The walk home always hurt more than the fight.
Kaito Arata swung his arms as he walked down the narrow street, trying to ignore the soreness spreading through his shoulders. Every step made his legs ache, and the spot on his chest where Kenji hit him still throbbed.
He poked it with his finger.
"Ow… yeah, that's gonna bruise."
He grinned anyway.
Today was better than yesterday.
Yesterday he got knocked down in three moves.
Today it took five.
That meant he was improving.
That's what mattered.
The evening sun hung low over the rooftops, casting long shadows across the street. Kids his age were playing near the park, kicking a ball back and forth and yelling at each other.
Kaito stopped for a second and watched them.
"…Looks boring."
He stretched his arms over his head and kept walking.
Training was better.
Training always felt better.
Even when it hurt.
Especially when it hurt.
He turned the corner and reached the small house at the end of the street. The paint on the walls was chipped, and the fence leaned slightly to one side, but the place was clean.
He pushed the door open.
"I'm home!"
From the kitchen, a voice answered immediately.
"You're late again."
Kaito froze.
"…Uh."
He slowly stepped inside.
His mother stood near the stove, arms crossed, looking at him with narrowed eyes.
Then she saw his face.
And his uniform.
And the dirt on his sleeves.
She sighed.
"You lost again."
Kaito scratched his cheek.
"…I almost didn't."
"You say that every day."
"It's true every day."
She walked over and grabbed his chin, turning his head left and right.
There was a small cut near his lip.
Another bruise forming on his cheek.
And his gi was wrinkled like he had rolled across the floor.
"…Sit down," she said.
"I'm fine."
"Sit."
He sat.
She brought a small box from the table and opened it, pulling out a cloth and a bottle.
Kaito groaned.
"You don't need to..."
He flinched as the cloth touched the cut.
"Hold still," she said.
"It stings!"
"It's supposed to."
He muttered something under his breath.
She raised an eyebrow.
"What was that?"
"…Nothing."
She cleaned the cut carefully, then leaned back and looked at him.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then she sighed again.
"You train too much."
Kaito looked up.
"There's no such thing."
"There is when you come home looking like this every day."
"I'm getting stronger."
"You're getting bruised."
"Same thing."
She stared at him.
He stared back.
After a few seconds, she shook her head and smiled slightly.
"You're exactly like him."
Kaito blinked.
"…Like who?"
Her smile faded.
"…No one."
She closed the box and stood up.
"Go change. Dinner's ready."
Kaito watched her for a moment.
She only talked like that sometimes.
Whenever he asked about his dad.
He stood up slowly and walked toward his room.
It was small.
Just a bed, a desk, and a punching bag hanging from the ceiling.
The bag was old.
He liked it that way.
He dropped his backpack, took off his jacket, and stood in front of the bag.
His arms hurt.
His legs hurt.
His chest hurt.
He raised his fists anyway.
One punch.
Thud.
Another.
Thud.
He kept going.
Punch.
Punch.
Punch.
His breathing grew heavier, but he didn't stop.
Not until his arms started shaking.
Not until his knuckles felt numb.
Not until sweat ran down his face.
He lowered his fists slowly.
"…Still not enough."
He looked at his hands.
Small.
Bruised.
Not strong yet.
But they would be.
He clenched them tighter.
"I'll get stronger," he whispered.
The air around his fists trembled slightly.
Just for a moment.
Like heat rising off the ground.
Kaito blinked.
"…Huh?"
He waved his hand.
Nothing.
He frowned.
"…Weird."
A knock came from the door.
"Dinner," his mother called.
"Coming!"
He grabbed a towel, wiped his face, and headed back to the kitchen.
He didn't notice the punching bag behind him swaying slightly.
Even though he hadn't touched it.
Not this time.
...
Later that night, the dojo was dark.
All the lights were off.
The mats were empty.
The air was still.
The front door creaked open slowly.
A man stepped inside.
Tall.
Wearing a dark coat.
His footsteps made no sound as he walked across the floor.
He stopped in the center of the dojo and looked around.
"…So this is the place."
His eyes moved toward the spot where Kaito had been standing earlier.
For a moment, the air around him flickered faintly.
A soft glow appeared in his eyes.
"…There's no mistake."
He turned toward the door.
"…After all these years."
The man pulled something from his pocket.
A small metal device.
It hummed quietly.
A faint light appeared on its surface.
One signal.
Very weak.
But there.
The man smiled slightly.
"We found you."
He closed the device and walked out into the night.
The door shut behind him.
The dojo was silent again.
But not for long.
Something had started.
And it wouldn't stop anymore.