The medical wing of Titans Academy had never felt this quiet.

Blaze sat on the padded bench, elbows resting on his knees, fingers laced together so tightly his knuckles had turned pale. He'd faced opponents twice his size. He'd outrun defenders who could bend gravity. He'd played through exhaustion, pressure, and pain. But nothing had ever made his stomach twist the way this silence did.

A holo-display flickered in front of him, frozen on a scan of his torso. A glowing red outline marked the damaged area on his ribs. The image felt unreal, like it belonged to someone else. Someone weaker.

He exhaled slowly, trying to ease the burn in his chest, but even breathing reminded him something wasn't right.

A soft mechanical chime sounded as the door slid open. Dr. Maren stepped in, her white coat trailing behind her like a small flag announcing news she wished she didn't have to give. The medic wasn't dramatic by nature, but she was honest, painfully honest.

Jason followed right behind her, arms crossed, jaw tight. His eyes flicked to Blaze and then to the display on the wall.

Dr. Maren didn't waste time.

"We finished the full scan," she said gently. "You've got a hairline fracture across the right rib, close to the cartilage. If you take another hit there, it could worsen into a full break."

Blaze's stomach dropped.

He'd known it was bad, every breath had told him that, but hearing the words out loud hit differently. He stared at the glowing red fracture like he could will it away.

"How long?" he asked.

Maren pressed her lips together. "Four weeks minimum for proper healing. Six if we want to avoid long-term weakness. Your body isn't a machine. It needs time."

Jason exhaled through his nose. "And if he plays before then?"

Dr. Maren looked straight at Blaze.

"You could puncture a lung. I won't sugarcoat it."

The room went quiet.

Blaze wanted to laugh. Not because anything was funny, but because it didn't make sense. Four to six weeks? Now? After everything? Just when he felt like the team needed him most?

He leaned back, letting his head hit the padded wall.

"Great timing," he muttered.

Jason stepped closer, crouching so he was at eye level. "Look at me."

Reluctantly, Blaze did.

"You did your job," Jason said, voice calm but firm. "You played the whole match, gave everything, and carried this team into the future. You aren't letting anyone down."

Blaze scoffed. "Feels like it."

"Stop," Jason said softly. "You think your worth ends because you can't run for a few weeks?"

Blaze swallowed.

Truth was, he didn't know how to sit still. He didn't know how to watch from the sidelines. He didn't know how to be still when the world expected him to move.

Jason stood again. "He's benched, right?"

Dr. Maren nodded. "Effective immediately."

Blaze's heart clenched.

"Coach...."

"No arguments," Jason cut in. "This isn't negotiable."

The words hit like a punch, even though Blaze knew they were coming.

Jason placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm not losing you for a season because you want to be a hero for one week."

Blaze dropped his gaze.

Dr. Maren gathered her tools. "I'll print a recovery brace to help with breathing and movement. It won't stop the pain, but it'll protect the rib from accidental stress."

Blaze nodded, though his chest tightened at the thought of wearing a brace like some fragile rookie.

When the medic left, only Jason remained.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air felt heavy with something that wasn't anger but wasn't acceptance either. A strange in-between.

Jason sighed. "I know what this means to you."

Blaze rubbed his face. "Do you? Because right now I feel like everyone's moving forward and I'm stuck."

"You're not stuck," Jason said. "You're injured. There's a difference."

Jason sat beside him. "Listen. The others don't know the results yet. But when they hear them, they'll rally around you. This isn't just your fight. It's ours."

Blaze let out a tired breath. "I hate this."

"I know." Jason nudged him lightly with his shoulder. "That's why I'm here."

They walked back to the training hall together, Blaze slower than usual, each step a reminder of the fracture beneath his skin. The corridors were buzzing with noise. Students rushing past. Trainers calling instructions. Machines humming. Yet everything around Blaze felt muted, like he was underwater.

When they stepped inside the hall, the rest of the team was already gathered: Scarlett stretching against the wall, Aya juggling a ball lazily between her feet, Lionel practicing footwork, Riku reviewing match footage, Dorian working on core drills, and the others scattered across the space.

Scarlett spotted Blaze instantly. Her expression softened.

"Hey. You look like a man who didn't get good news."

Aya stopped juggling. "You alright?"

Blaze took a breath – the kind that reminded him this was real – and nodded at Jason, silently asking him to take the lead.

Jason stepped forward.

"Everyone, listen up."

Conversations stopped. Bodies stilled. All eyes turned toward him and Blaze.

"Blaze is out for the next four weeks."

The reactions came instantly.

Scarlett's brows shot up.

Aya's eyes widened.

Lionel froze mid-step.

Riku paused the holo-screen.

Dorian dropped his medicine ball with a loud thud.

"What happened?" Lionel asked.

Jason gestured to Blaze. "He's got a hairline fracture from the elbow he took during the final. It's worse than we thought."

Scarlett stepped forward first, slow, careful.

"Four weeks?"

Blaze shrugged, forcing a half smile. "Guess I won't be sprinting past anyone for a bit."

Aya came closer too. "A rib fracture isn't a small thing. You need rest."

Blaze tried not to flinch at the word.

Riku shook his head. "Man, how did you even finish the match?"

"Adrenaline," Blaze said. "And stubbornness."

That got a small laugh from the group, but it didn't erase the worry in their eyes.

Dorian crossed his arms. "So what now?"

Jason took control again. "Now he heals. Properly. No pushing, no rushing, no sneaking extra drills without permission."

Blaze raised an eyebrow. "Who said I'd do that?"

Scarlett snorted. "Please. You're the king of hidden extra drills."

Aya added, "We literally caught you doing sprints at midnight before the quarterfinal."

Blaze felt heat rise to his face. "Okay. Maybe once."

"Three times," Lionel corrected.

Jason continued, "We'll adjust our formation for the upcoming league preparations. Scarlett and Aya will anchor the midfield transitions. Lionel will handle defensive control. The rest of you will rotate based on training performance."

Aya raised her hand. "And Blaze?"

"He's joining me directly," Jason said. "For a different kind of work."

Blaze blinked. "A different kind?"

Jason nodded. "You'll be rehabbing. Slowly. Carefully. And we'll rebuild you stronger."

The idea sounded good, but part of Blaze still burned with frustration.

Scarlett reached out and squeezed his arm gently. "Stop acting like this is the end of the world. We're not going anywhere."

Aya stepped beside her. "We play as eleven. We heal as one."

Blaze swallowed. The tightness in his chest wasn't just the fracture.

Riku came over next. "If you think we're letting you feel miserable alone, you're delusional."

Dorian nodded. "You'll be back."

Lionel lifted a fist. "Stronger."

Blaze finally let himself smile. "You guys are way too dramatic."

Scarlett grinned. "Takes one to know one."

The tension eased, replaced by something warm and solid. Support. Unity.

Jason clapped once. "Alright. Enough speeches. Training starts now."

But when the others turned toward the field, he stopped Blaze with a gesture.

"You're with me."

Blaze followed him to the side wing of the hall, where a smaller training room waited. This one didn't have sprint lanes or turf. Instead, it had resistance bands, stability spheres, breathing monitors, and low-impact equipment.

The recovery room.

Jason closed the door behind them.

"This is your battlefield for the next month," Jason said. "Different fight, same fire."

Blaze looked around slowly. Everything felt foreign.

"So… no running?"

"No running," Jason confirmed.

"No drills?"

"Nope."

"No shooting practice?"

Jason raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to puncture a lung?"

Blaze sighed. "Fine."

Jason stepped closer. "Look. I know it feels like punishment, but it isn't. This is the part of growth people don't talk about. You don't become elite by only training when you feel strong. Sometimes you build the most when you're forced to slow down."

Blaze didn't respond immediately.

Jason continued. "Today, we start with breathing work, posture alignment, and lower-body activation. No stress on your ribs."

Blaze gave him a sideways look. "So basically, boring stuff."

Jason smiled. "The most important things are usually the boring ones."

Blaze let out a small laugh, even though the frustration lingered. "Alright. Show me."

Jason guided him through slow breathing exercises, the kind that made Blaze hyper-aware of every inch of discomfort in his rib. It didn't feel like progress. It felt like weakness.

But Jason watched him with steady eyes.

"Good. Again. Slow inhale."

Blaze lifted his chest carefully. The rib protested with a dull ache.

"Exhale."

They repeated it until the ache softened, not because it disappeared but because Blaze stopped fighting it.

Next came mobility drills gentle rotations, step work, core stability without compression. It was humbling. The kind of training that reminded him he was human, not invincible.

After a while, he sat on the mat, sweat dripping down his face though the workout had been minimal.

"This sucks," he muttered.

Jason crouched in front of him. "It sucks now. It pays off later."

Blaze rubbed the side of his ribs gently. "I feel useless."

"You're allowed to feel that," Jason said. "Just don't believe it."

Their eyes held for a moment.

Something unspoken passed between them a shared understanding, a quiet trust that had been building for months.

Jason stood. "We'll take it day by day. You're not alone in this."

Blaze nodded.

"Yeah."

He wasn't healed.

He wasn't okay.

But he wasn't alone.

For now, that was enough.

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