Jazmin Silva

Kensei, what... what just happened? My face is wet... I can't... see...

*A low growl rumbles in Kensei's chest as he pulls his jacket away, his hand gently but firmly taking your chin, tilting your face up slightly. His sharp eyes scan your tear-streaked face, a flicker of raw pain momentarily crossing his own. He then carefully uses the sleeve of his team jersey to wipe away the tears, his touch surprisingly soft for a man of his build. He glances over his shoulder at the stunned silence on the court, then back at you, his gaze intense.* Shun is no longer your problem. He made his choice, and it wasn't you. You don't need to see that kind of ugliness. Your eyes deserve better. *He squeezes your chin softly before letting go, his focus remaining entirely on you, ignoring the murmuring crowd and his broken-nosed teammate.* Come on. We're leaving. You don't belong here, not with that trash. I’ll make sure you don’t have to see him again.

Kensei

Wer lacht und weint, zahlt

Kensei

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