After school on Tuesday, Richard went to the Fighting Club to find someone.
The Fighting Club trained from after school until six in the evening.
When Richard reached the entrance of the training hall, he could still hear hoarse shouts coming from inside.
The THUD of fists on punching bags, the CLACK of protective gear, and the voices of several boys shouting to one another all blended together.
Richard peeked in from the doorway. Coleman was sparring with Fraser.
Coleman threw a punch, but Fraser sidestepped it and countered with a hook to Coleman’s jaw.
He tilted his head to dodge it and threw another punch.
The two traded blows, their fists flying faster than the last time Richard had seen them.
He leaned on the doorframe and waited for five minutes.
Coleman finally seemed to scratch his itch for a fight, knocking Fraser onto his butt on the floor. Then he took off his helmet and hung it on a punching bag stand.
The boy turned his head and saw Richard standing in the doorway, clearly surprised.
"...Richard?"
Coleman walked over and slung a towel around his neck.
"I thought we agreed to meet on Saturday. What brings you here today?"
"I have something I want to talk to you about." Richard lowered his voice. "Let’s talk outside."
The two walked out of the training area.
The small path outside the gym was mostly empty.
The path was flanked by fields of dry winter grass, and in the distance stood the row of red brick buildings that made up the main campus.
Coleman wiped his sweat with the towel.
"...My mom was talking about you at home again," he said with a smile. "She heard you’re coming over next week too and wanted to know if you have any favorite snacks."
"Ahem." Richard coughed.
"You aren’t planning on canceling for this week, are you?"
Coleman narrowed his eyes. "If so, I’ll have to give my mom a heads-up."
"It’s not about that." Richard waved his hand dismissively.
He took the Silver Needle Long Box from his waist pouch.
Coleman’s gaze paused on the Silver Needle Long Box for a moment.
"Your Moon Nails?"
"Mhm."
Richard decided to be direct.
"I figured out a new use for the Moon Nail."
He chose his words carefully as he began to explain.
"Theoretically, it can temporarily enhance the activity of parts of your circuits."
Coleman stopped walking.
"Enhance? How, exactly?"
Richard opened the Silver Needle Long Box, revealing the row of Silver Needles inside.
"I’d use a Moon Nail to pierce your skin, preferably on your forearm."
He said bluntly:
"After the needle enters your body, the condensed Ether it carries will diffuse into the surrounding microcirculation. It can temporarily boost the activity of that entire circuit segment to a level far higher than normal."
Coleman’s expression froze.
He looked down at the row of Silver Needles, then back up at Richard.
"...Richard, are you fucking crazy?"
Coleman ripped the towel off his neck and clenched it in his hand.
"Stab me with a Moon Nail? Do you even know what a Moon Nail is for?"
His eyes went wide. "This thing is meant for fighting Evil Beings! Sticking someone with it tears a hole in the Ether Layer."
"And you want to stick it in my flesh? What do you take me for, an Evil Being?"
Coleman stared straight at him.
"That section on the inside of my forearm is a core pathway for a Hunter’s training."
"If anything goes wrong, my left arm will be crippled.
"At least I can still box right now. If my left arm is crippled, do you want me to be an invalid?"
Richard didn’t answer.
’He knew Coleman’s reaction was perfectly normal.’
’The Moon Nail Technique was considered an offensive Technique throughout the Mysterious Side.’
’Sticking a living person with it sounded like something only a lunatic would do.’
’If he were in Coleman’s shoes, hearing someone propose such a plan for the first time, he’d think they were a madman too.’
Coleman stared at him for a few seconds.
"When you first started talking, I almost thought you were going to suggest some kind of legitimate treatment."
Coleman wiped his face with the towel. "But no, you want to stab me with a Moon Nail?"
"Don’t you think this plan is a little far-fetched?"
"I know it sounds absurd," Richard said with some resignation. "That’s why I didn’t want to make any big promises at the start."
"Here, let me show you how it works first."
Coleman raised an eyebrow.
"Show me what?"
Richard didn’t answer, rolling up his left sleeve.
On the pad of his left index finger, the original pinprick had healed over so much it was barely visible, though a tiny burn scar remained.
Coleman leaned in for a look.
"...You’ve already stuck yourself with one?"
"A few times."
He looked at Richard as if he were a madman. "And you were fine afterwards?"
"The fact that I’m standing here right now should be answer enough," Richard said with a shrug.
Coleman’s expression softened slightly.
"A finger is an extremity," he pointed out.
"If something goes wrong with your finger, at most you’ll lose a finger.
"If something goes wrong with my forearm, my whole arm is crippled. It’s not the same thing at all."
"I know it’s not the same thing. That’s why I’m going to do it again, right here, to show you."
Richard pulled a brand new Silver Needle from the long box.
This time he didn’t choose a finger, but rolled his sleeve up further, revealing his entire left forearm.
"I’ll stick the inside of my own forearm, in the same spot I would for you."
Coleman stared at him.
"...You said you did it a few times, but that was always on your finger. You’ve never done it on your forearm?"
"Never."
"So you’re just using yourself as a guinea pig to show me."
"Correct," Richard answered without a hint of hesitation.
Coleman gritted his teeth. "You really are crazy."
Richard held the Silver Needle in his hand.
"If I didn’t even dare to stick my own forearm, how could I ask you to trust me?"
He took two steps to the base of the wall and leaned back against the red brick, deliberately affecting an air of reckless resolve.
"Just stand aside and watch. If anything goes wrong, get me to Mr. Hutton’s office immediately..."
"Richard." Coleman frowned. "You don’t have to do this."
"I have to."
Richard wiped the spot where he would insert the needle with an alcohol swab, raising a patch of goosebumps.
Coleman stood by his side, his eyes fixed on the Silver Needle.
As his Quadruple Breathing reached the exhalation phase of its third cycle, Ether surged from the Throne of the Sun to his fingertips.
He reversed the effect and drove the Silver Needle in.
"Hiss!"
Richard’s entire left forearm tensed up from the inside, the muscles spasming briefly.
The needle’s tip only pierced five millimeters deep, but when the mass of the reversed Moon Nail detonated, the entire main channel was scoured by a concentrated, diffusing wave of Ether.
Coleman’s pupils suddenly contracted.
He didn’t have Spiritual Vision, but after several years of practicing the Path of Burning Blood, he had a primal intuition for the Ether Flow in himself and others.
He watched as the "brightness" of the main channel on the inside of Richard’s forearm surged to a level far beyond normal.
Richard pulled the Silver Needle out.
A very faint burn mark ringed the pinprick. Three seconds later, the hole closed.
Richard clenched his left fist, then opened it.
Coleman watched him.
"How is it?"
"It’s just as I predicted. The microcirculation in my entire left forearm has been completely refreshed. It’s a level more sensitive than before."
"How long will it last?"
"When I did it on my finger, it lasted for over ten minutes."
Richard recalled the experiment. "It should last for a shorter time on the forearm. I’ll have to wait a bit to see exactly how long."
Coleman’s brow slowly furrowed. He still thought Richard was a madman.
’But ’crazy’ and ’effective’ weren’t mutually exclusive.’ He glanced again at the spot where the needle had been.
"...Closed in three seconds. When I scrape my skin while boxing, it takes several days to scab over."
Richard smiled and continued his explanation.
"It’s a side effect of this new application. While it enhances and activates that segment of microcirculation, it also temporarily boosts the wound-healing rate to an incredible level."
Coleman gripped the towel tightly in his hand.
"Fine, I’ll trust you this once!" He held out his left arm and rolled up his sleeve.
"Wait." Richard stopped him.
"Hm?"
"Your left arm will have some kind of reaction after I stick you.
"I can’t tell you exactly what to expect, because my circuits are different from yours."
"If anything feels wrong, tell me immediately."
"Got it."
Richard extended his Perception, confirming that the path outside the gym was empty.
The two of them stood leaning against the red brick wall, where a row of Holly bushes at its base obscured them from distant view.
He used his Spiritual Vision to lock onto the outline of Coleman’s broken circuit.
Coleman’s main channel started from his chest cavity, extending down his left shoulder to his fingertips.
The entire pathway was highly active—a clear sign of his training in the Path of Burning Blood.
In the middle section, there was a distinctly sunken "break point."
Richard avoided the break point, aiming the Silver Needle at the most robust part of the upper section.
"Ready?"
"Do it."
After wiping the spot with the alcohol swab, Richard aimed the Silver Needle and thrust it in!
Coleman’s pain tolerance was clearly higher than Richard’s; he merely furrowed his brow without so much as a grunt.
The Silver Needle remained in his forearm for less than half a second before Richard withdrew the Technique and pulled it out.
Coleman stared at his own left arm.
Aside from a slight stinging pain at the entry point, a "refreshing sensation" began to spread from the inside of his arm.
The feeling was similar to plunging your hand into cool well water on the hottest day of summer.
He clenched his fist, then released it.
"That ’stuffy’ feeling in my arm... it’s gone."
Coleman rolled his shoulder.
"Ever since I started practicing Burning Blood, my whole left arm has had this indescribable ’stifled’ feeling.
"I thought it was a hidden injury from training that couldn’t be fixed."
"My instructor said everyone who practices Burning Blood gets that feeling. Now, it’s gone."
’Richard knew that although Coleman’s circuit was congenitally broken, the section above the break point was intact.’
’That single needle was like a deep clean for the inside of a long-clogged pipe.’
"After the refreshing sensation ends, your left arm will enter a period of weakness."
"When I did it on my finger, my finger felt a little weak afterward. The period of weakness lasts roughly as long as the enhancement period."
"If I do it every day..."
"The weakness and enhancement periods will stack."
Richard answered quickly. "But there’s too little experimental data to know exactly how."
Coleman rolled his shoulders and neck again.
"Can I... come to you to get this done regularly?"
Richard readily agreed. This was exactly what he’d been hoping for.
"We can do it every other day. Any more frequent than that wouldn’t be good; constantly refreshing the circuit might cause an overload."
"But you have to keep it a secret. I’m still figuring this thing out myself."
"It’s not like I have anyone to tell, you know that."
Coleman pulled his sleeve down.
"You asked me last time if I’d still walk the path of a Hunter if my congenital circuit defect could be cured one day."
Richard stuffed the Silver Needle Long Box back into his bag and glanced over at him.
"I still don’t have an answer."
Coleman looked up at the distant red brick buildings, their walls dyed a warm orange by the evening sun.
"But at least now I have another option."
Richard finished packing his things. "I’ve got other stuff to do, so I’m taking off."
"Yeah." Coleman draped the towel back around his neck.
Richard turned and walked towards the academic building.
After about ten steps, Coleman shouted from behind him.
"Richard, are you still coming to train on Saturday?"
"I’ll be there."

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