The room was filled with chaos.
The smell of blood and liquor burned the air like poison.
Broken furniture littered the floor, glistening shards of glass reflecting the dim yellow glow of a single swinging light bulb.
The oppressive atmosphere suffocated every breath, thick with hate and pain.
Akio's eyes burned with rage as he looked at the monster before him: Sora's so-called father, his hulking frame looming over the frail teenager chained to the wall.
Sora hung limp, barely conscious, his skin a map of bruises, open wounds, and lash marks, his body drenched in blood and sweat.
Every labored breath he took rattled like broken glass in his lungs.
Akio's hands trembled as memories of his old world's torment flooded back—the taunts, the cold sneers, the suffocating weight of being powerless.
This wasn't just Sora's fight anymore.
This was his fight too.
Beside him, Yukiko Hazuna stood, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white.
His usual playful grin was gone, replaced by a look of terrifying seriousness.
"Hey, seriously..." Yukiko growled, his voice low and trembling.
"I don't care who this guy thinks he is... nobody gets away with hurting a person like that."
The drunken brute staggered forward, his eyes blazing with unholy fury.
"You think you can walk into MY house and tell me what to do, punk?!" he roared, spittle flying.
"This brat is mine to beat as I damn please!"
The mother stood by the corner, gripping a shattered bottle, her face twisted into a grotesque sneer.
She didn't just watch the cruelty—she fed off it.
Akio reached into his pocket, fingers brushing against the worn, familiar object nestled there: his badminton shuttle.
The very same shuttle he'd trained with night after night, his sweat and determination woven into its fragile feathers.
This... this is my magic now, he thought, his breathing sharp and uneven.
And I'll use it to protect Sora... no matter what.
The Blood-Soaked Move
Yukiko lunged first, his fist connecting with the father's jaw in a devastating uppercut.
The impact reverberated through the room like a gunshot, sending the father sprawling backward.
Blood spurted from his split lip, painting the walls red.
"How's that taste, huh?!" Yukiko snarled.
"That's for every time you laid a hand on him, punk!"
But the brute wasn't down yet.
Groaning, he began to rise, rage twisting his features.
Akio didn't hesitate.
He leapt high into the air, every muscle screaming, and tossed his shuttle upward.
As it reached its peak, he snatched the fathers discarded baseball bat from the floor.
With a cry ripped straight from his soul, Akio slammed the shuttle midair with all the strength born of his pain and training.
The shuttle soared through the air like a bullet, spinning violently.
It struck the father squarely in the nose, the fragile cartilage shattering with a grotesque CRACK!
The brute howled, clutching his face as blood poured like a crimson river, his scream so piercing it almost drowned out the pounding of Akio's heart.
"That," Akio hissed, his eyes blazing, "was for Sora."
Yukiko leaned down, whispering into the fathers ear as he writhed.
"Hey, moron... you're nothing but trash. Remember that."
The Mother's Madness
A shrill cry echoed across the room.
The mother, wild-eyed and trembling with manic rage, smashed her bottle against the floor, creating a jagged weapon.
Shards sliced into her palm, but she didn't flinch—if anything, the blood only seemed to excite her.
"I'LL KILL YOU ALL!" she shrieked, charging at Yukiko like a feral beast.
Akio reacted instantly.
Grabbing the bat with both hands, he spun around her, dodging her wild swing, then struck her across the ribs with bone-crushing force.
The sound was sickening—a sharp CRACK that echoed through the house.
She screamed, her body lifted off the ground and hurled into the wall.
The impact shattered the window behind her, sending shards of glass spraying like deadly rain.
Her limp form tumbled down the outside stairs, leaving a gruesome trail of blood as she rolled into the darkness.
Akio's heart heaved, his voice raw and guttural.
"Nobody hurts my friend," he growled, clutching the bat tightly.
"Not while I'm still breathing."
The Father's Last Stand
Akio turned back toward Sora, ready to free him.
But before he could move, a massive shadow loomed over him.
The father, despite his shattered nose and battered body, surged forward with one final act of defiance.
His massive fist slammed into Akio's jaw with a brutal uppercut, lifting him clean off the ground.
Akio's vision exploded into white-hot pain as he was hurled backward, crashing onto the splintered desk where Sora's old sports bat lay.
His head struck wood with a dull THUD, and darkness threatened to take him.
"Akio!" Yukiko roared, his voice breaking with rage.
The father turned toward Yukiko, grinning through the blood pouring from his face.
"You're next, pretty idiot," he snarled.
Yukiko's fists tightened.
"Hey, man..." he said, his tone ice-cold.
"I was the captain of the basketball team, you know. I could've been a martial artist, but I quit karate to focus on the game."
His lips curled into a dangerous smirk.
"Guess it's time to dust off some of those old moves."
With lightning speed, Yukiko drove a punch straight into the fathers stomach.
The air rushed out of the brute's lungs in a violent WHOOSH as he doubled over.
Before he could recover, Yukiko followed up with a devastating roundhouse kick to the side of his jaw.
The blow launched him backward with inhuman force, smashing through the window.
His body crashed into the cold, wet pavement outside, where he lay unconscious in a heap of broken glass and blood.
"Game over, punk," Yukiko spat.
Rescue and Escape
Yukiko hurried to the wall, unchaining Sora with trembling hands.
The metal restraints clattered to the floor, slick with Sora's blood.
Sora's limp body slumped forward, and Yukiko caught him, gritting his teeth at the sheer weight of the childs trauma and pain.
Akio stirred, groaning softly.
His face was bruised and swollen, but his spirit was unbroken.
"We need to get out of here," Yukiko said urgently.
"Before anyone sees this mess."
Akio nodded weakly, determination burning in his eyes.
Together, they carried Sora and fled into the night.
Before leaving, Yukiko carefully wiped down every surface they'd touched, erasing their fingerprints with meticulous precision.
The house was left silent, a tomb of broken chains and shattered lives.
Safe Haven
Hours later, in the warm safety of Yukiko's apartment, Sora stirred awake.
His body screamed with pain, but the sterile scent of clean sheets and medicine was a sharp contrast to the filth of his home.
He blinked rapidly, confused and disoriented.
Yukiko sat nearby, drinking from a bottle of water, his hoodie drenched in sweat.
He'd carried both boys here himself, his muscles aching from the effort.
"Hey, seriously," Yukiko said softly, noticing Sora's eyes open.
"You're safe now. Just... don't try to move too much, okay?"
Sora's breathing quickened as he remembered everything—the fight, the rescue, the unbearable shame of being seen like that.
Tears welled in his eyes, but his voice was filled with anger.
"WHY?!" he screamed hoarsely.
"Why did you save me?! We're enemies! You should've left me to die!"
Yukiko frowned, ready to respond, but Akio's weak voice cut through the tension.
"Because..." Akio began, forcing himself upright despite his pain,
"...even if we hate you, even if you've done unforgivable things... you didn't deserve what they were about to do to you."
Sora froze, his eyes wide.
Akio's voice trembled, filled with raw emotion.
"When I saw your parents' eyes after the match from distance... I knew exactly what was going to happen.
I've seen those eyes before. In my old world. In the people who looked at me like I was worthless."
He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms.
"And when I looked at your eyes, Sora, I saw myself.
The same pain. The same hopelessness.
I knew the next blow would've killed you, and I couldn't let that happen... not even to my worst enemy. And so we came, even if it took time to arrive. And sorry if we were ease dropping. But either way..."
Sora's lips trembled.
"You... you saw that?"
Akio nodded, tears slipping down his face.
"We both got reincarnated into bodies with painful pasts.
Maybe... maybe that's why we were meant to meet again.
To fight, to clash, to... understand."
His voice grew stronger, more resolute.
"Even though you bullied me... even though you drove me to despair...
Somewhere deep down, I always wanted to stand as your rival.
To prove myself.
To thank you, in a twisted way, for pushing me to fight harder."
Akio extended a trembling hand toward Sora.
"We don't have to be friends right away.
It'll take time... maybe a lot of time.
But I want us to start over.
As rivals. As equals."
Sora stared at the hand for what felt like an eternity.
Memories of their past lives flooded his mind—the cruelty, the hatred, the unspoken longing for someone who understood him.
Finally, with tears streaming down his face, Sora grasped Akio's hand.
"...Rivals," he whispered.
"Yeah. I... I can live with that."
Yukiko's Quiet Support
In the background, Yukiko lay sprawled on the couch, seemingly asleep.
But a faint smile tugged at his lips.
"Heh... you two are idiots," he muttered in his sleep.
"But you've got guts, alright."
He rolled over, mumbling something about basketball, his dreams filled with slam dunks and cheers.
As dawn broke, light streamed through the apartment windows, illuminating the three children.
Though their bodies were battered and their hearts scarred, something new had been forged in the crucible of pain:
A fragile bond that could one day become unbreakable.
The chains had been shattered.
And for the first time, they began to see the path forward.
"But high above a small apartment a new figure watches..."
TO BE CONTINUED...