Kazuma narrowed his eyes, watching Kaito carefully. Something about this guy bugged him, gnawed at him, like an itch he couldn’t scratch. Kaito wasn’t like the others, the typical punks Kazuma had smashed a hundred times over. He carried himself differently, like there was something he had that Kazuma could never grasp.

For a moment, Kazuma let his guard down. His mind wandered back to that rooftop conversation with his gang’s leader, the promises of greatness that had fueled his rise through the ranks. But now? Now he was facing this cocky kid, and Kazuma felt an unsettling sense of unease gnawing at him. What the hell made this kid so damn different?

Before Kazuma could shake the thought, Kaito sprang into action.

In an instant, Kaito’s form blurred as he leaped forward, faster than Kazuma had anticipated. The next thing Kazuma knew, Kaito’s foot was colliding with his face in a swift, brutal kick. The force of the blow sent Kazuma flying, his body tumbling through the air, completely out of control. The world spun around him as he was launched back at least three meters, crashing to the ground with a thud that reverberated through his body.

Pain shot through Kazuma's jaw and the side of his face where Kaito's kick had landed. His mind scrambled to make sense of what had just happened, his vision blurring slightly as he tried to get his bearings. The pain wasn’t the worst part, though—it was the fact that he hadn’t seen it coming. For someone like Kazuma, who prided himself on his strength and his ability to overpower anyone in his way, being caught off-guard like this was a slap to his pride.

Kazuma gritted his teeth, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth as he slowly pushed himself up, his body protesting against the sharp pain in his ribs. His gang, scattered around him, stared in disbelief. No one had ever seen Kazuma Nakamura get knocked down like this. It was unthinkable.

He blinked a few times, clearing his vision, and glared at Kaito, who stood a few paces away, his breathing heavy but controlled. There was no cocky smirk on Kaito’s face now—just cold, calculating eyes, as if he was measuring Kazuma up again, planning his next move.

“You little...” Kazuma muttered under his breath, his voice low and dangerous.

His mind raced, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He wasn’t just going to let this slide. Kaito had managed to land a lucky hit, but that was all it was—luck. And Kazuma wasn’t about to let some upstart take him down without paying the price.

With a snarl, Kazuma charged forward. His movements were fluid but filled with raw power as he closed the distance between them. He threw a wild punch, aiming for Kaito’s midsection, but the kid ducked just in time, rolling to the side. Kazuma pivoted, following up with a spinning backhand, but again, Kaito evaded, his speed proving to be a frustrating advantage.

Kazuma’s patience was wearing thin. He wasn’t used to fighting someone who didn’t try to meet him head-on. Most of the guys he fought were either too slow or too cocky to dodge his attacks, but Kaito was different—he was fast, almost too fast for Kazuma to handle.

“Stay still!” Kazuma barked, throwing another punch, this time feinting left before swinging his right fist up toward Kaito’s chin.

But Kaito was one step ahead, reading Kazuma’s move like an open book. He ducked low again, this time sweeping his leg out, aiming to trip Kazuma. The strike connected with Kazuma’s ankle, and for a split second, he lost his balance. It was all Kaito needed.

In a flash, Kaito sprung up from his crouch and delivered a sharp uppercut that caught Kazuma square under the chin. Kazuma's head snapped back, the force of the blow reverberating through his skull. He staggered, vision momentarily blurring again as he struggled to keep himself upright.

The crowd around them was buzzing now, murmurs of disbelief mixed with awe. No one could believe what they were seeing—Kazuma, the feared "Psychopath," was being pushed to his limit by some unknown kid. And worse, the kid wasn’t just surviving—he was fighting back, hard.

Kazuma spat out a glob of blood, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. His pride was on the line now. He couldn’t let this go on any longer. This was his fight to win, and he wasn’t about to let some nobody take that away from him.

With a roar, Kazuma lunged forward again, this time feinting a punch before delivering a brutal knee strike to Kaito’s gut. The hit landed solidly, and Kazuma felt the satisfying impact of his knee driving into Kaito’s midsection. Kaito gasped, the air knocked from his lungs as he stumbled back, clutching his stomach.

Kazuma didn’t waste any time. He pressed forward, following up with a savage elbow to Kaito’s ribs. Kaito tried to block it, but the force behind Kazuma’s strike was too much. The blow connected, sending Kaito reeling once more.

“Not so tough now, huh?” Kazuma growled, his voice filled with venom.

Kaito staggered but managed to stay on his feet, his face twisted in pain. He glared at Kazuma, refusing to back down despite the beating he was taking. There was still fire in his eyes, a stubborn determination that Kazuma couldn’t help but respect, even if it infuriated him at the same time.

“You’re just delaying the inevitable,” Kazuma said, his voice dropping to a cold, mocking tone. “You might be fast, but speed doesn’t mean shit when you’re up against real power.”

Kaito wiped the blood from his lip, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. Despite the pain, despite the hits he’d taken, there was still a flicker of defiance in his gaze.

Kazuma clenched his fists, preparing to end this once and for all. He wasn’t going to let Kaito get the upper hand again. This fight would be over, and he would make sure Kaito knew who the real monster was.

But as he moved in for the final blow, something in Kaito's expression shifted. That same unsettling feeling from earlier washed over Kazuma again, the sensation that Kaito had something he couldn't quite understand—something he would never have.

And that pissed Kazuma off more than anything.

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I swung hard, my fist slicing through the air toward Kaito's face. I wanted to feel the impact, to hear the sound of him crumbling under the weight of my punch. But it didn’t happen.

The kid leaned back effortlessly, like he wasn’t even breaking a sweat. My fist missed him by inches, grazing the air where his face had been. I couldn’t believe it. He dodged it like it was nothing, like he wasn’t taking me seriously.

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What the hell?

I narrowed my eyes, trying to figure him out. He wasn’t just fast. There was something else about the way he moved—like he knew exactly what I was going to do before I even did it.

Before I could swing again, Kaito straightened up and met my eyes. He didn’t look rattled at all. In fact, he was... calm. Too calm. It pissed me off.

"You know the difference between us?" he said, his voice steady, almost like he was bored. Like this whole fight was beneath him.

I clenched my fists, ready to swing again. But something about his tone stopped me. What was he trying to say? Difference? Between us?

"I’m fighting for something," Kaito continued, his eyes locking onto mine. "You’re not."

His words echoed in my head, and for a second, I froze. What the hell did that even mean? Who the hell was he to talk like he knew me?

I growled under my breath and swung again, harder this time. But just like before, he sidestepped easily, like he was dancing around me. That calm expression never left his face.

"You don’t know anything about me!" I snapped, my voice rough with frustration.

I had spent years in fights, clawing my way to the top, proving myself over and over again. I fought because I had to, because there was no other choice. And here was this kid, acting like none of that mattered.

Kaito tilted his head slightly, like he was analyzing me. "Maybe not," he said, and his calm tone only made me angrier. "But I can tell. You’re just fighting for the sake of it—for power, for pride. That’s why you’re struggling."

Struggling? Me? No. I wasn’t struggling. I couldn’t be. I was stronger than this, stronger than anyone else who dared to stand in my way. But Kaito’s words hit harder than I wanted to admit, like they were digging into something deep, something I didn’t want to face.

I clenched my jaw, my fists shaking as I prepared for another attack. This kid didn’t know anything about me. He didn’t know what I’d been through, what I had to do to survive. I wasn’t just fighting for pride. I was fighting because I had no other choice.

"You can hit as hard as you want," Kaito said, stepping back just enough to stay out of my reach, "but if you don’t know why you’re fighting, you’ll never win."

I felt my breath catch, my chest tightening. His words sank in, and I hated it. I hated that he was making sense, that for the first time in a long time, someone was making me question what the hell I was doing.

But I couldn’t let him see that. I couldn’t let him know he was getting to me.

I gritted my teeth and glared at him, ready to attack again, but that doubt was still there, gnawing at the back of my mind. Maybe, just maybe, he was right.

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I stood there, panting slightly, my eyes locked onto Kazuma’s. He was coming at me hard, but something was off. Every punch he threw had force behind it, but there was no real fire, no real anger. Not the kind that comes from someone truly wanting to hurt you.

I looked deeper into his eyes—those dark eyes that bore through me—and I saw something. It wasn’t rage. It wasn’t the bloodlust I’d seen in so many other people I’d fought before. What I saw in him was... sadness. A deep, unsettling sadness that lingered just beneath the surface, like a wound that had never healed.

For a moment, I wasn’t sure why I was still dodging. Why I was still playing this game. Then, as Kazuma threw another heavy punch, I stepped back, dodging effortlessly. He stopped, his breathing heavier, and our eyes met again.

"I could tell just by looking at your eyes," I said, my voice steady despite the tension between us. "Tell me, what’s your problem?"

For a split second, Kazuma froze. I could see the conflict in him—his muscles tensed, his expression hardened, but his eyes flickered with something different. Vulnerability, maybe. Or hesitation. Whatever it was, I knew I had hit a nerve.

He lowered his fists slightly and exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "God," he muttered, almost to himself. "You really are pushing me into my limits."

Then, something unexpected happened. A smile. Not the smug, cold smile he’d worn when he thought he had the upper hand. No, this was different. This was real. It wasn’t a smile of victory or confidence—it was a smile masking something much deeper. Pain.

Kazuma was hiding his pain like a mask. I knew it instantly. It was something I recognized, because I had done it myself countless times.

But before I could even process that, his stance changed. His entire posture shifted, and I felt the air around us grow heavier. His eyes sharpened, and there was something different about him now. A sense of finality. Like he had made a decision.

"I guess I’ll have to try this time," Kazuma said, his voice steady but full of intent.

Without warning, he moved. Faster than before. Much faster. I barely had time to react as he lunged at me, his fist aimed squarely at my face. I dodged, but just barely. I could feel the force of the wind from his punch brush past my cheek.

Damn, he was serious now.

Kazuma didn’t give me a moment to breathe. He was relentless, swinging at me with a speed and power that wasn’t there before. It wasn’t like the sloppy attacks from earlier. This time, he was in full control, every movement precise, every strike aimed to land.

I was back on the defensive, moving and dodging as fast as I could. But it wasn’t enough. Kazuma was faster. Stronger. Each punch came closer and closer, and I could feel the sting of his knuckles grazing me, his kicks brushing past my ribs.

He wasn’t messing around anymore.

I blocked a punch aimed at my stomach, but the impact sent a jolt of pain through my arm. I could barely hold back a wince. Kazuma saw it, and for the first time, his eyes lit up with something I hadn’t seen before. Determination.

"You're not the only one fighting for something, you know," Kazuma muttered as he pressed forward, pushing me back step by step.

I ducked under a high kick, but his follow-up elbow strike slammed into my shoulder, sending me stumbling. I managed to regain my balance just in time to block another attack, but I was on the back foot now. He was driving me into a corner.

But even as I defended, something strange began to stir in me. A feeling I hadn’t had in a long time. I felt... excited. My heart pounded in my chest, adrenaline rushing through my veins. Kazuma was no longer holding back. He was fighting at full strength, and I could feel it. The intensity. The pressure. The danger.

For the first time in this fight, I felt alive.

Kazuma came at me again, faster than before, throwing a flurry of punches and kicks. I dodged as best as I could, but one of his kicks landed squarely on my side, sending me sliding back. Pain flared through my ribs, but instead of making me hesitate, it made me grin.

"You’re strong," I admitted, my voice slightly strained from the hit. "But you’re still missing something."

Kazuma narrowed his eyes, not responding as he continued his assault. I could feel the power behind his strikes—each one intended to finish me off. But there was still something in his movements that felt... hollow.

It was like he was fighting to prove something, but not to himself. To someone else. His punches carried weight, but there was no true purpose behind them.

I ducked under another punch, my instincts kicking in as I countered with a swift jab to his side. It wasn’t enough to hurt him, but it was enough to make him pause for a second. That brief moment of hesitation gave me a glimpse into what was going on behind his eyes.

"You’re still holding back," I said, meeting his gaze as I blocked another punch. "Even now. You’ve got all this strength, but you’re not fighting for yourself."

Kazuma’s eyes darkened, and I could see the conflict in him again. I was getting to him.

"Shut up," he muttered, swinging at me again, but his movements were starting to get erratic, less controlled.

I dodged easily this time, sidestepping his attacks with a fluidity that surprised even me. He was fast, but I was starting to understand him. His pain, his anger—it was all in his eyes, and now that I could see it, I knew how to respond.

"You can keep fighting like this all you want," I said, "but until you figure out what you’re really fighting for, you’ll never beat me."

Kazuma’s face twisted with frustration, and he lunged at me again, but this time, I was ready. I stepped into his strike, catching his fist mid-swing. For a moment, we were locked in place, our eyes meeting.

"You’re not fighting me," I said softly. "You’re fighting yourself."

And that was when I saw it—the crack in his armor. The doubt that had been lurking beneath the surface. Kazuma hesitated for just a second, but it was enough for me to push him back.

He staggered, his expression torn between anger and something else—something he was trying desperately to hide.

For the first time, I saw the real Kazuma.