Kaizen sat cross-legged in the empty dojo, sweat dripping from his brow as he exhaled slowly. The wooden floor beneath him carried the faint scent of oil and dust, and the silence was broken only by the rhythm of his breathing. He had pushed himself through hours of relentless drills stances, strikes, transitions, repetitions until his muscles screamed but none of it eased the weight pressing down on his mind.
Garou.
His former sparring partner, his rival in shadow, was alive. Kaizen could feel it like a lingering presence in the air, something undeniable. The rumors of Garou's death were little more than noise. But the city was changing, restless. And so was the Hero Association.
For the past week, Kaizen had noticed them heroes and operatives lingering near the dojo, watching with subtle intensity. At first, he ignored it, chalking it up to coincidence. But the visits grew more frequent. Conversations stopped abruptly when he entered a room. Eyes lingered a fraction too long on him.
Suspicion had found him.
One afternoon, as Kaizen practiced his forms in the courtyard, the sound of approaching footsteps broke the rhythm. He turned to see two figures: one in a sharp black suit, the other in the familiar armor of a mid-rank professional hero.
The suited man spoke first, his tone clipped."Kaizen Hiroto?"
Kaizen's jaw tightened. "Yes."
"We're representatives of the Hero Association. There are questions that require your cooperation."
Bang emerged from the shadows of the dojo entrance before Kaizen could respond. His stern voice cut across the courtyard."My student has nothing to hide. What is it you seek?"
The hero shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the older master with respect, but the suited man pressed on."There have been… incidents. The Hero Hunter has resurfaced multiple times in districts near this dojo. Witnesses report seeing a figure resembling your student at these sites, often shortly before or after attacks. We'd like an explanation."
Kaizen's heart pounded, but his face remained still. He had been there, of course searching for Garou, sensing his trail, testing his instincts. But to reveal that would tie him directly to the fugitive. To deny it outright, though, might only deepen suspicion.
Bang's eyes flicked toward Kaizen, sharp and unreadable. "Speak carefully," they seemed to warn.
Kaizen straightened, his voice steady."I walk the city often. Training doesn't end in these walls. If I passed near where Garou struck, it was coincidence. I have no ties to him."
The words tasted bitter. Half-truths never sat well on his tongue. But he had no choice.
The suited man studied him, expression unreadable. "Coincidence… interesting. Yet coincidence piles up, doesn't it? Tell me, student of Bang, if Garou were to approach you, what would you do?"
Kaizen's fists clenched behind his back. The answer they wanted was clear: denounce him, report him, fight him.
But his truth was different. He wanted to face Garou again not as hero versus criminal, but as martial artist against martial artist. He wanted to see the path Garou had carved and test his own against it.
He forced his tone flat."If Garou appeared, I would fight him. That much I can promise."
Bang stepped forward then, his presence commanding."My student trains under me. He is no ally of Garou. Unless you have proof otherwise, I suggest you take your suspicions elsewhere."
The tension hung for a moment, then the suited man gave a curt nod."We'll be watching. For your sake, I hope your loyalty is to the right side."
With that, the two left, their footsteps fading down the path.
The silence returned, heavy and unyielding.
Kaizen released the breath he'd been holding. His hands trembled slightly, though not from fear rather, from the frustration of restraint.
Bang's voice came low, sharp as a blade."You tread dangerous ground, Kaizen. You search for Garou, don't you?"
Kaizen met his master's gaze, neither confirming nor denying. The truth was written across his face.
Bang's sigh was long, weary. "I will not stop you. Every disciple chooses his own path. But know this: Garou walks further into the abyss with every step. If you follow too closely, you risk being dragged in."
"I'm not following him," Kaizen said, his voice firm. "I'm chasing him. There's a difference."
Bang studied him, then turned away, though his eyes held lingering sorrow. He had seen this before the hunger for strength, the lure of surpassing limits, the danger of obsession.
That night, Kaizen walked the city alone.
The streets were quieter than usual, the air thick with unease. Patrols of heroes passed more frequently, their presence heavier than ever. Yet Kaizen moved unnoticed, blending with the shadows.
He found himself near an abandoned park, the remnants of a battle still scarred into the ground. Cratered earth, splintered trees, the smell of ash clinging stubbornly. Here, Garou had fought. Here, he had survived.
Kaizen knelt, touching the ground where faint traces of blood remained dark against the soil. His heart tightened.
"You're still out there," he whispered. "And you're growing stronger."
A sound stirred behind him rustling in the trees. He turned sharply, muscles tensing, but it was only a stray dog, limping through the rubble. Kaizen exhaled slowly, though his guard never dropped.
The paranoia was spreading. Not just in the Association. Not just in Bang. But in him.
In the following days, the scrutiny intensified.
Heroes passed the dojo with regularity, sometimes under the pretense of casual visits, other times with thinly veiled purpose. Kaizen felt their eyes on him constantly. Conversations with fellow trainees faltered, suspicion slipping into their tones. Even those who respected him before now watched with guarded distance.
Isolation crept in, sharp and cold.
But Kaizen endured. He poured his frustration into training, his strikes faster, his forms sharper, his endurance longer. He sought new ways to merge techniques, studying fragments of disciplines he hadn't touched before incorporating grappling counters, footwork adjustments, breathing techniques he overheard from passing martial artists.
If they would not trust him, then he would carve his trust in power.
One evening, as rain hammered the streets, Kaizen returned from training outside to find a sealed envelope on the dojo steps. No name, no insignia.
Inside, a single slip of paper.
You search for him. You'll find him sooner than you think.
The handwriting was jagged, hurried, but the intent was unmistakable.
Kaizen's pulse quickened. Someone knew. Someone had seen him. But was it Garou himself or someone else playing their own game?
He crushed the note in his hand, staring out into the storm.
Suspicion was no longer coming only from the Hero Association. The shadows themselves were beginning to watch.
And soon, Kaizen would be forced to choose: to remain the loyal disciple the Association demanded, or to pursue the path his spirit screamed for no matter the cost.