SkyNani: Who is the Enigma?

The sky had opened up sometime during the night. Rain fell in sheets, cold and merciless, soaking the world in silence and grief.

Bright stood at the top of the cliff, phone in hand, voice hoarse from screaming. He had called everyone—the football team, dormmates, even the ones he hadn't spoken to in months. Anyone who might come.

Down below, Sky and Dew stumbled through mud and brush, flashlights trembling in their hands. They screamed Nani's name again and again, but their voices were swallowed by the storm and the forest.

"NANI!" Sky's voice cracked, broken and raw.

Dew slipped, caught himself, and yelled again, his throat burning. Their flashlights cut through the heavy foliage but revealed nothing but trees and the blur of rain.

Others had joined. A few from the football team came running down from the cliff, flashlights bobbing, shouting Nani's name into the soaked darkness.

Bright soon joined them. His shoes were ruined, his hair plastered to his face, but he didn't stop. He wouldn't.

And then—just as the first fingers of dawn began brushing the sky—someone shouted.

"Here! He's here!"

Everyone ran.

Nani lay crumpled beneath a thick bush, half-buried in mud and leaves, blood pooled around him like ink spilled across paper. His oversized shirt was torn, soaked red and brown. His face was pale, eyes shut. His body was twisted in a way it shouldn't be.

Dew dropped to his knees.

His breath hitched—froze.

"Nani...?" His voice was a whisper. He reached out, hands shaking, afraid to touch him.

He pressed trembling fingers to Nani's chest, to his neck.

And then—faint, so faint it could've been a trick of the rain—there it was.

Breathing.

Shallow.

But there.

"He's breathing," Dew whispered, voice cracking.

He looked up at Sky, tears running down his face—but it didn't matter. No one could tell in the rain.

Sky didn't wait. He surged forward and pulled Nani into his arms, cradling him like something sacred. Like something already half gone. He ran—mud be damned—and carried him to the car.

No one said a word as the car sped through the rain.

Nani was taken straight into the operating theater.

Dew sank onto a bench, face pale, clothes soaked, staring at nothing. He clutched the shirt Nani had been wearing—the hospital staff had cut it off—and pressed it to his face, trembling.

Sky didn't stay.

He left the hospital in silence.

His hands were clenched on the steering wheel as he returned to the dorm, but his mind was a thousand miles away—playing scenes he couldn't bear to see.

He walked into the gymnasium. The rain had followed him inside like a ghost.

He picked up a steel rod from the corner.

And then he walked.

Marc and Jim had tried to run, but they'd been caught. Held in their room by others who had seen enough. Sky didn't ask questions.

He opened the door.

They were there.

He didn't speak.

He didn't need to.

And then the rod came down.

Blow after blow. Screams filled the room—desperate, panicked. But no one helped. No one moved. They watched. And they let it happen.

Blood spattered the wall.

Sky kept going.

He didn't stop until the screams stopped.

Until they were both silent and still.

He dropped the rod with a dull clatter. Blood ran down his fingers.

He turned to the guy standing at the door. His voice was calm.

"Now call the police," he said. "Tell them to take out the trash."

He drove back to the hospital.

His hands still shook on the wheel.

When he arrived, the sun had barely risen. The rain hadn't stopped.

Bright stood outside the OT with Dew.

Sky's footsteps echoed down the corridor.

Dew looked up—and he looked like he'd aged ten years in one night. His face was blank, but his eyes—his eyes were screaming.

Sky opened his mouth, but Bright was already shaking his head.

"His leg..." Bright began, but his voice cracked.

Dew slid down the wall, landing hard on the floor. A sob tore out of him, loud and sharp and painful.

"This can't be right," he cried, voice breaking. "How is he supposed to play now? Please..."

His last word was a whisper.

Please.

Sky stared at Bright. His heart pounded in his ears.

"What?" His voice was barely audible.

Bright swallowed. "His legs are... they're in terrible shape. Not sure when—if—he'll be able to walk properly again. Even if he does... there might be a limp. For life."

For life.

Sky blinked. The world blurred.

The fluorescent lights above flickered once.

And then everything went quiet.