The broken fan finally fell.
It didn't explode. It didn't spark. It just gave up.
One moment it was wobbling dangerously above the ring, rattling like it had opinions about everyone's footwork. The next, it sagged, made a sad grinding noise, and stopped.
Everyone stared at it.
Shimada Haru wiped sweat from his face. "Did… did it just die?"
Mori Kensuke crossed his arms. "It's been dying for years."
Sato Ryo nodded. "It chose today."
Coach Kagawa looked up from his chair. "Oi."
Everyone flinched.
"Who touched it?"
Silence.
Slowly, all eyes turned to Akiyama Jin.
Jin blinked. "I was holding pads."
"That's suspicious," Mori said.
"I agree," Shimada added. "You have responsible energy."
Jin sighed quietly. "I didn't touch the fan."
Kagawa stood. "Then fix it."
Jin paused. "…Me?"
"You're tall," the coach said. "And you're still here."
This logic was apparently airtight.
Ten minutes later, Jin was standing on a wobbling stool, arms raised, screwdriver between his teeth. The rest of the gym watched like this was more entertaining than sparring.
"You know how to fix fans?" Shimada asked.
"I know how to make them stop being dangerous," Jin replied around the screwdriver.
"That's not an answer."
Mari Iimura walked in mid-chaos, stopped, and stared upward.
"…Why is he on furniture?"
"No reason," Mori said. "Just adulthood."
Jin twisted the last screw, stepped down carefully, and set the fan on the floor.
"It won't work," he said. "But it won't fall."
Shimada clapped. "A true hero."
Kagawa grunted. "Good. Roadwork."
Everyone groaned.
Roadwork somehow turned into an argument before they even left the gym.
"You're setting the pace?" Shimada complained, tying his shoes.
"I always do," Sato said.
"No," Mori cut in. "Jin should."
Jin froze. "Why?"
"Because you're annoying consistent," Mori said. "If I fall behind you, I'll be mad. That motivates me."
"That's the worst logic I've ever heard," Shimada said.
Kagawa pointed at Jin. "You. Front."
Jin nodded once and started jogging.
Within two blocks, Shimada was already breathing loudly.
"WHY IS YOUR PACE SO MEAN?"
"It's the same as yesterday," Jin replied.
"YESTERDAY WAS ALSO MEAN."
Mari walked behind them for a bit, notebook tucked under her arm, watching the line stretch and compress.
"You lead like you do everything else," she said.
Jin glanced back. "Poorly?"
"Quietly," she corrected. "People follow before they realize it."
Shimada tripped over a crack in the sidewalk. "I DON'T FOLLOW HIM I'M JUST TIRED."
Back at the gym, chaos resumed.
Aoki and Kimura arrived late, arguing.
"I told you left," Kimura said.
"You said 'the other left,'" Aoki replied. "I have two!"
Takamura walked in behind them, took one look at Jin taping his hands, and smirked.
"Still alive, dancer?"
"Yes," Jin said.
"Tch. Disappointing."
Takamura grabbed a stool and sat backwards on it. "Hey. You. Fix things now?"
Jin paused. "Sometimes."
"Good. Fix Aoki."
"HEY—"
"I don't have the tools," Jin replied calmly.
Mari covered her mouth to hide her laugh.
Chores were assigned that afternoon.
No one knew how this happened. It just did.
"Shimada, mop," Fujii said.
"Again?!"
"Mori, inventory."
"…Why?"
"Because you complain loudly."
Sato nodded. "Fair."
Fujii looked at Jin. "You're… free."
Everyone stared.
Jin blinked. "I can—"
"Shopping," Kagawa said. "Protein. Tape. Ice packs."
Jin bowed. "Understood."
Mori stared at him. "You didn't have to agree so fast."
"I already wrote it down," Jin said.
"That's terrifying."
The convenience store trip turned into a mistake.
Jin returned with exactly what was requested.
And extras.
"Why are there snacks?" Shimada asked suspiciously.
"They were discounted," Jin replied.
"WHY DO YOU KNOW THAT?"
Mari helped unload the bags. "You realize you're enabling them."
Jin nodded. "Yes."
"Good," she said. "Just checking."
They ended up sitting on the gym steps again, drinks in hand, watching the others argue inside about whose turn it was to clean the ring.
"You're becoming infrastructure," Mari said.
"That sounds permanent."
"It is."
He considered that. "I don't mind."
She looked at him for a long moment, then smiled slightly. "That's dangerous too."
Inside, Takamura shouted, "HEY! WHO FIXED THE FAN?"
Jin raised his hand halfway.
Takamura stared. "Why?"
"So it wouldn't fall."
"…I hate competent people."
Training ended late.
Lights dimmed. The gym slowly emptied.
Jin stayed behind, wiping down the ring without being told. Mari lingered, pretending to read something on her phone.
"You know," she said, "most people would've left by now."
Jin shrugged. "It's not done yet."
She watched him finish, then lock the equipment cabinet carefully.
When he turned off the lights, the gym went quiet in that familiar way—heavy, but calm.
Jin stood in the ring for a moment, hands on the ropes, breathing evenly.
Not thinking about fights.
Not thinking about the future.
Just tomorrow.
"Ready?" Mari asked from the door.
"Yes."
He locked up, tugged the door once to be sure, and followed her out.
Behind them, the gym rested—messy, loud, broken in places.
Waiting.
END OF CHAPTER
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