Kai woke to Ren shaking him again, humming off key as he pulled on mismatched socks.

Toma complained about the early schedule.

Min calmly organized everyone’s bags.

Sora tied his shoes in silence but flashed Kai a small, warm smile.

It should’ve felt comforting.

Instead, Kai’s throat pulsed with every breath  a reminder of last night’s pain.

But today was crucial.

Their first group choreo.

Their first harmony check.

Their first chance to show the coaches who had potential.

He couldn’t fall behind now.

Not again.

Training Studio — Morning Session

The instructors gathered them in Studio 3  a bright room with floor to ceiling mirrors and a speaker that looked big enough to crush a trainee’s dreams.

The dance coach clapped sharply.

“All right! Today we introduce the major routine for your first evaluation. It's fast. It’s sharp. And you’ll be singing while doing it. Good luck surviving.”

Ren whispered, “We’re gonna die.”

Sora murmured, “Probably.”

Kai swallowed  and winced.

The warm-up wasn’t bad. He kept his movements clean, copying Min’s precision and following Toma’s energy.

Rei was perfect, of course  silent and focused, catching every beat.

But when the music started for real

The world sped up.

Footwork, turns, jumps, angled arms

Everything hit at once.

Kai pushed through it, breathing hard. He had to keep up. He had to be good enough.

The mirrors blurred with sweat and motion.

“Again!” the coach shouted.

And they did it again.

And again.

And again.

About twenty minutes in, Kai felt it the tightening in his throat.

A small pinch.

A warning.

Not now…

He told himself he was fine. He forced his breath steady.

Forced his legs to keep moving.

Forced his voice to join in when the instructor added vocals.

Except

The moment he sang, pain shot down his throat like electricity.

He faltered.

Only for half a second  but Rei noticed.

His eyes cut sideways in the mirror, sharp and alert.

Kai quickly fixed his posture, pretending nothing happened.

But the ache didn’t go away.

Harmony Check — Afternoon

After lunch, they moved to Vocal Studio 2.

Ms. Hoshino stood waiting, arms crossed.

“Today we test group harmony. Blend, don’t fight. Keep your tone steady.”

Kai’s heart sank.

His voice wasn’t steady.

His voice barely felt there.

The boys gathered around the mic stand.

Ren smiled nervously.

Min tapped the tempo softly on his thigh.

Toma cracked his knuckles for no reason at all.

Sora gave Kai a gentle nudge. “We got this.”

Kai nodded, hiding the fear twisting inside him.

They started singing the chorus together.

Ren’s tone was bright.

Toma’s was strong.

Min’s was smooth.

Sora’s was soft, warm.

Kai came in last and the second he tried to hit the note

Something gave way.

It wasn’t loud.

Just a small, sharp break in the sound.

Like a string snapping.

Kai’s voice wavered, cracked, then caught on his breath.

Pain surged, swallowing the note whole.

He bit the inside of his cheek, forcing the sound back under control.

Forcing a quieter, weaker tone.

The coach frowned slightly.

“Someone’s pitch dropped. Again.”

Kai felt his stomach twist.

Rei’s eyes slid to him.

Not cruel curious.

Too curious.

They tried again. And again.

Each time Kai’s voice thinned, frayed around the edges.

But he kept going.

He had to.

By the end of the session, Ren was panting, Toma was complaining, Min was scribbling notes, and Sora stretched quietly.

Kai stood perfectly still  because moving made the pain spike.

No one noticed.

Not even Rei, who only glanced once more before walking ahead with the instructors.

Dorm — Evening

“Kai, you good?” Ren asked casually, towel around his shoulders.

“Yeah,” Kai lied, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”

Toma snorted. “We’re all tired. Today was murder.”

Sora watched Kai for a moment, thoughtful.

But he didn’t say anything.

Later, when everyone was asleep, Kai slipped into the bathroom with his water bottle.

He locked the door.

Turned on the faucet.

Pressed a hand to his throat.

His reflection looked pale, strained, fragile.

When he tried to hum softly, barely a whisper

Nothing came out.

A dry rasp.

A painful tremor.

The sound of a dream cracking.

Kai’s breath hitched. He grabbed the sink to stay upright.

Not again.

Please… not again…

He covered his mouth to hide a small, broken sound.

No one knew.

No one could know.

He wasn’t Echo anymore.

He wasn’t allowed to break.

Not here.

Not now.

He splashed cold water on his face, forcing himself to breathe.

Tomorrow, he’d sing again.

Even if it hurt.

Even if it cost him everything.

To be continued...