The courtyard slowly lost its heat as the crowd began to scatter, the echoes of cheering and laughter still hanging in the air like smoke after a fire. Some students drifted away, shaking their heads in disappointment, while others chattered excitedly about what they had just witnessed.
To them, it was just another fight in Tenshudo High—another challenge issued, another outcome decided. But for Kai, lying flat on the ground, it was his entire first day crashing down on him at once.
His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths. Each inhale sent a stab of pain through his ribs, sharp enough to make his vision blur for a second. His right arm trembled when he tried to push himself up, and his legs felt like wet clay.
The courtyard tiles were cool against his cheek, but the sting of humiliation was far hotter than anything Daichi had landed on him.
"Stay down, rookie," one of Daichi's friends said lazily as he passed. The boy's smirk wasn't cruel, exactly—it was almost sympathetic. Like someone speaking from experience.
Kai swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth and forced his body upright. His arms shook, but he refused to let himself collapse again. Not here. Not while so many eyes were still on him.
Daichi stood a few paces away, arms folded, the picture of calm dominance. His uniform wasn't even ruffled, not a single bead of sweat on his forehead. If Kai looked beaten, Daichi looked like he'd merely warmed up.
"You fought without running," Daichi said finally. His voice wasn't mocking. If anything, it carried the weight of judgment. "That's enough."
Kai raised his head, his vision swimming. "…Enough for what?"
Daichi tilted his head slightly, then walked closer until only Kai could hear. "Enough for people here to take you seriously. You've got no power, but you didn't fold. That matters."
And with that, Daichi turned and strode off, his entourage following like shadows.
The moment he left, the energy of the crowd shifted. Without their leader, the circle loosened. Some students shook their heads and wandered off. Others lingered to gossip.
"Not bad for a newbie."
"He lasted longer than I expected."
"Still, Daichi crushed him."
The whispers stung almost as much as the bruises.
Kai forced his legs under him again, wobbling slightly before he found his balance. The world tilted and steadied. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, heavy and uneven.
"Hey."
The voice was sharp yet familiar. Rina crouched down in front of him, strands of hair clinging to her forehead with sweat. She had been practicing earlier, her gi still hanging loose over her shoulders.
"You need help, genius?" she asked, offering a hand.
Kai hesitated for only a second before taking it. Her grip was strong, steady, and she pulled him to his feet like he weighed nothing.
The moment he stood, pain shot through his side and he nearly doubled over.
"Yup," Rina said dryly. "Definitely not fine."
Kai grimaced. "I'll… manage."
"You should see the nurse."
He shook his head stubbornly. "No. I can't. I don't want my aunt to find out."
Rina raised a brow. "So you'd rather collapse on the street?"
"I'll be fine," Kai muttered.
Her eyes softened, just a little. "Stubborn. Fine, but at least sit down for a bit before you leave. Trust me, you won't make it home if you try to walk now."
Kai didn't argue this time. He let himself sink onto a bench at the edge of the courtyard. Rina sat beside him, arms resting on her knees as she looked at the emptying grounds.
"You know," she said casually, "everyone here goes through something like this. Daichi just makes sure newcomers understand the rules."
"Rules?"
"That strength matters," she said simply. "This school respects skill and toughness. Nothing else. Doesn't matter if you're smart, rich, or have a dozen trophies from your middle school. Here, people look at how you fight."
Kai let her words sink in. They hurt because they were true. He hadn't joined this school for martial arts glory. He joined because it was close to home. Fifteen minutes by foot. Easy. Convenient.
Now, it felt like convenience had thrown him into a war zone.
"I don't want to fight just to prove myself," Kai said quietly.
Rina glanced at him, then shrugged. "You don't have to. But if you don't fight… you'll always be at the bottom. And being at the bottom here isn't safe."
The silence stretched. The last groups of students left, their laughter fading down the hallway. Soon, only the two of them remained in the courtyard, shadows stretching long under the setting sun.
Rina stood first. "Get some rest, Kai. Tomorrow will be harder."
Kai gave a weak nod. He wasn't sure if she meant training, classes, or the unspoken politics of Tenshudo High. Probably all three.
The walk home was torture.
Every step jarred his ribs, sending dull shocks through his body. His arms felt heavy, his shoulders stiff. He tried to keep his breathing steady, but the ache in his side flared every time his foot hit the pavement.
The streets of his neighborhood were familiar—narrow lanes lined with bicycles, stray cats darting between alleys, the faint smell of grilled skewers from street stalls. Usually, the walk was peaceful. Today, it felt like dragging chains.
By the time he reached the restaurant, the warm scent of soy, garlic, and fried oil was already drifting from the kitchen. Aunt Mei's restaurant was modest but lively. The faded wooden sign above the door read "Mei's Kitchen" in bold brushstrokes, lanterns swaying lightly in the evening breeze.
He slipped through the back entrance, hoping to sneak upstairs before anyone noticed. The kitchen was alive with noise—pans clattering, broth hissing, cooks shouting orders to each other.
"Kai, you're late."
His aunt's voice cut through the noise. She didn't turn around, still kneading dough at the counter. Her hair was tied in a neat bun, her sleeves rolled up.
"How was your first day?"
Kai froze. He adjusted his bag strap, trying to keep his movements casual. "It was… fine. Just tiring."
Aunt Mei's hands stilled. Slowly, she turned, her eyes sharp. Her gaze swept over him like a blade. In one glance, she saw the stiffness in his steps, the way he held his side, the faint bruise already blooming near his collarbone.
"Fine?" she repeated softly.
Kai forced a weak smile. "Yeah."
Without another word, Aunt Mei walked over and tugged at his sleeve. He flinched before he could stop himself. Her eyes narrowed.
"Kai." Her tone carried the weight of command. "Upstairs. Shirt off. Now."
There was no arguing.
In his room, Kai sat on the edge of the bed, shirt off, while Aunt Mei opened a small wooden box. Inside were neatly arranged ointments, bandages, and herbal patches.
"You're lucky nothing feels broken," she said as she pressed a cloth against his ribs.
Kai hissed, his face twisting. "Ow—!"
"These bruises will take days to heal," she continued flatly. "But you'll live."
He stared at the floor. "I didn't want you to worry."
Aunt Mei tied a bandage firmly around his torso. "I worry because I raised you. That's my job. But I also trust you to tell me the truth."
Her words pierced deeper than Daichi's fists.
After a moment, she sighed. "This school… it's not just about studying. It's about strength. You need to understand that."
Kai clenched his fists. "But I don't want to fight just to prove myself."
"Then don't," she said firmly. "But if you are forced to fight, fight smart. You're not like them. You have a brain sharper than most. Use it."
Her hand lingered briefly on his shoulder before she closed the box and stood. "Rest. Tomorrow will not wait for you."
That night, Kai lay in bed staring at the ceiling. The muffled sounds of the restaurant downstairs faded into silence. His ribs throbbed, his arms ached, but his mind refused to quiet.
Daichi's movements replayed in his head—the precision, the timing, the economy of motion. It was mechanical, almost like watching a machine built for combat. Every strike had a purpose, every step a calculated angle.
Kai's mind ticked like the gears of an engine. Engines have patterns. Circuits have flows. Machines have weaknesses.
People must too.
He flexed his sore hand, staring at the faint bruises along his knuckles. His aunt's words echoed: Use your brain.
He couldn't overpower Daichi. Not yet. But maybe he could outthink him.
For the first time since the fight, Kai's chest eased—not from relief, but from a spark of determination.
Tomorrow, he decided, he would start watching. Observing. Learning.
If strength ruled Tenshudo High… then he would find another way to climb.