The afternoon classes dragged on like slow torture. Kai found himself staring at the clock above the blackboard, watching the hands inch closer to four o'clock with a mixture of anticipation and something that might have been dread if he let himself think too hard about it.
Three hours and twenty-seven minutes.
His chemistry teacher, Sensei Fujita, was droning on about molecular bonds, but Kai's mind kept drifting to more immediate concerns. How much did he actually remember from Uncle Hiroshi's casual training sessions? Could muscle memory from a previous life translate into real fighting ability? And what exactly was he planning to do when he faced someone who'd been seriously training while he'd been reading about boxing from the safety of his bedroom?
"Nakamura-kun," Sensei Fujita's voice cut through his thoughts like a blade. "Perhaps you could share with the class what makes ionic bonds different from covalent bonds?"
Kai blinked, forcing himself to focus on the question. "Ionic bonds form when electrons are transferred from one atom to another, creating charged ions that attract each other. Covalent bonds form when atoms share electrons." He paused, then added, "The key difference is that ionic bonds typically form between metals and non-metals, while covalent bonds usually form between non-metals."
"Correct." Sensei Fujita's expression softened slightly. "Though I notice you seem distracted today. Everything alright?"
"Just thinking about an upcoming project," Kai said, which wasn't technically a lie.
Two hours and fifty-three minutes.
English literature was no better. Sensei Yamada was discussing the themes in a short story about a man who had to choose between duty and personal happiness, and Kai couldn't help but see parallels to his own situation. Was he making this choice out of duty to protect others, or was it really just pride and anger driving him toward what might be a very public humiliation?
"The protagonist's decision reveals something important about his character," Sensei Yamada was saying. "He chooses the difficult path not because it's easy, but because he believes it's right. Sometimes we have to make choices that seem impossible, but they define who we really are."
Kai wrote down the quote in his notebook, though he wasn't sure if it was for the class or for himself.
Two hours and fourteen minutes.
By the time PE class rolled around, Kai's nervous energy had built to the point where he could barely sit still. Sensei Ishida—the former Olympic boxer who coached the school's amateur team—had them running laps around the gymnasium, and Kai found himself pushing harder than usual, trying to work off some of the tension coiled in his muscles.
"Nakamura!" Sensei Ishida called out as Kai completed his fifth lap. "You're running like someone's chasing you. What's got you so wound up?"
Kai slowed to a jog, then stopped entirely as the older man approached. Sensei Ishida was in his fifties but still built like the athlete he'd once been, with graying hair and the kind of sharp eyes that missed nothing.
"Just felt like pushing myself today, Sensei," Kai said, trying to catch his breath.
"Uh-huh." Ishida studied him for a moment. "You know, I heard an interesting rumor about you today. Something about you finally deciding to take your uncle's boxing advice seriously."
Word really did travel fast in this school. "It's not a rumor. I talked to Uncle Hiroshi this morning about starting real training."
"Good for you. Hiroshi's a hell of a teacher, and he's been trying to get you into that gym for years." Ishida paused, his expression growing more serious. "But I also heard some other rumors. About challenges being issued and accepted. You want to tell me about that?"
Kai felt his stomach drop. If Sensei Ishida knew about the fight, there was a good chance other teachers knew too. And if the administration found out...
"I don't know what you mean, Sensei."
"Sure you don't." Ishida's tone was dry. "Look, kid, I was your age once. I know how these things work. Some hotshot wants to test the new guy, make sure everyone knows their place in the pecking order. But here's the thing—real fighters don't prove themselves in parking lots and back alleys. They prove themselves in proper rings, with proper rules and proper supervision."
"What if proper rings aren't an option?" Kai asked.
"Then you make them an option. You join a club, you enter sanctioned competitions, you do things the right way." Ishida stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Whatever you're thinking of doing after school today, don't. Come to the boxing club instead. We meet three times a week, and I guarantee you'll learn more in one proper training session than you will getting your face rearranged by some wannabe tough guy."
The offer was tempting. In his original timeline, Kai had always wondered what might have happened if he'd joined the school boxing team. Sensei Ishida was a legitimate coach with real credentials, and training with the school team would be infinitely safer than whatever was waiting for him behind the old gymnasium.
But it would also take time. Months, maybe years to develop real skills. And Daichi wouldn't wait for Kai to become a proper boxer before escalating his behavior. If anything, backing down from this challenge would make things worse for everyone Daichi targeted.
"I appreciate the offer, Sensei," Kai said finally. "And I might take you up on it soon. But today... today I have something I need to take care of first."
Ishida's expression grew disappointed. "You know I can't stop you from making stupid decisions, but I can try to minimize the damage. If you're determined to go through with whatever this is, at least remember the basics. Keep your hands up, move your feet, and don't let anger make you sloppy. And Nakamura?" He paused. "If things go badly, you come find me immediately. Understand?"
"Understood."
One hour and thirty-seven minutes.
The final period of the day was mathematics, and Kai spent most of it running calculations that had nothing to do with the equations on the blackboard. How many steps from the school entrance to the old gymnasium? Approximately three hundred. How long would it take word to spread if he lost badly? Probably fifteen minutes to reach the entire student body. What were the odds that Uncle Hiroshi would find out about this before Kai could explain it properly? Uncomfortably high.
When the final bell rang, Kai's classmates began their usual rush for the exits, chattering about after-school plans and weekend activities. But several of them lingered, shooting curious glances in his direction. Word about the challenge had definitely spread, and Kai suspected a significant portion of the school would be finding excuses to walk past the old gymnasium around four o'clock.
"Ready for another day of getting beat up in the name of preparation?" Takeshi asked as they walked toward the exit together.
"As ready as someone can be for something they're not actually ready for."
"That's either very philosophical or complete nonsense."
"Probably both."
As they reached the school gates, Kai caught sight of a familiar figure leaning against a car in the parking lot. Daichi Sasaki was there with several older guys who looked like they could be from Elite Boxing Academy, and they were clearly waiting for something.
Or someone.
"Is he waiting for you?" Takeshi asked quietly.
"Looks like it."
"What do you think he wants?"
"Probably to remind me that I still have time to back out gracefully."
"Are you going to talk to him?"
Kai considered the question as they walked closer to where Daichi was waiting. Part of him wanted to avoid the confrontation entirely, to slip out a different exit and head to the gym without engaging. But another part recognized that this might be an opportunity to gather intelligence about what he'd be facing.
"Yeah," he said finally. "I think I am."
"Want me to come with you?"
"No. This is something I need to handle myself."
As Kai approached the group in the parking lot, he could feel Takeshi's worried gaze following him. Whatever Daichi wanted to discuss, it was going to set the tone for the next hour of preparation.
Daichi pushed off from the car as Kai approached, his trademark smirk already in place. The three older guys with him looked like they'd stepped out of a boxing gym promotional poster—lean, muscular, with the kind of confident bearing that came from years of winning fights.
"Well, well," Daichi said, his voice carrying clearly across the parking lot. "If it isn't our local celebrity. How does it feel to be the most talked-about student in the district?"
"About as good as you'd expect," Kai replied, stopping a few meters away from the group. Close enough to show he wasn't intimidated, far enough to maintain tactical distance if things went bad.
"I don't think you've met my training partners," Daichi continued, gesturing to the older guys. "This is Marcus, Jin, and Tommy. They're all from Elite Boxing Academy, and they've been very interested in our little exhibition match."
Marcus, the tallest of the three, stepped forward with a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "We've been hearing a lot about you, kid. About how you think a few days of training can compete with years of professional instruction."
"I don't think anything," Kai said carefully. "I just accepted a challenge that was offered to me."
"See, that's where you made your mistake," Jin said, his accent suggesting he might be from overseas. "You accepted a challenge without understanding what you were really agreeing to."
"Enlighten me."
"You thought you were settling a school dispute," Tommy added, cracking his knuckles in a way that seemed calculated to be intimidating. "But what you actually did was volunteer to be a demonstration dummy for why amateur training doesn't work."
The words confirmed what Takeshi had suspected—this wasn't just about Daichi anymore. It was about Elite Boxing Academy using Kai to prove a point about their training methods.
"That's an interesting perspective," Kai said. "What happens if your demonstration doesn't go the way you planned?"
"It will," Daichi said with complete confidence. "Because you're an amateur playing at being a fighter, and I'm a fighter who's been preparing for this kind of competition for years."
"Preparation isn't everything."
"No, but experience is. And the experience you gained in our little scuffle Monday was watching me hold back because I was playing with you." Daichi's expression grew more serious. "Four o'clock, behind the old gymnasium, I won't be playing."
The threat was clear, but there was something else in Daichi's tone—something that sounded almost like respect, or at least acknowledgment that Kai had proven to be more challenging than expected.
"I'm counting on it," Kai said. "Playing doesn't teach anyone anything useful."
"You really think you can win this thing, don't you?" Marcus asked, his tone suggesting genuine curiosity rather than mockery.
"I think I can make it interesting."
"Interesting how?"
"Interesting enough that people remember it was a real fight, not just a training demonstration."
The four older fighters exchanged glances, and Kai could see them reassessing their initial assumptions about his mindset. They'd expected to find someone who was either terrified or delusionally overconfident. Instead, they were dealing with someone who seemed to understand exactly how outmatched he was but was determined to make the most of it anyway.
"You know," Jin said slowly, "I'm starting to think this might actually be worth watching."
"Oh, it'll be worth watching," Daichi said. "The question is whether anyone's going to learn the right lessons from what they see."
"What lessons are those?" Kai asked.
"That there are consequences for stepping out of line. That challenging your betters leads to humiliation. That the natural order exists for good reasons." Daichi stepped closer. "And that people who try to be heroes usually end up as cautionary tales."
"Those are certainly lessons someone could learn," Kai agreed. "Or they could learn that bullies aren't invincible, that standing up to intimidation is possible, and that sometimes the underdog surprises everyone."
"Including himself?"
"Especially himself."
The parking lot had grown quieter around them, with other students giving their group a wide berth while still trying to eavesdrop on the conversation. Kai could see Takeshi hovering near the school entrance, clearly torn between respecting Kai's request for privacy and his desire to intervene if things escalated.
"Well," Tommy said after a moment of silence, "this should definitely be entertaining."
"More entertaining than you think," Marcus added. "Win or lose, this kid's got more backbone than most amateurs we've worked with."
"Backbone doesn't win fights," Daichi pointed out.
"No, but it makes losses more interesting to watch."
The comment seemed to annoy Daichi, who clearly preferred opponents who would fold under pressure rather than ones who might provide genuine resistance. Kai filed that observation away as potentially useful information.
"Anyway," Daichi said, his tone suggesting the conversation was wrapping up, "we just wanted to stop by and make sure you understood what you've gotten yourself into. Four o'clock isn't just about settling our personal dispute anymore—it's about making a statement to everyone who's been watching."
"What kind of statement?"
"That actions have consequences. That challenges to the established order get met with appropriate responses. That people should think very carefully before deciding to play hero."
"Those are all good lessons," Kai said. "I'm looking forward to teaching them."
The comment drew surprised laughter from Jin and Tommy, though Marcus looked more thoughtful than amused. Even Daichi seemed caught off guard by Kai's refusal to be intimidated by their group dynamic.
"You're either the bravest kid I've ever met or the stupidest," Marcus said finally.
"Ask me again at four-thirty."
As the group prepared to leave, Daichi caught Kai's arm. "One more thing," he said quietly, his voice low enough that the others couldn't hear clearly. "Whatever you think you know about fighting, whatever confidence you've built up over the past few days—forget it. Four o'clock, I'm going to show you what real violence looks like."
For just a moment, something cold and dangerous flickered in Kai's eyes—a flash of the knowledge and experience from his previous life, the memory of exactly what real violence looked like and what it could cost. When he spoke, his voice carried a weight that seemed to surprise even him.
"Daichi," he said quietly, "I've seen real violence. What you're planning to show me is just a boxing match between high school students. Try not to confuse the two."
Something in his tone made Daichi take a half-step backward, uncertainty flickering across his features. For just a moment, the confident bully facade cracked, revealing something that might have been genuine unease.
Then the moment passed, and Daichi's usual arrogance reasserted itself.
"See you at four, Nakamura."
They climbed into their car and drove away, leaving Kai standing alone in the parking lot with adrenaline coursing through his system. The encounter hadn't been physical, but it had been intense enough to leave him feeling like he'd just survived something important.
Takeshi jogged over as soon as the car disappeared from sight. "What was that about?"
"Psychological warfare, mostly. They wanted to make sure I understood that four o'clock isn't just about me and Daichi anymore."
"Did they succeed?"
"They confirmed what we already suspected—this has turned into something much bigger than a school fight."
"How do you feel about that?"
Kai thought about the question as they walked toward the street where they'd catch their respective trains. The conversation with Daichi and his Elite Boxing Academy friends had been intimidating, but it had also been enlightening. They were taking him seriously enough to bring in psychological pressure, which suggested they were less confident about the outcome than they wanted to appear.
"Terrified and excited in equal measure," he said finally.
"That's a dangerous combination."
"It's also useful. Terror keeps you sharp, excitement gives you energy. Together, they might be enough to make things interesting."
The train ride to Uncle Hiroshi's gym was spent in contemplative silence. Kai found himself reviewing the parking lot conversation, looking for clues about Daichi's mindset and preparation. The bully was clearly confident, but there had been moments when his certainty seemed forced. And his training partners, while supportive, hadn't seemed completely convinced that four o'clock would be the easy victory they were advertising.
Maybe, Kai thought, the outcome wasn't as predetermined as everyone assumed.
The gym felt like a sanctuary when he finally walked through the doors. Uncle Hiroshi was working with a young amateur near the heavy bags, calling out combinations and corrections with the patient intensity of someone who'd spent decades perfecting his teaching methods.
"You're early," Uncle Hiroshi said when he spotted Kai entering. "How was school?"
"Educational. I learned that four o'clock is being treated as a demonstration of Elite Boxing Academy's superiority over amateur training."
"I heard. Word's been spreading through the local boxing community all afternoon." Uncle Hiroshi finished the combination drill with his student, offered some final technical advice, then walked over to where Kai was standing. "How do you feel about that?"
"Like I'm about to either prove something important or become a very public cautionary tale."
"Both are possibilities. The question is which one you're prepared to work toward."
Uncle Hiroshi pulled out a pair of hand wraps and began demonstrating the proper technique for protecting the bones in Kai's hands and wrists. "Four o'clock is still two hours away. That gives us time for some focused preparation."
"What kind of preparation?"
"The kind that acknowledges you're fighting someone with superior technical training, but that also recognizes you have advantages he doesn't understand yet."
"What advantages?"
"Knowledge he doesn't have access to. Motivation he can't match. And a willingness to make the fight ugly in ways his formal training hasn't prepared him for."
As they worked through combinations and defensive patterns, Kai felt something like confidence beginning to build. Not confidence that he would win—the odds were still heavily against him—but confidence that he could make the fight competitive enough to matter.
An hour later, as they wrapped up the preparation session, Uncle Hiroshi made an observation that crystallized everything Kai had been feeling.
"You know, when I was competing professionally, the most dangerous opponents weren't always the most technically skilled ones. They were the ones who had nothing to lose and everything to prove."
"Is that what I am?"
"That's exactly what you are. And if you remember that when you step into that makeshift ring, you might surprise everyone."
"Including myself?"
"Especially yourself."
As they gathered their equipment and prepared to head to the confrontation, Kai felt a calm settling over him that he hadn't expected. The nervous energy was still there, but it was focused now, purposeful rather than anxious.
In ninety minutes, he would find out what he was really made of.
For the first time since this whole thing began, he was genuinely looking forward to finding out.