The sky over Kabukicho was a patchwork of dark clouds and the glare of neon, reflecting off puddles left from an earlier rain. Shahaan walked through the streets, his hoodie damp at the edges, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans. The arcade incident from earlier still hummed in his chest, not as anger, but as a cautious kind of satisfaction. He had stood his ground. He had controlled the situation without throwing a single punch.
Still, the lesson wasn't finished.
Kaito was waiting at the edge of a narrow alley, leaning against a dumpster, his figure half-shrouded in shadow. He didn't speak as Shahaan approached, just gave a small nod. "Ready?"
Shahaan swallowed, his throat dry. "Yeah."
"Good." Kaito pushed off the wall and started walking. Shahaan followed, staying close but not crowding him. The alley led to a service corridor behind a row of closed shops, the kind of path people took only when they had no other choice—or when they wanted trouble. Tonight, Kaito wanted him to see both.
Halfway through, a figure stepped out of the shadows—a boy not much older than Shahaan, wearing a ripped hoodie and scuffed sneakers. His eyes darted, wild and uncertain. Kaito stopped, and Shahaan instinctively froze a few steps behind.
"Approach him," Kaito said quietly. "Talk to him. Assess. Don't touch unless necessary."
Shahaan hesitated. "What if he's dangerous?"
Kaito's expression was calm but firm. "Then you'll find out. That's the point."
Shahaan took a breath and stepped forward. "Hey. You okay?"
The boy flinched and took a step back, hands half-raised like he expected a strike. "I… I'm fine," he stammered.
Shahaan noticed the bruises along his jaw, the small cuts on his knuckles. He was lying.
"Look, I know you're not," Shahaan said, keeping his voice steady. "Who did this?"
The boy's eyes darted to the alley's exit, then back to Shahaan. "I can't… they'll come back if I tell anyone."
Shahaan nodded, keeping his tone neutral. "You won't be alone tonight. I'll walk with you until you're safe."
Kaito said nothing, watching silently from the edge of the shadows. Shahaan stayed by the boy's side, matching his pace, every sense alert.
It didn't take long for trouble to find them. From the corner of the alley, three older boys emerged, the kind that carried the weight of expectation and confidence in the way they moved. The one in front grinned, showing too many teeth. "Who's this? New kid got a guardian angel?"
Shahaan didn't respond. He positioned himself between the boy and the approaching threat, arms relaxed but ready.
"Step aside," the leader said, voice low. "This doesn't concern you."
"Maybe it does," Shahaan replied, keeping his tone calm. The adrenaline in his chest was familiar now, like an old friend. His eyes scanned the alley, noting possible escape routes, distances, and angles.
The first boy lunged, but Shahaan sidestepped, guiding the smaller boy back and letting the attacker stumble past. Another came in, swinging, and Shahaan blocked instinctively, using just enough force to deflect without escalating.
By the third strike, he realized something Kaito had been drilling into him for weeks: control wasn't about winning each hit. It was about survival and timing. He moved with precision, avoiding the majority of attacks and keeping the boy safe behind him.
Finally, the three backed off, huffing and swearing under their breath, disappearing back into the darkness. The boy exhaled sharply, trembling.
"You okay?" Shahaan asked, his voice softer now.
The boy nodded, wiping his face with the sleeve of his hoodie. "Thanks… I thought…"
"You're safe now," Shahaan interrupted gently. "That's what matters."
Kaito emerged from the shadows, hands in his pockets. "Not bad," he said. "You didn't throw a single punch, but you handled it. That's progress."
Shahaan let himself relax for the first time that night, shoulders loosening. He had learned something more valuable than any punch or block: presence. Awareness. Timing. Control.
As they walked back toward the main streets, Shahaan glanced up at the neon lights reflecting in the wet pavement. Kabukicho was still messy, loud, unpredictable. But tonight, it felt like he was learning to navigate it, not just survive it.
And for the first time, he didn't feel small.