The tension that had settled over the courtyard in the morning followed Aarvin throughout the day like a shadow he couldn't outrun. Whispers trailed behind him, eyes lingered too long, and phone screens lit up the moment he entered a hallway. The fight video was still circulating, but that wasn't the danger anymore. The real storm carried three names: *James Bennett*, *Michael Rowe*, and *Henry Clarke*—final-year seniors, powerful, feared, and now furious.
*Locker-Room Silence*
Inside the boys' locker room, John tossed his bag onto the bench with an exhausted groan.
"Coach Anderson is going to destroy us."
Aarvin gave a dry, humorless smile.
"He can try."
John paused, the joking tone fading.
"You're not planning something reckless, right?"
Aarvin didn't answer. Before John could push further, the door swung open. Coach Anderson strode in—tall, sharp-featured, the kind of presence that commanded silence before he even spoke.
"Storm Pack," he said, voice clipped. "My office. Now."
*Coach Anderson's Office*
They stood like soldiers awaiting judgment. Coach removed his glasses slowly, deliberately.
"You two have managed to put Oakridge Athletics on the trending page," he said, "for the worst possible reason."
John swallowed hard. Aarvin remained still.
"But," Coach continued, "I watched the footage myself." He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. "Aarvin… you fight well. Too well. And that is exactly what concerns me."
Aarvin looked up. "Sir?"
"You lose control," Coach said plainly. "And someone with your raw power cannot afford that."
The words cut deeper than expected. Coach exhaled and stood.
"I'm not suspending you. Not yet. But you need discipline. And you need distance from unnecessary conflicts—especially with… those seniors."
Aarvin's jaw tightened. John spoke carefully, "Sir, they're the ones provoking us."
"I know who James Bennett is," Coach replied. "I know all three of them. They're dangerous. If they want revenge, they'll create the perfect trap—and you'll fall into it if you're not thinking." He paused, then looked directly at Aarvin. "Don't take the bait."
Aarvin met his gaze. "What if they cross the line first?"
Coach studied him for a long moment—no longer as a coach, but as someone who recognized real anger when he saw it.
"Then," he said softly, "don't let them drag you down with them."
*The Dorm Hallway*
John and Aarvin stepped out of the office.
"Great," John muttered. "In short: don't fight… unless they hit you first."
Aarvin didn't reply. His attention was locked on the far end of the hallway. Nairi stood there. But she wasn't alone. James. Michael. Henry. Three seniors formed a half-circle around her like predators waiting for a reaction.
Michael leaned casually against the wall. Henry watched her with cold amusement. James smirked like he owned the building.
Aarvin's breath sharpened. John whispered urgently, "Bro… don't."
But Aarvin was already moving.
*The Line They Crossed*
They didn't notice him until he was close. Michael spoke first.
"Relax, Storm Boy. We were just talking to her."
Henry added with a thin smile, "She's very… polite when she's nervous."
Nairi flinched. Aarvin's fists tightened.
James stepped forward, spreading his arms mockingly.
"What? You think you can take all three of us?"
Aarvin's voice was low, dangerous. "You don't want to find out."
John hurried up beside him. "Guys—please. Don't start something public—"
James ignored him entirely. He leaned closer to Aarvin, breath cold.
"She didn't tell you the whole story, did she? She left out how she—"
Before the sentence could finish, Aarvin grabbed his collar and slammed him against the wall. The entire hallway froze. Michael straightened instantly. Henry's smirk vanished.
Nairi gasped, "Aarvin—stop!"
John yanked his arm. "Aarvin! Coach said control!"
Aarvin's fingers trembled with barely contained fury. James smirked even while pinned.
"There it is," he hissed. "The temper. The flaw that will ruin you."
Aarvin shoved him back—not a punch, but enough to send a message.
"Stay away from her," he said, voice steady and icy. "This is your last warning."
James's smile faded. Henry's tone turned cold.
"The only warning here… is ours."
The three walked away without haste, like a threat delivered in slow motion.
*Aftermath*
The moment they were gone, Nairi grabbed Aarvin's arm.
"Aarvin… please. They're dangerous."
"So am I," he muttered.
"No," she whispered, eyes tight with worry. "You're better."
John nodded. "She's right, man. They want you to snap. One wrong move and you're done."
Aarvin looked at them—at the two people who mattered most right now.
"I'm not afraid of them," he said quietly. "But I'm done letting anyone walk over the people I care about."
Nairi's hand slid into his—intentionally this time.
"Promise me," she said softly, "you won't fight alone."
Aarvin exhaled slowly. "I promise."
But deep inside, he already knew the truth: James, Michael, and Henry weren't finished. Their next move was coming. And it wouldn't be small.
* To be continued…