Zen marched through the sterile hospital corridors toward the training wing, his boots clicking rhythmically against the tile. His breath was shallow, hitching every time his bruised ribs shifted.
"Zen! Zen, wait!" Hoshizaki's voice echoed behind him. The older boy was practically jogging to keep up, with Tsukiko trailing behind, her hand tightly gripping Hoshizaki's arm.
Zen ignored them, his eyes fixed on the heavy reinforced door of the training hall. Just as his hand reached for the handle, Hoshizaki lunged forward, grabbing Zen's wrist. Zen spun around, violently wrenching his arm out of the grip.
"Don't touch me! What do you think you're doing?" Zen snapped, his eyes flashing with a cold, defensive fire.
Hoshizaki stood his ground, though his brow was furrowed with worry. "What does it look like? I'm stopping you. You're going in there to train, aren't you?"
"I have to," Zen said, stepping toward the door again. "You saw what happened out there. You saw the power. If I can recreate the exact Orvex flow, if I can follow that same mental process, I can use that massive output whenever I want. If I master it now, we walk through the third phase tomorrow."
Hoshizaki stepped directly in front of the door, blocking the path. "You have massive muscle tears, Zen. You pushed yourself beyond the human limit. Training now isn't just painful—it's suicide."
Zen's patience snapped. The stress of Ren's surgery and his own feeling of helplessness boiled over. "So what do you expect? That I sit around and rely on a wimp like you for our survival? We only have a chance because of what I did!"
The words hit Hoshizaki like a physical blow. His eyes widened, shimmering with sudden, hurt tears. "I asked to join this team because I thought you'd be a great leader," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I guess I was wrong. I might be a 'wimp' to you, but I'm still your elder, damn it!"
Without waiting for a response, Hoshizaki turned and stormed down the hall. Tsukiko called out to him, but he didn't look back. She turned toward Zen, her face contorted in a silent, boiling fury that made Zen finally look away in regret.
"So that's it?" Tsukiko stepped into his space, her voice low and dangerous. "You pull off some flashy moves and now you get to decide who's a wimp? We're the ones looking out for you! You think you could have beaten that 'thing' alone? We took it down as a team, you arrogant idiot!"
Zen stepped back, his hand trembling as he reached for the door again. "Just go, Tsukiko."
Before he could pull it open, a slim hand clamped over the doorknob, forcing it shut. Aiko stood there, her expression uncharacteristically grim.
"This team is falling apart," Aiko said, her voice steady but sharp. "And as the leader, we expect you to do something about it, not run away into a training room."
Zen sighed, the weight of his exhaustion finally catching up to him. "Aiko, move."
"No," she said firmly. "You know full well that training now will break your body and dissolve what's left of this team. Don't let your regret turn you into a martyr. Ren is going to be okay. Don't let your fear get the better of you."
Zen looked at her, then down at his shaking hands. He felt a sharp pang in his side and instinctively clutched his ribs. A weak, tired smile crossed his face. "You're right... it's frustrating how much of an influence Ren has. I'm usually the one talking him out of reckless stunts like this. I just... I don't want any of you to get hurt because I was too weak to finish the job."
An image of his father's stern, disappointed face flashed through his mind, but it was quickly interrupted. Aiko reached up and lightly patted his head.
Zen froze, his eyes wide with shock and confusion. Aiko smiled—a genuine, warm expression that didn't have a hint of "Elite" coldness in it. "We can take care of ourselves, silly. Just focus on leading us to victory and stop worrying so much about being our shield."
Zen cleared his throat, looking over at Tsukiko, who was still glaring at him. He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. For everything. I'll find Hoshizaki and apologize. The exam is over for today... and we can't do tomorrow without him. He's the reason Ren is even alive."
Tsukiko's glare softened into a small, begrudging smile. "You better apologize. And don't be stupid again—that's not the Zen I signed up to follow." She gave him a final nod before heading off to find Hoshizaki.
Zen turned back to Aiko. "Thank you. Truly. This team would have been finished if you hadn't stepped in."
Aiko's smile lingered as she adjusted her gear. "You have a talent no one has ever seen, Zen. There's no need to rush. Just sleep. Take the rest of the day to heal."
With a final wave, she headed toward the girls' locker room, leaving Zen standing in the quiet hallway, finally feeling the weight lift from his shoulders.
Hana speed-walked toward the industrial district. Behind her, three small figures moved with practiced, suburban stealth, ducking behind mailboxes and trash cans.
"Where is she going?" Yumi whispered, her eyes locked on Hana's frantic pace.
"I don't know," Arata answered, his brow furrowed. "But she looks like she's really stressed out. Takeshi, status check on our gear."
Takeshi pulled open a small canvas bag, revealing a chaotic mess of springs, gears, and scrap-metal gadgets they'd spent weeks building in their backyard "HQ." "Everything's green. We've got the support tools ready."
They watched as Hana ducked into a narrow alleyway. "Hurry!" Arata hissed. They sprinted to the corner just as Hana was checking for onlookers. She didn't see the three heads pop back behind the brick wall. With a shaky hand, she pushed open a heavy, rusted door.
As the door began to swing shut, Yumi flicked a pebble with perfect aim. It wedged into the hinge with a dull thud, keeping the door a fraction of an inch open. The kids crept forward, ears pressed to the cold metal.
Inside the Hideout
The room was cavernous and smelled of stale cigarettes and damp concrete. "You texted me to meet you here," Hana said, her voice echoing. "I'm busy, please make this quick."
A single spotlight flickered on. In the center of the room sat Kazutaka, the loan shark leader, flanked by two men in black holding rifles. Hana's hand went deep into her bag, her fingers white-knuckled around the pepper spray.
"There she is," Kazutaka purred, standing up. "The woman of the hour. You look tense, Hana."
Hana maintained her frozen customer-service smile. "You said there was news."
"The best news," Kazutaka whispered, leaning in close enough for her to smell the cheap cologne. He flicked her chin before pacing back. "Your debts are gone. You don't owe us a single Zet."
Hana's breath hitched. A flash of pure, genuine relief washed over her. "Really? But... I borrowed so much. Did a benefactor pay it off?"
"In a way," Kazutaka grinned, his teeth yellow in the spotlight. "A very wealthy client is looking for a... specific type of woman. A 'Mother' a Milf Stripper type for his club. He's paying me one hundred thousand Zeths—ten times your debt. All you have to do is go with his men, and you're free. It's a win-win."
The relief in Hana's chest turned to ice. "No. I won't do that. I'll find the money myself."
She spun to bolt, but two men she hadn't seen in the shadows grabbed her arms. "It isn't your choice to make," Kazutaka sneered.
"GET OFF ME!" Hana screamed. She whipped the pepper spray from her bag and unleashed a cloud of burning chemicals directly into the eyes of her captors. As they shrieked and clawed at their faces, she sprinted for the door.
"STOP HER!" Kazutaka roared.
The gunmen were faster. They tackled her just feet from the exit, a heavy hand striking her across the face. Hana hit the concrete hard, the spray can skittering out of reach. She tried to crawl for it, but Kazutaka's heavy boot slammed down on her fingers.
Hana let out a piercing scream of agony.
"Don't worry," Kazutaka laughed, looking at his men. "I won't do any permanent damage. Don't want to ruin the merchandise. Strip her. Get her ready for the client."
Hana felt the rough hands grabbing at her hair and uniform. She squeezed her eyes shut, hot tears streaming down her face. (Zen... Ren... I'm so sorry...)
"Hey. Excuse me, sir?"
The voice was small, calm, and completely out of place. Kazutaka froze and turned around. Standing in the doorway was Yumi, looking small and innocent.
"What do you want, you brat?" Kazutaka spat. "How did you get in here?"
Hana looked up, her heart stopping. She opened her mouth to tell her to run, but she saw Arata and Takeshi moving through the rafters above like shadows. Arata pressed a finger to his lips, signaling her to stay silent.
Yumi was holding a strange wooden box with a hand-crank on the side. She turned the handle with a slow, rhythmic click-click-click. "I think my toy is broken," she said sadly.
"I don't give a damn!" Kazutaka snarled, stepping toward her. "You just made a big mistake, kid. Now we can't let you leave."
"Oh," Yumi said, her smile turning sharp and predatory. "Never mind. It's working now."
BOOM.
The front of the box exploded outward. A spring-loaded, heavy iron fist tipped with jagged steel spikes shot out with the force of a piston. It caught Kazutaka squarely in the groin.
The loan shark didn't even scream. The air left his lungs in a pathetic wheeze as he lifted off the ground and collapsed into a fetal position, his face turning a shade of purple that matched the bruises on Hana's hand.
"Target neutralized," Yumi chirped.