The mirror in the training room had a crack running through the center.
Jin stood in front of it, shirt stained from yesterday's blood.Not fresh, but not forgotten.
She didn't look at her bruises.
She looked at her eyes.
Like she was checking if her soul was still there.
Aara walked in behind her, silent.
She didn't ask if Jin slept.
She knew the answer.
When you're preparing for a fight that's more message than match, rest becomes something dangerous.
Something you avoid in case your guard drops with it.
"You stitched me good," Jin muttered, still facing the mirror.
"You held still."
"Was that my test?"
"No. The test is tomorrow."
Jin finally turned.
"Do I pass if I don't die?"
"You pass if you bleed right."
Jin dropped to sit on the mat, back against the mirror.
"What does that mean? Bleed right?"
Aara sat across from her.
"It means if they're going to cut you, you decide what it costs them."
"What if it costs too much?"
"It won't."
"How do you know?"
"Because if it does," Aara said softly, "I'll finish it for you."
Silence.
Then Jin asked:
"When did it stop hurting for you?"
"It didn't."
"So how do you do it?"
"I didn't have a choice."
Jin leaned her head back.
Exhaled.
"I feel like the more I learn how to fight, the less I know how to be… me."
"That's normal."
"What if I don't want to lose who I am?"
"Then you better figure out who that is before the bell rings."
Aara stood.
Walked toward the old locker at the far wall.Pulled something out.
She tossed it to Jin.
A journal.
Blank.
"Start writing. Doesn't matter what. Just keep a piece of yourself somewhere they can't reach."
"You write?"
"Used to."
"What stopped you?"
"The first time someone found it and used it against me."
Jin flipped the journal open.
Blank pages.
No rules.
No blood.
Just space.
"Thanks," she said, quietly.
"Don't thank me. Just survive."
Later that night, Aara stood outside.
The street was wet again — not from rain, but from the kind of humidity that choked your lungs and soaked your skin before you even moved.
She lit a cigarette.
Didn't inhale.
Just watched it burn.
The streetlight buzzed overhead.
Everything was still.
Until it wasn't.
A motorcycle pulled up across the street.
Black. Matte finish. Silent engine.
The rider didn't get off.
Helmet on. Gloved hands.
Still.
Watching.
Aara didn't move either.
Her pulse didn't race.But it knew.
She flicked the cigarette to the curb.
Didn't turn away.
Didn't blink.
The rider lifted the helmet just enough to show his face.
Haru.
Older.Sharper.Eyes darker than she remembered — like the silence had become part of him.
But he didn't speak.
Not yet.
She crossed the street slowly.
Boots hitting pavement like punctuation.
Stopped in front of him.
"How long have you been watching?"
"Since you started bleeding again."
"You always this cryptic, or just with me?"
"Only with you."
She stared at him.
Didn't reach out.
Didn't ask why he left.
Didn't ask why he came back.
Because she already knew.
He never really left.
He just stopped being in the way.
"She's not ready," Aara said, voice quiet.
"No one ever is."
"She's still soft."
"So were you. Once."
The tension sat between them like glass.
They could either step around it —Or through it.
"Why are you here, Haru?"
"Because you told me not to come back… unless I was ready to follow your lead."
"And are you?"
He nodded.
"I'm not here to control it anymore. I'm here to build the fire with you. Not in front of you."
She closed her eyes for a second.
Let the words settle.
Not romantic.
Not a plea.
Just truth.
One she didn't know she needed.
"She reminds me of me," she whispered.
"That's why she scares you."
"She's still got something left to lose."
"Then we protect it. Together."
Aara looked up.
"This doesn't end in the pit, Haru."
"No. It ends with you deciding what gets to survive after."
He pulled off his helmet.Tucked it under his arm.
"I'm not here to save you anymore."
"Good," she said.
"Because you don't need it."
Behind them, the wind picked up.
Carried the scent of the city — exhaust, sweat, steel.
And something else.
War.
Aara turned toward the horizon.
Jin was inside.The fight was coming.And Haru —he was back.
But this time?
He wasn't the weapon.
She was.