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i.
On the day it happens, it rains.
He is eight and his mother is dead.
Car accident, they say. Gone too soon, they say. I wonder what will happen to her son, they say.
Her funeral is a public affair. Kevin had always known his mother as a private person.
There are flashes of a camera off to his left as he sits stiffly in his seat and tries his hardest not too shuffle too much or make a scene. He is only ten and he knows that if he cries, even at his mother’s funeral, the media will spin a story that is untrue and profitable.
There are exy fans and players who place flowers on her casket but have never placed a flower in her hair. They share words of appreciation they would have never spoken to her face. They speak of how she is ‘at rest’ and ‘in a better place’ as if she would ever truly be so.
If anyone had ever thought to Kevin how he had felt about her passing, he’d tell them that it was simple. She was here one second and the next she was gone. He could not change that. He could not change how Tetsuji shuffled him into his car after the funeral and brought him twenty-six steps into a darkness he would not be able to leave.
When he catches a glimpse of his face in the rear-view mirror, he thinks that the raindrops drying in streaks on his face look like a lot like tears.
Tetsuji gives him one day to mourn over the loss of his mother before he is placed on a court with his exy stick in hand.
The feeling of hardwood under his feet grounds him as his hands tighten minutely around the shaft of his racquet. He is reminded that this is his sport too. He turns towards the stands out of habit and his smile dims when he remembers that his mother will no longer be able to watch him on the court.
The thought hits him harder than a defender would during a championship game and tears well in his eyes before he can stop them.
His mother will never be there to smile at him after a game again. She will never run her fingers through his hair and hold him close like he scored the game-winning goal again. She will never tell him how proud of him that she is again. She will never—
He knows he shouldn’t be so caught up on this. He knows that Tetsuji and Riko at watching him from center court and he needs to make his way over so they can start their practice. He knows all of this and yet even that can’t stop the way his knees buckle, and he cries out a miserable sob.
He crumbles to the ground and clutches his racquet to his chest as he cries and cries until there are no more tears left to cry.
(In the distance, Tetsuji watches the display with a pointed gaze. He gave the boy one day to mourn. He should have known that Kevin would always be more suited towards two.)
ii.
Nathaniel Wesninski is fast. Faster than Kevin and Riko. He should be a striker with that speed, but Kevin doesn’t question the backliner stick in his hand. There are already two strikers, the master wouldn’t want another.
It is only the three of them on the court, but Tetsuji is just outside of the court doors in case he needs to be there for them.
Nathaniel asks why they have numbers on their face and Kevin resists the urge to rub at the marker ink marking his skin. Riko smirks when he tells him, Now everyone knows that we’re going to be the best.
To give credit where credit is due, Nathaniel doesn’t ask about it anymore. Instead, he turns to Kevin and asks when they can start playing exy instead.
They play a two-on-one game, with two strikers and one backliner and an empty goal. Kevin grins to himself when the ball sails from his stick’s pocket to the goal lines and the court is illuminated red. He makes sure to keep one goal behind Riko at the most, knowing better than to overshadow his partner.
Kevin ignores the sense of longing in his chest when he notices the blonde woman in the stands who Nathaniel makes a habit of looking back at whenever he successfully blocks either of the two strikers. His mother, his mind supplies unhelpfully as he watches her tight smile ease up a little whenever her eyes meet Nathaniel’s.
He no longer thinks of the Kayleigh Day when he is on the court. She is gone and he is not. There are more important things to worry about now. He has no time to think of her during practice, but if his checks against Nathaniel are just a smidge harder than they need to be, it’s because the kid needs to step it up.
Riko tells him that Nathaniel will be number three while they set up the cones for more drills. There is an uneasiness in his stomach at the way Riko looks at Nathaniel, but Kevin ignores it. It was probably nothing.
They practice until Kevin’s legs turn to jelly and threaten to collapse under him. He barely has the strength to hold his racquet, but there is a smile on his face when he watches Riko outmaneuver Nathaniel.
Evermore will never be a happy space, but it is his home. Even if he is warier of Tetsuji’s cane than he is of how often Riko plays with knives, it is the home he will return to every day after practice.
But, if he can play exy with Riko and Nathaniel, he thinks he will be happy.
Later, when Tetsuji enters the court and leads the three of them up into the tower to have them watch Nathan Wesninski torture and cut up a screaming man, Kevin thinks that he will never truly be happy as long as he is here.
iii.
Jean is not Nathaniel, but he is number three.
On top of that, he is also Riko’s.
Kevin is not blind. He sees the way that Jean holds himself on the court during scrimmages. He sees the way that Jean holds himself off the court. He knows that Riko is not playing nice when he brings knives into Jean’s room at night. Kevin is not blind, but he is not a martyr either.
Without an exy racquet in hand, Kevin is nothing more than a coward playing at being a prince. As much as he wants to take Jean’s pain away from him, he would never step in front of Riko’s knife for him either.
Kevin was not raised a fighter, the Moriyama’s made sure of that. He has no way to stop Riko from hurting Jean without hurting them both even more.
Instead, he asks Jean to teach him French on days that Riko is away and cannot hear them. Kevin stumbles through his words in French not much unlike Jean’s words in English. Tucked away in Kevin and Riko’s dorm room is the only safe space Jean has been given in the nest and it is the only way that Kevin can offer his help.
There are days of quiet, whispered French in dark dorm rooms in which Kevin learns that Jean has a younger sister, that Jean was born in Marseilles and loves the way the sunset looked on the ocean. Kevin learns that Kevin is the only friend that Jean has ever had.
There are days of silenced cries in which Jean curls in on himself, hands held awkwardly in his lap once Riko has left for the day and his fingers are purple and swollen and broken by his own hand. Kevin offers his silent support, grabbing ice packs and stealing what pain killers he can to at least alleviate some of the pain that he is too much of a coward to put a stop to.
Désolé, he whispers as he does nothing while Riko runs his blade over the expanse of Jean’s skin. Désolé, he whispers as he does nothing while Riko covers his face and pours water over the cloth. Désolé, he whispers as he does nothing while Riko invites others into Jean’s bed at night even when the other begs and begs for it to stop. Désolé, he whispers as he watches how, day by day, the light from Jean’s eyes fades and fades.
He wants to tell Jean that he is sorry, but apologies do not take the pain away. His apologies do not change the fact that he stood there and watched everything. His apologies will not bring the light back into his eyes.
It is fitting, it seems, for Kevin to be the second person that Jean trusted and was still let down by.
iv.
All it takes is the swing of a racquet for everything to be over.
It happened too fast for him to even process everything. One second, he’s congratulating Riko on the win and the next he can’t feel his hand anymore.
He thinks it’s Jean who patches his hand up as best as he knows how to and gives him the alcohol to pour down his throat while his belongings are shoved into a bag frantically.
Kevin, for the first time in nearly a decade, cries as he makes his way to the Southeast Conference winter banquet. His hand is destroyed and he’s crying as he runs to a father who doesn’t even know and a goalkeeper who can say No to Riko.
He doesn’t remember the trip back to Palmetto State University, but he remembers finding Coach Wymack, David Wymack, and what seemed to be the team nurse on the outskirts of the banquet.
He remembers his words slurring and the tears streaming down his face as his hand spilled blood against her dress. He remembers all but sobbing out that he couldn’t go to the hospital and that he had nowhere else to go.
Everyone knows where his story leads on here.
Can no longer play for us, Tetsuji Moriyama tells the press as Riko is isolated for his recklessness.
Skiing Accident, he tells crowds of reporters as his hand stings in his cast.
Please don’t let him take me away, he begs Andrew Minyard as he lays useless on his father’s coach.
I hate that word, Andrew Minyard snarls, but he lets him stay in spite of it.
You’ll never play again, Abby Winfield tells him when she sets his bones back into his hand, hands stained with his red unmaking.
The first time Kevin had stepped onto a court, he had been three and his hands couldn’t quite wrap around the racquet correctly, but he wanted nothing more than to make his mother proud of her own sport.
When Kevin stepped off the court last, it was as one half of the dynamic duo that he and Riko had made up. He had been a member of four teams, starting with the Ravens and ending with U.S. Court.
The next time Kevin had stepped onto a court, it had been as an unofficial assistant coach for the worst exy team in all of NCAA D1.
v.
Neil Josten is a horrible striker.
His footwork is clumsy, and his aim is horrible. He has no power behind his swings, and he cannot master the raven drills fast enough.
Neil Josten is untrustworthy. He hitchhikes back to campus rather than play Andrew’s games, but he is the best chance that the team has at getting past deathmatches this year.
Andrew thinks that he is a Moriyama spy. He calls Kevin a cripple, a dead-weight has been, and runs. He is not a fighter, but he is very good at taking hits not meant for him.
Neil Josten is stupid and mouths off at Riko Moriyama on national television to keep him from hurting Kevin.
Kevin feels his heart stop when Neil first speaks up, his hand curling around the other's wrist to get him to stop from making things worse. He has no self-restraint and doesn’t understand the concept of waiting for a tomorrow you never know will actually be there.
That’s why Kevin had signed him, to be fair. That recklessness is great on the court, but not quite when it’s against the second son to a criminal organization that could make him disappear without raising a pinky.
Kevin thinks that Neil would not have survived well at the Nest. The Master would have been adamant to beat the attitude out of him, but Kevin is sure that Neil Josten is nothing but attitude. Kevin hates to imagine what would have happened had Neil been perfect court material. Kevin hates to imagine that he and Jean would have been good friends.
Neil Josten is a liar.
Neil Josten is Nathaniel Wesninski.
Nathaniel Wesninski is going to die before the year is over.
The words spilled forth in French have Kevin’s blood running cold. If not for the alcohol coursing through his veins, he’s certain he would have reacted more. Instead, he turns to look at Neil— No, Nathaniel. His name is Nathaniel.
Neil Josten is a runner.
The look on his face shows how badly he wants to bolt, but he knows he can’t. Kevin pities him for that moment. The best runner on the team and here he sits, frozen with fear evident in fake brown eyes.
Neil Josten is an idiot.
Kevin can understand his drive for exy, but he is putting himself in so much damage. If the Moriyama’s already know that Ne—Nathaniel is alive and right here, how is he still alive? He should have been killed the first time he talked out against Riko or the Ravens.
And yet, in spite of all of these signs pointing him to run and never come back, he stays.
Will you still teach me?, he asked, voice so quiet he could barely be heard.
Every night, he promises.
Because what else can he do? He cannot put himself in the path of the bullet, but he can help take his mind off of it. Exy is a common trend between them and the only way for Kevin to feel powerful.
He supposes he was right, all those years ago.
With Neil on his court, he’s certain that he could have been happy.
vi.
9-10.
Foxes.
They won.
With his head held high, Kevin’s eyes lock onto the scoreboard. Sweat glistens off of his cheek, a bead dripping down the black ink.
In the place of a two is a chess piece. Queen.
Distantly, he remembers Kayleigh standing on the court with an exy stick in hand. He thinks that she looks like the portrait of Queen’s he’s seen in his history books, the court her castle and her stick a scepter.
He lets his gaze drift skyward, unshed tears welling in his eyes.
Are you proud of me, mom?, He wants to ask. He wants to see her.
Instead, he looks back to the court doors and sees his father and thinks, distantly, that this is enough.