Kenta watched Avant for a moment after the name left his mouth, his gaze settling in a way that felt more observant than curious. There wasn't much to read on his face, but the pause lingered just long enough to make it clear he was putting something together rather than reacting to it.
"Lemme guess," Kenta said, his tone casual, almost absentminded. "You've got a grudge with this Zeffer guy."
He didn't wait for a response. His shoulders lifted in a small shrug, like the answer didn't really matter either way.
"Fine by me," he added. "Long as you don't lose when the time comes."
There was no weight placed on the statement. No warning in the tone. Just a simple condition dropped in the same way someone might comment on the weather, though the meaning behind it sat heavier than it sounded.
Kenta shifted slightly, his posture loosening again as his attention drifted past Avant and across the rest of the group. His eyes moved from one face to another, slow and deliberate, taking them in without lingering too long on any one person.
"My end goal's simple," he said.
His gaze steadied.
"I'm going after the head of the rotten snake that is the Haven Syndicate."
He pauses briefly before uttering the head's name.
"Jao Henderson."
The name settled into the room, pulling a quiet reaction from more than a few of the men. Shoulders stiffened. Eyes narrowed. Even the ones trying not to show it couldn't quite hide the shift.
Kenta's expression didn't change, but his eyes dropped slightly.
"Alone..." he muttered.
The word came quieter, more to himself than anyone else, like it slipped out before he could decide whether to keep it in.
"...that's probably impossible in my current position."
A faint crease formed between his brows, not frustration exactly, but something closer to acknowledgment.
"I didn't really think everything through," he continued, voice still low, still carrying just enough to be heard. "Came here on impulse. Picked this fight before I was ready for it."
He exhaled lightly through his nose.
"Should've trained first," he said. "Should've gotten back to where I used to be before stepping into something like this."
The admission didn't drag the room down the way it might have from someone else. It didn't feel like doubt. Just a statement of fact, laid out without decoration. Kenta tilted his head slightly, then let out a quiet sigh.
"But," he added, the word stretching just a little, "you can't exactly unkick a hornet's nest."
A very faint shift in his posture followed, like the thought had already passed and he was done sitting on it.
"So I'll make it work."
His gaze lifted again, sharper now, settling back onto the group.
"I've regained some of my strength," he said. "Enough that I think I could probably take Jao as I am right now."
That pulled attention back in.
"But not after fighting through the entire Syndicate first," he continued, his tone flattening slightly. "That part's a problem."
His eyes moved across the men again.
"That's where you all come in."
No build-up. No emphasis. Just a direct placement of responsibility. Kenta rolled one shoulder back slightly, like easing tension out of it.
"I'm going to fast-track your training over the next few days," he said.
A couple of the men shifted at that, subtle reactions passing through the group.
"It's not going to be pleasant," Kenta added, his voice steady. "It's going to be extreme. It'll push every one of you to your limit."
He paused for a moment and then continued just as evenly.
"But when it's done, you'll all be stronger."
His gaze narrowed just slightly, not in threat, but in focus.
"I've seen this kind of training before," he said. "Up close."
There was no elaboration beyond that. No story attached. Just a statement that carried its own weight. Kenta's eyes drifted across them one more time before he shifted his stance and took a few steps toward the side of the bunker, closer to the exit.
A concrete pillar stood there, worn and slightly cracked, its surface catching the dim light in uneven patches. He leaned against it casually, crossing his arms as his shoulders settled back into the structure like it was the most natural position in the room.
"You've all got a choice," he said.
The words came without raising his voice, but they carried cleanly.
"You can walk out right now. Forget all this. Run."
No judgment. No pressure layered into it.
"Or," he continued, tilting his head slightly, "you can stay. Get stronger. Have a little faith and help me take down the rotten group that's been infesting this city."
His eyes moved once more across the room.
"I'm not forcing anyone to stay," he said. "So if you're going to leave, now's the time."
That was it.
Kenta let his head tilt back slightly against the pillar, eyes closing as if the conversation had already ended for him. His arms remained crossed, posture loose, breathing even, like he'd stepped out of the moment entirely.
Silence filled the bunker. Not the same silence as before. This one sat heavier.
The men looked at each other, small movements passing between them as the weight of the decision settled in. A few shifted their footing, glancing toward the exit before looking back again. One rubbed at his neck; another let out a slow breath through his nose.
Oba stood still this time, his earlier frustration muted into something more uncertain. His eyes flicked toward the exit for a second longer than the others before dragging back to the group, jaw tightening.
Avant didn't move. If anything, his posture seemed more set than before, the edge in his expression leaning closer to anticipation than hesitation. No one spoke.
The hum of the lights filled the space again, steady and unchanging, marking time in the only way the bunker allowed. Seconds stretched. Then more as Kenta didn't move. Didn't open his eyes. He just waited until a full minute passed.
When his eyes finally opened again, it wasn't abrupt. Just a quiet shift as his gaze settled forward once more, taking in the room as it was. No one had left. Not a single step toward the exit. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, subtle but unmistakable.
"Good," Kenta said.
His voice carried a faint note of approval, easy but genuine.
"Glad to see Hemlock picked up men with some balls and a bit of pride."
A few of the men straightened slightly at that, the tension easing just a fraction. Hemlock, who had been standing off to the side with arms still folded, finally shifted, stepping forward just enough to reenter the center of the moment.
"What do we do first?" he asked.
Kenta's smile widened. Not by much. But enough. There was something sharper in it now, something that sat just beneath the surface of his usual ease.
"Simple," he said.
A brief pause followed, just long enough for the weight of it to settle.
"This is going to be fun."