The rain had stopped, but the streets were still wet, like they hadn't realized the night was over.
Kai walked the same route as always, head down, hands deep in his pockets.
Neokura was quieter these days.
Or maybe he'd just stopped listening.
The door jammed again when he pushed it open.
Inside, everything looked the same.
His mother was asleep on the couch, the TV humming with gray static.
Jean was gone — good.
Only the ticking clock filled the room, slow and constant.
He stripped off his wet clothes and threw them in the corner.
The floor creaked under his steps.
He drank straight from the tap.
The water was cold.
Tasted like rust. Like home.
His room was dark.
The monitor blinked once, then went black again.
He dropped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.
His body felt heavy, but his head stayed awake.
Then came the sound again.
Low. Deep.
And somewhere in it — Yuto's voice.
A laugh, a line, a moment that wasn't supposed to come back.
He pulled the blanket over his head.
"Stop," he whispered.
But the echo stayed.
Morning came gray.
Not a beginning — just motion.
He got dressed without thinking.
Jacket. Bag. Door.
Outside, the air was clearer, but cold.
The city smelled like wet concrete and oil.
Somewhere, a dog barked.
No one cared.
He walked the same route.
Kiosk. Bus stop. Trash heap.
But something was missing.
Kenji.
His spot was empty.
No shout. No joke. No laugh behind him.
Just engines. Voices.
Noise without meaning.
Kai stopped for a second.
Maybe he overslept.
Maybe not.
School was louder than usual.
But everything sounded distant, like the world was happening through glass.
Kenji's chair stayed empty.
No one asked.
No one looked.
Only Kai. Again and again.
The teacher talked about exams, about dates, about the future.
Kai didn't listen.
He stared out the window, where the rain started again.
Slow. Relentless.
Mina turned toward him.
"Where's Kenji?" she asked, quiet.
Kai waited a second.
"No idea."
He looked forward again.
The bell rang.
He didn't move right away.
Outside, the rain blurred everything.
He kept staring at the empty chair.
It stayed empty.
After school, Kai went back to the café.
The light above the door flickered.
Same melody from the radio.
Same air — cold grease and smoke.
Aiko stood behind the counter, cigarette in hand, grey eyes tired.
"Back again," she said without looking up.
"The guy I was with didn't show up at school today."
"He's in trouble."
"Oh really."
She nodded slowly, took a long drag, exhaled toward the ceiling.
"He was here. This morning."
"What did he want?"
"Asked where it was. That thing from the flyers."
"The Pit."
"Yeah."
Kai sat down in the same spot as always, elbows on the table.
"What even is it?"
Aiko let out a dry laugh.
"A hole. Under the city. Old subway tunnels, basements, whatever.
Someone built rings down there. Fights. No rules. No lights. No bullshit."
"Why?"
"Because people love to watch others fall when no one stops them.
I knew someone who fought there once.
They force people to bet, make them part of it.
It's a system — ranks, money, all that crap.
But most of the people down there end up dead."
She crushed the cigarette, stood still for a moment.
"I told Kenji to leave it. But you know how guys are when they smell fame."
"Where exactly?"
Aiko hesitated. "South Line. Old tunnel near the river bend.
Entrance by the grey factory, the ground vibrates there."
"And he went?"
"He went with them. Two guys. Dark jackets. Not school types."
She looked at him.
"If you go down there, don't play hero."
Kai just nodded, took a sip of water, left money on the table.
"I don't play."
Then he left.
The way to the South Line was quieter than usual.
No wind. Just drops falling from rooftops.
Behind the factory, steam rose from a metal grate buried in concrete.
Voices echoed.
Soft at first, then louder.
The closer he got, the more the ground shook.
A door was open. Two men stood outside.
Neither spoke.
One looked up, saw Kai, and nodded.
He let him in.
The hallway was narrow, walls black from smoke.
The deeper he went, the warmer the air got.
Then came the smell — iron, blood, sweat, dirt.
A circle of people.
Shadows.
Shouting.
In the middle — the ring.
Two guys fighting.
No ref. No rules.
The crowd screamed.
Kai stayed at the edge.
His eyes scanned the pit.
Then he saw him.
Kenji.
Soaked in sweat, lip split, shirt torn. Beaten to hell.
His opponent — a wall of muscle, ready to crush him.
Someone behind Kai yelled, "The new kid! The one from yesterday!"
A wave of noise hit.
Hands pushed him forward.
He tried to stop.
Didn't matter.
The crowd swallowed him.
Until his shoes touched the dirt.
Until he stood right in front of the ring.
Kenji stumbled, dropped to his knees.
The other guy kept hitting.
Kai said nothing.
Just watched him try to stand.
Another hit. Then nothing.
His body moved before his mind did.
He climbed through the ropes.
"What the hell are you doing?" someone shouted.
Kai knelt beside Kenji, lifted him halfway up.
Blood down his nose, one eye shut.
"I'm taking him out," Kai said.
"No one takes anyone out of here," came a voice from the crowd.
The speaker stepped forward — dark jacket, shaved sides, cold stare.
"You're interrupting. You know what that means?"
Kai stayed silent.
"You step in, you stay in."
He nodded toward the fighter. "He needs a replacement."
Hands grabbed Kai, spun him toward the ring.
He looked at Kenji — barely conscious.
Wanted to say something. Nothing came out.
"Shirt off!" someone yelled.
"Ring's live!"
Kai slowly took off his jacket.
What the fuck am I doing.
His body was thin, wiry.
Lights flickered. Blood everywhere on the floor.
The guy across from him grinned.
"New one, huh?"
Kai didn't move.
I can't fight.
"I can't fight," he said.
"Then you'll lose fast."
The crowd roared, stomping, shouting, wild.
Kai heard none of it.
Just breathing.
His own. The other guy's.
Get out. Now. Just walk away.
But his legs didn't move.
The dull thumping inside him grew louder.
Not anger.
Not fear.
Just pressure.
Then the first punch landed.