Episode: - 20 Rule One: Ghosts Don’t Lie Down (Let him have this)

Mee-Toh stood before Arianna, the report crumpled slightly in his clenched hand. He said nothing—just stepped forward and placed it on her desk without ceremony, like setting down a challenge.

Arianna didn’t move at first. The silence stretched thin between them, taut as a thread about to snap. Then, with slow precision, she reached for the report. Her fingers moved with an irritating, practiced grace—as if even her scrutiny had been rehearsed to look effortless.

She flipped through the pages, her expression unreadable. The only sound was paper shifting and the soft exhale of the ventilation system overhead. The air felt colder than it should’ve been.

After a long, deliberate pause, her eyes slid back to him—sharp and appraising, like twin needles finding soft flesh.

“This report,” she said, her voice cool and precise—like a knife wrapped in silk, “you’re sure it’s accurate?”

Mee-Toh crossed his arms, jaw clenched tight.

“Dead sure. I double-checked everything myself. It’s clean.”

Triple-checked, actually. She didn’t need to know that. But he knew Arianna—she’d smell hesitation before it even left his breath.

Her lips curved faintly—less a smile, more a warning.

“Interesting. Last time, your work lacked… consistency. Should I believe this is an improvement?”

His eyes narrowed. He didn’t flinch.

“Yeah, well. People grow up. You might consider it someday.”

There was a pause—small, but pregnant with friction. A flicker of amusement sparked in Arianna’s gaze, gone before it could settle. She returned her attention to the report, spine straight as marble.

“We’ll see,” she said, her tone cooler now, like glass left in the snow. “Proof is in the results.”

Just then, the door opened without knock or noise.

Kairos stepped in—stillness in motion, a presence like falling snow: soundless, heavy, impossible to ignore.

“Arianna,” he said, his voice calm, edged with finality. “I’ve verified the report. The stamp is authentic.”

Her gaze shifted to him, subtle irritation brushing the corner of her expression—but even that was muted, respectful in its own brittle way.

“Fine,” she said, her voice clipped. “For now, I’ll trust your judgment.”

Mee-Toh exhaled, short and sharp. He didn’t let his guard drop.

“I’m not here for trust,” he said quietly. “Just doing what needs to be done.”

Better to stay useful than liked. Better to move forward than wait for someone to catch up.

Arianna studied him for a moment longer, her eyes unreadable. When she finally spoke, it was like frost brushing skin.

“Let’s see if that attitude holds when things get difficult.”

Mee-Toh scoffed, the sound low and humorless.

He turned and left, steps clipped, controlled.

But even after the door closed behind him, the weight of her gaze stayed on his back like a chill that wouldn’t leave.

---

Admiral Elijah stood waiting just outside. His arms were crossed, but there was a calm to his presence—solid, steady, like the kind of silence that anchors a storm.

“You held your ground well,” he said, voice low, approving but not overbearing. “Could’ve cracked. Didn’t.”

Mee-Toh didn’t look up right away. He rubbed the back of his neck, tension still caught in the base of his spine.

“Didn’t really have room to crack. Kinda boxed in.”

Still am, if I’m honest.

Elijah gave a knowing nod, not pushing.

“That’s when your character shows. And yours did.”

There was a pause. The admiral’s tone softened—just slightly, like warmth filtering through frost.

“You know, it’s okay to lean on people who’ve got your back.”

Mee-Toh glanced at him then, one brow raised in disbelief.

“Yeah? And where were those people when everything went to hell?”

His voice wasn’t bitter, just tired. Honest.

Don’t say that out loud again. Don’t sound like you’re asking.

Elijah didn’t answer. He didn’t try to fix it. Instead, he shifted the subject with a tact that was almost kind.

“Kairos Blackwood wants to talk to you.”

Mee-Toh frowned.

“About what now?”

Elijah smirked faintly, arms still crossed.

“Didn’t say. But knowing him, it’s probably something layered in ten kinds of meaning.”

Mee-Toh let out a breath and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“Great. Another riddle.”

---

He followed the hallway until he found Kairos waiting near one of the old archways—posture relaxed, hands folded loosely behind his back. The light caught the edge of his expression: calm, neutral, but his eyes were sharper than usual. Watching. Reading.

“How are you feeling, Mee-Toh?” Kairos asked, tone low but sincere.

Mee-Toh shrugged, leaning his shoulder against the wall.

“Still standing. That’s enough for now.”

His voice was clipped but not hostile—more like someone carefully choosing which parts of himself to show.

Don’t let him read too much. Not him.

Kairos tilted his head slightly.

“You’re recovering faster than expected. Impressive.”

Mee-Toh didn’t answer that. Praise never sat well. His gaze drifted away, jaw tightening.

“Didn’t have time to fall apart. That’s all. Time isn’t immovable, right?”

No one would've waited if I did.

As he turned to leave, Kairos’s voice followed him—firmer now, edged with something quieter beneath it.

“I have a suggestion for you.”

Mee-Toh paused, half-turning, suspicion already in his narrowed eyes.

“What kind?”

Kairos didn’t blink.

“See your old doctor. Every Saturday. Medicine or medical needs. Might help speed up your recovery. You’ll need to check if it’s still safe for you.”

Mee-Toh stared a second longer. His eyes flicked toward the ground, and one hand went back to his neck again—like it was instinct now, a gesture he didn’t notice.

Something flickered in his expression—hesitation, or maybe reluctant hope.

“Didn’t think you were the type to care if I bounced back or not.”

Kairos didn’t flinch. His voice was even, but not cold.

“I don’t care for sentiment. I care about potential. Don’t waste what you survived.”

He held Mee-Toh’s gaze one second longer than necessary.

Not a command. Not a plea. But something between them briefly shifted—like Kairos had peeled back one layer, just enough to reveal that this wasn’t strategy. This was truth.

Mee-Toh didn’t answer. But the words stuck in his chest—not painful, exactly, just heavier than expected. The kind of weight that stayed.

As he turned and walked away, he didn’t look back. Elijah fell into step beside him without a word.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, the words echoed again:

Don’t waste what you survived.

He wasn’t sure if it was advice or a warning.

Maybe both.

But it stuck like the first cold breath of winter—uncomfortable, but alive.

Saturday arrived like a pause in a song no one dared to finish.

Mee-Toh sat in the pale-blue confines of the clinic, elbows on knees, posture tense. Despite everything, this place hadn’t changed. Same sterile scent. Same dull hum of the lights. Same chair with the tiny wobble in the leg that he’d once tried to fix and gave up halfway.

Alex sat beside him, arms crossed, legs stretched out, a picture of lazy confidence. But his eyes? Sharp. Watchful. Reading Mee-Toh like a worn-out manual. One that had been repaired too many times, dog-eared and breaking at the spine.

Dr. Nair entered, flipping through a file. “Mee-Toh,” he began, tone firm but not unkind, “your numbers don’t lie. You need rest. Real rest—not half-measures or pretending to slow down while running on fumes.”

He tapped the edge of the chart, rhythm soft but pointed.

Mee-Toh leaned back slightly, jaw tight. Hands on his knees. “Rest,” he echoed. The word tasted bitter. “Funny. Everyone says that like it’s a reward. But sitting still feels more like a punishment.”

His voice was low. Bitter steel, wrapped in calm.

“I stop now, I lose everything I’ve clawed back. I don’t just pause—I fall behind.”

Dr. Nair studied him for a moment, then turned slightly toward Alex, as if deciding whether to share a secret.

“You know, when he was younger, I’d sometimes find him outside the clinic after hours—yelling at trees.”

Alex blinked. “...trees?”

The doctor nodded, clearly fond.

“Trees. The sky. Concrete walls. Whatever didn’t yell back. He thought no one saw, but I’d catch him in the reflection of the window. He’d let out this one shout—loud enough to scare the birds—and then start punc—”

Before he could finish, Mee-Toh lunged forward with all the subtlety of a fire alarm and slapped a hand over the doctor’s mouth.

“Nope,” Mee-Toh said firmly. “We’re done. That story’s illegal.”

Dr. Nair raised both brows, amused and muffled.

“Mmrph—”

Mee-Toh gave him a look. Don’t.

Then he glanced sideways—caught Alex staring, eyes wide, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was holding back everything.

Mee-Toh froze. Realized what he was doing. Slowly—painfully—lowered his hand.

“I hate this place,” he muttered, ears turning red.

Alex tilted his head, too amused for his own good.

“You just assaulted a doctor mid-sentence. You sure you're not still emotionally unstable?”

Mee-Toh groaned. “Next time, I’m breaking a window and climbing out.”

His ears were burning before his cheeks even caught up. He groaned again, covering half his face with a hand.

“You still remember that?” he muttered. “I thought—ugh—I thought you forgot.”

Dr. Nair laughed, pleased.

“I never forget the ones who bribe me with sour candy just to skip a flu shot.”

Alex turned, delighted.

“You bribed him?”

Mee-Toh crossed his arms tightly, clearly regretting life.

“It was tactical cooperation. And for the record, I did assist him with charts for like… a month.”

Dr. Nair nodded with mock gravitas.

“Yes. He reorganized the files alphabetically. And even claimed he was ‘doing public service.’”

Alex choked back a laugh.

“Let me guess—you called it ‘field experience’ in case anyone asked.”

Mee-Toh rolled his eyes, eyes narrowed.

“I’ll have you both know I took that role very seriously. Medical documentation is an art form.”

Alex raised a brow.

“You’re lucky I like tragic backstories. Makes the grumpy ones more collectible and human.”

Mee-Toh muttered something about "poisoning his water bottle later," but the edge had left his voice.

The doctor smiled, eyes kind.

“You were real, Mee-Toh. That’s nothing to be ashamed of. What mattered is—you came back. You always came back.”

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

That line settled like a feather on stone. Light, but deeply felt.

Later, as the appointment wrapped and Dr. Nair handed over a prescription and a long look of concern, Alex reached into his jacket and pulled out a crumpled bag of snacks, dropping it on the side table.

“I brought these. Figured I’d be here a while.”

Mee-Toh stared at it. Then at him.

A beat.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered.

Alex just grinned.

Mee-Toh rolled his eyes again, but this time, the tension in his shoulders eased—just enough to admit, maybe, he wasn’t okay.

And maybe… that was okay, too.

Carel stood near the edge of the arena, arms folded, her brow furrowed as she scanned the line-up.

As Alex and Carel approached, she glanced over.

“You guys are back.”

Alex nodded. “Yup.”

“What happened?”

Alex sighed. “As expected.”

Carel tilted her head. “He fine?”

Alex nodded again. “Needs a full day of rest.”

Carel was silent for a beat, then asked, “...Where is he?”

Everyone else was in position—except Mee-Toh, who was already on the prep mat, tightening the straps on his gloves like he’d been waiting there since dawn.

Alex spotted him first.

“…Wait—is that Mee-Toh?”

Carel followed his gaze. Her frown deepened.

“What the hell is he doing in gear?”

Alex was already moving toward him. “No, no, no. He said he’d rest today.”

Carel kept pace, voice dropping into something sharper. “He had an appointment. The doctor said he wasn’t cleared, right? So what the hell is that dumbo doing?”

Mee-Toh didn’t even glance their way as they approached. “Oh, hey,” he said casually. “Good morning. Nice weather. Mild concern in your voices. Did I miss breakfast?”

Alex stopped a few feet away, pointing.

“You. You are not supposed to be here. You were literally told to stay off the arena floor.”

Mee-Toh looked down at his gloves like they were the ones causing trouble.

“Really? That’s weird. These gloves feel very... loneliness-approved. Look—don’t they look happier on my hands?”

Carel’s voice turned flat. “Mee-Toh. Don’t play dumb.”

“I’m not. I play strategically ambiguous, Carel,” he said with a grin, standing tall. “It’s different. More elegant.”

Alex narrowed his eyes. “Mee-Toh. What did the doctor say?”

Mee-Toh rubbed the back of his head.

“Yeah, I met him. Briefly. We bonded. Had tea. Life’s short.”

Alex glared. “Mee-Toh.”

“Well... we had a great chat,” Mee-Toh added, bright as daylight. “Talked about my childhood trauma. Yelled about trees. I threatened to climb out a window again. Very healing.”

Carel’s expression didn’t budge. “And?”

Mee-Toh sighed, theatrically.

“Fine. He said I should rest. I, in turn, said I would. And here I am, resting... my nerves. Through violence. Kinetic therapy, classic method.”

Alex pinched the bridge of his nose. “You promised—”

“I promised to listen. I did. I’m still listening. I just quietly disagreed. While walking out.”

Carel exhaled, sharp. “This isn’t about defiance. You’re not invincible, Mee-Toh.”

“No,” Mee-Toh replied, tapping his chest, “just mildly fireproof. There’s a difference. My blood’s like seventy percent sarcasm at this point. And trees aren’t helping anymore. I need to break something that hits back.”

Before the tension could spiral further, Ana strolled in, catching only the tail end of the conversation.

“What’s going on?” she asked, raising a brow. “Why do you three look like daycare workers post-meltdown?”

Alex threw up his hands.

“I shouldn’t have brought him. He’s not even supposed to be here!”

Mee-Toh raised a hand.

“Objection. I’m not just ‘here’—I’m ready. Fully prepped, emotionally reckless, and insultingly handsome. Your honor.”

Ana blinked.

“I need a minute to emotionally recover from that sentence.”

Carel stepped forward, arms crossed. “Ana. He’s not cleared. He’s being reckless.”

Ana gave Mee-Toh a once-over.

“He does look a little cocky... and weirdly energized.”

Mee-Toh beamed. “Exactly. Peak condition.”

Carel shook her head. “He could collapse mid-round.”

Ana hesitated. “Wait—what?”

“And if I do,” Mee-Toh said brightly, “I’ll make it look cool. Fall with style. Land in a dramatic pose. That’s at least three bonus points. You all are still here to drag me out, right?”

Alex groaned. “You’re actually going to fight.”

Mee-Toh leaned toward him, like sharing a scandal.

“Maybe… not. Or—between us—yes. Though I feel like it’s obvious.”

Alex turned to Ana. “See what we’re dealing with?”

Ana shrugged. “I mean… he’s not bleeding or actively dying. That’s an upgrade from last week.”

Carel stared. “Seriously?”

Mee-Toh stepped between them, throwing an arm around Alex’s shoulder like it was a sitcom reunion.

“Listen,” he said sweetly. “You both worry too much. Worst-case scenario, I collapse mid-round and someone gets a free win. Heroic. Tragic. On-brand. And frankly better than forfeiting again.”

Alex muttered, “I can take your spot if this is that necessary.”

Mee-Toh rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on. You take it? That ruins the drama. I'm not cut out for audience roles. Doesn't suit my character arc.”

Alex deadpanned, “That’s not reassuring.”

Carel added, “You’re going to get benched permanently if this backfires.”

Mee-Toh pointed at her, mock-serious.

“You’re starting to sound like my doctor. I already traumatized one middle-aged man today. Don’t join the club.”

Ana folded her arms. “So… are we encouraging this? Or dragging him back by the collar?”

A pause.

Alex and Carel looked at each other. Exhausted.

Mee-Toh gave them a cheeky salute and strolled toward the arena.

“You can keep fussing,” he called back. “I’ll be winning.”

His right shoulder tensed—just for a second—but he masked it with a stretch, back straight, grin sharp as a blade.

Ana blinked. Then frowned.

“…Wait. Was he actually told not to fight?”

Carel groaned. “Clearly.”

Alex sighed. “Every damn time.”

Ana pressed one hand to her forehead, the other to her waist, like someone realizing she’d just handed a lit match to a gasoline-soaked gremlin.

“Oh no. Did I just encourage him… for one reckless jump?”

She watched him bounce on his heels in the distance, energetic and ready.

“I feel morally responsible now. That’s new.”

Alex crossed his arms, tired to the bone.

“I’m not even mad. I’m just… so, so tired.”

In the arena, Mee-Toh was already waiting.

He couldn’t hear them anymore.

Or maybe—he just chose not to.

________

The competition began with a deafening roar, the crowd’s energy snapping like wildfire through the air. The stadium pulsed with anticipation, heat rising from the stone floor like steam from battle-forged steel.

Mee-Toh stood at the center of the arena.

Arms loose.

Head tilted slightly.

A smirk tugging at his lips—careless, amused.

But underneath his skin, tension curled like a loaded spring, silent and coiled.

Across from him, his opponent crouched low.

Sharp-eyed. Still.

A panther ready to pounce.

Mee-Toh cracked his neck lazily, smirk still in place—though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Then—the signal.

A blur.

Mee-Toh was a storm in motion.

He moved with honed confidence, gliding through every strike, turning near-hits into openings. His smirk held steady, curled like a dare. His opponent—a lean, fast, silver-bladed fighter—was good. But not good enough.

Not yet.

He was holding on—barely.

"Bit slow on that last swing," Mee-Toh quipped, parrying clean. "Want me to fight with one arm? Make it fair?"

The boy snorted.

"Try both arms first before bragging, pretty boy."

Mee-Toh laughed—not a real one. Just enough to taunt. Just enough to cover the burn blooming in his ribs from an earlier graze.

The crowd roared. Momentum belonged to Mee-Toh.

He ducked low, swept the leg, twisted away from the retaliatory kick.

His weapon spun gracefully back into his hand.

The rhythm was his.

The air was his.

The whole damn arena—

Thud.

A punch—solid, brutal—landed in his gut.

Mee-Toh choked on the impact, stumbling backward.

Breath ripped out of his lungs like someone pulled the plug.

The world shrank—sharp and quiet.

Where the hell—?

He hadn’t seen the setup.

He’d blinked.

His opponent didn’t wait.

A sweep knocked Mee-Toh’s footing off just enough to send his weapon skidding across the floor.

“Whoops,” the boy drawled, circling. “Was that too fast for your shiny brain to process?”

Mee-Toh dropped to one knee.

Hand outstretched.

Fingers grazing the blade—just close enough to—

He froze.

There—reflected in the polished metal:

A face.

Young. Smiling. Familiar.

Someone he used to know.

Someone who once looked at him like he could be something more.

Hope incarnate.

Then—the smile twisted.

Gone.

Replaced with something cold.

Hatred.

Eyes that cut deeper than steel.

“You did this intentionally. Everyone knows.”

The real world wavered.

Colors bled at the edges.

Mee-Toh shook his head, hard, like trying to shake off the cold.

Not now. Not now. Not now.

He lunged forward to grab the blade—

But his opponent saw the hesitation.

With a vicious grin, he kicked the weapon. It skittered across the floor… then out of the ring.

Gone.

“Guess you’re defenseless now,” the boy said, circling like a vulture. “Or were you planning to cry your way through this?”

Mee-Toh didn’t answer.

Still kneeling.

Still catching his breath—not from pain, but from the ghost that just spoke through steel.

His fingers curled into a fist.

He wanted to speak.

To strike.

To breathe.

But for one long, still second—

He sat in the silence he thought he’d buried.

His opponent advanced, slow and sure, blade swinging lazily over one shoulder.

“You done?” he sneered. “Didn’t think it’d be that easy, but hey. Not complaining.”

Mee-Toh didn’t answer.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaled—half a laugh, half a snarl.

"You talk like someone who thinks they’ve won.”

The boy chuckled.

“No. I know I’ve won. You’re just too stupid to stay down after seeing what you really are.”

Mee-Toh’s smirk had vanished.

His eyes locked. Cold. Clear.

Behind him—Carel’s voice cracked like a whip.

“Mee-Toh! Stop! Just give up, dammit! You’re gonna get hurt—!”

The words struck harder than the blade.

He froze.

Not because she was wrong.

But because—

For a moment—

He almost wanted to agree.

His opponent laughed.

“Even your friends think you’re a lost cause. Guess they know you better than you do.”

Silence.

Mee-Toh stood still—head bowed, eyes shadowed.

Then—

Shift.

A breath.

A heartbeat.

A change in weight.

He straightened.

“…Lost cause?”

Voice soft. Dangerous. “You sure you’re talking about the right person?”

He raised one hand.

Snap.

His blade flew back to his grip like it was born for his hand.

The other boy flinched, just barely.

But Mee-Toh saw it.

The rhythm had shifted.

The crowd gasped.

Mee-Toh didn’t wait.

He moved. Didn’t hold back this time.

Not wild.

Not angry.

Clean.

Precise.

Absolute.

Steel met steel. But the rhythm had changed.

Now it was Mee-Toh’s storm.

His opponent blocked once—twice—barely—

Then his weapon spun from his hands.

Mee-Toh advanced.

Not rushing. Just coming.

Unstoppable.

The crowd held its breath.

The boy backed away, unarmed.

Pale. Shaking.

“…What the hell just—?”

Mee-Toh’s voice was low.

Calm.

Final.

“If you’re gonna humiliate someone… make sure you finish the job, first.”

He stepped forward.

Kicked the fallen weapon deeper into the dust from his foot.

His eyes never left him.

“Wanna try me again?”

Voice steady. “You’re welcome to try. But next time… I won’t be so nice.”

The other boy raised his hands.

“I—I give up.”

Silence.

Then—eruption.

The crowd screamed.

A wave of thunder.

Victory and disbelief.

Mee-Toh didn’t flinch.

Didn’t smile.

He turned and walked toward his team—

Calm.

Steady.

Ears ringing with everything and nothing.

Alex watched with folded arms, saying nothing. Carel looked torn between relief and fury. Ana raised a brow, the edge of a smile tugging at her lips. But Mee-Toh didn’t meet any of their eyes.

In the shadowed upper balcony—where the roar of the crowd dimmed to a low hum—a man leaned against the railing, charcoal eyes tracking Mee-Toh’s every breath. He hadn’t moved when the tide turned. Hadn’t blinked when the blade flew back to that boy’s hand.

He watched with a patient kind of satisfaction.

Not surprise.

Just inevitability.

Behind him, a younger aide glanced at the screen nervously. “Sir… should I report the growth?”

The man didn’t answer at first. He tilted his head slightly, just enough for the light to catch the edge of his smirk—thin, amused.

“Still trying to turn ghosts into weapons,” he murmured. “How quaint.”

The aide hesitated. “Is that… bad?”

The man’s voice stayed calm. Too calm.

“No. It’s expected. That’s how broken things behave when you convince them they’re whole. Let them live their fantasy.”

Then he turned away from the arena entirely.

“The fall’s always louder when you give the crowd a hero first.”

He paused, one hand resting on the glass.

“…Let him have this.”

“Sir?”

He smiled again. A little too slow.

“Every fire burns brighter before it runs out of air.”

Then he vanished into the corridor’s hush, coat trailing behind like smoke.

Mee-Toh didn’t flinch.

Didn’t grin.

He stood still, blade low, the arena spinning in silence around him.

Then—his gaze flicked upward.

Just for a second.

Somewhere high in the stands—beyond the blur of faces and floodlights—a shape moved. A figure leaning against the railing. Cloaked in shadow. Watching.

No cheering.

No clapping.

Just… watching.

Mee-Toh’s brows knit faintly. A twist of unease curled under his ribs. Like something had brushed too close without touching him.

But it passed.

The weight of it disappeared like mist—just in time for the crowd to explode into thunder.

He turned back toward his team, calm and steady, ears ringing with everything and nothing.

---

As Aarianna watched Mee-Toh, her expression remained unreadable. Arms loosely folded, posture poised, she stood at a quiet distance from the roar of the crowd. A faint smile touched her lips—not amusement, not warmth. Calculation. The kind reserved for wild things that hadn’t yet chosen what they’d become.

Her voice, soft and measured, was barely more than a breath to herself.

“Unrefined. Reckless. Loud enough to summon chaos itself. Emotional. Impulsive...”

She tilted her head slightly.

“But there’s potential in that fire—if it doesn’t consume him first.”

Her eyes stayed fixed on the arena floor, watching the boy who had just clawed back a victory most would’ve surrendered.

“Two outcomes: he burns himself out… or he burns the world instead.”

A quiet pause.

“That kind of boy is dangerous. For better—or worse.”

She didn’t say it like a warning. She said it like a forecast. No panic. No fear. Just a truth acknowledged with the cold precision of someone who’s studied storms before they ever touched the sky.

Then, her gaze shifted—subtle but intentional—toward Admiral Elijah. Their eyes locked. A single glance between two people who knew what weight such words could carry.

And in that moment, the air between them shifted. Not sharp. Not loud. But tense enough to hum.

Aarianna said nothing more. She didn’t need to. The silence after her words lingered longer than the sound itself—a breath of recognition, a shared awareness.

And then she turned back to the crowd, still and composed, but watching Mee-Toh now not as a boy who won a match…

…but as something much more unpredictable.

Something rising.

---

Ana reached him first, arms flung tight around his shoulders.

“You reckless, smug idiot,” she said, breathless with laughter. “You scared the life out of me!”

Mee-Toh raised a brow, still catching his breath.

“You’re still alive though, aren’t you?”

She punched his arm—firm, but not letting go.

“Barely. I thought you were gonna die!”

“Hey,” he muttered, managing a crooked grin. “If I’m going out, might as well look cool doing it. Isn’t it?”

Ana snorted.

“You looked like a whole disaster. A flashy raccoon.”

Then Carel stormed up, boots striking hard against the stone, her voice like a slap.

“Mee-Toh. What the hell was that? You said you were ready. That wasn’t ‘ready’—that was a suicide note in motion.”

Mee-Toh’s grin faltered.

He glanced down at his hand—still trembling, just a little. Then looked up again, gaze steady.

“I didn’t lie,” he said quietly. “I just didn’t tell you how much it mattered.”

There it was again. That flicker. Something deep. Controlled. But close to unraveling.

“Don’t worry,” he added with a shrug that didn’t fool anyone. “I’m still standing. That counts.”

Then came Alex.

He strolled up, arms crossed, expression caught between exasperation and barely-suppressed relief. His voice was dry as paper.

“Okay. So which one of you geniuses decided to greenlight that circus act?” He glanced around. “Because I distinctly remember us all agreeing Mee-Toh would rest today. I swear I’m locking him in his room next time. Or slipping sleeping pills into his juice.”

Ana raised a sheepish hand.

“I might’ve… encouraged him. Slightly.”

She pinched her fingers together: just a little.

Alex stared.

“Encouraged?” he echoed. “Ana, you don’t encourage Mee-Toh. That’s like giving a knife to a raccoon and saying, ‘Be safe!’”

“I didn’t know he’d go full dramatics!”

Mee-Toh raised both arms in mock protest.

“Excuse me. I was exceptionally restrained. Only broke one guy’s confidence and maybe two ribs.”

“You nearly collapsed,” Carel snapped, fire still in her voice.

“Keyword nearly,” Mee-Toh shot back, raising a brow. “I’m efficient with my drama. You’re welcome.”

Alex sighed, stepping in closer. His voice dipped.

“Are you actually okay, though?”

Something about his tone changed. Less snark. More raw.

Mee-Toh looked at him. That grin softened.

“Still breathing. Still annoying. All vital signs present.”

“Cool,” Alex muttered. “Because I was already planning your funeral playlist.”

Ana brightened.

“Top pick?”

“Something dramatic. With violins. And maybe a gong.”

He looked at Mee-Toh. “I’d even give a eulogy that made me cry.”

“Heart-touching,” Mee-Toh deadpanned. “Put that on my tombstone.”

“Here lies Mee-Toh. Died doing what he loved: being contrary.”

Carel groaned, pressing her fingers to her temples.

“Gods help us all.”

Ana laughed and grabbed a water bottle from the sideline, tossing it to Mee-Toh.

“Here. Hydrate, before Alex starts reciting poetry.”

Mee-Toh caught it one-handed, slumped dramatically onto the bench, and cracked the cap.

“Thanks. I work hard on being everyone’s problem.”

“I said menace,” Ana corrected. “Not martyr.”

“Close enough.”

He took a long swig, then winced. Everything ached. But beneath the pain, beneath the noise, something had changed.

A flicker of satisfaction.

A weight that hadn’t crushed him.

He wasn’t falling apart anymore.

He was forcing the world to see him.

---

Then came a voice.

Soft, but firm. A feather pressed against glass.

“Ana. Can we talk for a second?”

Mee-Toh glanced sideways as a girl with kind eyes and steady hands approached.

There was calm in her steps, but something fragile clung to the words—as if they’d been held back for far too long.

Ana’s posture shifted.

A flicker of tension. Arms folding. Shoulders steeling.

“What is it?” she asked.

The girl smiled gently. Not triumphant. Not cruel. Just... tired.

“Do you remember me?

Or… is pretending easier?”

Ana’s mouth twitched.

Her silence was answer enough.

“You know why I did what I did,” she said quietly.

“I know what you told yourself,” the girl replied, still calm, still kind.

“But pain doesn’t disappear just because you go quiet.”

Ana looked away.

Her fists clenched at her sides.

“She still waits for you, Ana.”

“She still believes you’ll come back.”

A beat.

“She doesn’t need a lone soldier.

She needs her daughter.”

Mee-Toh sat still. Watching. Head tilted, unreadable.

Not intruding. Just… listening.

Ana exhaled—sharp, shaky.

“I’m not weak,” she muttered.

“I had to grow up. Someone had to.”

The girl nodded softly.

“You grew a wall.”

A pause.

“And now you’re guarding it from the people trying to help.”

Ana didn’t reply.

Her eyes were fixed on the ground like it owed her something.

After a long moment, the girl stepped back. Not out of fear. Just knowing her words had already been planted.

“Be careful, Ana,” she said.

“Strength doesn’t mean silence.

And love doesn’t vanish just because you stop looking at it.”

She left with barely a sound.

The quiet after felt heavier than thunder.

Mee-Toh leaned back on his bench, giving the silence its due, before breaking it with a familiar smirk.

“Damn. That was awkward enough to count as a second match.”

Ana shot him a look.

“You heard all that?”

“Please. I hear everything. I’m emotionally nosy.”

Ana glared. A warning.

“One word and I’ll bury you.”

Mee-Toh raised both hands in mock surrender.

“Not saying a thing. Except maybe... ex-bestie with a guilt complex?

Possibly a secret poet?”

“You’re infuriating,” Ana groaned.

“Only to people I like,” he said with a shrug.

“The rest get worse.”

A reluctant smile tugged at Ana’s mouth.

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re not as cold as you pretend to be.”

Before she could argue, a wave of applause erupted from the arena.

Louder. Sharper. Like the crowd had finally caught fire.

Mee-Toh didn’t flinch.

He stood. Rolled his shoulder.

And smiled.

A quiet kind of smile.

“I’m not done yet,” he murmured.

And for the first time—

He meant it.