tw: violence, bullying

— vingt-sept ; twenty seven —

HENRI HADN'T BEEN ANTICIPATING the reaction from the crowd when he stepped on the court, with a jersey reading MOREAU for the first time since Jean had played for the Ravens.

The commentator was speculating wildly as to his sudden appearance and the fans were yelling, not necessarily cheers and not necessarily boos — just reacting to the fact he was playing. The referees were caught up in discussion with the Master at inner court, no doubt discussing the matter with KJ, so Henri had time to make a diversion past the striker line on the way to half court. He ignored Jude's indignant questions and stopped in front of Soren. He couldn't make out his expression through the grating of his helmet but saw his gaze travel down to the racquet in Henri's hands.

"He sent you on," Soren said, not quite a question.

"Yeah. Why?"

Soren raised a shoulder in a shrug. "Maybe you should have asked him."

"You know as well as I do that you don't question the Master."

"Then you just do what he says without question."

"It doesn't make sense," Henri said, hearing the frustration in his own voice. He wasn't sure why it was so important for him to get answers but standing here, with the fans going crazy, he knew that was why he'd stopped in front of Soren. "You said it yourself, I'm not good enough."

"For Championships, maybe not," he replied evenly. "To play with us? You've always been good enough."

He said it as simply as if stating the weather, without any hint of praise or compliment, but Henri knew better than to let that fool him. It was so rare for Soren to ever spare anything more than a disparaging comment that he wouldn't do it unless he believed what he was saying.

"Always?" Henri echoed in disbelief. "When I first came here, you told me I was useless and they'd send me back in one day."

"You've always had the ability. If you had been less of an insufferable brat, it would have been easier to see from the start."

"Had been?" Henri couldn't keep the grin out of his words. "You don't think I am anymore? That's probably the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Don't make me regret speaking to you."

"Too late," Henri reminded him.

The referees were returning to their positions and Henri couldn't linger for longer unless he wanted an accusation of trying to draw out game time. He took his position at half court where the Lions new dealer was waiting after Deniker had been sent off with a red card for his foul. The new dealer was shorter and slimmer than Deniker, and Henri realised why when she spoke to him in a distinctively feminine voice.

"The Ravens are so desperate they're recruiting little boys now?" she said scornfully.

"Age doesn't determine ability," Henri replied. "Besides, are we really the desperate ones here? 9-3 is a little embarrassing, even for the likes of you."

"Fuck you," she snapped. "Everyone knows you were only signed up because you're a Moreau."

Henri had heard far worse from his own teammates and didn't bother with a response. That pissed her off, and even more so when Soren scored on KJ's penalty, making it look impossibly easy. Henri soon forgot about her pathetic insults because the Lions goalie had batted the ball down court and the game had started again.

Playing the Lions was like being told all summer he had to perfect an exact painting of a tree, with a single wrong shade or swipe of the brush meaning he had to start over, then one day being handed pencil and told a basic sketch would do. The Lions weren't bad, but Henri had spent months adapting himself to the Ravens impossibly fast playing style and trying to dodge around impenetrable defence or offence lines. The Lions were nowhere near as cohesive or powerful, and Henri found he could finally put the Ravens drills to use because the Lions dealer couldn't anticipate the moves like KJ and Alixis were able to.

The game was already in the bag and Henri hardly swayed its outcome, which was probably why the Master had sent him on. No matter how badly he might have messed up, there was no way the Lions would be coming back from this. It meant there was no real pressure despite the fact this was his first real game play in Class I and Henri enjoyed it more than he expected. He understood now why people put up with the obsessive and borderline dysfunctional nature of the Ravens — the heady exhilaration of a guaranteed win and breezing past the other team without having to really try was as gratifying as it was fun. Henri knew it wouldn't always be this easy but he was willing to take what he could get.

The subs flooded on the court for the mandatory post-game handshake and Kit made a beeline for Henri, with Lucas on his heels. "You just played as the youngest Exy player in Class I," Kit informed him. "How does it feel?"

Henri shrugged. "Anticlimactic."

"I can't believe it," Lucas said in disbelief. "You just made an impossible dream for any rookie and all you have to say is anticlimactic?"

"Fun, then," Henri said. "Better?"

Lucas sighed dramatically. "Not really."

Loren had gone straight to Soren but came over to join them now, with the striker trailing behind at a slower pace. "Well done," Loren beamed, squeezing him in a tight hug. "You were amazing."

"I was okay."

Soren reached them, helmet propped under his arm, and his gaze was as unreadable as always as he scrutinised him. Henri knew he wouldn't be getting any kind of proper discussion unless they were alone and settled for gazing back at him in silence.

"The team, particularly the dealers, want to kill you," Soren said. "For stealing their glory."

"And they hate you."

"They hate me and want to kill you." Soren raised an eyebrow. "You tell me which one of us is losing."

"None of their opinions will ever mean I'm losing. I'm here to play Exy, not make friends."

Soren's lips curled into a half-smile at his own words thrown back at him but he had no response beyond a shake of his head.

"There's something wrong with this team," Lucas frowned. "Why would they not be happy for you?"

"They are the Ravens. If it is not them in the spotlight, it should be no one. Why do you think we're top ranked?" Soren asked. "We improve through cutthroat competition and selfishness. If they think someone's better than them, they'll go to all lengths to drag them down."

"I'd like to see them try," Henri said. "All they'll get out of it is a knife in the side."

Kit grinned. "You seriously need to chill with the knife jokes."

"Who said they're jokes?" It was Henri's turn to grin at Lucas' wide eyed look of horror. "A knife's been missing from the kitchen since the start of summer. If all goes well we'll never see it again."

"Something tells me we should keep you off press duty," Loren said.

The handshake was as awkward and forced as Henri was expecting. Both teams raced through it as quickly as possible with muttered thank yous and well dones that neither side really meant. Soren and Alixis stayed behind to deal with the press while the rest of them continued to the locker rooms. Henri knew something would be coming, but the upperclassmen waited until the rest of the team had left. Lucas and Kit tried to linger by the lockers, but Jude was quick to kick them out. Henri didn't expect any resistance, so he was surprised when Kit shook his head.

"What are you going to do to him?"

"None of your business."

"Just a little chat," Matthias added, and Henri felt particularly hateful towards him in that moment. Maybe the others were assholes, but they never faked niceties to his face. Matthias was perfectly friendly until it was time to join ranks and Henri was deemed a threat. "Nobody will get hurt."

"Much," Jude said nastily. "Whatever we need to make Moreau Junior over here learn his place. Now get out."

Kit scowled. "You can't make us."

"You have two choices," Jude said. "Leave, and we won't bug you. Stay, and we'll make your life living hell, starting now. This isn't your problem, so don't make it, rookie."

"It's fine," Henri said, and he meant it. That they had tried to stick up for him was more than he had expected. Even from Lucas, who looked about two seconds from bolting anyway. "I can deal with it. Just go."

"But — "

"Listen to him," Benjamin suggested. "You'll regret it if you don't."

"Go," Henri repeated.

Kit looked conflicted but finally moved with reluctance towards the door, but not before sending Henri an apologetic look. Lucas followed with an anxious expression and turned in the doorway to say something, only for Jude to slam the door shut in his face.

KJ gave Henri a shove to the shoulders the moment the door closed. "This was a long time coming, rookie."

"Aren't you supposed to be injured?" Henri said. "Deniker clearly didn't hit you hard enough if you're still breathing."

"This is why we need to teach you how to behave," KJ scowled. "Soren isn't here to stop us, which means we can do whatever we want to you."

"I don't need anyone to stop you," Henri said, deciding not to mention that he didn't think Soren would stop them anyway. He didn't need to give them more ammunition to use against him. "I could smash your nose into your face myself."

Henri didn't realise someone had crept up behind him until he felt hands seizing his wrists with an iron grip, far too tightly for him to even consider breaking free. Henri bit his tongue to stop himself cursing and wondered how he could have been so stupid. He hadn't thought to keep an eye on all of them despite the fact he was trapped in the locker room with them, and now Benjamin had managed to sneak up on him as he was the only one no longer in Henri's line of sight.

"Good luck with that," Benjamin sneered in his ear.

"We just won a game," Henri said, looking around the room in search of some kind of weapon to use if he got desperate. All he could think of was a locker door. "Is this really how you sadists celebrate? Some kind of annual Ravens tradition to beat up the rookie?"

"He's right," Xander said, a little pained. "Can't we just leave it? Henri hasn't actually done anything wrong. If the Master chose him — "

"If the Master chose him, I want to know why," KJ said, raising a hand. Henri instinctively closed his eyes, bracing for a blow, but it never came. Instead, KJ seized his chin between his fingers and turned his face to study his left cheekbone. "See, no tattoo. You're not part of Riko's stupid court so what makes you so special? You're no better than the rest of us."

"And I'm no worse," Henri pointed out. "You couldn't play and Alixis couldn't play, so he sent me on. Tell me where the problem is."

"The problem," KJ said through gritted teeth, "is that the Master does not send on fresh-faced subs with no experience."

"You don't know anything about how much experience I have."

"No experience with us," Jude clarified. "You shouldn't have touched game time for at least two months, and yet, he sent you on. For our first game."

"Did I play badly?" Henri asked.

"That's not — "

"Answer the fucking question." Henri ignored the way Benjamin dug his fingers in to his wrists
hard enough to leave bruises. He wrenched his face out of KJ's hold and glared at him. "Did I play badly? Yeah, that's what I thought," he said, when no one answered him. "Fuck you. If you feel threatened by me, go cry to someone else about it. Don't take your incompetence out on me."

KJ punched him in the face hard enough to knock him back into Benjamin and then in the stomach, too fast for Henri to prepare himself. He doubled over at the pain flaring in his stomach and KJ crouched down so he was at ear level. "Don't you dare call me incompetent again," he hissed. "Or it'll be a racquet next time."

KJ straightened up and said something to Benjamin, but it was lost to the ringing in Henri's ears. Benjamin shoved him forward, still pinning his wrists behind his back, and it took Henri's fuzzy head a moment to realise it was towards the bathroom. When Henri tried to resist, Jude grabbed one shoulder and KJ the other, forcing him forward. He thought they were going to give him the American high school experience he'd missed by shoving his head down a toilet, but they veered towards the showers.

Henri didn't see who flicked on the shower but he heard the rush of water and didn't get a chance to react before being pushed under the ice cold stream. "I hope you've learnt your lesson," Jude said, yanking Henri's head by the hair to look him in the eye. "Tell us the real reason the Master placed you on our line up or back off. You earn your place here or you have none."

Henri slumped to his knees on the cold tile when Jude released him and didn't look up as the others left. "Hey," Xander said quietly. "I'm really sorry, Henri."

"Just go away."

Henri ducked his head as the water ran through his hair and soaked his clothes, dripping off his face like tears. He could feel himself shivering at how cold the water was but couldn't bring himself to move, not even when his fingers turned numb from the ice seeping into his veins. He didn't care what the Ravens thought about him, but he couldn't spend the next year of his life watching his back when he was stuck living in the same place as them. It was so exhausting he couldn't even bring himself to be angry. He was just done. Done with the Ravens, done with the whole thing.

For the first time in a while, he felt homesick. A gnawing ache for a time when the Moriyamas didn't know he existed and his parents were still alive.

"What exactly are you doing?"

Henri lifted his head and blinked around the water trickling off his eyelashes to see Soren standing in front of him. "Taking a shower," he said, through chattering teeth. "Obviously."

Soren stared at him. "With your clothes on."

"Is this not how you do it?"

Soren sighed and hauled him to his feet. "Idiot," Soren said, flicking the switch. The water abruptly cut off and only then did Henri realise just how cold he was. "If you're going to do stupid things, you could at least use warm water."

"Don't tell me what to do," Henri said, and kissed him.

He half-expected Soren to push him away, considering how wet he was, but Soren only pulled him closer. Soren's hands felt especially hot against his own chilly skin and he let himself be lost in the body heat, in the warmth of his lips and the husky scrape of his voice when he murmured Henri's name. The ache for home and for what he'd lost was still there but it was no longer consuming him, just a distant pain he could push aside and ignore until later. He wasn't home, but he was here, and so was Soren. That was enough.

Without breaking the kiss, Soren pressed a hand against his abdomen to push him back against the wall. Henri couldn't help wincing at the pressure against the spot KJ had hit him, still throbbing, and Soren must have felt the grimace against his lips. He drew back and pushed the hem of Henri's shirt up to reveal the blooming purple bruise, fresh and red around the edges.

"How did this happen?" Soren asked, the light brush of his fingers against his skin at odds with his hard voice.

"A racquet must have caught me during a check."

"Don't lie to me," Soren said, irritated. "I'm not a gullible doctor."

"Really?" Henri tugged his shirt down and tipped his head back against the wet tiles to smirk at him. "Could have fooled me, what with your caring nature and delightful bedside manner."

Soren narrowed his eyes. "Henri."

"Soren."

Soren slipped his hand under Henri's shirt and he shivered beneath the featherlight touch of Soren's fingers. "How did this happen?" he repeated, pressing the question against the edge of Henri's jaw. "The truth. Or there'll be consequences."

"Consequences?" Henri grinned. "Sounds scary. I'm intrigued."

"I won't touch you tonight," Soren said flatly, already moving his hands away.

Henri caught his wrists and pulled him back when he tried to step away. "You drive a hard bargain, Solberg," Henri sighed, in mock consternation. "The Upperclassmen wanted to kill me, as you predicted, and KJ lost his temper because I told him the truth."

"Which is?"

"He's incompetent and feels threatened."

"Suicidal," Soren said, bringing a hand up to brush his thumb along the sore skin of his cheekbone. It was where KJ had punched him and he was sure a red mark had bloomed in the wake of the violence. "Do I want to see what he looks like?"

"Nothing like how I would have left him, because they don't like to play fair fights," Henri muttered. "No amount of karate or pressure points can break me out of Benjamin's hold, because he's stronger than me."

Soren's jaw clenched. "You need to stop provoking them."

"You think that would make a difference?"

"They left Kit and Lucas alone," Soren said. "They kept their mouths shut and played along, so the upperclassmen grew bored. That's what the rest of us did — what normal freshmen do. You snark and mock at every opportunity which only makes them want to hurt you more."

"I'm not about to sit down and let them treat me like their punching bag."

"You wouldn't have ended up as a punching bag if you hadn't fought back in the first place."

"Whose side are you on, anyway?" Henri grumbled.

"This isn't about sides," Soren said. "This is about being smart and knowing when to pick your fights."

"But I'm stupid, remember?"

"That's true." Soren left a warm hand against his cheek and Henri couldn't help closing his eyes, leaning into his touch slightly. "You are incredibly stupid at times."

A smile curled at Henri's lips. "And other times?"

The flick of the shower switch made him open his eyes just as the water began spilling from the shower head, warm and drenching him again in seconds. Soren was under the stream too as he pulled Henri's shirt off and water plastered darkened gold hair to his temples as he stared at Henri, as if seeing him for the first time. He was taking too long so Henri gave an impatient tug at the hem of shirt and whipped it off for him, with the rest of their clothes following it to the wet floor. There was more kissing than cleaning in their joint shower but Henri really, really didn't mind.

When they came downstairs, a group of Ravens were gathered on the sofas and watching some movie Henri didn't know the name of. None of the upperclassmen were there but Lucas and Kit were, and the former jumped to his feet at the sight of Henri.

"Henri!" he exclaimed. "Are you okay? The others came down, but you were still gone so we didn't know whether..." He trailed off and his cheeks turned red as he glanced at Soren, standing behind Henri. Kit waggled suggestive eyebrows at Henri but said nothing on the matter. "Uh, so, you're okay?"

"Still in one piece," Henri shrugged. "Can't say the same can be said for them if they don't leave me alone."

"Just threaten them with a chokehold again," Kit suggested. "That got them off your back for a while last time."

"Hey," one of the Ravens said, looking suspiciously between Henri and Soren. "Are you guys boning or something?"

"Mind your own business, Cedric," Soren said.

Another Raven muttered, "That means yes."

"Hey," Cedric said again, and Henri was anticipating more questions about him and Soren, but Cedric was looking at the TV screen. "Isn't that Jean?"

Henri turned to stare at the screen. Someone had switched to a sports channel and sure enough, it was Jean Moreau on screen. They were playing clips from the Trojans game that had occurred across the world today and one of the reporters had managed to rope the former Raven into an interview straight off the court. It was disorienting to see Jean in his new team's red and gold, after Henri had spent years watching him move across the court in black and red. Even more disorientating was that it was Henri who had been wearing those colours today, not Jean. Cedric turned the volume up and their voices began audible.

"...does it feel to play for the Trojans?" the reporter asked, sticking a microphone is Jean's face. "How does it feel being away from the Ravens?"

"They are different teams, of course," Jean replied. His accent was heavy whereas Henri's was pretty much nonexistent, considering he'd been raised on both languages in preparation for the potential of a life in America that had snatched his brother away. He sounded so much like Patrick Moreau that Henri forgot how to breathe for a moment. "They have different approaches to Exy and I have not been with the Trojans for long, but I am sure I could adapt, with time."

"Of course, any team would be lucky to have such a skilled player," the reporter said graciously. "As I'm sure you're aware, the Ravens also had their first match of the season today and much to everyone's surprise, your brother and newly recruited Raven Henri Moreau was subbed on. What are your thoughts on that?"

Henri was sure he didn't imagine the way Jean tensed slightly but he'd had years of growing accustomed to cameras and his response was neutral.

"I have not had the chance to watch that match but I am aware the Ravens won, as would be expected of them. I do not need to watch the game to know they will have played well and I wish them all the best for the season." Jean hesitated before his next words and Henri's mouth tasted like dust when he heard them. "As for my...brother, I have no comment to make on him. I haven't seen him play and therefore what he does means nothing to me."

"Have you made any contact with him since the revelation?" the reporter pressed, clearly eager to dig up the dirt she was here for in the first place.

"No," Jean said shortly. "That will be all for tonight. Thank you."

He brushed past the cameras before the reporter could ask anymore questions but she regrouped quickly, turning to the camera and talking a mile a minute about whatever information she managed to glean from that interview. Cedric turned the volume down and turned at incredulous look on Henri.

"You haven't even spoken to your own brother?"

"Shut up," Henri said numbly, aware of the expectant gazes on him. They wanted an answer for that and he wasn't ready to give one, if he even had one to begin with. "I — "

He found he had nothing to say and turned on his heel, heading down the Black Hall. He knew Soren was following him from the light tap of footsteps but ignored him as he shoved open the door. He stopped in the middle of the room, not sure what to do or where to go. He felt like someone had plucked him from his body, shaken him around, and shoved him back into skin that didn't fit. For so many years growing up Henri had watched Jean, wondered about him and followed his journey to greatness, and now Jean finally knew Henri existed.

And he had nothing to say about it. No comment.

Soren touched his shoulder. "Henri."

"What?" he mumbled.

"You have some serious family issues," he said, walking around until he was standing in front of Henri. He placed a finger under his chin and lifted his chin until their gazes met, Henri's smoky grey so similar to Jean's and Soren's green. "But it's fine. Everyone does."

Henri choked a laugh. "They do?"

"I do, anyway," Soren said, drawing him back to his bed. "I'm used to it by now."