Promise
The locker room was eerily silent as the clock ticked closer to four pm.
From the bench by the window, Steph watched the second hand flicker around the clock face, Seraphina clutched tightly in her left hand. The polished metal of her blade pressed cool against her palm, grounding her just enough to keep the anxious twist in her stomach from showing on her face.
Around her, her teammates pretended to be busy with their pre-game routines. Max was checking and re-checking the screws on Draciel with so much focus it was obvious he was barely seeing them. Becky had her headphones in at max volume, the familiar pulse of Linkin Park’s Numb buzzing tinny and faint from each earpiece. Ray strapped his wrists with the concentration of a ship captain navigating the Suez Canal. Kai stood against the wall, arms folded, gaze lowered and unreadable.
And Tyson…
Their trump card paced the centre of the room, restless energy radiating from him with each turn. He would stop every few seconds like he meant to say something, then think better of it and move again, trainers squeaking softly against the floor.
Another minute ticked past.
He’s not going to show, Steph thought with dismay, glaring at the locker room door as if she could will it open through sheer irritation.
Patience, little one, Seraphina urged.
Steph tightened her grip on the blade. Easy for the bit-beast to say.
Four o’clock ticked by.
The handle turned.
Every head in the room lifted as the door opened.
Hiro stepped inside quietly and closed the door behind him.
No one said anything.
No one told him to leave either.
For a long second, he just stood there with his hand still resting on the handle, like he understood exactly how much ground there was between the door and the rest of the room and knew he had no right to cross it lightly.
Then he let go of the handle and took a step forward.
Addressing them as a team, Hiro said, “What’s done is done. I want to be your coach again.”
The words landed heavily in the silence.
Steph felt the room react before anyone moved. Max looked up sharply from Draciel. Becky slid one side of her headphones off her ear. Tyson stopped pacing. Even Kai lifted his gaze.
It was Ray who spoke first.
“You want to coach a bunch of has-beens?”
The challenge hung in the air.
Steph glanced at him in surprise. It was the kind of blunt, cutting comment she would have expected from Tyson, maybe Kai on a bad day — not Ray, who usually chose his words with care. But that was what made it hit harder. If even Ray was willing to say it out loud, then the wound in the room had gone deeper than any of them had admitted.
Hiro knew it too.
Steph saw it in the way his shoulders slumped, just slightly, accepting the accusation without resistance. With regret.
“No,” he said. “I want to coach the Bladebreakers.”
That shifted something.
Not enough to break the tension, but enough to change its shape. Steph saw Max’s expression soften at the edges. Becky lowered her headphones completely now, letting them rest around her neck. Tyson’s jaw stayed tight, but he hadn’t started pacing again.
Hiro stepped forward another pace.
“I’m not going to pretend I haven’t made mistakes,” he said. “I should have been honest with you all from the start, not just about BEGA, but about this tournament.”
No one interrupted him.
“Reforming the team was never about winning a championship title,” he continued. “Maybe it was the right thing to keep that from you when you were kids, but you’re adults now, and you deserve honesty. You deserve a choice.”
Steph watched his gaze move across all of them, deliberate and steady, lingering nowhere and everywhere at once. There was no strategist in him now, no careful manipulation, no attempt to steer their reactions before they had them. Just Hiro, stripped of excuses.
“I don’t need to remind you what’s at stake here. If the Bladesharks and the JBO succeed, the entire future of the WBBA is in jeopardy.”
The words sank into the room with a weight none of them could ignore.
“I told you I wanted to help you put an end to the Bladesharks once and for all, and that hasn’t changed,” Hiro said. “But you and I all know it’s so much bigger than that now.”
Steph felt Seraphina’s presence stir against her thoughts, warm and approving. Hiro was finally saying it plainly.
Becky’s voice broke the quiet.
“So why did you leave?”
There was no accusation in it. Just a clean, direct question, asked with the same blunt clarity Becky brought to everything when she wanted the truth and nothing else.
Hiro met her gaze.
“I thought it was the best thing for the team,” he admitted. “I wasn’t honest with you, and it was putting the team at odds. You weren’t fighting because you didn’t trust each other — you were fighting because I hadn’t given you a reason to trust in the team.”
Steph felt that one land.
Max looked down at Draciel in his hands, thoughtful now rather than tense. Ray’s brow furrowed slightly, but not in anger. In reflection. Becky’s posture eased, just a fraction.
“I don’t deserve your forgiveness for my mistakes,” Hiro went on. “And walking out on you was a mistake I’ve made more times than I should have.” His voice dipped lower, steadier for the admission. “But I’d like to be your coach again, if you’ll still have me.”
The silence that followed was different from the one before.
Less brittle. Less defensive. The room was listening now.
Steph glanced at her teammates. Max was quiet, contemplating Hiro’s words with the earnest seriousness he wore whenever something mattered to him more than he knew how to say. Ray’s expression had softened, the challenge from earlier giving way to contemplation. Becky’s glance shifted from Kai, to Hiro, and back to Kai again, assessing, calculating, weighing whether this was real.
Kai, after a long second, lowered his chin in a nod — slight, but intentional.
Then he asked, “What about Barthez?”
Hiro gave a small shrug, not dismissive, just honest. “Barthez’s involvement complicates things,” he admitted. “It raises the stakes. This isn’t just about becoming a championship team again, it’s about becoming a team that can defend the integrity of the sport.” His gaze swept the room once more. “I know that together, we can do that. Right?”
This time the answer came not in words, but in the shift of bodies and expressions around the room.
Ray nodded first, small but honest. Becky followed with a shrug that said she was in whether she liked how they got here or not. Max muttered a barely audible, “Of course,” under his breath. Kai’s nod this time was unmistakable.
And Tyson—
He’s not convinced, Seraphina observed, her impatience unmistakable.
But Steph saw the shift in Tyson’s stance, the softening in his expression. Not enough to call it acceptance. Not yet. But the anger wasn’t leading anymore. Beneath it was hurt, and beneath that, something more fragile still — the part of Tyson that had wanted Hiro to come back and hated him for being the reason he had to want it.
Hiro sensed it too, doubling down.
“I made you all a promise,” he said. “And I’m sticking with you.”
Now there was nowhere left for either of them to hide.
Hiro turned to face Tyson fully.
The room seemed to narrow around the two brothers. Steph watched the change in Hiro then — all the careful composure still there, but with something rawer under it now. He was not speaking to his captain. Not even to his best blader. He was speaking to Tyson.
Hiro’s voice was softer when he said, “What do you say, Tyson?”
Tyson held his gaze for a long moment.
Steph could almost see the argument playing out behind his eyes. All the old hurt. All the anger. All the times Hiro had made choices for him and expected him to understand later. But there was relief there too, buried deep and impossible to miss once she saw it. Relief that Hiro had come back. Relief that he was finally saying the things Tyson had needed to hear all along.
Tyson scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck and let out a breath.
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt if we practiced first.”
For half a heartbeat, nobody moved.
Then Hiro grinned.
“Now that’s something I never thought I’d hear.”
The tension in the room cracked all at once.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Hiro asked, the first real spark of his old energy returning to his voice. “Let’s get out there.”
Max leaped to his feet first with a whoop of relief, almost knocking Becky over in his enthusiasm. She grinned and shoved him back with her shoulder, muttering something under her breath that made Ray snort softly as he stood. Kai pushed off the wall and reached for his blade without a word. Tyson rolled his shoulders once, the weight in him lighter now, and bent to grab Dragoon.
Single file, they left the locker room, the heavy silence finally replaced by movement, purpose, and the low murmur of a team pulling itself back together.
Steph hung behind, giving Seraphina’s blade a relieved squeeze.
Hiro lingered too, just long enough for their eyes to meet.
She offered him a small smile. “Good job, Coach.”
Something eased in his face at the title. Gratitude, quiet and immediate.
His answering smile was tired but real.
Steph nodded once, then turned and followed her teammates out into the noise beyond the locker room doors.
