any second, as if he would be allowed to. He wasn't stupid enough to say anything, instead waiting in tense silence for the Master to speak. He spent ten minutes sorting through the sheets on his desk, leaving Henri to stew in his own anticipation. He was seconds from breaking the silence when the Master finally looked up.

"In the game tomorrow, you will play the second half," he said.

"What?" Henri was certain he'd misheard. Of all the things he'd been expecting, that was the last one. "Play second half? The entire thing?"

"Yes."

Henri could only stare at him and it took him three tries to find his voice. "But why? Master," he added, as a hasty afterthought. "Why put me on?"

"You have peaked nationwide interest with your place on the Ravens and you are currently one of the most searched Class I Exy players. I intend to utilise that to my advantage," he said, unaware of the internal turmoil those words caused Henri. Most searched? Again, more unwanted attention he wished he could somehow duck out of. "You play well enough that you will not be placing this team at risk by playing. Placing you on my line-up now will generate all the publicity the Ravens need and maximising that spotlight means you will feature on a talkshow straight after the game."

Henri was still reeling from the first bombshell and wasn't expecting or ready for that one. He'd turned down every TV offer the reporters had thrown his way, but this was different — the Master wasn't offering, he was informing. There was no choice for Henri in going through with this. He opened his mouth, not sure what he was going to say to that, but his heart stopped at the Master's next words.

"Jean Moreau will be joining you as the second guest."

"No," Henri said instinctively, earning a dangerous look, but he couldn't help it. Panic was a slow burn at the back of his throat when the words registered. Seeing Jean on TV was enough to turn his stomach inside out — appearing on the screen next to him, with an entire nation of Exy fans watching, was impossible. "I can't — "

"You do not decide what you can and cannot do, Henri Moreau."

Henri was on his feet in an instant but he had nowhere to go. "I'll do anything else," he said, hearing the hint of desperation seeping into his voice. "Anything but that."

"This is not negotiable." He seized his cane and Henri couldn't stop all of a flinch. "Sit down."

Henri had little choice but to sink back down on the chair. "Jean would never agree to this," he said, not needing to have met his brother to know that.

"Playing for the Trojans does not make him exempt from his ownership to the Moriyamas and Jean knows this. He has as much choice as you do in this matter."

Henri bit his tongue to stop the protests seconds from escaping his lips and tasted the coppery tang of blood. Even then, the pain wasn't distraction enough. He wanted to argue but he knew that all it would earn him would be bruises and blood. If the Master had decided he was doing this, he would be forced into it or he would die resisting. There was little more he could do than force a nod and try not to look like he wanted to die, which he knew was probably unsuccessful.

"After the game, you will be driven straight to the late night show and driven straight back to the hotel we are staying at when it is over," the Master said. "That is all."

The Master lowered his gaze to his paperwork and Henri knew that was his dismissal, but he still hesitated. "Why — "

The Master brought the cane up so quickly Henri didn't catch more than a flash of gold and he yanked his left hand back at the shooting pain through his fingers. The gilded head of the cane could have shattered every bone in his hand, if swung with enough force, but the Master had merely rapped his knuckles hard enough to sting and bruise, hard enough to serve as a warning for next time. He didn't think the Master would really destroy his hand when Henri's only purpose was to play for him but he didn't stick around long enough to become the next Kevin Day.

"What did he want?" Kit asked, when Henri returned to the Nest, from the sofa where he was playing a game with Xander and Lucas.

Henri weighed his options. They would find out he was playing in the game eventually, but the question was whether to break the news now or let them find out when the Master gave out the line-up tomorrow before the game. Either way, the upperclassmen would be pissed, so he might as well let them know now while he was on home territory rather than a different country for the away game. It also meant he would have a knife nearby if they tried to give him hell about the decision.

"I'm playing second half tomorrow," Henri said.

Lucas dropped his controller. "What?"

"Do you have a problem with that?" Henri asked, looking at Xander.

Xander smiled sadly. "You know I don't. As for the others — "

"Hey, Moreau Junior," Aria said, emerging from the Black Hall with Alixis. Henri heard Matthias' voice from the kitchen, meaning the others were probably with him and would be here soon. "Get scolded pretty bad? What did you do this time?"

"They can tell you," Henri said, already brushing past them towards his room. The bedroom had a lock and meant he didn't have to deal with any furious meltdowns. Hopefully, they'd have calmed down by tomorrow. If not, Henri would have to deal with that when it came.

Soren was waiting for him in their room and scanned him from head to toe through narrowed green eyes as Henri closed the door behind him, searching for any injuries. Apparently, that wasn't deemed thorough enough for him, because Soren slid off the bed and conducted his own physical examination as if expecting to find a bone poking through Henri's skin. Henri tolerated it silently until Soren's hands slipped under his shirt and he raised an eyebrow.

"You could just ask, you know." He smirked at Soren's flat look. "No need to stoop to such levels."

Soren dug his fingers into Henri's skin. "Did he really leave you untouched or are you just pretending you aren't seconds away from passing out?"

"Not entirely untouched," Henri said, raising his left hand. The skin along the knuckles was red and a little swollen, but nothing was broken or bleeding. "It was nothing. A warning. He would never break my hand in the middle of the season."

Soren was unconvinced and took Henri's hand in his own, running fingers across the sore skin. Henri was careful not to wince and Soren finally seemed satisfied, but he didn't drop Henri's hand. Henri stared as Soren slowly threaded their fingers, the faded tan of his skin contrasted with Henri's fair skin, and the heat that spread through Henri's chest was something stronger than desire. They never held hands, and besides the night of Henri's birthday when he broke down, they never hugged. Their relationship was strictly physical, on Soren's terms and Jude's predictions, and never strayed towards anything remotely romantic.

And yet. Yet they were holding hands, yet the simple gesture felt as good as making out if not better, and yet Henri didn't want to let go. Not now, not ever.

"He let you off with a warning?" Soren asked.

It took Henri a moment to remind himself what the conversation was about and his chest filled with the dread he'd momentarily managed to forget. "Actually," Henri said, swallowing, "it wasn't about my grades."

Soren raised a questioning eyebrow and Henri chewed his lip as he considered how to phrase it. He stared at their intertwined hands as he considered the situation he'd been backed into, trying to find some comfort in the heat of Soren's palm against his, but he still felt like he'd swallowed rocks at the thought that in twenty four hours he'd be meeting his brother. After a lifetime of knowing he existed and never thinking he'd know him, it still felt surreal. Henri settled on the easier part of the explanation.

"The Master wants me to play second half tomorrow," Henri finally said. "The upperclassmen are probably plotting how best to kill me as we speak."

"That's it?"

"You aren't surprised?" Henri frowned. "I'm the only freshman who's played in actual games, and he's giving me a whole half now. It doesn't make sense."

"It makes enough sense. The Ravens need all the attention they can get right now and you can draw it to us." Soren ran a considering thumb across Henri's knuckles, sending tiny sparks of warmth down his fingers. "I don't understand why that would earn you a hit."

"That didn't. He hit me because I tried to refuse his demand that I appear on a talkshow." Henri paused on the next words and finally managed to get them out. "With Jean."

"With Jean," Soren echoed, surprise warring with disbelief across his face before he settled on a frown. "You don't want to."

It wasn't a question but Henri still looked at him incredulously. "Of course I don't want to."

"You'll have to meet him one day."

"The only day I planned to meet him was on court, wearing different colours," Henri said. "Now I have to speak to him on national TV with everyone watching, and when he learns it's my fault his parents are dead — " Henri gritted his teeth and shook his head. "He won't want to speak to me. Ever. And I don't blame him."

"It's only your fault if you killed them," Soren said. "Did you?"

"You know I didn't."

"Then it isn't your fault."

"It's not that simple."

"Simplify it, then."

Henri sighed. "You don't understand."

"No, I don't." Soren's voice was hard as he tugged on Henri's hand. "Because you won't explain it to me. Someone killed your parents which resulted in you coming here, and whichever way I look at it, that makes no sense. Did they catch the man who did it?"

"It isn't like that. I wish it was but the man who did it could never be caught and no one will ever investigate. I just..." Henri tightened his grip on Soren's hand even though he wasn't trying to pull away. "I can't tell you. Even if I wanted to, the Master would beat me if I told anyone."

Soren stared at him. "What does the Master have to do with it?"

"Everything. See?" He shook his head again. "It's too complicated. You don't want to get dragged in to it."

"You don't know what I want."

No, Henri thought, looking at their hands again, I don't. He didn't realise how badly he wanted to tell someone the truth, the full truth, because Soren had never pushed for it before. It wouldn't be easier but it would at least feel easier if someone else knew the reality of the Moriyamas and the Moreaus — it would be a burden lifted from his shoulders. He shouldn't tell Soren, but he'd already told him more than anyone else. Would it really hurt to fill in the gap to complete the whole story?

"You know I wouldn't tell anyone," Soren said, as if sensing his conflict. "Who would I tell?"

"Loren."

"It isn't her business and she would never pry."

Henri bit his lip and knew he trusted Soren enough to have the truth. "Later," he said finally. "It's a long story and we have a game tomorrow. But first — "

Henri pulled him closer, letting himself forget Jean and the Master and Exy in the heat of Soren's body.