Morning sunlight filtered into the dojo courtyard, casting golden streaks across the weathered wooden planks. The sound of bamboo swaying in the wind usually brought Kaizen peace, but today it felt heavy like every rustle whispered judgment.
He stood before the training posts, fists aching, body wrapped in fresh bruises from last night's fight. The storm inside him was quiet now, but not gone. It never left.
"Your stance is crooked," Bang's voice broke the silence.
Kaizen stiffened as his master approached, gray hair tied neatly, his robe loose yet elegant. Bang's sharp eyes scanned Kaizen's posture, but they lingered longer than usual, as though searching for something deeper.
"Yes, Master," Kaizen replied, forcing steadiness into his tone.
Bang circled him slowly. His gaze dropped to Kaizen's ribs, where faint swelling pressed against the fabric of his gi. "You've been struck," he murmured.
Kaizen swallowed. "I… tripped during training."
Bang's brow furrowed. "Tripped?"
Kaizen nodded quickly, but his master's silence weighed on him heavier than any blow. Bang had been teaching him long enough to know lies when he heard them.
"Kaizen," Bang said finally, his voice low. "This dojo is no place for secrets. If you carry burdens, you must share them, lest they consume you."
Kaizen bowed deeply, hiding the turmoil in his eyes. "Yes, Master."
But he could not confess not yet.
That afternoon, training was grueling. Bang pushed Kaizen harder than usual, as though testing the cracks in his disciple's resolve.
"Water flows," Bang commanded as Kaizen struggled against the current of his own breath. "It does not crash until it must."
Kaizen obeyed, moving through the patterns of Water Stream Rock Smashing Fist. His arms moved like currents, redirecting invisible force, but his core trembled. The memory of Renji's bloodied grin, the storm bursting from his fists, haunted every strike.
"Again," Bang said sharply.
Kaizen obeyed again, this time steadier, forcing himself into the rhythm.
Bang watched, hands behind his back, his expression unreadable. Yet within him, a shadow of doubt grew. He had seen that tremor before in another disciple who once lost himself to rage.
In Garou.
Meanwhile, Renji sat at the edge of the courtyard, his ribs bound in cloth, bitterness burning hotter than pain.
Every time Kaizen's fists moved, Renji's jaw tightened. He saw not mastery, but hypocrisy power chained, wasted, while he himself clawed for recognition.
When Bang dismissed training for the evening, Renji lingered near Kaizen. His voice was low, sharp.
"You think holding back makes you noble? It makes you weak."
Kaizen didn't answer, his body too drained to argue.
Renji leaned closer, his words venom. "Next time, you won't stop. And when that happens, everyone will see you for what you are."
Kaizen's eyes flickered, but he stayed silent, retreating into the dojo.
Renji smirked bitterly. His wound still burned, but he had no regrets. If Kaizen fell, he would be ready to rise.
That night, Bang sat alone in the dojo's inner chamber, sipping tea as moonlight spilled across the tatami. His thoughts wandered back to Kaizen his bruises, his shaken spirit.
The signs were too familiar.
Have I taken on another boy who walks the edge of the abyss?
Bang clenched his cup. He remembered Garou's eyes once eager, then wild, finally merciless. A disciple who could not master the storm within himself, consumed instead by it.
And now, Kaizen.
Bang exhaled slowly. Perhaps he was imagining shadows where there were none. But the weight in his chest did not lift.
On the rooftops, Garou crouched again, watching the dojo with quiet hunger.
From his vantage, he could almost see the fractures forming Renji's envy, Kaizen's storm, Bang's doubt.
"Beautiful," Garou whispered to himself. "The seeds are sprouting."
His grin widened, though his eyes glimmered with something darker than amusement. He wasn't simply watching anymore. He was waiting for the right moment to strike not just at Kaizen, but at Bang's heart.
Days passed, but tension only thickened.
Kaizen trained harder than ever, each movement precise, desperate to master control. Yet every night, when he closed his eyes, the storm roared. He remembered Renji's words Next time, you won't stop.
And he feared Renji was right.
One evening, Bang summoned him alone to the courtyard.
"Kaizen," Bang said, folding his arms. "I will ask once more. Where did those bruises come from?"
Kaizen froze, his mouth dry.
Bang's voice carried no anger, only gravity. "I will not tolerate lies."
Kaizen clenched his fists. He wanted to confess everything to admit the fight, the loss of control, the storm that nearly devoured him.
But if he did… would Bang cast him out, just as Garou had been?
"I can handle it, Master," Kaizen whispered. "Please… trust me."
For the first time, Bang's stern expression cracked with something almost like sorrow.
"It is not a matter of trust," he said softly. "It is a matter of whether you can handle yourself."
Kaizen lowered his gaze. "I will."
Bang studied him for a long, silent moment before turning away. "Then prove it. Show me that you can walk this path without falling."
Later that night, Kaizen sat on the dojo roof, staring at the stars. His body still ached, but it was his spirit that trembled most.
"Walk the path," he murmured. "Without falling."
But the storm inside laughed, as though mocking him.
And somewhere in the city, Garou laughed too, as though he had heard the same whisper.