Shahaan did not remember deciding to stand up. One moment he was leaning against the wall in the back of the classroom, trying to ignore the low murmur of the two seniors at the front, and the next, his feet were carrying him forward. His mind was still stuck somewhere between the words mind your own business and you should have just let it go.
But he had not let it go.
The taller senior had his hands clamped on the collar of a first-year's shirt, shaking him like a vending machine that had stolen someone's coins. The kid's books were scattered across the floor, pages creased and torn. Everyone else kept their eyes down. No one wanted to be next.
Shahaan stepped into the aisle.
The shorter senior noticed first. "What? You lost, rookie?" His smirk was the kind people wore when they already thought they had won.
"Let him go," Shahaan said. His voice was steady, but his hands were not.
The taller one stopped shaking the first-year and turned. "You think you're a hero?" he asked, his tone somewhere between amusement and disbelief.
Shahaan could feel his heartbeat in his ears. Kaito's voice echoed in his memory, sharp and unrelenting: If you hesitate, you've already lost. Commit. Always commit.
The taller senior took a step toward him, and the room seemed to shrink.
"Move before I make you," the boy warned.
Shahaan did not move. He did not even try to think of an answer. His body acted before his mind could keep up.
The first strike was not clean. He had meant to hit the taller boy's arm to break his grip on the freshman, but his aim was off, and his palm smacked into the side of the boy's ribs instead. Still, the sudden contact made the senior flinch.
The shorter one cursed and lunged forward. Shahaan sidestepped and shoved him back, feeling a rush of adrenaline that was dangerously close to exhilaration.
It was over fast. Too fast. A teacher's voice cut through the tension, and both seniors backed off, muttering curses under their breath as they left the classroom.
The freshman mumbled a thank you without looking up, scooping his books into his bag and hurrying out.
Shahaan stood there for a moment, breathing hard. His hands trembled, but not entirely from fear.
Later, he found himself on the roof of the school building, staring out at the skyline. Kabukicho loomed in the distance, a mess of neon and shadows. He thought about Kaito, about the training sessions that left his arms sore and his lungs burning. It was working. Not in the way he expected, but it was.
When he told Kaito about the incident that evening, the older man did not smile or pat him on the back.
"You hesitated," Kaito said flatly. "You still think before you act. In a real fight, that's when you get your teeth knocked out."
"I didn't lose," Shahaan replied.
"You didn't win either. You got lucky."
Kaito stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. "You want to get better? Stop waiting for the perfect moment. Make the moment."
Shahaan nodded.
Kaito's expression softened, but only slightly. "We'll work on it. Tomorrow, we train until you stop flinching."
Shahaan walked home later that night feeling different, though he could not name the feeling. It was not pride exactly. It was more like… the first crack in a wall he had been building around himself for years.
A wall that maybe, just maybe, he was finally ready to break.