Noa's fingers were raw by lunchtime.
Blistering broke out along the underside of his thumbs, calluses cracking on his palms. The broom he held was as much an implement as a torture device a warped wooden handle older than him, splintered and creaky, its bristles worn thin and gray with age. It dragged more than it swept, scraping the bowed dojo floor with every stroke.
Dust settled on his hoodie like ashes, sweat stung his eyes, and his knees throbbed from hunching, rubbing, and bending for hours.
This was not what he had in mind when he asked to be trained.
He had dreamed of fist-shattering bricks, razor-sharp kata under cascading waterfalls, secret techniques that sliced air like thunder.
Not cleaning the same ten square meters of floor five consecutive hours.
Noa glanced towards the back of the dojo.
Kai Takeda sat on the overturned storage crate, arms folded, drinking from a tin coffee cup with more decades of history to its name. He'd been motionless for over an hour, other than to blink or maybe that had just been the light playing tricks on him.
"You teaching me something yet?" Noa asked, resting on the handle of the broom, wheezing.
Kai didn't lift his eyes. "I am teaching you."
Noa blinked. "You're watching me sweep floors."
"Right," Kai said. "And you're doing it wrong."
Noa blinked. "Say what?"
"Back straight. Elbows in. Push from the hips. Not the arms."
The kid threw up his hands. "You're kidding."
Kai finally locked eyes with him. Eyes calm, dark, like stagnant water with the shadow of something gigantic beneath. "I'm not."
"You expect me to believe sweeping the floor is martial arts?"
Kai sipped some more. "Everything is martial arts."
Noa gritted his teeth. "This isn't what I signed up for."
Kai stood up, stepping off the crate. His motions were slow, deliberate each muscle tightened but eased. He walked toward Noa, took the broom out of his hands, and demonstrated sweeping: body square, motion flowing from the hips in a controlled, straight sweep.
"See?" Kai said. "You're flailing like a drunken raccoon."
Noa frowned. "Great. So, I'm sweeping like an honor now?"
Kai returned the broom. "Clean floor. Clear mind. A warring man who fights in chaos makes it so."
Noa muttered something to himself half curse, half prayer and resumed sweeping.
By mid-day, the floor became a dojo once again. The grime was removed to reveal the worn image of the holy dragon crest: red scales in bold outline encircling a yellow flame, now barely visible beneath a coat of polish and dust. Noa forgot the pain in his shoulders for an instant. He stood at the center of the training floor, hands on hips, panting.
The place felt… lighter somehow. Like it was finally starting to breathe again.
He turned toward Kai. "So, what was this place, really? Before it fell apart?"
Kai's eyes didn't leave the crest. "It was hope."
"You mean a school?"
"No," Kai said, voice distant. "It was a place people came to become something more than they were."
Noa frowned. "What happened?"
Kai didn't answer immediately. The silence stretched so long, Noa thought he wouldn't.
Then: "We burned it down."
Noa's eyes widened. "You mean it got attacked?"
Kai clenched his jaw. "I mean I burned it down."
He walked to the far wall, fingers tracing a snapped photo frame, then falling.
Noa didn't push. He was starting to grasp the difference between silence and refusal.
Kai turned, face unreadable. "You still want a lesson?"
Noa stood tall, heart now beating slightly harder. "Yes."
Kai's expression shifted. A faint glint of something amusement, maybe? Nostalgia? It vanished before Noa could name it.
"Good," Kai said. "Then hit me."
Noa blinked. "Sorry, what?"
Kai gestured. "You've been sweeping for hours. Consider yourself warmed up. Hit me."
"Like… for real?"
Kai gave a slow nod.
Noa hesitated. Then rushed forward with a wild right hook, all shoulder and fury. It was clumsy, desperate, untrained.
Kai didn't even step back. He sidled over to one side with a hip flick, put two fingers on Noa's forehead, and let gravity do its thing.
Noa staggered. His legs were all crossed up. He crashed down on his side, wind knocked out of him.
"Too wide. Too angry," Kai said softly, dancing around him. "You don't punch with fists. You punch with balance. With intention. With precision.".
Noa rolled onto his side, groaning, and got to his feet.
There was blood oozing from his lip where he'd bitten it. He didn't care.
Kai said again, "Again."
Noa charged at him again, faster, poking a jab out.
Kai deflected it, turned, swept his back leg out, and Noa was flying.
Hard floor. Hard fall.
Kai was kneeling beside him, talking quietly.
"Still too fast. No patience. You move like someone trying to prove something."
"Maybe I am," snarled Noa.
Kai looked at him, long and quiet. "Fighting isn't about proving. It's about surviving. And right now, you're not surviving anything."
Before Noa could respond, the dojo door creaked open.
Kai's head snapped toward it instantly alert.
Three figures stepped inside.
They didn't belong.
You could feel it in the air. The temperature dropped. The tension tightened. Their footsteps weren't hesitant they were predatory.
Black tracksuits. Silver fang insignias that shine on their sleeves. Close lines shaved into their hair. Rings on knuckles that had been witnesses to blood. They exuded the kind of confidence born of never having to face the consequences.
The dude up front walked around like a man who expected people to get out of his way before he realized he was present.
Tall. Lean. Eyes like razors. A ponytail tied back with a band of braided cord. His gaze swept the room like a judge returning to the scene of a crime.
Noa's gut twisted. "Who "
"Steel Fang," Kai said, voice flat. Cold. "And that one's their top dog."
The leader stepped forward, smiling like a knife. "Long time, Takeda."
Kai's fists didn't move, but his shoulders squared.
"Jin."
Jin Daejin. Once a student of Dragon Crest. Now the golden prodigy of Steel Fang Dojo. The ghost of Kai's past, returned with bones to rattle.
Jin's tone was dripping with condescension. "Didn't think you'd slink back here. This dump still running?"
Kai didn't blink. "You're not welcome here."
Jin's gaze flicked over at Noa. "You teaching this little stray? Cute. You always had a soft spot for charity cases."
Noa's fists clenched. His ears burned.
Kai held up a hand, not turning. "Don't."
Jin cocked his head. "Teaching self-control now? What a twist."
"I said leave," Kai said flatly.
Jin's smile intensified. "We're not here for beef. Just visiting. Dragon Crest died ten years ago. We thought we'd drop by to see the corpse twitch."
Kai took one step forward.
It was just one step. But the room shifted.
Jin froze in place.
Kai's eyes were no longer at peace.
"This isn't your turf," Kai said softly. "Not yet. But step out of line… and I'll bury your name right beside mine."
For a beat, no one moved.
Then Jin turned, smoothly, without a word.
His boys followed, silent. The door shut behind them like a coffin lid.
Only when the last footstep faded did Noa exhale. He hadn't even realized he was holding his breath.
"Who the hell was that?" he asked, wiping sweat from his brow.
Kai didn't answer immediately. He walked to the center of the dojo and stood beneath the dragon crest, where the late sunlight hit it just right.
The colors shimmered again red and gold, defiant and warm.
Kai's voice, when it came, was hollow.
"Steel Fang's top fighter. My greatest mistake."
Noa looked from the mural to Kai's face.
And for the first time… he saw the burden in the man's eyes.
Not just pain.
Guilt.