After the first test of the annual selection ended, murmurs and noise rose from the arena to the outer courtyard, where the chairman stood on the stage and announced in a firm, commanding voice:
"The first round has concluded. The official results will be announced next week, after a full evaluation of all battles… considering the severe injuries some contestants suffered."
No one clapped. Everyone was either shocked, exhausted, or wounded. As the participants left the arena one after another, those seriously injured were taken to the organization's medical ward for emergency treatment.
In one of the cold, white-lit rooms, Mabushi's body lay motionless on a metal bed, hooked to a breathing device. His face and body were covered in bandages and dried blood. He didn't move—his shallow breaths came only through the mask.
In the room next door… chaos.
"AAAH! It hurts!! Stop! STOOOP!!"
Akio twisted in pain on the bed, half of his body exposed and covered in bruises, burns, and scars. Beside him stood a tall woman with jet-black hair flowing down to her waist and eyes as blue as ice. Her face was strict—like someone long accustomed to dealing with fools.
"Shut up, you idiot! All that screaming for a bandage? Samurai? You sound more like a spoiled child!"
She pressed another bandage roughly against his shoulder wound.
"AAAH!! Stop! At least warn me before you do that!"
She glared at him coldly and waved the bandage in front of his face.
"Did you scream like that in the arena too? Or does your fake bravery fade when you face real pain?"
Akio went silent—not because the pain stopped, but because of the insult.
Just then, the infirmary doors opened. Ken and Ann entered together. Ken's face was blank as usual, while Ann moved quickly beside him, scanning every corner, every bed, her eyes searching for a familiar face among the injured.
The ward was filled with groans, fragmented cries, and beeping monitors that made it clear some were close to death. Ken ignored it all. He stood in the middle of the crowded hallway, pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a deep drag—as if the "No Smoking" sign on the wall didn't exist.
"Seriously?!"
Ann turned toward him, frowning.
"You're smoking here?!"
Ken exhaled lazily, eyes drifting over the beds without emotion. When they reached the last one, Ann ran toward it without hesitation.
"Mabushi!"
She cried out.
She sat beside him, held his stiff hand, and looked at him with an expression rare for her—one of concern, admiration, and disbelief.
"You won… and then you collapsed like an idiot, as usual."
She chuckled softly, shaking her head, though her voice trembled slightly.
Ken stepped closer, silent, staring down at the boy who had never accepted defeat—until now. He took another drag from his cigarette and exhaled slowly.
"That fool… he'd never take care of himself, even if he got cut in half."
He paused, then added quietly, in his usual calm tone:
"Watch over him… or at least make sure he doesn't die before the next round."
Without looking at her, he shoved his hands in his pockets and continued walking through the rows of beds, the smoke trailing behind him like a shadow.
Then, a familiar voice broke through the air.
"AAAH! I said stop!! That hurts!! You're not treating me—you're killing me!!"
Ken raised an eyebrow and turned his head toward the sound. There was a small glass-walled room labeled "Patient Under Special Observation."
He approached slowly and peered through the glass. Inside… Akio sat half-naked on the bed, his torso and arms wrapped in bandages, while the same doctor stood in front of him, holding scissors and gauze, yelling at him.
"I told you to stop moving! The more you scream, the tighter I'll wrap!"
"Is this treatment or torture?!"
Akio flailed his arms wildly, like a child getting his first vaccine.
Ken couldn't help but take a deep breath, trying to suppress a small laugh. Akio noticed a shadow outside and looked up—his eyes widened like a kid who'd just seen a lifeline.
"KEN!! Bro, help me!! This woman's trying to kill me!!"
The doctor slammed her fist on the table.
"I'm trying to treat you, idiot! Not bury you!"
But Akio, as usual, only heard what he wanted to hear.
"She's crazy! I swear she's enjoying this! Get me out of here!"
Ken sighed quietly, pushed the door open with his foot, and stepped inside—still smoking as if nothing in the world could bother him.
The doctor's brows furrowed instantly at the smell of smoke. She wore a long white coat, and on her chest hung a small name tag that read:
"Koto – Chief Physician."
Ken glanced at the tag, then back at her.
"Koto, huh? Go ahead and finish. I doubt he'll die that easily."
She snapped, pointing at the cigarette.
"Are you serious? This is a clinic! Put that out—now!"
Ken didn't move. He took another drag and replied calmly,
"If the smoke bothers you… don't look at it."
She stepped forward sharply.
"This isn't a café—it's a treatment room!"
Ken raised an eyebrow, then turned to Akio.
"You seem fine enough to yell… maybe you need more treatment."
"NOOOOOO! Don't say that! She will kill me!!"
Akio screamed.
Koto smiled darkly, holding up the bandages like a weapon.
"Good idea. Let's start over."
Ken chuckled faintly and turned to leave.
"Good luck… future Shogun."
Akio froze in horror.
"Oi! Don't leave me with this lunatic!!!"
Ken closed the door behind him gently, leaving behind the chaos and screaming… with a faint smile on his face. No one could tell whether it was amusement—or a trace of admiration for Akio's stubborn will to live.
He continued down the long corridor. At the end of it, a young trainee nurse stopped abruptly. She was pushing a small cart with medical supplies, her head lowered—until her eyes met his.
She was a teenage girl with shoulder-length black hair and warm brown eyes that didn't belong in such a cold place. When their gazes met, the world seemed to shrink into heavy silence. Her eyes widened in shock, and her entire body trembled.
"You…"
Her voice quivered, barely escaping her throat.
"You're… Ken!!"
Ken froze. He didn't move, didn't change expression. But deep inside, something sparked—a flicker of memory: a child running through flames, a small hand gripping his, a scream lost in smoke.
He lowered his gaze slightly, as if to confirm she was real. Then finally, his voice came—quiet, low, carrying a rare tremor no one had ever heard from him before.
"Yo… Yoko?"
The moment he said her name, every wall Yoko had built over the years shattered. Memories poured back like rain over long-dead ashes—their childish laughter, the wooden doll he carved for her, and the night the sky burned red.
She couldn't speak. Tears streamed down her cheeks silently, as if her body was releasing years of buried sorrow. She tried to say something, but words failed her. She stepped closer, then closer again—until only inches separated them. Then she fell into his arms, her body trembling.
"I've been looking for you all these years…"
She whispered between sobs.
"I thought I'd never see you again… Ken…"
Ken stood frozen. His eyes stayed wide open, his hands hovering awkwardly in the air. He wasn't used to this closeness—to this sudden warmth that broke his iron calm.
For a moment, his breath faltered. He didn't know what to do. Push her away? Hold her?
All he could do was stand there—silent, still, uncertain.
But even with his blank expression… he didn't move away.
He let her cry against him, as his eyes hid the truth:
a man who still didn't know how to face pain when it came in the form of someone he once lost.