The air shimmered above the running track like water. On the old concrete stands, there was not a soul, only Renji sat alone in the very top row, leaning his elbows on his knees. The silence around him was almost absolute. Only the occasional wind rustled the dry grass at the edge of the field, and somewhere far away the cicadas chirped.
Renji looked down at the empty running track and thought.
"Everyone left… Genzo, Raiden… I haven't seen Kaoru for over a month now. And most likely, I won't see her again. And this… is for the best."
He slowly lay down on the warm concrete, threw his hands behind his head, and stared at the sky. It was high, pale blue, almost white from the heat. A flock of birds slowly flew past, black dots against the sky. They were flying somewhere south, in an even wedge, freely and easily.
Renji followed them with his gaze for a long time.
"Time flies so fast…" he thought. "Just recently we were all sitting in the same class, and now… everyone is on their own. Maybe that's how it should be. Maybe people come into our lives only for a while, only to disappear later and leave emptiness behind. And this emptiness can no longer be filled with anything."
He closed his eyes. The sun warmed his face. The heat enveloped his body like a heavy blanket. His head was empty and calm for the first time in a long while.
In a small apartment, Genzo sat on the old sofa next to his mother and watched TV.
Over the past two months, he had changed a lot. Training every day, sometimes up to six hours, had done its job. His shoulders had become wider, his chest and arms noticeably more muscular, and his abs were visible even through his T-shirt. He had grown five centimeters taller, and his white hair had grown out a bit and now slightly fell over his eyes. He no longer looked like an ordinary schoolboy. There was something heavy, adult, and dangerous in him now.
Genzo sat with his legs spread wide and slowly stretched his arms, warming up his shoulders and wrists. His mother sat next to him, knitting something and occasionally casting worried glances at her son.
An old crime film was playing on TV. Two gangsters were sitting at a table in a dark bar and having a verbal argument.
"You betrayed me, you bastard," one growled. "I treated you like a brother, and you set me up for the knife."
"And you thought I'd work for you my whole life?" the second replied, smirking crookedly. "This world is up to my knees."
Genzo stared at the screen without blinking. His fingers continued to slowly clench and unclench.
His mother finally couldn't hold back and asked quietly:
"Genzo… are you really sure? Tomorrow is already your first fight. Maybe you can still refuse?"
Genzo didn't answer right away. He continued to watch the screen, where the gangsters had almost come to blows.
"I trained every day for two months, Mom," he finally said calmly. "I have no way back anymore. And… I don't want to go back."
His mother sighed heavily and placed her knitting on her lap.
"I'm just scared for you. You've become so… different. Hard. Sometimes I don't even recognize you."
Genzo turned his head and looked at her. There was neither fear nor doubt in his eyes, only cold certainty.
"You talk too much and understand too little."
"Maybe that's how it should be," he replied quietly. "To survive in this world, you need to become a little different. Someone who isn't sorry to hit."
He turned his gaze back to the TV. On the screen, one gangster was already punching the other in the face.
Tomorrow was the first fight.
And he was ready for it.