The room fell silent for a moment.The steady sound of punches hitting the sandbag echoed — as if someone was trying to find a heartbeat that had been lost long ago.
Hashina's breathing slowed. His eyes moved across every motion before him — sharp punches, tense arms, the thick smell of sweat that made the air feel heavy.
He stopped and stared for a long while.Once, on this very floor, his name had been shouted from every corner of the arena. His eyes back then were full of determination, fixed on the highest glory.
Now, the same light still shone over the ring — but the man standing there was no longer the one chasing victory.He was the one trying to find himself again.
If only, back then, he had been mature enough to stop his arrogance.If only he had realized that glory was never eternal.
"Doesn't look like it's your first time here, huh?"A rough, low voice broke the silence.
The words pulled him back to reality.Hashina lifted his head and turned to look at the middle-aged man. His eyes were sharp and deep, as if they could see straight through him.
The man watched him quietly, his gaze filled with a mix of doubt and understanding.
"You've trained before, haven't you?" — his voice was short, heavy, testing.
Hashina hesitated for a moment, as if weighing what to say."Before... yes, I have."
"Before?" The man narrowed his eyes, glancing down at Hashina's hands.On that rough skin, the calloused knuckles and faint scars stood out clearly — silent proof of countless punches, of a past once burning bright."It's been a long time, huh?"
"A very long time," Hashina nodded lightly.
The man pointed toward the corner, where an old sandbag hung in place."Try it. Don't use too much force. I just want to see if you still have the feeling."
Hashina stepped closer. He stood still for a moment, then took a deep breath.
A good punch doesn't come from strength; it comes from belief.
Hashina let out a faint smile.It had been a long time since he'd heard those words.
He closed his eyes and drew in another breath.His feet found the familiar stance — like a reflex carved deep into his memory.
His shoulders dropped, his center lowered.
His eyes focused on the middle of the bag, breaths slow and heavy.
The fluorescent light above cast a cold glow, tracing the muscles beneath his rough skin — as if even his body recognized a familiar shadow, a focus long lost now slowly returning.
He turned his hips and threw a punch.
The sound landed deep and short — not loud, but heavy enough to make his body tremble.
Pain spread from his wrist up to his shoulder, sharp and burning.Yet within that pain, something came alive again.
He punched again.And again.
The echoes filled the room, strong and relentless.Each strike was not just instinct returning — it was the voice from deep within, calling him to fight, to reach out and pull himself from the endless darkness.
The man stood there silently, still watching.He could tell — Hashina wasn't punching to recall the past, but to reignite the flame that had long gone cold.
After a while, Hashina stopped. His breathing was uneven, his shoulders heavy.Sweat rolled down his forehead, falling onto the floor.
He sat down, exhausted. Pain still pulsed through his muscles, but he felt strangely calm.His eyes wandered to his hands — the same hands that carried the memories of youth.
And in his gaze, a faint light flickered — not bright, but enough to pierce through the long darkness that had clouded him for years.
The man finally spoke, his tone calm:"Good punch. But looks like you're still not used to it, huh?"
Hashina's lips curved slightly. The smile was simple, but it was his first in years.
For the first time, he felt... happy.
The man stepped closer, handing him a bottle of water."My name's Kenji. And you are?"
"Hashina."
Kenji nodded."People like you don't usually come here to start again," he said softly. "They come to find something they've lost. Am I right?"
Hashina nodded, saying nothing.
"Tomorrow. Six in the morning. Come back — if you truly want to change."
Hashina looked at him, slightly surprised.He hadn't expected to be accepted so easily.
In Kenji's eyes, there was no pity — only understanding. As if he was seeing his own reflection in this man.
Hashina left the gym.The sunlight stretched across the old road, glowing warm and gold.
His body ached with every step, yet his heart stirred gently.Not from pain — but because the small flame inside him had been lit once more.
For the first time in many years, he could feel his own heartbeat again.