Shahaan leaned against the back wall of the train, hood pulled low, hands buried deep in his pockets. The rhythm of the tracks under him matched the dull pounding in his shoulder from last night's sparring. He had learned how to block, sure, but not without absorbing more than a few hard shots in the process. Kaito had told him that pain was just the tax you paid for progress. But Shahaan wasn't sure if the bruises on his ribs were worth the price.
Still, there was something different in the way he walked into school now. His posture wasn't perfect, but it wasn't the hunched, shrinking stance he used to carry. He looked people in the eye, even if only for a second. He caught his reflection in the hallway window and saw traces of someone who might not be an easy target anymore.
It didn't take long for that theory to be tested.
Two boys from Class 3A, the kind who always carried themselves like they owned the place, stepped into his path as he made his way toward the cafeteria. The taller one, with bleach-blond hair, smirked. "Heard you've been playing tough guy lately, Obalua. Thinking you can swing on people now?"
Shahaan's stomach tightened, but he remembered Kaito's voice from just two nights ago: Breathe. Do not show them fear. Fear invites their hands.
"I'm just walking to lunch," Shahaan said evenly.
The blond boy stepped closer until his shadow fell over Shahaan. "Then maybe you should walk the other way."
Shahaan glanced at the space between them. He wasn't ready to start a fight—not here, not with teachers around—but he wasn't going to fold, either. "Or maybe you should move."
It was a gamble. The blond boy's smirk faded for a second, replaced by something like surprise. But instead of swinging, he just snorted and stepped aside. "Whatever, man. Don't get cocky."
Shahaan didn't relax until he was halfway across the cafeteria, but when he sat down with his tray, a small spark of satisfaction flickered in his chest. He hadn't thrown a punch. He hadn't needed to.
That evening at the dojo, Kaito noticed immediately. "Something happened today."
Shahaan gave him the short version while wrapping his hands. Kaito listened without interrupting, then nodded once. "That's good. Winning without fighting is the best outcome. But don't confuse it with being ready. You just bought yourself time."
Training that night was brutal. Kaito seemed determined to push Shahaan past his breaking point, forcing him into endless rounds of blocking drills until his forearms burned. Every time Shahaan thought he was finished, Kaito threw another strike—light enough not to injure, but fast enough to punish slow reflexes.
By the time they finished, Shahaan's shirt was drenched, his arms shaking. He collapsed on the bench, gulping air. Kaito handed him a bottle of water. "You're learning, but there's something you need to understand. The streets don't care if you're tired. The wrong person doesn't stop because you've had enough for the day."
Shahaan met his eyes. "So I keep going."
Kaito gave a faint smile. "Exactly."
On his way home, Shahaan's phone buzzed. It was a message from Riku, the quiet kid from his math class—the same one who used to get shoved around just like him. Can I talk to you?
Shahaan hesitated, then replied: Yeah, what's up?
Need help. Outside the 7-Eleven near the station.
Shahaan's pulse quickened. He could still turn around, pretend he didn't see the message until later. But he thought about the way Kaito had looked at him earlier. About the way Riku had once shared his lunch when Shahaan forgot his own.
He tightened his hood and headed toward the station.
When he arrived, two older guys were standing over Riku, one holding his backpack while the other flipped through his wallet. Riku's face was pale, his hands clenched at his sides.
Shahaan stepped forward before he could second-guess himself. "Give it back."
The taller one turned, sizing him up. "Who's this? Your big brother?"
Shahaan kept his voice steady. "Just someone who doesn't like thieves."
For a moment, the guy just stared at him, then tossed the wallet back at Riku. "Whatever, man. Not worth it." They walked off without looking back.
Riku's shoulders sagged in relief. "Thanks… I didn't know what to do."
Shahaan shrugged, though his hands were still trembling. "You don't have to. That's why you've got people now."
As they walked away, Shahaan realized something. The bruises still hurt, the training still left him exhausted, and he was nowhere near as strong as Kaito. But for the first time in years, he felt like he had a choice in how his life went.
And that was a bruise worth keeping.