Thank you again Cinder Fox! And, actually, I don't think Tyson will be in it. I can't find anywhere to put him in. But, you've given me something to think about!

Monday to Max, Kai and Rei, was an ordeal. All three were tired. Rei looked harrowed, and not only avoided Lee like the plague, but also swayed from having to answer any questions about why he looked half-dead.

In math, he sat slumped across his desk, his head resting in the palm of his hand, his raven hair dishevelled, his eyes slightly reddened by lack of sleep, and he would open his mouth for a small yawn every few minutes.

"Kon, am I keep you awake?" his math teacher snapped, after a particularly big yawn from Rei.
"No Sir,"

"Then sit up and pay attention,"

Rei sat up, but barely had the stamina to open his eyes fully. The teacher gave him a studious look but didn't say anything, and continued with the lesson.

Rei slipped off into a deep sleep then, but was woken by the sounds of someone entering the classroom.

He watched, bleary-eyed and not really registering anything, as Max walked to the front of the class, spoke quietly to the teacher, then sat at the desk in front of him.

Rei blinked, clearing his mind.

Where had Max been?

Rei had saved a seat in math like he usually did for Max. But Max hadn't turned up. So the Italian boy Enrique had sat in his place instead.

Rei listened to the Italian now, as the boy leant forward and whispered to Max (Rei had no idea Enrique knew Max, or that Max knew him) "Pst, Max,"

Max turned around.

I was surprised to see his eyes were bloodshot.

"What's wrong? Are you OK?"

Max nodded, and turned back around.

Rei frowned.

He wanted to say something to Max, ask him what was wrong, but the teacher had turned at Enrique's hushed whispers and was giving him a glare.

As Rei sat back to contemplate things, he could hear Enrique talking to his French pal across the aisle.

"Well, I don't know, he just got pulled out of art twenty minutes early,"
"Has something happened at home, do you think?"
"I don't know. But the receptionist told him he needed to hurry and bring his things with him. Max looked like he had no idea what was going on and just followed her,"
"What do you think has happened?" another voice joined in from behind.
"I don't know,"
The teacher barked at them to shush, and the conversation broke up.

Rei watched Max as he put his head down on the desk. As the class began to get themselves ready, noisily, for an exercise, Rei saw Max's back shudder as if he was crying.

'What's wrong?' Rei thought, wanting to comfort his friend, 'What's happened?'

Max sped out of math as fast as he can. He needed to go somewhere quiet, where there wasn't an entire class gawking at him and asking him questions.

As he pushed his way through the corridors, he swiped his sleeves across his eyes, sniffing.

"Max!"
He carried on walking, not really hearing the voice.

He turned into his locker corridor.

There as no-one there, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
"Max?"

He turned just in time to see Rei skidding around the corner.

"Max, what's wrong?"
Rei could see the bloodshot in Max's eyes was definitely from tears, and that he hadn't been overreacting or hallucinating.

"Rei?" Max asked, his eyes were welled up with tears and he was seeing blurry. He wiped them again with the back of sleeve, but it didn't work. More kept coming.
"Yeah," Rei said, softly. He stood close to Max, worry masking his face.

"What's wrong?"

"Kai," Max said, choked on his tears.

Rei frowned, "What do you mean?"
"Kai he's…in hospital,"
Rei had to play that back again to himself.

"W-When did that happen?"
"This morning. Before math. I was going to go and see him but I can't,"
Max looked so upset. His eyes brimmed and Rei knew it was taking everything for him not to start crying fully.

The pair had become quite close for the past month or so, as both were a) needy of friends and b) enjoyed each other's companionship.

So Rei felt inclined to comfort Max when Max crumpled and began to cry.

"Is he OK?"
"Yeah. He should be,"
"When is he getting out?"
"Tomorrow, hopefully,"
"Well, that's good isn't?" I could hear Max twiddling the cord between his fingers.

"Yeah, but it depends if he can,"
"Max?"
"Hmm?"
"Can I ask what's wrong with Kai? I mean, I know he's ill but…what from?"
I could hear Max sigh.

I switched off my stereo, which had been on pause, and switched on my desk lamp, lying on my bed and staring up at the ceiling.

My hair fell everywhere around me. I had taken it out today to wash it and it was slowly drying. Damp strands still stuck together, but the rest of it cascaded over my shoulders and around my head. I must look like I'm leaking oil from my head.

I had been talking to Max for a while. I had comforted him at school, and eventually he had gone home just after lunch.

He rang me when he got the news that Kai was better.

I was glad. It made me feel like I really was his and Kai's friend.

"Well…it's kinda hard to describe. It's just…he gets run down, really easily. And if he gets too tired, he'll collapse, and go into a sort of lapse. He gets seriously cold and if he stays like that for a long time, he starts to get bruises on his face and arms. And he has trouble breathing. The hospital can give him something to make him better, and he starts to get more life back into him. But it takes everything out of him and he's resting for a while. I…I don't know what it's called. Or what it has to do with. I…I've never been told, and I didn't want to ask,"

I was shocked. I couldn't believe Max knew so little about Kai's illness.

I'd always heard, from rumours, that Kai was ill. But I'd also heard that he had psychiatric problems too, which I don't feel like asking Max about.

I didn't want to pry, but it would be interesting to know the truth.

Maybe it had something to do with Kai being adopted, I don't know.

But I promised myself I would find out, then tucked the thought at the back of my mind for later, and returned to the present.

"Can I ask you something Rei?"
"Sure. Shoot,"

"Why did you move?"
…Ah…

"I…I had trouble, at my old school,"

No point in lying. But no point spilling my guts and heart about all of that. Not now. Later.

I've promised myself that, when anyone has tried to help me. My family, counsellors. Everyone has asked and I have always put it off until later, and when later comes either they have given up on asking or I am too scared to even think about it.

But I will do. This time. I will tell Max the truth one day.
"How do you mean?"
"Well, I fell into the bad crowd, at school. Things…happened, and I don't really why I let them but…I left, to get away from it. And the closest place to us was Clerkdale High,"
Max dropped it at that .

We carried on with a friendly conversation for another forty five minutes.

As we said goodbye, I promised I would go over tomorrow to see if Kai was alright after school. Max said he was glad, which made me feel better. I always felt odd asking myself over. But I wanted to see how Kai was.

I put the phone down, hoping Kai would be well enough.

I still didn't understand Kai's illness but, all things comes to those who wait.

I sat up, stretched, and as I passed my wardrobe to get to my desk, I felt a chill in my spine.
The photos, they were lying in a shoebox buried underneath a few old rucksacks and blankets at the bottom of my wardrobe. I shook them out of my head and switched off my desk light, ready to go to bed and sleep.

But I couldn't rid a feeling in the pit of my stomach, and outside, I could hear thunder striking.

A bad omen.

I sighed and crawled into bed.

I wish I would stop having those.

"Hah!"

Blood burst from the swollen lip as harsh contact was made by a bunched fist.

The crowd roared, either in celebration or angry despair. The audience hollered at their chosen fighter, rallying him off.

The one most injured staggered, away from his younger opponent.

The boy swaggered forward, smirking, and lazily punched the man in the jaw, sending him spirally backwards, and crunching against the concrete sides of the ring.

The air was filled with chanting and shouting, and the thick, choking smell of body sweat, heat and blood.

At the side of the ring, literally hanging over the sides, another boy wearing a beanie hat yelled support for the younger fighter.

Another punch, and the older fighter saw stars.

"Had enough?" the younger smirked.

The man gurgled a response through the blood drenching his lips. The other cocked his head to the side, like an inquisitive dog.

"Really? Well…good,"

He finished the man off with a roundhouse kick. The man flew back, cracking his head against the concrete sides, and lay still.

"The winner!" the referee cried, throwing the boy's arm up into the air.

A number of the audience cheered and whooped, but the rest swore and hissed.

"That's it, watch 'im and weep boys. That's it, hand over your money!" the boy with the flat cap held out his hands, and wads of cash and coins spilled into his hands as he collected the bets.

The boy vaulted over the edge of the ring to the boy with the flat cap.

"How are we going?"
"Great," the boy with the money laughed, "Morgan you were great! Come on, we've got to get moving, you're expected at another underground arena in twenty minutes,"
The changing room, which had once been a guard station for the abandoned railway station, was filled with laughter as a group of teenagers counted out the money they had collected.
"So, first fight of tonight Morgan, and we have plenty of money. Win this one, and we're rich,"

Morgan glanced over his shoulder, smirking. His dirty, deep black bangs, tinged with electric green, shone in the light of the bare bulb swinging above their heads.

"Of course I'll win," he said, confidently, "I always win,"

"You are so stuck up," a girl with pink hair and golden-cat eyes spat. She sat on the old control panel, swinging her pink-clad legs.

"Hey Mariah baby, what's up?" Morgan said, trying to get his arms around Mariah's waist.

Mariah shoved him off, "Get off me,"
"Look, you've been here for, what, nine months? You've got to of got used to me by now baby…"
"Get off me, leech! I am sick of hanging around you! Why am I still here? I came to England to see my old best friend! You promised me you knew where he was and we would find him, you said you wanted to find him yourself!"
"I do babe, and we are going to see him. We're inching our way there,"
"Yeah, through all the underground fighting arenas in this country!"
"We're nearly there Mariah, honest,"
"Humph. Fine. Now get to your fight, I need to buy another ribbon for my hair,"

The man at the sign up station was bored. These underground fights were getting old. It was the same ten guys every night. They either lost, got drunk and were found lying sobbing in the gutter with empty pockets, or they won, got drunk, and were having fist fights all the way to the next underground arena, thinking himself fit for another win.

So when he saw this teenager walking towards him, the man sat up, eyeing him.

"Name?" he said, tapping his pencil against the clipboard.

"Morgan Demsey," the boy said.

The man scrawled it down.
"Age?"
"Seventeen,"
"Ring name?"
"Konman,"

Morgan corrected him as the man wrote it down wrong.
"K instead of C? Oh, so you must be serious. A specifically written name for your ring name. How did that come about?"
"Lets just say," Morgan said, with a smirk, "I had…someone in mind, when I came up with it,"

"Sure kid," the man laughed, liking the young fighter, "Straight down the hall and to the right. Good luck,"

The boy moved off.

The man sat back in his chair.

"'Konman'," he read off the list.

Poor guy who had had this kid name himself after.

That kid was pretty scary.

"Morgan," I breathed, as I sat up ramrod straight, sweat running down my face.

Another nightmare.

"Morgan," I said, again. The name wouldn't leave my tongue.

"Morgan,"
I drifted back off to sleep.

'Morgan,'

Those memories just kept popping up.

Oooooooooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhh.

Ahem.

Well, a bit more violence you could say.

TTFN!