"Leonel!"
Coach Owen seed to use the final bit of his strength to breakthrough to Leonel. In return for his efforts, he spit up several more mouthfuls of blood, whatever bloody bandages that had wrapped around his wound had been completely soaked through once again.
Leonel's gaze, which had lost its focus, locked onto his Coach again. But, his gaze carried an added vacancy that hadn't been there before.
Coach Owen sighed, coughing beside himself.
"Brat, though I told you these things out of my own selfish desire to vent, these are still important things for you to understand. This is the world you live in. You're one of the lucky ones who can benefit greatly from it. What you choose to do with this chance is up to you and no one else."
Leonel didn't seem to react much to Coach Owen's words. He only nodded lightly, his mind not processing things as well as they used to. It was hard to tell whether this was because of his fatigue or if it was because of the information he had just received.
Coach Owen shook his head. He knew that his words would have this effect, but he wanted to say them anyway. Though he said it was out of his own selfishness, it was deeper than this.
Leonel needed to understand these things. It wasn't just so that he could comprehend his own privilege so that he could decide what to do with it. But, most importantly… if there ever ca a day where his talent, his background, or his luck wasn't enough… He would be ready as well.
How he chose to navigate these matters would be up to Leonel.
Coach Owen would always say that Leonel was the most talented child he had ever co across. Even the Savants who were supposedly blessed by the Universe fell to him one after another. Though it could be said that these Savants were immature, sothing told Coach Owen that even if they had been training since their youth, Leonel would have still found a way to win.
However, this child who seed to have the world at his finger tips… Had not an ounce of ambition. This was maybe the most frustrating thing for a ntor to see in one of their youths.
Unfortunately, when you ca across talents like this, simply telling them that they should be better, that they shouldn't waste their gifts, that they should make the most of the talent they were given, just didn't work. If these talents didn't decide to strive for greatness on their own, there was nothing anyone else could do.
The saddest part about all of this was that even if this talent ran into a roadblock, do to their level of genius, they might not even need to try their best to cross it. This led to a perpetual cycle where these geniuses trudged through with a minimum level of effort, until they eventually reached a point where their raw genius simply wasn't enough to cross a new mountain that appeared before them.
When geniuses without ambition reached this point, they would experience their first taste of failure in their lives.
At that point, the vast majority of them would keel over, allowing the tis and despair to roll over them. Their genius would be forever lost in ti, a talent that could have blood would collapse, never to rise again.
Leonel's talent was so outrageous that he would likely travel further than even most of those geniuses. But, there would co a day when he ran into that mountain, a mountain he couldn't climb with just his raw talent.
When that day ca, Leonel would collapse just like all the geniuses that ca before him.
Coach Owen didn't want to see such a thing.
Leonel was better than most. He wasn't lazy, in fact he was one of the hardest workers Coach Owen had ever seen. But, he didn't have a single, one-minded goal to apply himself to. He had no purpose, no drive.
He needed sothing for himself. Sothing that could fuel him regardless of outside sources. It couldn't co from his family, it couldn't co from a woman either.
Unfortunately, Coach Owen couldn't find this drive for Leonel. He could only point him in a certain direction.
This… Was the last thing he could do for the boy.
Coach Owen never had his own family. His wife died decades ago and he never had any sons. To him, Leonel was as close to a grandson as he would ever get. He would do whatever he could to help him spread his wings.
Feeling his life waning down to the final embers, Coach Owen swallowed his next mouthful of blood, gathering up the last of his strength.
"… A final thing, kid. About Jas…" Coach Owen sighed, his voice getting fainter. "… You two have always been like brothers, I watched you grow up. But brat, you've always been too good at severing your emotions…"
Sowhere deep down, Coach Owen knew that this was likely one of the largest reasons Leonel was designated as a Dark Prisoner. But, he could only push this thought away and pray that Leonel would never fall prey to such things.
"… You always have such room for forgiveness for those who are practically strangers to you, but your rope is short for those who you look to as family. In so ways, this makes sense… But, I still want you to open up your heart a bit.
"I'm not saying to forgive Jas… Just give him a chance. Take it as a dying old man's final wish."
Leonel gazed toward Coach Owen, his irises flickering.
"Alright Coach, I'll give him a chance. I promise." Leonel spoke softly.
Coach Owen's mustache bristled, his lips curling into a bloody smile as he closed his eyes.
Leonel took a deep breath, bringing out a snowglobe as he felt his Coach's consciousness fading. With a thought, his Coach being none the wiser, Leonel took his body in.
Leonel sat in silence, alone. Even though the sounds of battle drifted to his ears from ti to ti, he practically blocked them out as though he couldn't hear a thing. One would think that he was in his own world rather than sitting in the middle of a battlefield.
But, the truth was that he really didn't have the strength to move a finger even if he wanted to.. All that was left were his thoughts to distract him from his aching muscles.
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