Neo-Tokyo, 2043 — Minato District
The Minato Boxing Gym was the kind of place that looked like it should've collapsed ten years ago but refused out of sheer pride.
Posters peeled from the walls, a single flickering light hung overhead, and someone had taped a "NO SMOKING" sign directly above an overflowing ashtray.
A heavy bag swayed lazily from its chain, rhythmically thudding under invisible force.
Then—wham.
The next hit almost tore the chain clean off.
Takuro Endo stepped into view, breathing steady, sweat sliding down the thick lines of his jaw.
His gloves were taped over with faded duct tape, his tank top barely clinging to his broad frame, and his grin looked too confident for someone training alone.
He tilted his head at the sandbag.
"You're slowing down on me, sweetheart."
From the back room, a nervous voice called out, "Coach, that bag cost us eighty thousand yen!"
"Then it should've learned to dodge."
The voice groaned. "That's not how—"
"Shh." He held up a hand, listening like he was catching whispers. "Hear that?"
Silence.
"That's progress."
Cut To: Hoshino High — Rooftop, Late Afternoon
The sky over the city was silver-blue, clouds moving slow.
Tomo Kisaragi sat with his hands behind his head, listening to the wind.
Down below, the rest of the Combat Club argued over instant noodles.
Jin: "I'm telling you, bro's been pretending to be average this whole time."
Kei: "Nah, he's cursed. Like, hit-by-a-god level cursed."
Rika: "You're both cursed. With stupidity."
Aya was sketching in her notebook, quiet as always. She looked up. "You're not eating, Tomo?"
He shrugged. "No appetite."
"Because of the next match?"
"Because of the noodles."
Aya smirked. "You're lying badly again."
He didn't reply.
Rika checked her clipboard. "Your opponent's name is Kyo Endo. Ranked first in the East Ward circuit. Trains under his father, Takuro Endo—one of the hardest hitters this city's seen."
"Hard hitter, huh." Tomo leaned back, expression unreadable.
Jin grinned. "Bro, sounds like your kind of problem."
Kei: "What's his title? Iron Jaw? Iron Wall?"
Rika: "Iron Jaw."
Jin whistled. "Then what's Kyo's?"
Rika: "They call him the 'Prodigy of Pain.'"
Kei: "Sounds like he needs therapy."
Rika: "Focus."
Aya: "Maybe he already has one. His father."
Tomo stretched, stood, hands in his pockets.
"Guess I'll meet them soon."
Aya watched him go.
There was something in his walk — not fear, not excitement — just… inevitability.
Cut To: Minato Gym
Takuro sat on the ring ropes, half-eaten bowl of noodles on one side, a goldfish bowl on the other.
He was talking to both.
"You know what separates the great from the good?" he asked, chopsticks gesturing dramatically. "Intent. You can train speed, reflex, endurance—but intent? That's born from somewhere darker."
Kyo hit the mitts in front of him, each blow echoing sharp and fast.
"I've got intent," Kyo said.
"Yeah?" Takuro smirked. "Let's hear it, then."
Kyo's punches quickened.
"For her."
"For what he did."
"For what I don't remember."
The last hit cracked the pad and forced Takuro back half a step.
He looked down, dusted off his vest, and gave a wolfish grin.
"Good answer. Terrible pacing. You'll gas out if you fight like that."
Kyo glared. "Then what do I do?"
Takuro's smile widened. "Breathe. Then break him."
Cut To: Hoshino Dorms — Night
Rika sat surrounded by paperwork. Jin lay on the couch upside down. Kei had fallen asleep with instant noodles on his lap.
Aya stood by the window, watching the rain begin to fall.
She whispered, "He doesn't fight to win, you know."
Rika looked up. "Then what does he fight for?"
Aya: "To stop fighting. Every match is him trying to prove he doesn't need to."
Rika sighed. "That's poetic. And terrifying."
Tomo walked in quietly, towel around his neck.
"Can't sleep either?" Aya asked.
He shrugged. "Too quiet."
"Storm's coming."
"Always is."
Rika tossed him a folder. "District Finals are tomorrow at noon. You're headlining."
He caught it without looking. "Lucky me."
Jin yawned. "If you win, I'm putting your face on a lunchbox."
Kei mumbled in his sleep, "Make mine limited edition…"
Aya laughed softly. It was the kind of laugh that filled a quiet room, not from humor but relief.
For a moment, Tomo smiled too. Then thunder rolled in the distance, and the expression faded.
Cut To: Minato Gym — Late Night
Takuro sat in the dark, feet on the ring ropes, staring up at the ceiling fan spinning lazily.
Kenta entered with a towel. "You're still here?"
Takuro didn't answer.
On the far wall hung a framed photo — an older man, fists raised, eyes cold.
His father.
Takuro leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"Tomorrow, Pops, one of two things happens. Either my boy makes history, or that quiet kid erases him from it."
He grinned faintly, but there was no humor left in it.
"Either way… it's gonna be beautiful."
Cut To: City Streets
Rain fell in silver sheets across Neo-Tokyo.
Tomo walked home alone, hood up, shoes soaking.
He passed an old shop window reflecting his face.
For a moment, his father's reflection flickered over his own—same posture, same calm eyes.
He blinked, and it was gone.
He muttered to himself, "Guess I've still got your habits, old man."
Lightning flashed across the skyline.
Tomorrow, he'd fight someone who wanted to hurt him for real.
And for the first time in a long time… maybe he wanted to see what would happen if he didn't hold back.
[END OF CHAPTER 11 — "The Iron Jaw and the Quiet Storm"]