The rain had not ceased since that night. It came in endless sheets, pounding the rooftops and streets, washing away dust yet leaving behind a gloom that clung to the city. For Kaizen, the weather matched his thoughts heavy, relentless, unyielding.
The note still burned in his pocket, the words carved into his memory: You search for him. You'll find him sooner than you think.
He hadn't shown it to Bang. He hadn't told a soul. Something about it felt too sharp, too personal, as though meant only for him. To share it would be to dilute its weight. Instead, he carried it like a hidden wound, letting it guide his steps.
For three nights, Kaizen scoured the outskirts of City Q, following whispers, broken trails, and rumors of attacks. Monsters had appeared more frequently, scattered across districts, testing the city's defenses. But these attacks carried a pattern he could not ignore: heroes dispatched to fight them often reported a "third figure," someone who cut down the monsters with brutal efficiency before vanishing.
The descriptions varied some swore it was Garou, others claimed it was a shadow too fast to identify. But Kaizen felt the truth in his gut. Garou was near, walking his destructive path once more.
On the fourth night, Kaizen found the aftermath.
He had tracked the sounds of battle to a deserted commercial block. The smell hit first iron and smoke, mingling in the damp air. His sandals splashed through puddles of rainwater as he stepped into the ruin of what once had been a row of small shops.
The street was torn apart, asphalt cracked into jagged ridges. Chunks of concrete lay scattered like bones. Splintered lamp posts leaned at odd angles, wires sparking weakly. And at the center of it all lay the corpses of monsters, their twisted bodies broken in unnatural ways arms bent backward, torsos caved in, jaws crushed.
Kaizen crouched near one of them, a hulking creature with carapace armor shattered like glass. He touched the indent on its chest, his fingers tracing the concave dent. The strike was precise, efficient, utterly devastating.
"Fang techniques," Kaizen whispered. "But sharper… crueler."
Not the controlled flow of Bang. Not the refined calm of a disciple. This was Garou's evolution, his martial genius turned weapon of destruction.
A weak groan startled him.
Kaizen turned sharply, spotting movement beneath a collapsed storefront. He rushed forward, lifting debris to reveal a battered hero, his armor cracked and stained with blood. The man coughed, eyes flickering open to meet Kaizen's.
"You… who?"
"Save your strength," Kaizen said, hauling the hero upright against the wall. "What happened here?"
The hero's voice trembled. "We… fought monsters. But then… he came. Not a monster. Not like them. A man. He cut through them like they were nothing… then turned on us."
Kaizen's chest tightened. "What did he look like?"
The hero's eyes widened with fear. "Silver hair… eyes like a beast. He said heroes are the real monsters. He… he broke my partner's arm with a single strike."
The words were confirmation, though Kaizen hardly needed them. It was Garou. No doubt.
But before Kaizen could question further, another sound echoed down the ruined street a wet, dragging shuffle. Kaizen's instincts flared. He placed the hero down gently, then stood, eyes narrowing.
From the shadows emerged a creature still clinging to life a mutant dog-like monster, its jaw dislocated, ribs protruding. It staggered forward, saliva and blood dripping from its maw.
Kaizen slid into stance.
The monster lunged, faster than its broken body suggested. Kaizen sidestepped, pivoting sharply, and drove his palm into its ribs. Bone snapped under the force, but the creature twisted, swiping with jagged claws.
Kaizen ducked, sweeping its legs from under it, then followed with a crushing stomp to its chest. The ground shook as the monster convulsed once, then lay still.
But Kaizen did not relax. He had felt it the rush of battle, the pulse of adrenaline. And beneath it, the echo of Garou's techniques. The way the monster had staggered reminded him of Garou's brutal improvisation. It was as though even the broken creatures carried fragments of his ferocity.
Kaizen's knuckles whitened."You're close. I can feel it."
The wounded hero coughed again, struggling to rise. "If you… if you find him… don't fight alone. He's not human anymore."
Kaizen's gaze hardened. "He's still human. That's why he must be faced."
He helped the hero to his feet and guided him toward the road, where Association medics would likely arrive soon. But Kaizen himself did not stay. He turned back toward the ruined street, following the trail of destruction deeper into the city.
Hours passed as Kaizen moved through alleys and rooftops, each step guided by instinct. The rain had eased into a mist, shrouding the city in fog. Every so often, he found more signs: shattered walls, bloodstains, the unmistakable marks of martial strikes. Garou's path was fresh, alive, still cutting through the night.
And then Kaizen heard it voices.
He crept closer, crouching atop a crumbled balcony. Below, in a deserted plaza, a trio of low-tier heroes faced a lone figure. Even at this distance, Kaizen recognized the posture, the aura, the way the man carried himself like a predator among sheep.
Garou.
The silver-haired martial artist stood casually, hands at his sides, rain dripping from his hair. The heroes shouted threats, trying to mask their fear. One lunged, sword flashing.
Garou moved.
Kaizen's breath caught. The attack was dismantled in a blink the sword arm twisted, the hero slammed into the ground, bones snapping with sickening clarity. Another rushed him, but Garou struck with a backfist so precise it knocked the helmet clean off, sending the man sprawling unconscious.
The last hero froze, terror locking his legs. Garou's eyes glowed faintly in the mist, cold and merciless.
Kaizen's fists clenched. He should move. He should intervene. Yet something rooted him in place. Watching Garou fight was like watching a storm take form raw, unstoppable, beautiful in its destruction.
Garou did not kill the last hero. Instead, he struck the man's chest with controlled force, dropping him to the ground gasping, broken but alive.
"Heroes," Garou muttered, voice dripping with disdain. "Weak, hypocritical vermin. You call yourselves saviors, yet prey on the suffering. I'll strip this world of your delusion."
Then, as if sensing the weight of Kaizen's stare, Garou's head turned. His eyes locked onto the balcony where Kaizen crouched.
Kaizen's heart thundered.
Garou smirked. Not surprised. Not threatened. Simply amused.
"You," Garou called, voice carrying easily through the mist. "Still following me."
Kaizen stood slowly, stepping into the open. "You've changed."
Garou tilted his head. "No. I'm becoming what I was meant to be. And you, Kaizen… are you ready to stop being just a student?"
The tension stretched taut, the ruined plaza holding its breath. Rain dripped from shattered statues, pooling around fallen heroes.
Kaizen dropped into stance, his voice steady despite the storm inside him."Show me, Garou. Show me how far you've gone."
Garou's grin widened, predatory."As you wish."
And with that, the distance between them dissolved.