The afternoon crowd at the arcade was louder than usual, with the clatter of buttons and the shouts of teenagers mixing into a messy soundtrack. Shahaan sat slouched at a table in the corner, nursing a paper cup of cold tea. Across from him, Kenji was locked in a racing game, leaning forward so much it looked like he was about to drive through the screen.
Shahaan's mind was elsewhere. Kaito's words from the last training session had been echoing in his head for two days now.
"Your power means nothing if you cannot choose when to use it."
It was simple advice, but it was sharp, like a pebble stuck in his shoe. He understood the meaning, but living by it felt like trying to hold back a sneeze when someone was in your face. His temper still burned too easily, and Kabukicho was the kind of place that would test that every day.
His thoughts were interrupted when Kenji slammed the arcade steering wheel, letting out a laugh. "Smoked him again. You see that?"
Shahaan nodded without really looking. He wasn't in the mood.
That was when three older guys walked in. They looked like they belonged more in a back-alley bar than an arcade—cheap leather jackets, chains, the kind of stares that tested people just to see who'd look away first.
Shahaan kept his eyes on his tea, but he could feel the tension shift. The tallest of the three walked right up to Kenji's machine, leaned against it, and tilted his head.
"You're loud, kid," the man said. "Think you can beat me?"
Kenji glanced back, nervous but trying to play it off. "If you got coins, sure."
The man smirked and pulled a coin from his pocket, dropping it into the slot. The game reset, and they both grabbed the wheels. Shahaan stayed seated, watching from the corner of his eye.
It didn't take long for things to turn ugly. Halfway through the race, Kenji's car slammed into the wall on-screen—after the man's elbow "accidentally" knocked into his.
"Hey, what the hell?" Kenji said.
"What? Can't handle a little bump?" the man said with a grin that wasn't friendly.
Kenji's voice rose. "Play fair."
The man's friend, a shorter guy with slicked-back hair, stepped in closer. "You calling my boy a cheater?"
That was it. Shahaan stood, the scrape of the chair legs cutting through the arcade noise. He walked over, his shadow falling over the machine.
"Leave it," he said, his voice low.
The tallest man turned his head slowly, eyes narrowing. "And who the hell are you?"
Kenji looked at Shahaan like he'd just been thrown a lifeline, but the other two guys were already circling in closer.
"Just someone telling you to back off," Shahaan said.
The slick-haired guy snorted. "You think you're tough? Look at this kid, playing hero."
Shahaan could feel his heartbeat quickening. His fists itched to swing, but Kaito's words were still there, heavy in the back of his mind. If he made the first move, he'd be proving them right—just another punk with no control.
He stepped forward, not enough to start a fight, but enough that the air between them grew tense. "Game's over. Walk away."
The tall man laughed, but it didn't sound confident. Maybe it was the steady way Shahaan looked at him, or maybe it was the fact that a few heads in the arcade had turned to watch. The last thing a bully wanted was an audience if they weren't sure they could win.
After a long pause, the man stepped back. "Not worth the trouble." He gestured for his friends to follow, and they left with a few muttered curses.
Kenji let out a breath he'd been holding. "Man, I thought they were gonna—"
"Don't thank me," Shahaan said. "Just… don't poke people like that. Some guys don't walk away."
As they left the arcade, Shahaan realized something. His hands were steady. He hadn't thrown a punch, but the confrontation still ended his way. It wasn't the same rush as knocking someone down, but it was… something else. Control.
Maybe Kaito was right.