Jinrai moved steadily around the house, cleaning with quiet focus, while Rin sat comfortably on a chair, eating his breakfast.
"Why the sudden intense cleaning?" Rin asked, chewing lazily.
"My wife and kids are coming over."
Rin froze.
His eyes widened, chopsticks suspended mid-air as he stared at Jinrai.
"You have a family?!"
Jinrai glanced at him calmly.
"Of course I do. I'm almost eighty."
"Well... I've seen people go their whole lives without a spouse or kids," Rin replied, finally taking the bite he had paused halfway.
"Well, I'm not those people..." Jinrai said, continuing his cleaning without missing a beat.
"...They should be here soon."
---
Chaos spread across the block.
Men, women, and children ran in every direction, panic written across their faces.
The four masked men stepped out of their vehicle and moved silently toward the damaged building.
Dressed in dark clothing, their presence blended into the smoke and debris.
They slipped inside.
The building was empty - alarms blaring loudly, echoing through the hollow structure.
"Let's split up," one of them said, pointing toward the stairs on the left.
"Two men. I'll go with him," he added, gesturing toward the stairs on the right.
Without hesitation, they separated and moved upstairs.
---
A knock echoed against the wooden sliding door.
Jinrai paused his cleaning and quickly made his way toward it. Rin stood as well, setting aside what little work he had been helping with.
The door slid open.
An elderly woman, nearing her mid-seventies, stood outside, alongside a man in his late twenties.
"Love," Jinrai said softly, stepping forward and embracing her.
After pulling away, the younger man approached.
Aiko.
They hugged.
"How have you been?" Jinrai asked.
"I've been good," Aiko replied with a small smile.
Moments later, they all settled down, sitting together as conversation began to flow.
"Is this the Avatar?" Anna asked warmly, leaning toward Rin with a gentle smile as she playfully squeezed his bicep.
Rin laughed awkwardly.
"He's currently out."
"Yeah," Jinrai added. "Him and a friend left about an hour ago. They should be back soon."
Rin continued staring at them, disbelief still lingering in his expression.
Aiko noticed.
"Is everything okay?"
Rin paused.
"...I'm just surprised Mr. Jinrai has a family."
Anna chuckled lightly.
"Where do you think the money for everything here comes from?"
Rin blinked.
Realization hit.
"...I always thought it was suspicious how we had so much money while being on the run."
He leaned forward slightly.
"So... you guys lend us the money?"
"Yes," Anna replied. "Our son here manages a five-star hotel back in town. And our daughter - she just turned nineteen - works at a store not too far from here."
Rin tilted his head.
"Then... why didn't she come with you?"
Silence fell instantly.
Jinrai and Anna exchanged a glance. A quiet, heavy one.
Jinrai lowered his head.
Rin stiffened, realizing he might've crossed a line.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-"
"My daughter hates me," Jinrai said quietly.
The room went still.
"What? Why?" Rin asked.
Anna gently held Jinrai's hand.
"No... she doesn't," she said softly, shaking her head.
"...She's just hurt."
Silence returned.
"Can I hear what happened?" Rin asked carefully.
"Well-"
The door suddenly burst open.
Sumi rushed in, her expression urgent, her breathing uneven.
Jinrai and Rin immediately stood.
"Rokan..." Jinrai muttered.
"He's still in town," Rin finished.
Anna frowned.
"How do you know? She didn't even say anything."
"Rin, Sumi," Jinrai said quickly. "Go to where Rokan is. In case he needs help."
He rushed to a drawer, pulling out a dagger and tossing it to Rin.
"Just in case."
Rin caught it and nodded.
Without another word, he and Sumi rushed out.
Aiko watched them leave.
"This is a first... you're not rushing toward danger."
Jinrai chuckled softly.
He looked down at his palm, his smile fading slowly.
"I'm past my time... I can't do what I used to."
His gaze lifted toward the door.
"...Those kids... they're the hope of the world. Both in and out of bending."
---
Debris still fell from the shattered building.
Smoke filled the air.
A child stood nearby, crying helplessly, calling out for his father.
Above him, a massive chunk of the building began to fall.
The boy froze.
Rokan moved instantly.
In a blur, he reached him, lifting him safely and carrying him out of danger before placing him gently on the opposite side.
"You okay, kid?" Rokan asked, brushing away his tears and smoothing his hair.
The child continued crying, calling for his father.
Sirens approached.
Police and ambulances flooded the scene.
Rokan held the boy's hand and guided him to an officer.
It was Jung Gyu.
Rokan realized.
Caution instantly covers in his footsteps
Rokan immediately pulled his hood up, lowering his head.
"The kid's looking for his father," he said quietly. "He's pretty shaken up. Please take care of him."
"I will. Thank you," Jung Gyu replied, guiding the boy toward an ambulance.
Rokan turned to leave.
Then-
"I saw two- no, four guys go in there! They were all wearing masks!"
Rika's voice cut through the noise.
Rokan stopped.
The officers heard it too.
His eyes shifted between Jung Gyu... and the building.
"...I can't just leave," he thought. "Not now. And they wouldn't do this if they hadn't prepared for the police."
Before he could think further-
His body moved.
He ran inside.
"Hey! Hey!!" Jung Gyu shouted, stepping forward instinctively-then stopping himself.
He had no orders.
He grabbed his walkie-talkie.
"Robbers active inside the building. Possible hostages unknown, but widely uncertain. A civilian has entered. Requesting permission to infiltrate!"
A response came through.
"Permission granted. Only you and one selected detective. Proceed with caution."
"Yes, sir!"
"Yuta! Here, now!"
Yuta rushed over.
"Your guns loaded?"
Yuta checked. Nodded.
"Alright... let's move! Make sure everyone's safe!"
They entered the building carefully, each step measured.
---
Inside, Rokan slowed down.
"...Am I lost?" he muttered under his breath.
Doubt crept in.
Then-
Voices.
He moved quietly, step by step, until he reached a pillar.
Peeking from behind it-
He spotted them.
The four men.
And a young woman.
In front of a massive steel vault, its surface scarred and gleaming coldly under the dim emergency lights, tension hung thick in the air like smoke.
One of the robbers had his thick fingers buried deep in the woman's hair, yanking it back with brutal aggression. Her scalp burned under the vicious pull, strands threatening to tear free.
"What's the code, b*tch!" he snarled, his voice raw and venomous, spittle flecking her cheek as he twisted her head further.
A cold gun barrel pressed mercilessly against her temple, the metal biting into her skin.
Her tears fell relentlessly, carving glistening trails down her flushed, terrified face. Her lips trembled uncontrollably as sobs wracked her body.
"6... 3... 3... 5... 8... 29," she stammered, hiccups fracturing every syllable, her voice cracking like thin glass.
The moment the code clicked into place, the heavy vault door hissed open with a metallic groan.
Inside, stacks of crisp cash bundles and gleaming bars of gold lay neatly arranged in seductive rows, reflecting the faint light like forbidden treasure.
The robbers' faces split into wide, greedy grins - eyes gleaming with predatory hunger as they drank in the sight. With a rough shove, they tossed the woman to the cold concrete floor like a discarded rag.
She scrambled desperately to her feet and bolted, bare feet slapping against the floor in a frantic bid for freedom.
But one of them lunged forward, his meaty hand snatching the back of her collar with lightning speed. The fabric dug into her throat, choking her momentum.
"Where do you think you're going?" he growled, his breath hot and foul against her ear.
"You're our ticket outta here," the second robber added with a cruel smirk, his voice dripping with mock sweetness.
She whimpered pitifully, body shaking as their words sank in.
"What do we have here?"
A new figure emerged slowly from the deep shadows at the far end of the corridor.
He moved with deliberate, almost predatory calm. A dark hoodie shrouded his face in impenetrable gloom, the fabric casting sharp, angular shadows that made his features impossible to read - only the faint glint of eyes and the hard line of a clenched jaw hinted at the man beneath.

One of the robbers stepped forward aggressively, chest puffed out, gun still dangling loosely in his grip.
"And who might you be? A hero?" he sneered, lips curling into a vicious, yellow-toothed grin.
"A civilian..." the hooded man answered almost instantly, his voice low, steady, and ice-cold.
"...But the kind that has zero tolerance for as*holes who pick on innocent people."
The robber threw his head back and laughed - a loud, mocking bark that echoed off the concrete walls.
The laugh swelled, growing louder and more unhinged with every breath, his belly shaking with cruel amusement.
Then, without warning, the laughter died as if someone had flipped a switch. His face hardened into a mask of pure malice.
In one fluid motion, he yanked a pistol from the waistband of his trousers and fired straight at the hooded man's thigh.
The hooded stranger - Rokan - twisted sharply at the last instant.
He barely evaded the worst of it, but the bullet still tore a brutal path across his leg.
Hot blood bloomed instantly, soaking through the dark fabric of his trousers and dripping in thick, crimson rivulets onto the floor.
Pain flared like liquid fire up his leg, but his shadowed face remained eerily composed, jaw tight, eyes burning with quiet fury beneath the hood.
The sharp crack of the gunshot still echoed through the dark, cavernous room like thunder trapped in concrete, bouncing off the cold walls and fading into a menacing silence.
The victimized woman's face was etched with raw worry, her wide eyes glistening with a fragile mix of doubt and desperate hope. She stared at Rokan as if silently questioning what he could truly do, yet clinging to him like a lifeline in a storm. That profound helplessness swimming in her tear-filled gaze - the trembling of her lower lip, the way her shoulders hunched inward - only fueled Rokan's resolve, igniting a fierce protective fire deep within his chest.
He dropped into a low, coiled attacking stance, muscles taut beneath the shadowed fabric of his hoodie, every fiber of his body humming with restrained power.
*...I can't use my bending. Not in front of her,*
Rokan thought to himself, the internal conflict flashing across his hidden features for the briefest moment.
"Come at me," he said instantly, his voice calm yet laced with quiet steel.
The thug who had fired first grinned maniacally, eyes wild with rage, and unleashed a barrage of consecutive shots - one, two, three, four - the muzzle flashes lighting up his sweat-slicked, snarling face in strobing bursts.
Rokan evaded them all with fluid, almost dance-like grace. Each bullet whizzed harmlessly past as he closed the distance between them in elegant, weaving movements - a sidestep here, a graceful twist there - until he landed a devastating heavy blow to the robber's midsection. The impact drove the air from the man's lungs with a guttural whoosh, forcing his fingers to loosen around the gun.
Rokan snatched the weapon from the air before it could clatter to the floor and fired a single precise shot into the thug's thigh.
"Ah!" the robber screamed, his face twisting in agony as he crumpled, blood blooming across his leg like spilled ink.
The second robber charged in closer, swinging a wild punch aimed at Rokan's head. But Rokan's movements were too fluid, too precise. He dodged effortlessly at the last second, causing the thug's fist to slam instead into his own partner's face with a sickening crunch. Before the man could recover, Rokan delivered a brutal kick to his ankles, the force nearly shattering bone. The robber howled as his legs buckled.
With a powerful shove, Rokan pushed both men to the ground. They yelped in pain, their voices rising to desperate, ear-splitting cries that reverberated through the vault room.
The woman remained frozen in shock, her tear-streaked face pale, eyes wide as saucers.
*Maybe... just maybe he could handle them,*
she thought, a fragile spark of hope flickering in her chest.
The next man stepped forward, clearly different - a true martial artist. He moved with professional confidence, his posture upright and balanced, light steps carrying him toward Rokan with imaginative, weaving patterns that spoke of disciplined training. His face was set in focused determination, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched tight.
They engaged in fierce, lethal combat. Both men attacked and defended with prestigious, flowing movements - fists slicing through the air, blocks meeting strikes with sharp slaps of flesh and bone. For half a minute, the air filled with the sounds of grunts, impacts, and rapid breathing.
Then the robber seized Rokan's hoodie in a powerful grip and yanked him close, their faces inches apart. With a triumphant sneer, he whipped out a gun from his pocket and jammed the barrel hard against Rokan's jawline. The cold metallic press bit into his skin, the threat of death hanging heavy in the charged silence.
Right before the trigger could be fully pulled, Rokan shoved the armed arm aside with explosive force and delivered a crushing head-butt. The impact sent the robber stumbling backward, his forehead splitting open in a gush of blood. His sight distorted, vision blurring into hazy doubles as pain exploded through his skull.
Rokan seized the opportunity. Moving with lightning speed despite the burning wound in his leg, he unleashed a powerful roundhouse kick that connected squarely with the man's chest. The force sent the robber flying backward, crashing heavily to the floor where he lay slightly unconscious, chest heaving in shallow breaths.
Rokan's own injury remained glaringly visible - blood still seeping from the bullet graze, soaking his trousers. He limped noticeably now, each step sending fresh jolts of fire up his leg as the strain took its toll.
The last robber moved with desperate cunning. He grabbed the woman forcefully, wrapping one arm around her waist like a vice while pressing his gun tightly to her head. Her eyes squeezed shut in terror, fresh tears spilling over ruined makeup that streaked her cheeks in dark rivulets.
"Whoa! Let's take it easy, okay?" Rokan said, approaching slowly with cautious, measured steps. Every movement carried the heavy weight of potential life-or-death consequences. "There's no way out of this one. Don't take someone's life in a situation you have no chance of coming out on top of... Hm?"
"Don't come any closer!" the robber barked, voice cracking with panic.
"Stay right where you are! Or I'll blast her fu*king head off!"
Rokan sighed deeply, his shadowed face calm even as his mind raced. He spotted the robber's tiny opening - a slight shift in stance, a flicker of uncertainty - and acted.
With a subtle gesture, he opened the earth beneath the man's feet. The concrete floor cracked and yawned open like a hungry maw, sending the robber plummeting all the way from the fourth floor down to the unforgiving ground of the first level below. His scream faded into the distance.
Rokan swiftly closed the distance to the woman. She collapsed onto the floor in a heap, her face covered with tears and slightly ruined makeup, mascara running in black rivers down her cheeks. Her shoulders shook with silent, exhausted sobs.
He dropped to one knee beside her, his voice gentle and calming as it washed over her like a soothing balm. "Are you alright?!"
His tone wrapped around the young worker's ears like a warm embrace in the chaos. She buried her fingers deep into the fabric of his hoodie, pressing her head against his chest in a gesture almost lifeless, drained of all strength. Every sob that escaped her was weak and fragile, barely more than a shuddering breath.
Rokan nearly wrapped his arms around her to offer comfort, his hands hovering just inches from her trembling form.
*Click!*
The unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked echoed from behind him.
"You're him. Aren't you?"
Jung Gyu's voice erupted into the room, sharp and authoritative, cutting through the tension like a blade.
Rokan froze, his mind racing. He had no idea what to do now. He couldn't possibly take on an officer without hurting him - especially not with the throbbing bullet wound already sapping his strength and mobility.
This was indeed a problem he had no clear idea how to overcome.
... To be continued...