The dojo slept in silence, but Kaizen's body would not rest. He stepped out into the night air, lungs drinking in the cool wind as if it could wash away the aches that clung to his muscles. The moon hung pale and distant above the city, the streets mostly empty at this late hour.
Training had consumed him for days, every sunrise and sunset bleeding into one. His bruises were layered like armor, his hands blistered from endless drills. And yet his heart still yearned for more. I need to know if I can use it… not just here, in the safety of the dojo. But outside, where fists don't stop before they break you.
He walked along the narrow alleys not far from the dojo, his senses tuned to every shadow, every sound.
That was when he felt it.
The prickle of hostility. The kind that couldn't be mistaken.
A group of figures emerged from the darkness, five in total. Their movements were deliberate, predatory. Scarred faces, leather jackets, crude weapons glinting faintly under the moonlight.
"Oi, kid," one sneered, flipping a chain around his hand. "You're from Bang's dojo, right? Word is you've been making a name for yourself."
Kaizen narrowed his eyes. "And what if I am?"
Another thug spat onto the ground. "Then you're our message. That old man's been meddling too much time someone reminded him he doesn't own these streets."
The men spread out, circling him. Their confidence was the type born from numbers and violence.
Kaizen's heartbeat quickened, but his stance lowered instinctively, his body recalling Bang's lessons. Flow… don't resist. Guide. Survive.
The first man lunged, swinging the chain toward Kaizen's head.
Kaizen's body moved before his mind caught up he stepped aside, arm brushing against the arc, redirecting it past him. His other hand shot forward, striking the man's jaw. The thug stumbled, eyes wide with shock.
It worked.
But the others didn't pause. A knife slashed toward him, another thug charging with a broken bat.
Kaizen ducked low, his body twisting like water slipping through cracks. His shoulder bumped the knife-wielder's arm aside, redirecting the strike harmlessly into empty air, then his elbow slammed into the man's ribs. Pain shot up his arm from the impact, but the thug crumpled.
The bat whistled down. Kaizen pivoted, flowing around it, his hand tracing the motion until the strike smashed into the pavement instead. His counter was sharp a fist into the attacker's throat, sending him gasping back.
Three down.
The last two hesitated.
Kaizen exhaled slowly, his body trembling from adrenaline but his mind steady. "Leave now. You don't want this fight."
For a moment, it seemed they might retreat. But pride was louder than reason. The biggest of them roared and charged, a heavy iron pipe in hand.
Kaizen braced himself.
The pipe came down in a brutal arc. He shifted aside, hands tracing the weapon's path, guiding it just enough to miss. His foot lashed upward, striking the man's knee. Bone cracked. The thug howled, collapsing.
The last one froze, eyes darting between Kaizen and his fallen allies.
Kaizen's gaze locked on him, sharp and unwavering. "Your choice."
The man dropped his weapon and ran into the night.
Silence fell.
Kaizen stood amid the groaning bodies, his chest heaving, sweat dripping down his temple. His hands trembled not from fear, but from the weight of realization.
I did it… he thought, staring at his fists. Bang's teachings… they work. Flow works.
But beneath the rush of triumph was something else. A whisper of unease. His strikes had landed harder than intended, his counters brutal in their execution. These men weren't dead but they wouldn't forget tonight.
And for the first time, Kaizen wondered: Am I walking the path of protection… or destruction?
"Not bad, newbie."
The voice came from above.
Kaizen's head snapped up. On the rooftop, Garou crouched, smirking down at him like a wolf watching prey. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight, full of amusement and something sharper.
"You moved better than I thought. Almost like you belong in the dojo."
Kaizen clenched his fists. "You were watching?"
Garou leapt down, landing with casual grace among the unconscious men. He nudged one with his foot, then looked back at Kaizen.
"You didn't freeze. Didn't die. That's worth something. But…" His grin widened, mocking. "…you're still sloppy. Too stiff. Too scared of yourself."
Kaizen bristled. "I wasn't scared."
"Oh, you were," Garou said, circling him slowly. "Not of them. Of you. Every strike you landed, you pulled just enough not to kill. That hesitation? That's weakness. In a real fight, mercy gets you crushed."
Kaizen's jaw tightened. "And without mercy, you become a monster."
Garou stopped, eyes narrowing. For a brief second, the air grew heavy between them. Then he laughed a harsh, almost wild sound.
"Maybe. But monsters win. Remember that."
Bang's arrival was quiet but commanding. His footsteps barely whispered against the ground, yet both Kaizen and Garou stiffened.
"That's enough."
His gaze swept over the scene, lingering on the thugs groaning in pain. Then his eyes settled on Kaizen, unreadable.
"You fought well," Bang said, though his tone was neither praise nor comfort. "But understand this, Kaizen control is more important than victory. A fist that protects must be sharper than one that destroys. Otherwise, you'll lose yourself."
Kaizen bowed his head, guilt threading through his chest.
Garou smirked at the old master. "And what if losing yourself makes you stronger?"
Bang's eyes hardened. "Then that strength is nothing but ruin."
The air between master and disciple crackled with unspoken history. Kaizen stood caught between them, the tension pressing against his chest like a weight.
Later, back inside the dojo, Kaizen sat alone in the dim candlelight. His body was exhausted, but sleep wouldn't come. The images replayed in his mind fists landing, bones cracking, Garou's mocking grin, Bang's grave words.
He whispered to himself, voice barely audible. "Flow… control… protection…"
His reflection in the polished wood floor stared back at him. His fists trembled once more not from weakness, but from the storm of questions swirling inside him.
Which path am I walking? And when the time comes… will I still know the difference?