Chapter 49: When Immortals Fall and Mortals Cry
Haruki
Let it be known: if you ever find yourself watching your best friend get turned into a human pretzel by a guy who calls himself Zeus and fights like the result of a martial arts master arguing with a natural disaster, you're officially having the worst day of your life.
Haruki Fujimoto was having that kind of day.
He already looked like he'd been thrown down a staircase made entirely of regret and poor life choices. His arms ached. His ribs might have been playing a new symphony in Crack Major. And now?
Now he had front-row seats to the worst beating he'd ever witnessed.
Possibly the worst beating he'd ever imagined.
Ren—his friend, his maybe-kinda-insane mentor, and somehow the glue holding their weird, chaotic group together—was getting destroyed by Reiji.
Or Zeus.
Or whatever ridiculously dramatic name Haruki's childhood friend preferred these days.
The fight had been a blur.
Literally.
Haruki could barely follow anything beyond the shockwaves, explosions, and occasional glimpse of two bodies moving far faster than his eyes could properly track. It was like watching two fighter aircraft somehow decide punching each other was more efficient than missiles.
The whole battle lasted only several minutes, but Haruki felt like he aged three years.
And then it ended.
Ren, bruised, bleeding, with enough broken bones to make Seijūrō furious for at least thirty consecutive seconds, had still refused to surrender. Even when Reiji offered him the villain-team-up speech of the century, Ren had responded with something extremely Ren-like about people, morality, and refusing to follow someone who treated his own allies like tools.
Then Reiji hit him hard enough to end the argument.
Now Ren lay unconscious in the dirt.
Haruki stood frozen, gripping Hana's trembling hand as though she were his last connection to sanity. He'd kept her back throughout the fight, terrified that one stray shockwave could seriously hurt her.
The old Haruki probably would have passed out ten seconds into this mess.
This version was still standing.
Barely.
But now he felt something he hadn't expected.
Anger.
Hana had tried to stay brave through everything, but the moment Ren fell, something inside her cracked.
Tears slipped silently down her cheeks as she stared at the crumpled boy who had become almost like another brother to her.
"This isn't training anymore," she whispered.
Haruki looked toward the battlefield.
"This is…"
She swallowed.
"…war."
Haruki couldn't disagree.
Then, just to make an already terrible situation worse, Reiji punched the Red Dawn headquarters.
Actually punched it.
The unfinished, steel-framed warehouse they had somehow turned into a home exploded inward beneath a wave of Ki, concrete and metal scattering everywhere.
And before leaving, Reiji dropped a black glove beside Ren.
A crimson II was marked across it.
"Tell him," Reiji said coldly, "his name is Ares now."
Translation:
Ren had just been branded as second place.
After Reiji and Olympus finally left, everyone rushed toward him.
Haruki dropped beside Ren immediately, checking his breathing and pulse with shaking hands.
Relief hit him like a broken dam when he realized Ren was alive.
Just unconscious.
Just.
Yeah.
Because a guy with several broken ribs, a fractured arm, and enough injuries to make walking a distant dream definitely belonged in the just sleeping it off category.
Reina, Shōgo, Hermes, and the others stood nearby in stunned silence.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody even made a bad joke.
Their leader—the lunatic they looked toward whenever things became impossible—had been beaten.
Haruki clenched his fists until his nails pressed painfully into his palms.
He looked at the ruins of their headquarters.
At the glove.
At Ren.
He had apologized to Reiji.
He had accepted that he had forgotten their childhood promise.
But this?
This wasn't a childhood grudge anymore.
This was domination.
Something inside Haruki hardened.
The frightened boy who avoided conflict, who wanted nothing more complicated than books, games, and an ordinary life, was still there.
But he was tired of being helpless.
"I won't run anymore," Haruki whispered.
He wasn't really speaking to anyone.
Maybe Hana.
Maybe Ren.
Maybe himself.
His eyes dropped toward Ren—the idiot who jumped before thinking, trained like pain was a hobby, and somehow kept smiling even when everything hurt.
"I swear," Haruki said, his expression hardening. "I'll catch up."
His hands stopped shaking.
"I'll get stronger."
Then he looked toward the road where Olympus had disappeared.
"And next time…"
His voice became steady.
"…we're not losing."
Because when the strongest person falls, somebody else has to stand.
And Haruki was done watching from the sidelines.
Reina
Reina stood there.
Arms hanging loosely at her sides.
Lips slightly parted.
Eyes wide.
And for once, Reina Tachibana had absolutely nothing to say.
The warehouse—their patched-together base with its unreliable vending machine, old couches, battered training equipment, kitchen, games, and punching bag everyone kept promising to replace—was now a smoking ruin.
Dust drifted through the air like dirty snow.
"That was our place…" she murmured.
She wasn't talking about a building.
She was talking about a home.
It wasn't fancy.
It probably wasn't entirely legal.
But it was theirs.
A place where they trained.
Argued.
Ate.
Played games.
Insulted each other.
Laughed.
A place where people who had once belonged to different gangs had somehow started becoming something resembling a family.
And now it was gone.
Then there was Ren.
Reina turned.
The loudmouthed idiot with the enormous heart was lying unconscious among their friends, bloody and broken.
She had only known him for a short time.
But somehow, that idiot had managed to change everything.
He had walked into their lives like a storm wearing sneakers, challenged everyone who got in his way, recruited people instead of humiliating them, and somehow convinced a collection of delinquents that they could become something better than street fighters wasting their lives.
He made Reina realize something she hadn't expected.
Protecting people wasn't weakness.
Depending on people wasn't weakness either.
Pride didn't have to mean standing above everyone.
Sometimes it meant standing with them.
And now Ren was broken.
"Is that what it means to be strong?" she asked quietly.
Nobody answered.
Athena and Hephaestus had already left with Olympus.
Reiji—or Zeus, or whatever overly dramatic title he wanted—was gone.
All he had left behind was a destroyed headquarters and that black glove marked with the crimson II, like some insulting business card from a tyrant who thought conquering people was a normal conversation.
Reina crouched beside Ren.
His breathing was rough.
His clothes were torn.
One arm was clearly injured.
His entire body looked like it had lost an argument with a landslide.
And yet, somehow, even unconscious, there was something stubborn about him.
Like he would wake up and immediately demand a rematch.
"I hate you," Reina muttered.
She looked away quickly.
"You big, dumb, brave idiot."
She wasn't crying.
There was dust in the air.
Obviously.
Battle dust.
Shut up.
Reina stood.
Straightened.
Clenched her fists.
"You want war, Reiji?"
Her voice was steadier now.
"Fine."
She looked toward the road.
"But next time, we fight on our terms."
Then she turned toward everyone else.
Hana was pale and shaking.
Haruki was barely standing after his own fight.
Shōgo was staring at the ground, fists clenched so tightly his arms trembled.
Hermes was silently examining the black glove as though Reiji had personally insulted his entire family fortune.
Reina pointed toward what remained of their headquarters.
"We rebuild."
Everyone looked at her.
"From the ground up if we have to."
Her eyes hardened.
"And next time…"
She looked back at Ren.
"…we don't lose."
For once, nobody argued.
"Next time, no one gets left in the dirt."
And just like that, Reina Tachibana—the proud fighter who once thought she had to stand alone—found herself becoming something she had never expected.
A leader.
A protector.
And maybe…
just maybe…
a little bit of a Ren-style optimist.
She would kick anyone who said that last part aloud.
Hermes
Kazuki Saejima stood among the dust and shattered concrete of what used to be Red Dawn headquarters, brushing debris from his shoulder like dandruff.
Around him, people coughed, groaned, or simply stared at the enormous pile of wreckage where their base had stood minutes earlier.
Some were angry.
Some looked ready to cry.
Others still seemed unable to comprehend how exactly they had been defeated by a teenager in a white suit who looked like he should have been attending a private dinner rather than demolishing buildings with his fists.
Kazuki?
He was calculating.
Reiji was stronger.
That much was obvious.
His Ki, technique, experience, and physical ability placed him far beyond most of Red Dawn.
But Ren…
Ren was different.
Ren was a walking miracle with absolutely terrible survival instincts.
"Send the helicopter," Kazuki said into his earpiece while staring at the unconscious pile of charisma and broken bones lying nearby. "Medical emergency. Ryūseikan. Priority."
"Understood, sir," came the immediate response.
Kazuki crouched beside Ren and pushed aside a piece of twisted metal lying dangerously close to his shoulder.
"You know," he said quietly to the unconscious Ninja, "I originally joined this because it had potential."
No answer.
Obviously.
"Good growth prospects. Useful contacts. Opportunities."
Kazuki paused.
"But you…"
His voice softened despite himself.
"You made me want something more than that."
He stopped.
No.
Absolutely not.
Emotional vulnerability was not part of the Hermes brand.
Kazuki immediately stood.
He turned toward the others.
Haruki was bruised and barely standing.
Reina looked ready to hunt Reiji down with her bare hands.
Ryōhei, Tōma, and Kenta were helping anyone who needed it.
Hana remained beside her brother.
"We're not joining Zeus," Kazuki said simply.
Several people looked toward him.
"I know what some of you might be thinking. He's stronger. He has more fighters. He has Athena and Hephaestus. He has resources."
Kazuki glanced toward the destroyed headquarters.
"And, annoyingly, his organization has reasonably good branding."
Reina stared at him.
"What?"
"Professional observation."
Then Kazuki pointed toward Ren.
"But he isn't him."
Everyone looked down.
"That idiot?"
Kazuki's expression became serious.
"He's the future."
Shōgo grunted.
"We follow Ren."
"Obviously," Hana snapped, wiping at her eyes. "Did you see what he was doing in that fight? The energy arms? The platforms? Fivefold Ascension?"
Kazuki smiled faintly.
There it was.
They were still together.
That meant he had work to do.
A lot of it.
He opened his phone.
"Get me the contact list."
"Yes, sir?"
"Supernatural weapon smiths. Formation engineers. Enchantment specialists. Anyone capable of producing equipment compatible with Ki, Mana, or spiritual energy."
"Understood."
"I want options by tomorrow."
"Very good, sir."
Kazuki looked around at the wreckage.
"And get me estimates for construction."
There was a small pause.
"What kind of construction?"
Kazuki's eyes narrowed.
"Reinforced."
Another pause.
"How reinforced?"
Kazuki looked toward the crater Reiji had created with one punch.
"Yes."
The person on the other end wisely understood.
"Underground shelter. Reinforced training facilities. Proper security systems. Medical area. Communications. And enough structural reinforcement that someone punching the outside doesn't immediately redecorate the inside."
"Understood, sir."
A hesitation.
"May I ask what the new headquarters will be called?"
Kazuki looked toward the river where Olympus had disappeared.
Then down at Ren.
Bruised.
Bloodied.
Unconscious.
But definitely not finished.
"Red Dawn Two."
He frowned.
"No."
That sounded terrible.
"Red Dawn Prime."
Much better.
The helicopter became audible overhead.
Dust began swirling as it descended toward the construction site.
Kazuki slipped his phone away.
"Let's build a fortress."
His eyes hardened.
"We've got a war coming."
Shōgo
If you asked Shōgo Kitsukawa about the meaning of life, there was a decent chance his answer would be:
"Fight."
Not peace.
Not love.
Definitely not algebra.
Shōgo was practically a heavy-metal guitar riff that had somehow developed arms.
Pain?
Fine.
Broken nose?
Whatever.
A good fight?
Now you had his attention.
So when Reiji turned Ren into a very battered human pancake, Shōgo expected himself to do exactly what he always did.
Roar.
Crack his knuckles.
Jump in swinging.
He didn't.
Shōgo stood completely still.
Berserker Shōgo Kitsukawa couldn't move.
Ren lay broken on the ground.
His ribs were damaged.
One arm hung uselessly.
His entire body looked like he had been thrown through half the construction site.
Shōgo's fists clenched.
His knuckles whitened.
His heart hammered.
But his legs?
Nothing.
They refused to move.
And for the first time in his life, Shōgo understood what it felt like to be genuinely afraid.
Not nervous.
Not worried.
Not the little jolt of fear before somebody threw a punch.
This was different.
This was the kind of fear that came with absolute certainty.
If I step into that fight, I die before I can do anything.
Then Reiji turned and destroyed their headquarters with a single Ki-enhanced strike.
That certainty became worse.
The group stood in stunned silence as Reiji dropped the black glove marked with the crimson II beside Ren.
"Tell him his name is Ares now."
Like he was renaming someone's pet.
Then Reiji simply turned around and left.
Shōgo finally moved.
He didn't roar.
Didn't scream.
Didn't start throwing things.
He walked toward Ren.
Slowly.
Then knelt beside him.
Carefully—more carefully than anyone would have expected from Shōgo—he helped lift his unconscious friend.
"Idiot…" he whispered.
His voice shook.
Then quieter, almost too quiet for anyone else to hear:
"I'm sorry."
Ren didn't respond.
"I froze."
Shōgo swallowed.
"I should've stepped in. Should've fought."
His hands tightened slightly.
"But I didn't."
He looked down at Ren.
"You were right there…and I couldn't move."
Shōgo didn't cry.
Berserkers didn't cry.
Obviously.
There was just a lot of dust around.
That explained the sting in his eyes.
The helicopter Hermes had ordered descended nearby, its rotors sending wind and dust across the ruins.
Everyone helped prepare Ren for transport to Ryūseikan.
Shōgo climbed aboard with him.
As the helicopter lifted away, Shōgo sat beside Ren's unconscious form.
His hand remained around Ren's wrist.
Not from panic.
Not pity.
Resolve.
"I'm never freezing again," he whispered.
His eyes turned toward the city below.
"Next time, Reiji…"
Shōgo clenched his fist.
"…next time, I'll be the one standing."
And as the helicopter carried them toward Ryūseikan, something had changed inside Shōgo Kitsukawa.