Chapter 3: Hell of a week.

She quickly came to her senses and tried her best to convince him that using a taser was unnecessary, saying that a possibility of him running into a person with an electricity quirk is extremely low since there are not so many quirked individuals in the country in the first place.

"According to statistics, currently only 8% of the country's population has some sort of 'quirks', furthermore, most of them merely affect one's appearances, so your case is a rarity in and on itself. I don't think that you'll meet someone else with a power like that, let alone electrical one, besides, the prospect of tasing my own son doesn't seem so attractive to me, so forget about that one, young man." He reluctantly agreed with her, finishing his cereal and heading back to his room in order to "do some research", which probably meant watching his movies and looking for moves to use in the future.

She knew that there was no way he'd go back on this idea now, she knew how much danger he'll face, should he go along with it, but she also knew that he'll manage to get through it, she believed that he'll make a difference, she gave him a promise that she'll support him and nothing will ever make her break it. Now she needed to start looking for the closest sport and breakdance club to sign her future hero into.

Okay, with that taken care of -I don't think the taser idea was that bad, honestly- I need to plan what to do next, he thought while examining his arm: the sight was still unpleasant, but he needed to get used to it, he'll surely see more of similar wounds, be it his own body or someone else's. It was a reminder to his mistake, a mistake he'll try his best not to repeat. Learning some martial arts is definitely my top priority, but which exactly? I can't learn all of them at the same time, he huffed. Hmm, maybe I should ask uncle Max later, grandpa said he served in the army for some time, he probably knows better.

"But what about my quirk? What can I possibly do with it to make it less dangerous?" he shuddered as remembered the alleyway again, "The fire on his shirt wasn't blue, it was orange," he realized, paling at the memories. "What if its color depends on its temperature? I think the damage I've dealt to his chest wasn't..." he put covered his eyes with a hand. I must learn how to control it. "Regulating its temperature is the first step." He sat on his bed, stretching his arms out, facing his palms. "First, I need to activate it. On command."

He closed his eyes, focusing on fire he felt inside him, raging, untamed and reached for it, instantly feeling warmth in his hands. He opened his eyes and saw a red fire that was beautifully dancing in the middle of his palms, there was no stinging or numbness he felt four months ago. What if I'll stretch them up to my fingers? at his thought, fire nigh instantaneously covered his fingers, surprising him a bit. That was pretty fast. How about fingertips only? and again, at one single moment flames went out, only ones on top of his fingerprints are left. "Okay, so far, so good," he muttered. "Now, I need lower its temperature." he focused, tried his best to make the flames colder. Is it even possible? He was looking at the flames, extremely happy that the control over its movements was pretty easy and slightly irritated at his inability to lower the heat.

"YOUR EYE IS BURNING!" he was startled by his mom's scream, jumping on his bed, flames immediately turning blue.

"There won't be any lasting damage," Max said, as he finished bandaging his fingers. "But you can kiss your fingerprints goodbye, pal."

"I'll make sure to give them a proper funeral."

"Don't forget to call me then, I'll bring some flowers," he chuckled, "What the hell you were even doing?"

"I've tried to test my quirk by and got a bit spooked by mom," he answered, he then realized his slip-up. Oh crap. Does he even-

"You should be really careful with that flame of yours, kiddo. And don't freak out: your grandpa told me about your... 'Quirk', was it? Cute name by the way. So how was your progress with it?"

"I didn't have to much time to test it, I've just spread it from the center of my palms to my fingertips," he answered.

"And then you got hurt?"

"Nope, I didn't feel anything but warmth. It's blue flames that got me burnt."

"Wait, didn't they mess up your arms last time you used them?" Max said, touching his chin.

"I think I've been hurt that badly because my body didn't have the time to adapt to my quirk. Gotta train with them as well after I'll learn how to regulate its temperature in the first place. Wonder what's the lowest degree can be. Can I give a shape to my flame? Is it possible for me to control it from the distance? If it is, can I control the flame that isn't my quirk? How fast can I produce the flame? What would be the best way to implement them into combat? Oh, by the way..." he then looked at Max, who was smiling widely at him, "What?"

"It's good to see you being so passionate about it, it's the first time in four months that I see you talk that much," he answered. "You really are hyped up about it, huh? I honestly thought that you'll refuse to use it at all after what happened back then."

"I'll need it if I want to help people, the only thing I must do is to find a way to use it without hurting them," he looked at his arms with a tint of sadness in his eyes. "And could you please stop reminding me about that day?"

"Told you subtlety isn't my thing," Max shrugged. "But you're getting over it surprisingly well."

"I'm not," he sighed. "I don't think I'll ever will."

"You shouldn't worry too much about that piece of shit's death, you know," there was anger in Max's voice, something that Jalyn had never noticed in him before. "Had I been there, I would've wasted the bastard myself."

"Doesn't it go against your profession?"

"I don't care if it does, I won't allow anyone to fuck with my friends, especially with you, kid"

"Language," Jalyn flatted out

"Seriously? I'm pouring my soul and heart to you and that's all I get?" he tried to sound insulted. "No 'Thanks, uncle Max, I'm touched that you care so deeply about me'? No hugs? Come on at least smile, don't break this old man's heart."

"Sorry, I don't feel like stating the obvious," the boy said with a soft smile. "And you're not that old."

"Awww, aren't you a sweet kid. Anyways, what was that you wanted to talk about?"

"I'm planning to learn how to fight in a couple of years, so I just wanted to know what martial arts you would recommend."

"Hmm, if I were you, I would've focused on one specific fighting style and learned a couple of techniques from other martial arts, just in case. I think would be enough," Max answered, then added, "As for the recommendation, I think Muay Thai is a good choice."

"Can you shortly describe what Muay Thai is?" he asked.

"It's a martial art where you use your arms, legs, knees, and elbows. Quite versatile, if you ask me. Besides, I'm sure that a smart kid such as yourself will be able to use it to its full extent."

"Sounds interesting enough, do you know any good instructors?"

"I can teach you myself, pal, so don't worry about that," he paused. "Come to think of it, why the hell do you even need to learn martial arts, don't you have an ass-kicking power to do the fighting?"

"There might be situations where I won't be able to use it, so some backup would be nice. Also, I think it's better to bruise than to burn."

"Fair enough," Max said, getting up. "Well, it was nice to chat with you, kiddo, but I gotta go now."

"You're not staying for lunch?"

"I'd love to, but there's some business about my new house I've gotta attend to," he said, putting his cap on. "See ya later, fiery boy."

The kid chuckled dryly at the lame nickname.

After closing the door after Max, he headed to the kitchen. The TV was on, and he overheard the news reports.

*-fically confirmed that the burnt corpse that was found near the Regional Hospital indeed belongs to Zenitsyn Yuri Nikolaevich, who was suspected in 17 cases of-* Victoria noticed him and quickly turned it off, "How're your fingers, darling?" she asked, coming closer and kissing him on the forehead.

"There won't be any burns this time, so everything's fine," his nose caught a pleasant smell coming from the oven, "What are you cooking?"

"One of my favorite dishes. I've used to cook it a lot when I was younger, but I kinda forgot about it after I married your dad. It's baked chicken legs with potatoes."

"It smells amazing".

"Thanks, twinkle," she started pulling out tableware out of the shelves, "wanna help me with preparing for lunch?"

"Sure, what can I do?"

"Well, first of all, take a couple of spoons from the drawer, they set up the dishes and put a teapot on a stove. I'll go get us something sweet to eat," she said, leaving the kitchen.

He filled the teapot with water and was about to put in on a stove, What if I'll heat it up myself? After a moment of consideration, he opened his palm and tried to use his quirk again. Just like the last time, red fire appeared immediately. I think I need to lower the heat a bit, but ho- he then looked at the oven. What if I imagine my quirk as an oven? Just spin the handle and change the temperature. Will it work, though? he focused, imagining his flame inside an oven. There's only one way to find out. He mentally spun the handle to the left. Surprisingly, his quirk responded, flames on his palm turning orange. Huh, maybe it won't be that hard to control it? he then placed his arm under the teapot and waited for the water to boil.

He heard an entrance door opening, "Honey, I'm home! What's for lu..." his dad said, entering the kitchen to find his son there, his flaming hand under the kettle, "Son, what are you doing?"

"Heating the teapot," he deadpanned. "How's your job?"

"You know there's a stove right next to you, right?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Then why are you heating it yourself? "

"Yes."

"... How does it even ans-"

"Yes."

He sighed, "Just be careful, son, I don't want you to hurt yourself. Also, a word of advice: don't use your power when your grandmother's at home, she'll be pissed. Well more than she always is, if she sees your fire, it'll be just a waste of nerves."

"For her or for me?" he asked.

"Yes," his father answered with a smile on his face.

"Har-har."

"Hey, you've started it, not me," the older man shrugged.

"Oh, Jasyl, you're home," Victoria came back with a can full of candies. "Take your seat, we're about to eat."

The chicken tasted as good as it smelled, a simple chat he had with his parents brought back calmness he hadn't felt for a while, it helped him do distract himself from all the stress that has been accumulating for four long months, helped him to forget about the terrible scars on his forearms and his back, about the alleyway, about the looks he's been receiving from strangers, guests, his own grandmother, about the feeling of utter helplessness, anger and regret, about the fear of the future that surely will have even more challenges for him. For now, for this brief moment, he was completely relaxed. Who would've known that all you can need for happiness is a pleasant time with the ones who love you, who cares about you?

"Honey," he looked at his mother, who sat in front of him with a concerned look on her face, "are you all right?"

"Yes, why?" he tilted his head.

"Son, don't freak out, but your eye is burning," Jasylhan interfered, his voice a bit shaky.

He stood up and went to the closest mirror: his left eye was, indeed, burning, with emerald fire, but that fire felt different. Unlike orange, red, or blue, it didn't feel hot, but it wasn't cold either, it just... was there. He overheard his mother saying that earlier, during his "tests", his eye was burning with blue.

But that doesn't make any sense. Isn't blue flame the hottest one? It burnt me twice, why it doesn't affect my eye then? Wait, could it possibly be that these flames are representing my emotions? It could justify why I can't feel them at all. If so, I need to find a way to subdue them, or else my real quirk will be easily discovered. But why it didn't appear yesterday? Maybe the emotions I'm feeling must be really strong? The only emotion I've felt now was calmness, deep, absolute calmness and earlier I've felt happy because of the level of control I have over my quirk.

"It's nothing to worry about, it seems like another feature of my quirk," he tried to calm his parents down.

"What's quirk?" his dad asked.

"That's how I call my power."

"It sounds kinda cute."

"I know."

"Baby, are you sure that your eyes are okay?" Victoria still sounded worried.

"It's fine. By the way, what about the lessons?" he tried to change the subject.

"Oh, wait a sec," she pulled out a notebook out of her pocket, "swimming is on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 9 to 11 in the morning, athletics are Mondays and Wednesdays from 12 to 13 and breakdancing is on Fridays and Saturdays from 10 to 11," she stopped reading and looked at her son. "Are you sure you can keep up with that?"

"Yes."

"Well, Sunday is free, are you sure you don't want to add something? It's not like you'll get tired or something."

"How about tase-"

"Jalyn, no!" she protested.

"It was worth a try," he shrugged. "That'll be one hell of a week, huh?" he mumbled.

Jasylhan's eyes were jumping from his wife to his son "Is there something important I've missed?"

"I'll explain everything later, it's time for you to go to the job," she said, kissing him on the lips.

It was 9 pm. He was lying on his bed, looking at red fire sliding around his finger on his right hand. I wonder if I can... he shook his head. No, no, it's not the time, everybody's at home, all I'll do is just freak them out. He moved red flame to the tip of his finger, simultaneously lowering it's temperature, turning it orange.

But if I'll make it quick, nobody will notice it, I just need to be sure, he focused only on his fire, trying to elevate it from his fingertip. The last time when I shot my flames it came out in a stream, he shuddered at the memories of human remains reappearing in front of him. But can I just detach them? If I'll be able to create fireballs, I'll be able to use my flames more precisely, hitting non-vital areas, hurting, but not killing, he stared at the flame, slowly putting his finger down. Just stay where you are.

His hand was on his chin now, perfectly ball-shaped fire floating still in its place.

It worked. Wait, what if I'll have more than one? he outstretched his right hand again, creating nine little fire domes along his forearm, half of the centimeter each. Rise, at his though they flew off of his hand, placing themselves around the first, the biggest one. Holy crap. Okay, how about moving them? he focused again, imagining them spinning around the big one clockwise, flames followed his command. Now, each third must increase its temperature, three of them turned red now, he noticed that they were flying faster than orange ones. Another feature? I'll have to write down everything I know somewhere later. But now, I need to turn the biggest one blue... he reached for an invisible handle, spinning it to the right, the fireball in the middle started heating up, losing its shape, turning into floating blue mess. He tried to shape it up, but the fire didn't respond. Seems like hotter flames are harder to control. He snapped his fingers extinguishing the flames. It's way easier than I expected, but there has to be more to it. Can my flames go any hotter or colder, can I affect fire, that isn't my quirk? Will my quirk work if I'm wet?

"It's time to sleep now, twinkle, you've got swimming lessons tomorrow," his mom pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, right," he mumbled, covering himself with a blanket. "Goodnight, mom."

"Goodnight, honey," she said, kissing him on the cheek.

I'm an idiot. Absolute, dumb idiot.

He was standing in line alongside other children, there were 20 of them, he's the youngest, oldest is 11 years old.

How could I forget about that? Children and trainers were trying his best not to look at him, once their eyes were on him, they immediately redirected them on the walls, ceiling or floor.

Why didn't I ask my parents to buy something to cover my arms and back with? he was berating himself, as he stood in his swimming trunks alone, his scars on display for everyone to see.

Poor guys, I hope they don't look as scary as I think, he looked at six-year-old next to him, who was shaking with fear. Not scary my ass, there are muscles visible, dammit.

"Jalyn?" his trainer called out for him?

"Y-yes? Oh, present!" he said.

"Okay, rollcall's over. Everyone above seven years performs 20 sit-ups and push-ups, the rest does 15, " he whistled, signaling the beginning of the exercises.

"How's your first day, champ?" Max greeted him when he entered the kitchen.

"Hey, uncle Max," he sighed. "I've forgotten to cover up my scars and ended up scaring the crap out of other kids and trainers. Besides that, everything went normal."

"Shit happens, pal," he shrugged. "By the way, are you busy on Sundays?"

"Nope, why?" he asked while unpacking his bag.

"What do you think about having a good ol' Muay Thai training session with me?"

"I'd love to, but aren't I too young for it?"

"The sooner you start training, the faster you'll become a professional ass-kicker," he grinned.

"If I'll be alive by the end of the week, I'll consider it," he said.

"Jeez, kid, just show some emotions, I'm not sure whether you're kidding or not," old man complained.

"Me neither," he smiled a bit at Max's groans.

"Ohohoh, I'm so kicking your ass this Sunday, brat," he gave a heartfelt smile which contradicts drastically with what he just said.

"Don't get burned, gramps," the boy said with a smirk on his face.

"See? You can if you want to!" Max said as he patted his head. "Now go, take some rest, baby-boy, you'll need it. I've already arranged everything with your parents."

"Okay, there's some chicken left in the fridge, if you want some," he said, heading to the bathroom to hang his wet clothes.

"Not anymore, kid," Max went to the door. "See ya on Sunday"

The rest of the week was somewhat uneventful, with the exception of rumors he heard about a new law being made, that somehow affected quirked people.

Upon arriving home after his breakdancing lessons, where he learned some basic moves, he decided to take a nap and practice with his quirk after. The sooner I'll learn how to control it, the faster I can patrol the streets. He remembered a kid getting robbed in the alley, luckily, no one saw him lighting robbers pants on fire, which gave a kid time to escape. I need to prevent stuff like this from happening. Hope Max's a really good teacher, he closed his eyes, falling asleep.

He woke up two hours later. Nobody was at home. Perfect, now let's see what else there is to my quirk, he lighted up his palm with orange flames. First of all, let's see if a can lower the heat even more.

He closed his eyes, mental image of oven's handle in front of him. He grabbed it and started turning it even more to the left. It gave in quite easily. He opened his eyes and saw a black fire slowly dancing on his palm. I didn't know that fire could be black at all. Let's see how obedient it is, he repeated yesterday's procedure of detaching the flame. It smoothly swirled around him, he didn't put any effort to control it whatsoever. He didn't feel it's temperature either. Now that's strange, he went downstair, black fireball still following him as he entered the kitchen. He grabbed a knife and completely covered the blade with it.

"Please don't melt," once he removed the flames and touched the blade he was a bit surprised. It's.. cold? So this is the lowest temperature I can acquire, huh? Let's see how much of it I can control, he stretched his arms in front of him, releasing a wave of black fire.

He thought that he'll feel tired when it'll fill a room or two, but flame covered the whole first floor without any discomfort at all. Holy crap, now let's move it, he wanted the flames to move on the second floor, and they did so without any problem for him. It's amazing, it has huge potential as a distraction. Now, I wonder if I can give it more shape, he thought as he moved all the black fire in front of him and shrunk it down to his size. Now, how about giving it a human shape, he looked at the black mess and imagined it forming into a human and so it did, within a couple of seconds black mess turned into himself, but with the only color being, well, black. Let's see if I can partially change its temperature, he thought as he started focusing, turning its "torso" and "head" into red flames and turning its "arms" orange. Not bad, he thought, extinguishing the flame. Wonder if it has some distinct feature similar to the Red's speed.

"Oh, right," he snapped his fingers. "I need to write it down somewhere," he went up to his room. He opened a drawer and pulled out a small notebook and a black pen as he started writing down everything he figured out about his quirk. He spent 4 hours on it. Man, that's a mess. Gotta sort this out later, he thought. He shoved the notebook into the deepest corner of his drawer and turned on his computer. I guess I gotta take a look at what this "Muay Thai" is about before Max'll start wiping the floor with me tomorrow.

Max arrived at 10 in the morning and brought a couple of mats with him. He placed them on the third floor of their house, preparing for their first lesson. He then went down on the second floor to wake up his student.

"Wake up, pal!" he pulled his blanket off. "It's training time!"

The boy let out a small groan, "What time is it?" he said half-awake.

"It's 11:35," he said cheerfully. "Now, go wash and we'll start our training."

The boy complied and within 5 minutes he was on the third floor. "So, what we're gonna do?"

"You're gonna start with some exercises: 30 sit-ups, push-ups and squats, then you'll go up and down the floors five times, then we'll see how much you can pull yourself up on the horizontal bar and then we'll start proper training." he listed.

"You really want to kill me, aren't you?" the kid said with his usual expression.

"Your career choice will do it for me if you'll slack off. Now go!" he said, as the kid started with his sit-ups.

"While I'm at it, can you tell me what will you teach me anyway?" he huffed after each word.

"Of course," he said with a shit-eating grin on his face. "I'll teach you how it feels like to get your ass kicked."

"I swear I'll set your ass on fire," he said, finishing his sit-ups.

"Language, young man!" he jokingly scolded him. "Start your push-ups now. Oh, by the way, the number of sit-ups, push-ups, squats and pull-ups will increase with every session. And I'll change your diet later since you'll need more meat on your bones to pack a serious punch."

A growl was his answer.

That's gonna be so fun, the old man thought.

After his "warm-up", Jalyn was standing on a mat in front of Max, he was panting heavily.

"Now, come at me, show me your best punch," he then ran at the older man, throwing his fist forward, which was easily dodged by a simple step to the side and his legs were swept under him. "Now, now, I didn't say, that I'll stay still, pal," he helped him up. "Try again, kiddo, we have a whole day for that."

He tried to hit him thrice, and all the time Max has dodged him with simple sidesteps. "Aww, come on, kid, I know you can do better than that," the old man taunted. "Here's the deal: I'll buy you an ice cream if you manage to hit me right now."

A small smile suddenly appeared on Jalyn's face, which alarmed him. I've got a baaaad feeling about this. Then he suddenly ran at Max, black fire shooting out of his arm towards his face "Wait, wha-" he instantly ducked, trying to avoid it, noticing boy's fist only when it hit him straight in the nose.

The moment contact was made, flames disappeared, a small boy standing in front of him, smiling mockingly, "You never said I can't use my quirk."

The old man chuckled, "You little shit, you could've killed me, you know."

"Not with this flames, they're cold," he shrugged. "Just like chocolate ice cream you're buying me after we're done."

"Oh, you cheeky little bastard," he laughed. "Good thing I've bought it beforehand, so let's take a break. I'm dying to know what's the deal with that black fire."

"Okay. How's your nose?" the kid asked.

"It'll take more than that puny tap to hurt me, pal."

"I'm actually considering setting your ass on fire now," he said on his way to the door, adding. "I'll bring the ice cream."

"Just emote a bit when you're joking for Christ's sake!" Max whined.

"Father, are you sure that letting Maxim train Jalyn is a good idea?" Victoria said with worry in her voice.

"You don't have to worry about it, Victoria, I'm sure everything will be fine." Karaesim tried to calm his daughter-in-law.

"But what if he'll get hurt?"

"It's martial arts training, of course, he will. But I know Max, he's more than capable of holding back his punches. Besides, there's nothing bad in a couple of bruises, getting used to pain won't hurt either."

"Father, I know that Jalyn will be fine, I'm talking about Max. He's very close with Jalyn, and if he'll get hurt because of him, Jalyn will blame himself. Badly."

"Mom, don't worry, everything will be fine," she was startled by her son. "He's among the people I'd never hurt, so don't think about it too much."

"How's your training going on?" his grandfather asked.

"I've managed to hit him on the nose," he pulled the ice cream from the refrigerator and headed for the door.

"Be very careful, twinkle," Victoria said.

"I will," the boy said as he left the kitchen.

"So, what's the deal with those black flames?" Max asked, while the kid was hitting sandbag with his fists. "Step forward while you're hitting and put your shoulders down,"

"Well-" he started.

"Watch your elbows," the old man interrupted him.

"-black flames are the least hot ones, I can generate huge amounts of it and control it without getting tired at all, I'm sure that it has some secondary power-" he punched the bag with the right hook.

"Rotate your hips."

"-like red flames being faster than orange and, probably, blue, but I have to figure it out yet. Oh, by the way-" his hand slipped and he accidentally uppercutted himself. "Ow!"

"A bit more force, if you want to knock yourself out," Max said, receiving a groan from the kid. " 'By the way' what?"

"It looks like I can control my fire on a distance," he continued practicing punches. "I also can shape up red, black and orange flames, the blue one is quite stubborn, I'll need to train more with that."

"Wait, you're telling me you've got goddamn pyrokinesis? That's awesome. Can it affect flames that aren't your quirk?" he asked. "Don't lean forward while you're punching, by the way. And keep your guard up."

"I haven't tested that out yet, I'm waiting for a proper opportunity."

"Which is..."

"Something that's burning without my participation," he deadpanned.

"Don't tell me that you're waiting for a house to start burning to test it."

"If I'll see a burning house, that's the first thing I'll do, but I'm talking about something less dangerous. Bums burning trash, stuff like that."

"Oh, okay," Max said. "Seems like you've somewhat learned how to punch with your fists, now let me show you how to use your elbows."

"Oka-"

"Wait, I've got a better idea, spar with me, let's see how good you are," he was interrupted yet again.

"Oka-"

"You can use your quirk as well," and again

"Wanna get punched again?" he said.

"Mocking ain't working when you're doing it with pokerface, pal."

He lined up his heels, bent his knees a bit, curled his hips forward, brought his chin down, and raised his left hand to eye level and the right one to the chin. He let black flames out of his biceps, letting it float on his sides.

He rushed at Max, throwing a jab, which was easily dodged. Crap, not fast enough. He nearly dodged Max's cross, throwing black flames at his face, hitting him in the stomach twice, while he's distracted. He instinctively jumped to the right to avoid getting hit in the face. Max suddenly threw a right hook, aiming for his arm. Jalyn tensed up, closing his eyes, preparing for impact.

He heard quite a loud crunch.

He opened his eyes, immediately looking at his left arm. The black fire was covering it, but something felt off. He touched with his right hand. It's... solid? Wait, why... how the hell it's solid? There's no pain, then what was that crunch I've hea- his face paled, he finally looked in front of him. Max was holding his right forearm. Oh, no. No, no, no, no! I've broken his hand! he started panicking. He'll hate me, he'll stop visiting me, he'll start looking at me just like him.

"Max!" he finally cried out.

"Shh, don't worry, it's okay," he tried to calm the kid down. "It's not your fault, your body just reacted this way to protect you, it's okay."

"I'm so-"

"It's fine, pal, don't blame yourself," he winced. "At least we know what black fire's secondary ability, huh?"

"Let's go to the grandpa, he'll patch you up," he commanded.

"You're such a worrywart, you know that?" he chuckled. "Relax, nothing's broken, it'll leave a bruise, at worst."

"Let's. Go," his voice was cold.

"Jeez, okay."

After a little domestic check-up. His hand was bandaged.

"Told ya not to worry," he patted the kid's head with his left hand. "A bruise, just as I told you."

"Better safe than sorry," he said.

"But hey, at least we know that you can have some dope armor, eh?" he smiled. "Let's go now, I'll show you how to use your elbows."

"Are you sure that you're fine?"

"It'll take way more than that to take me out of commission, kid," he said.

"If you say so, old man."

They've trained for three more hours. After Max left, he wrote down his discovery into his notebook. I'm way too tired for now, so I'll practice with it later, he remembered his newfound armor moving when his muscles tensed up. It was solid and fluid at the same time. Wonder if detached black fire can be solidified as well, he yawned. Well, that's a question for another day.

He turned the lights out, laid on his bed. Brain, no nightmares, please, he thought as the last pieces of consciousness left his head.

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