Lena woke with sunlight filtering through the thin curtains of her bedroom, casting warm lines across the floor. For the first time in days, the heavy knot in her chest felt looser.
The reconciliation with her mother lingered like a quiet shred of ease and hope.
She stretched her powerful limbs, muscles still sore from yesterday's training, and slipped into running gear: a black sports bra that hugged her broad shoulders and defined core, compression shorts that showed off her thick thighs, and lightweight sneakers.
Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail, curls already ready to escape at the edges.
The morning air was fresh but humid as she stepped outside, the streets quiet except for early workers and the distant hum of the city waking up.
She started her usual route at an easy jog, feet pounding against the pavement. Birds chirped in small trees lining the sidewalk, and the scent of fresh bread from a nearby bakery flowed down the streets.
For once, her mind felt clear—focused on the Worlds, but not crushed by it.
Halfway through her run, near a quiet alley shortcut, she noticed a group of five young men lounging against a wall, smoking and laughing.
They looked early twenties, dressed in casual streetwear—baggy pants, hoodies, and sneakers. One spotted her and nudged the others.
"Oi, gaikokujin da yo. Kawaii na." (Hey, she's a foreigner. Cute, huh?)
They straightened up as she approached. Lena kept her pace steady, eyes forward.
One called out in broken English. "Hey! Foreign girl! You American? Where you from? Come talk!"
Lena ignored them, speeding up slightly. But they fell into step behind her, catcalling growing louder.
"You got nice body! Strong legs! Why you no smile? Come here, we show you good time in Japan!" One reached out and grabbed her arm. "Don't ignore us, bitch!"
Instinct took over. Lena pivoted sharply, using the grip against him. She dropped her level and executed a powerful osoto gari combined with a hip drive, slamming the first attacker hard onto the concrete. His head cracked against the pavement with a sickening thud.
He didn't get up—eyes fluttering, body twitching. Concussion, at minimum.
The others froze for a split second, then erupted.
"Kono yarou!" (You bitch!) one yelled, throwing an empty can that bounced near her feet.
Another spat in her direction. "Foreign whore! We'll fuck you up!"
Lena didn't wait. She sprinted away, her legs carrying her fast down the street. Shouts and curses followed—"Kutabare!" (Go to hell!)—
but they didn't pursue far. Her heart hammered, adrenaline surging, but she pushed it down and finished her route, arriving at the gym with sweat glistening on her skin.
Kaito was already there, wrapping his hands near the mat. He smiled when he saw her, but it faded as he noticed the tension in her posture.
"Morning run?" he asked.
"Yeah," Lena said nonchalantly, dropping her bag and starting her stretches. "Bumped into some retards on the way. Group of guys harassing me. One grabbed me. I threw him. Hard. He's probably got a concussion."
Kaito's expression darkened instantly. His usual easy fluidity vanished, replaced by a sharp, protective glare.
"How many?"
"Five. But I handled it."
He stepped closer, voice low and serious. "Lena. If there were that many, they could've ganged up on you. Really hurt you. Some boys around here—especially in groups—if they're not raised right, they're extremely dangerous. Knives, bats, no hesitation. You can't just shrug this off."
"I'm fine," she insisted, rolling her shoulders. "I've taken worse on the mat. Let's train."
Kaito looked like he wanted to argue more but stopped himself, though the worry stayed etched in his brow.
They moved through drills—him teaching her a new chain wrestling transition into a judo throw. Lena was in a good mood despite the morning incident, bantering lightly and applying his advice with more flow than usual.
Sweat poured down both of them by the end. The session stretched into evening, the gym lights buzzing overhead as the sky outside darkened.
Afterward, as they cooled down near the entrance, Kaito wiped his face. "Let me walk you home tonight."
Lena hesitated, then nodded. "Okay."
They had barely stepped outside when Kaito's phone rang. He glanced at the screen and sighed. "It's my dad." He answered, speaking quickly in Japanese.
The conversation grew tense. He tried explaining, but his father's voice carried clearly enough for Lena to catch the urgency.
Kaito hung up with a frustrated expression.
"He needs me at the gym for inventory for some urgent maintenance. Says it's important. I'm sorry."
Lena waved him off. "It's fine. I'll be okay. Go help your dad."
"Be careful," Kaito said seriously, gripping her shoulder for a moment. "Call me if anything feels off. Seriously."
She rolled her eyes but pocketed her phone.
"Yeah, yeah. See you tomorrow."
The walk home started normally. Streetlights flickered on, casting long shadows. But after a few blocks, an uneasy feeling prickled at the back of her neck.
Footsteps echoed behind her—multiple sets. She turned a corner into a quieter side street lined with parked bikes and dim vending machines.
The same group emerged from the shadows, faces twisted with rage. One had a bandage on his head. Another gripped a metal bat. Two others flicked open small knives that glinted under the streetlight.
"You put our friend in the hospital, you foreign bitch!" the leader snarled. "Now you pay."
They rushed her.
Lena dropped into a fighting stance. The first one swung the bat. She slipped inside, using a move Kaito had shown her earlier—a fluid level change into a double-leg entry mixed with her judo hip power.
She drove him into the ground, then twisted for a brutal armbar. Bone snapped with a sickening crack. He screamed.
Chaos erupted. Fists flew. One punch caught her in the ribs, slamming her back into a metal railing. Pain exploded across her side. Her phone clattered to the ground.
A knife slashed across her upper arm, drawing hot blood. Another kick caught her thigh.
Adrenaline surged like fire in her veins. Rage.
She exploded.
Grabbing one attacker's wrist, she spun into a harai goshi variation, slamming him down and stomping his knee.
Another charged with a knife; she deflected and used a wrestling takedown Kaito taught her to drive him face-first into the concrete.
The last conscious one turned to run. Lena lunged, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking him backward. She threw him hard, then stomped her heel down on his face with a scream.
"Bleed, you piece of fucking shit!" Insults poured out between heavy breaths. "Fucking cowards! Touch me again and I'll end you!" She spoke with a cracked voice as she rained controlled but vicious strikes.
Bones cracked.
Groans and whimpers filled the alley.
Two were passed out from head trauma. Others clutched broken limbs, writhing.
Finally, panting, covered in sweat, blood, and dirt, Lena stepped back.
Her arm bled from the knife cut, ribs throbbed, but she was standing.
The boys lay scattered like broken dolls on the pavement.
She retrieved her phone with a bloody hand. A new message waited from an unknown number.
Hey Lena. Landing in Tokyo next week. Can't wait to watch you train and catch up. Love, Dad.
She left it on read.
Hands shaking, she dialed Kaito first.
"I… had some trouble. I'm okay. But call the police or something. Alley near the konbini on Sakura Street."
Her voice was steady but raw.
Then she called her mom.
"Mom… I'm fine, but I need you to come get me."
After the calls, Lena stared at her father's message again. Anger surged fresh and hot.
She stood up, walked back to the groaning, broken bodies on the ground, and vented the rest of her fury—kicking, stomping, screaming every insult she could think of until her throat burned.
Finally, she stopped. Chest heaving, body aching, she limped to the railing and leaned against it, staring up at the pale moon hanging over Tokyo's neon skyline.
Blood trickled down her arm as she waited for the police or her mom or Kaito to arrive.