He tried to hide it from his friends.
The fact that the scar on his face throbbed horrendously, the fact that his muscles were always sore, the fact that he could barely support his own weight sometimes, the fact that his hands didn't feel like his hands.
He had to hide it. He wasn't the one who got hurt, he wasn't the one who crumbled after being forced down. He was the one who was there for everyone else, who made sure that everyone around him was okay, who put a stop to those who caused his friends pain.
But some things, like strained relationships with fathers or deaths of mothers, always make their way to the surface, no matter how much you deny them.
It wasn't anyone's fault, except for maybe his, when he was up against the Vermilion warriors and lost control, throwing one of them into Jay who flew head first into a dumpster.
"Jay!" He called out, rushing over to open the lid before pulling out bags of trash on the street, trying to uncover him before the warriors fled, "hurry, Jay. Get out of there!"
He didn't expect his best friend to cower away in fear and say, "just don't hurt me" before jumping out himself. All he could do was stutter as his friend voiced exactly what he was thinking.
"Where did they go?"
As soon as they got back to the Airjitzu temple, he would tell them. He would tell all of them exactly what was happening to him. He just hoped the ride back didn't renew the throbbing pain in his head.