Pretty Insane

Rowan opened his eyes to the faint hum of hospital machines. The sterile white walls and the smell of antiseptic immediately told him where he was. A dull ache pulsed through his body, a reminder of the battle inside the sphere. He blinked a few times, his crimson eyes adjusting to the soft light filtering through the blinds.

As he turned his head, he saw her. Kyra was sitting in a chair beside his bed, her head resting on the edge of the mattress. She was asleep, her arms loosely crossed over her chest. Her sharp features were softer now, her usual scowl replaced by a calm, peaceful expression.

Rowan stared at her for a moment, his wild, predatory energy subdued. He reached out with one bruised hand, his movements slow and deliberate. His fingers brushed against her hair, gently pushing a stray lock away from her face.

For someone so untamed, so violent, Rowan's touch was surprisingly tender.

"A wild animal has a soft side," he muttered under his breath, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Who would've thought?"

Kyra stirred slightly but didn't wake. Rowan let his hand fall back to the bed, his eyes lingering on her for a moment longer before a noise drew his attention to the door.

It creaked open, and a nurse stepped inside, carrying a tray with a single apple on it. She was young, her movements quick and efficient as she set the tray on the bedside table.

"You're awake," she said brightly. "That's good. Do you want an apple? It's fresh."

Rowan's expression darkened instantly.

"An apple?" he repeated, his tone sharp and incredulous. "You're offering me an apple?"

The nurse blinked, taken aback.

"Yeah…?" she said hesitantly.

Rowan's brow furrowed, his lips curling into a sneer. "Do I look like the kind of guy who eats fruit? Take it and get out."

"Excuse me?" the nurse said, her tone shifting from polite to defensive.

"I said get out!" Rowan barked, his voice echoing through the room. The sheer force of it made the nurse flinch. She picked up the tray, muttered something under her breath, and hurried out the door.

Kyra stirred at the noise, lifting her head groggily. She blinked a few times before her eyes landed on Rowan.

"You're awake," she said, her voice laced with relief.

Rowan turned to her, his expression softening instantly. "Yeah," he said. "Been awake for a bit."

Kyra stretched, rubbing her eyes before sitting up straight. "You scared me, you know that? Coming out of the sphere looking like you went through hell."

Rowan smirked. "It wasn't that bad."

Kyra glared at him. "You were unconscious for two days, Rowan."

"...Okay, maybe it was a little bad."

Before Kyra could respond, the door opened again. This time, two men walked in.

The first was tall and broad-shouldered, with striking blue hair and a scar running diagonally across his cheek. His expression was calm, though his piercing eyes held a spark of curiosity.

The second was much younger—a teenage boy with short, dark hair and a face that mirrored Rowan's in many ways. He had the same sharp jawline, the same intense gaze, though his expression was twisted into an annoyed scowl.

"Alulu Bostie," Rowan said, nodding toward the blue-haired man. Then his gaze shifted to the boy. "And Hinami."

Hinami crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing. "You look like shit," he said bluntly.

Rowan chuckled. "Good to see you too, little brother."

Hinami frowned, his expression hardening.

For a moment, the room was silent. Then Hinami's mind drifted, his thoughts pulling him back to a memory he'd tried to forget.

It was 2027.

Rowan was standing in the center of a dirt ring, shirtless and covered in sweat. His opponent loomed over him—a 6'6" mountain of muscle with a buzz cut and a scarred face. Repile, they called him. A man who had accidentally killed several fighters in the ring with his sheer, uncontrolled strength.

Hinami was in the crowd, his small hands clutching the wooden railing tightly. He was barely fourteen at the time, his heart pounding as he watched his older brother face the giant.

"Rowan…" Hinami whispered, his voice trembling. He was terrified. He knew why Rowan was doing this—to win the prize money and pay for the antidote to Hinami's disease. The Ripe Body infection was slowly killing him, and the only cure was an antidote that cost seven million.

But still…

Rowan wasn't invincible. And this man—this monster—was a killer.

The bell rang, and the fight began.

Rowan darted forward, his fists moving in a blur as he struck Repile's torso with rapid, precise blows. The giant barely flinched, his thick muscles absorbing the impact like armor. He swung a massive fist, aiming for Rowan's head, but Rowan ducked under it, his movements fluid and quick.

The fight was brutal. Rowan moved like a predator, his strikes relentless, but Repile's sheer strength was overwhelming. Each time the giant landed a blow, Rowan staggered, his body battered and bloodied.

Hinami couldn't look away. His stomach twisted with fear, his heart pounding so loudly he could barely hear the crowd's cheers and jeers.

Then it happened.

Rowan landed a devastating uppercut, his fist connecting with Repile's jaw. The giant stumbled, his legs giving out as he crashed to the ground. The referee declared Rowan the winner, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

But when Hinami looked at his brother's face, he froze.

Rowan wasn't smiling. He wasn't celebrating.

His face was twisted into something terrifying—a cold, murderous expression that sent chills down Hinami's spine. His eyes burned with an intensity that seemed almost inhuman, his bloodied fists trembling as if he wasn't done fighting.

Hinami had never seen his brother like that before.

Back in the hospital room, Hinami blinked, the memory fading as he looked at Rowan now. His brother's face was softer, calmer, though his usual wild energy still lingered beneath the surface.

"You're still crazy," Hinami muttered, his tone begrudging but laced with a hint of admiration.

Rowan smirked. "And you're still annoying."

Alulu chuckled, breaking the tension. "It's good to see you in one piece, Rowan," he said. "When Kyra told us how bad you looked coming out of the sphere, I half-expected you to be dead."

"I don't die that easy," Rowan said, leaning back against the pillows.

Kyra crossed her arms, her gaze sharp. "Maybe not, but you're not invincible either. You need to stop pushing yourself like this."

Rowan looked at her, his smirk fading slightly. For a moment, he said nothing. Then he reached out, his hand brushing against hers briefly.

"I'm fine," he said softly. "You don't have to worry so much."

Kyra didn't respond. She just stared at him, her expression unreadable.

The silence stretched on, heavy but not uncomfortable. Rowan closed his eyes, letting himself relax for the first time in days. Despite everything—the battles, the injuries, the chaos—he felt a strange sense of peace.

Because no matter how wild or untamed he was, he knew he wasn't alone.

And that was enough.