The courtyard was alive with noise. Students leaned against walls, perched on benches, or stood shoulder to shoulder in a loose ring, their eyes all fixed on the same point. The late afternoon sun dipped low, casting long shadows that stretched across the cracked pavement.
In the middle of it all stood Kai.
His palms were slick with sweat, his breath shallow. Across from him, Daichi rolled his shoulders as though this were just another sparring drill, just another way to pass the time. His uniform was crisp but loose, belt tied tight around his waist like a warrior's mark of pride. His presence weighed on the air.
Kai had seen confident people before—teachers, his aunt when she barked orders at the restaurant staff—but Daichi was different. He carried himself with the kind of assurance that came only from winning, over and over again.
"First day, and you're already the main event," someone whispered from the crowd.
"Poor guy. Doesn't even look like he trains," another muttered.
Kai heard them. Every word stabbed at the knot in his chest, but he forced himself to stay still.
Don't run. Don't show fear.
His aunt's voice echoed in the back of his mind, calm and unyielding: Discipline is survival.
Daichi smirked, tilting his chin slightly. "You ready, new kid? Don't worry—I'll make it quick."
The laughter that followed was sharp, a wave that pressed against Kai's ears.
He swallowed hard. His heart thundered, each beat shaking his ribs. He wasn't ready. Not by any sane measure. He had no real martial training, no hidden power waiting to erupt. All he had were scraps of advice from his aunt's stories and his own way of seeing the world—like gears, levers, and blueprints fitting together.
But he couldn't walk away. Not here. Not with everyone watching.
"I'll manage," Kai said, voice steadier than he felt.
The ring tightened. Students leaned forward, eyes shining. A hush fell over the courtyard.
Then Daichi moved.
The punch came like lightning. Kai barely jerked his head aside in time. Air whooshed past his cheek, hot and fast, as Daichi's fist cut through the space where his face had been a fraction of a second before.
Fast!
The second punch followed instantly, slamming into Kai's raised arms. The impact rattled his bones, forcing him backward. Pain shot up his forearm, sharp and biting. He staggered, fighting to stay upright.
The crowd roared.
"That's Daichi's jab!"
"Already crushing him!"
Daichi didn't let up. He advanced like a machine, his feet pounding against the pavement in steady rhythm. Each punch was clean, direct, efficient. No wasted movement.
Karate, Kai realized. Straight-line attacks. Explosive power. Minimal flare.
His brain ticked, analyzing like a machine. He saw the stomp of Daichi's foot before the lunge, the way his hips coiled before each strike. Patterns. Signals.
But knowing wasn't the same as stopping.
Kai ducked the next punch, only for Daichi's knee to rise into his gut. The breath blasted out of him in a strangled gasp. He doubled over, vision spotting.
"Too slow," Daichi muttered.
Kai stumbled back, clutching his stomach. His body screamed to curl up, to collapse, but he forced his legs to stay beneath him.
The circle of students leaned closer, jeering. "He's already done!" "Sit down, newbie!" "Daichi's not even serious yet!"
Their voices blurred into noise. Kai's mind focused on one thing: survive.
Daichi came again, fists flashing. Kai raised his arms, absorbing hits on his forearms, shoulders, ribs. Each blow reverberated like a hammer on metal. His body was the anvil, straining to hold together.
He's fast, but predictable. Jab, cross, kick. Same sequence.
Kai shifted his feet, sliding sideways instead of backward. The next fist grazed his temple instead of smashing into it. He shoved Daichi's arm aside, creating just enough space to breathe.
A ripple of surprise moved through the crowd.
"Oh? He dodged?"
"Not bad for a beginner."
Daichi's smirk flickered, replaced by something sharper. "Hmph. Got some nerve."
He lunged again. Kai's brain screamed calculations. Hip twist—cross incoming. Right foot heavy—kick next. He sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the fist, but the kick slammed into his thigh, sending shockwaves up his leg. His knee buckled.
Pain exploded in his nerves. He bit his lip hard enough to taste blood.
Think, Kai. Don't fight his fight. Use what you have.
The memory surfaced—him as a child, sitting at Aunt Mei's restaurant counter, fiddling with a broken toy. She'd told him once: Machines don't lie. Watch their rhythm, and you'll know when they'll break.
Daichi's rhythm wasn't perfect. There was a beat between his steps, a pause in his breath when he struck. Small, but there.
Kai gritted his teeth. He couldn't win. Not against raw strength like this. But maybe—just maybe—he could endure long enough to matter.
The next hook came wide. Kai ducked under, desperate, and rammed his shoulder into Daichi's chest. The impact jolted his bones, but Daichi staggered a step back.
The crowd gasped.
Kai panted, chest burning, but he saw it—Daichi's smirk gone, if only for a second.
"You little…" Daichi's voice carried a thread of anger now.
He surged forward, strikes coming faster, sharper. Kai blocked what he could, dodged what he couldn't, each movement draining his strength. His arms screamed, his ribs ached, his legs trembled.
A fist smashed against his cheek. Stars exploded across his vision. Another blow hammered his ribs, stealing his breath. His body buckled, knees scraping the dirt.
The world tilted sideways.
Stay down, a voice inside him whispered. It's over. No shame in quitting.
But another voice rose louder. Aunt Mei's, clear as steel: Discipline is survival. Stand, even when your body begs you not to.
Kai planted a trembling palm on the ground. His legs wobbled, screaming protest, but he forced them straight. Slowly, painfully, he rose again.
The courtyard fell silent.
"He's still up?"
"No way. After all that?"
Daichi blinked, then chuckled low. "Stubborn brat."
Kai's vision blurred, but his eyes locked on Daichi's. "Not… done yet."
The crowd erupted, a wave of sound that shook the courtyard. Cheers mixed with laughter, but all eyes were on him now.
Daichi's smirk hardened. He surged forward again, faster, heavier. Kai read the motions, but his battered body lagged. A punch slipped through his guard, rattling his skull. Another slammed into his ribs. A kick swept his legs out from under him.
He hit the ground hard.
This time, he couldn't rise. His arms trembled uselessly, his lungs wheezed. Pain blanketed every nerve, dragging him down into darkness.
Silence hung over the crowd for a moment. Then Daichi stepped closer, looking down at Kai.
"…He's weak," Daichi said finally. His voice was calm, steady, carrying weight. "But he's not a coward."
Murmurs rippled through the students.
Daichi turned, adjusting his belt. "Remember that. He earned it."
With that, he walked away, his followers trailing behind.
The circle loosened. Some students shook their heads, disappointed. Others whispered with something like respect.
Kai lay there, chest heaving, blood on his lip. Every part of him screamed, but somewhere deep inside, a small flame flickered stubbornly.
He had lost. Badly.
But he hadn't run.
And in Tenshudo High, that was the first victory that mattered.