The junkyard did not look like a place where futures were built.
It looked like a place where things came to die.
Mountains of rusted metal rose under a grey sky, jagged silhouettes of broken vehicles stacked like corpses. Oil stains soaked into the ground, turning the soil into something dark and sticky. The smell of iron, fuel, and rain never really left the air. Even the wind felt heavier here, dragging dust and scraps along with it.
Kurogami parked the black BMW at the edge of it all.
He stepped out first.
Akshat followed, slower, his body still aching from the fight, his ribs protesting every breath. The bruises from Kuroda Haruki hadn't faded yet, and Kurogami's earlier punch still lingered like a dull fire in his stomach. But he didn't say anything. He simply looked around.
"This place…" Akshat muttered.
Kurogami walked forward, hands in his pockets, stepping over broken glass like it didn't exist.
"…is home."
There was no emotion in his voice. No pride. No nostalgia. Just a statement.
Akshat narrowed his eyes slightly, taking in the surroundings again, trying to understand how someone like Kurogami could come from a place like this. Or maybe… this place came from him.
Kurogami stopped near an open clearing surrounded by scrap towers.
Then he turned.
"Take off your jacket."
Akshat didn't ask why. He removed it and tossed it aside.
Kurogami reached for his own shirt and pulled it over his head in one smooth motion.
For a moment—
Akshat didn't move.
Kurogami's body didn't look human in the normal sense. His muscles weren't just big. They were precise. Every line, every fiber looked carved, not grown. There was no unnecessary mass, no wasted movement in the way he stood. His skin carried faint scars, old and layered, like records of battles that had long been forgotten.
Even the air around him felt different.
Heavy.
Controlled.
"Fight me," Kurogami said calmly.
Akshat blinked once. "Right now?"
"With everything you have."
There was no warning. No countdown.
Akshat moved.
His body reacted before his thoughts could catch up. He stepped forward and threw a straight punch aimed at Kurogami's throat, fast and direct.
Kurogami tilted his head slightly.
The punch missed by a fraction.
Akshat followed immediately, pivoting his hips and launching a low kick toward the knee. It was sharp, fast, and aimed to break balance instantly.
Kurogami shifted his weight.
The kick landed on nothing.
Akshat didn't stop. His movements flowed, chaining attacks one after another. Elbow, knee, hook, feint—he attacked like an animal cornered and unleashed at the same time. No pattern. No hesitation.
Raw instinct.
For a few seconds, the junkyard echoed with the sound of impact—footsteps, air slicing, metal shifting under pressure.
Kurogami didn't strike back.
He only moved.
He slipped past punches by inches. Redirected kicks with minimal motion. Turned his body just enough so that every attack grazed past him instead of landing.
It was like trying to hit a shadow.
Akshat's breathing started to grow heavier.
But his eyes—
His eyes sharpened.
He adjusted.
His next attack came slower… but more precise. Instead of speed, he aimed for prediction. Instead of power, he aimed for reaction.
Kurogami's eyes flickered slightly.
For the first time—
He stepped back.
Akshat noticed.
He pushed harder. His strikes became less wild, more focused. He targeted joints, weak angles, moments of imbalance.
A hand shot forward—
Kurogami caught his wrist mid-motion.
Firm.
Unshakable.
Akshat's body froze for a split second.
Kurogami looked at him.
"You're a good thing."
Then—
He twisted.
Pain exploded through Akshat's arm as his body was forced downward. The ground rushed up, and in the next moment, his back slammed into the dirt with a heavy thud. Dust and rust particles scattered into the air.
Akshat coughed, breath knocked out of him.
Kurogami released him and stepped back as if nothing had happened.
"That was your everything?" he asked.
Akshat lay there for a moment, staring at the sky.
Then he smiled faintly.
"…Yeah."
Kurogami studied him for a second longer.
Then he nodded once.
"Good. Then we start."
—
The first week broke Akshat.
Not mentally.
Physically.
Kurogami's training had no structure in the way normal people would understand it. There were no fixed routines, no repetition counts, no rest schedules.
There was only pressure.
Every day, Akshat was forced into combat situations that changed constantly. One moment he was dealing with grappling, the next with strikes, then weapons, then multiple opponents simulated by Kurogami himself.
And every time—
He failed.
Kurogami didn't explain techniques.
He demonstrated them.
Then he attacked.
Akshat learned by surviving.
Or at least… trying to.
—
Weeks turned into months.
Akshat's body changed.
Muscle built over muscle, not for appearance but for function. His shoulders broadened, his core tightened, his movements became sharper. There was no wasted motion left in him.
His breathing changed too.
Calmer.
Controlled.
Even under pressure.
But the strangest part—
He still didn't "learn" anything.
Not in the traditional sense.
He couldn't name the techniques Kurogami used. Couldn't replicate them perfectly. Couldn't explain them.
But he could respond to them.
Every time Kurogami attacked, Akshat adapted.
Like an animal.
He didn't think in forms or styles. He reacted to intent, to movement, to subtle shifts in weight and breath.
If Kurogami used a throw—
Akshat twisted out of it instinctively.
If Kurogami struck—
Akshat moved just enough to avoid the impact.
He wasn't copying.
He was countering.
Kurogami noticed.
And for the first time in a long time—
He was surprised.
One evening, after another brutal session, Kurogami stood silently, watching Akshat catch his breath.
"You didn't learn a single martial art," Kurogami said.
Akshat wiped the sweat from his face.
"I know."
"You can't replicate my techniques."
"I know."
Kurogami's eyes narrowed slightly.
"But you can counter them."
Akshat looked up.
A faint smirk formed on his lips.
"…Yeah."
Silence settled between them.
Then Kurogami exhaled softly.
"…Interesting."
—
Months passed.
The junkyard became quieter.
Not because nothing was happening—
But because Akshat had changed.
His movements no longer made unnecessary noise. His steps were lighter. His attacks sharper. His reactions faster.
He didn't rush anymore.
He waited.
Observed.
Then acted.
But at night—
When the training stopped—
Something else surfaced.
He sat alone on the roof of a rusted car, staring at the distant city lights.
And for the first time since coming here—
He felt it.
A gap.
Alexander.
Ryuki.
Tae Jin.
Aavya.
The people he had left behind.
He didn't say their names out loud.
But they were there.
In the silence.
In the spaces between breaths.
He exhaled slowly.
"…Tch."
Then he stood up.
Training resumed the next morning.
—
One day—
Kurogami stood across from him again.
"Right now," he said calmly, "there may be no one in this place who can beat you in hand-to-hand combat."
Akshat didn't react.
He simply adjusted his stance.
"But—" Kurogami added.
Akshat's eyes lifted slightly.
"For fun."
Kurogami moved.
It happened too fast to process.
One step—
And he was already inside Akshat's guard.
Akshat reacted instantly, his body shifting to counter, his arm rising to block—
But Kurogami's strike changed mid-motion.
His hand redirected Akshat's defense, his body pivoted, and his shoulder drove forward.
Impact.
Akshat's vision blurred.
Before he could recover—
A second strike hit.
Then a third.
Each one precise.
Each one unavoidable.
Akshat tried to adapt.
Tried to read.
Tried to counter.
But this time—
There was nothing to read.
Kurogami wasn't just moving.
He was controlling the entire exchange.
Every option Akshat had—
Was already closed.
A final motion—
And Akshat's body hit the ground.
Hard.
Silence returned to the junkyard.
Akshat lay there, staring upward, chest rising and falling heavily.
Kurogami stood over him.
Calm.
Unshaken.
"You're strong," he said.
Akshat didn't respond.
"But you're still human."
The words settled in the air.
Not as an insult.
As a fact.
Akshat closed his eyes for a moment.
Then slowly—
He smiled.
"…Good."
Kurogami looked down at him.
For a brief second—
Something like approval flickered in his eyes.
Then it disappeared.
"Get up," he said.
"Training isn't over."
End of ch 65
To be continue...
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