A bright red bead of blood floated faintly through the air.
The sound that followed was like the concussive blast of an exploding shell, forcefully hammering into everyone’s ears.
Kirishima’s eyes widened in shock.
Takeru had taken a punch square on his forehead and was already twisting his body around.
It was an extremely dangerous maneuver, yet he executed it flawlessly.
With his eyes widened in defiant excitement, Kirishima tried to sidestep, but there was no time.
Takeru’s body had almost completed its rotation.
Before Kirishima could react further, Takeru’s arm—transformed and extended to his elbow with a yellowed, almost feral tip—whipped forward like a raging whirlwind straight toward Kirishima’s temple.
At the sight, Kirishima laughed heartily, releasing all the pent-up desire that had been boiling within him.
"Ha ha!"
The electrifying thrill of the danger, piercing his very spine, felt exhilarating rather than terrifying.
Even the searing pain that reverberated through his entire body after the violent impact felt almost comforting.
He had restrained himself for far too long.
Though Kirishima was the polite, mature son, a part of him—the fierce warrior who reveled in fights where blood flew and flesh was torn—was equally alive and unbridled.
Fuelled by exhilaration, Kirishima tensed every muscle in his body.
With his center of gravity shifted forward, he couldn’t evade the incoming blow.
The hand meant to block it was just beginning to retrace the trajectory of the punch.
In the end, all that remained was to absorb the hit with his body.
As [Hardening] peaked, the polygonal tissue that had reshaped his entire body grew even denser.
Even the softer parts—his eyes and hair—turned sharp and unyielding.
Ready at last, Kirishima faced the oncoming attack with a terrifying resolve.
When [Hardening] shattered, a piercing metallic scream rang out like a banshee’s wail.
"Hah. I knew both of you were impressive, but..."
Samat marveled at how the bout had escalated to a new level.
Not only was his first disciple—a genius without question—exhibiting formidable prowess, but his second disciple, the one with a devilish talent, was also growing stronger in real time.
Though in the first disciple it was more a matter of rapid recovery than raw enhancement.
"It’s not over yet. Let’s keep fighting."
"That’s more like it. If you’d started whining about the pain as our old master’s disciple, I’d have been seriously disappointed. I admire your grit. Honestly, when I first saw you, I thought you were just some underdog your master took in because of your build. But now I admit it—this master-disciple bond is something special."
Takeru, sporting a long gash across his forehead, and Kirishima, with shattered temple skin and fragments of [Hardening] strewn on the floor, exchanged smiles.
Seeing them prepare to clash again without even bothering to wipe the blood from their faces, Samat intervened.
"Enough. I get how fired up you are, but that’s enough, you idiots."
"No, old man. We’re just getting started. What do you mean that’s enough?"
"I agree. Master."
"I know you both were ready to let loose after a long time, but are you really planning to head home all bloodied? Sure, a hospital stop is fine, but if that’s your plan, you should be heading there now."
"Ah, come on. We can just go tomorrow, really."
"Yeah, I think so too. Rather than calling it quits now, it’d be better to settle the score once and for all."
"You fools. Sparring ends when the time’s up. Besides, Masatake—you brought a kid with you. Are you really going to leave him behind and come back tomorrow? And Kirishima, don’t think you’re any different. Tetsuya was busy preparing all sorts of things for tomorrow, so were you really planning to show your face then? More importantly, if you keep going here, it’s downright dangerous. Are you two trying to settle a life-or-death score?"
"It’s not like that exactly."
"Ugh. Just met today and already talking about life-or-death duels? And you even dragged a kid into this—it’s low."
In the end, the two relented to Samat’s admonition.
Kirishima released [Hardening] while Takeru let his fierce edge subside as they moved toward each other.
When Takeru smiled and extended his hand first, Kirishima returned the smile and grasped it firmly.
Watching that, Samat grumbled,
"What is this, some cheesy shonen manga friendship? Beat each other to a pulp, then grin and shake hands like everything’s all right?"
"No, old man—don’t you ever talk about the bond between hot-blooded warriors like that. It’s simply a matter of mutual respect."
"‘Mutual respect’ does sound a bit bland, though. Can’t think of a better term offhand, I suppose."
Takeru looked hurt by Kirishima’s remark.
But as Kirishima reflected on his own actions, an unsettling shiver ran through him.
Just moments before, he had been locked in fierce combat with the man—and now they were smiling and shaking hands?
He wasn’t always like this in his previous life, yet so long a hiatus from a proper fight had perhaps warped his sense of self.
Shaking his head in dismay, Kirishima and Takeru cleaned their wounds using antiseptic from Samat’s car, wrapped their bandages, and headed to the hospital.
Seated beside Samat at the wheel with arms crossed, Takeru broke the silence.
"You probably felt it too, old man. And I know I did—but you understand, right, disciple?"
"Huh? What are you saying? If you go off on a tangent like that, I won’t be able to keep up."
"Is that so? What I mean is, you and I are cut from the same cloth."
"Ah, yes. I had an inkling even before we fought, and after actually clashing, it’s clear as day."
"Right. We’re warriors through and through. You know why I ended up in prison, don’t you?"
"Master gave me the rough version, but I don’t know all the details."
Takeru uncrossed his arms and stroked his scruffy beard thoughtfully.
After a moment’s pause, he chose his words deliberately.
"I’m not ashamed of taking down a villain, not in the least. I simply think that I—and society—never quite fit together."
"Hmm. When you put it that way, it does make sense."
Kirishima nodded in agreement.
If this were a nation where heroes were broadly granted lethal authority against villains, then his actions might have been excused.
But being born in Japan—a country too peaceful and conservative in its view of heroes—had perhaps been his misfortune.
Of course, being born in Japan was also the reason he’d met Samat and grown stronger.
"Still, I’m ashamed of the beating that landed me in prison. I was completely wasted, and the situation was dire, but even so, nearly killing a civilian was unacceptable. He may have deserved a few blows—no, a lot—but I should have used lawful means instead. I wasn’t being mature."
"What exactly did that guy do?"
"Just remember: he said things to kids that should never have been said. I don’t want to repeat the sordid details."
"Yes, sir. I’ll take your word for it."
"Good. Anyway, what I’m getting at is this: don’t end up like me."
"Wise words, master. I’m worried that someday he might cause trouble just like you do."
"Really? Am I really that much of a loose cannon? I like to think I’m pretty even-tempered."
Samat and Takeru burst into laughter at Kirishima’s remark.
Kirishima’s face reddened as he realized why they were laughing.
Moments ago, intoxicated by the heat of battle he’d been all for ending things, and now here he was calmly talking it over—it was almost laughable.
"You are calm most of the time. The trouble is when you’re not."
"Fair enough."
"We all have our own standards. When someone crosses them, most people shrink back or hope for another day. But you and I—we strike back immediately."
Kirishima could not disagree.
"You’re probably cooler-headed than I am, so you’ll calculate your moves yourself. And if push comes to shove, your choice will likely be to punish immediately."
"I can’t really argue with that."
"I don’t know if saying it out loud will change anything, but I have to. I’m practically facing a death sentence here. I’m not saying you shouldn’t punish wrongdoers. But keep it within bounds. At the very least, don’t become like me. Don’t let your talent be wasted in mire."
At those heavy words, Kirishima sighed deeply.
Truth be told, as someone striving to be a hero, he had always been prepared to kill if necessary and even to die.
If the situation demanded eliminating an enemy who could only be stopped by death, he would do so without hesitation.
He didn’t relish the idea of making death a given, but if that was the only path, he was ready to sacrifice his life.
He wasn’t a fifteen-year-old kid anymore; he had learned deep in his bones that life doesn’t always go as planned.
To obtain something of value, one must pay a price—and sometimes that price is life itself.
Anyone who makes a career out of battle eventually confronts that harsh truth.
"Taking down villains? I believe a villain’s life is worth less than that of a sewer rat. The problem is our noble citizens don’t see it that way. Honestly—prey worrying about predators? This country does have remarkably excellent public safety, doesn’t it?"
"When you put it like that, it does sound rather absurd."
"I think it’s downright hilarious. But here’s the real issue: it’s those very citizens that legitimize a hero. Without their support, stepping off that path turns you from hero to villain in an instant."
"I’ve thought about that too. Fundamentally, a hero’s authority to use force comes directly from the people. Even our funding is essentially derived from their taxes."
"Exactly. So what I’m saying is, no matter how angry you get, don’t act too rashly in front of those citizens. It’s ironic coming from me, given that I once did just that and ended up in prison."
"No, thank you for the advice. It always hits hardest when the source is someone who’s been there."
"Is that so."
With a snort of laughter, he turned his eyes back to the road.
While Kirishima pondered his words, they soon arrived at the hospital.
This hospital was run by an acquaintance of Samat’s, and the director himself treated the two of them.
Recalling tales from his younger days when Samat was frequently injured and admonishing them to take it easy, the doctor simply received their nods of acknowledgment.
It was something ordinary folks could hardly understand.
Though in truth, the two hadn’t fought in a truly serious manner.
Takeru mentioned that he would stop by on the way back to the mansion to bring the child he was protecting.
According to him, that child had suffered the most in the incident that led to the revocation of his Hero license—and still bore deep mental scars.
Struggling to adjust even in foster care, the child had latched onto Takeru the moment he saw him, eventually accompanying him along, Takeru explained with a bitter smile.
The lengthy procedures required to move from prison to Kyoto were partly to blame for the delay.
After parting ways for a while, the two returned to the mansion.
Tetsuya had been waiting and welcomed them warmly.
Yet his eyes filled with tears at the sight of Kirishima’s bandaged face.
"Big brother... are you hurt? Did that old man hit you?"
"Huh? I’m hurt, yes, but it’s nothing too serious."
"But you’re all bandaged up. Were you bleeding a lot?"
"I was bleeding, yes—but not too much. And yes, that old man did land a hit, but it was just sparring. I hit him back plenty."
"Really? I was worried you got injured because of me."
"For one thing, I won’t get beat up because of you. I’m not the kind of guy who just gets beaten and then limps home."
"Mm!"
"Sometimes I can’t tell whether you’re naturally good with kids or totally clueless. Tch. Quit hanging around at the door and come on in."
At Samat’s clicking of his tongue, they all went inside the mansion.
While Kirishima lingered with Samat listening to Tetsuya’s chatter, Takeru entered amid a merry commotion, accompanied by the child.
The child, with jet-black hair flowing down to the waist and delicate, endearing features, was irresistibly cute.
"We’re back. I didn’t expect to see you here again. Ha ha! This is Minokawa Rui. Rui, go on and say hello."
The child, clutching Masatake’s hand tightly, bowed silently.
While Samat and Kirishima greeted Rui in warm, gentle tones, Tetsuya practically attached himself to Rui.
Perhaps excited by encountering someone nearly his own age, Tetsuya bombarded Rui with questions so rapidly that the poor kid seemed rather flustered.
Takeru laughed heartily and headed towards his room with his luggage.
As Rui trotted after him, Tetsuya tried to follow suit—but Kirishima intervened.
"Tetsuya, let those two finish unpacking first, then we’ll talk. You wouldn’t want someone rifling through your stuff in your room, would you?"
"Yeah, you’re right. I guess I’ll wait a bit. Hee hee. Meanwhile, I’ll play with big brother."
After a while of playful banter with Tetsuya, they returned just in time for dinner.
Takeru, already well acquainted with the Sri Muang family, naturally blended into the conversation.
Though Rui had been wary at first, the delicious food and warm company soon put him at ease.
The evening became a tapestry of lively stories woven around the dinner table.
Tetsuya even got scolded for spitting out water when he found out Rui was a boy, and Takeru received a playful dressing-down from a slightly tipsy Samat.
Takeru’s unguarded chatter with the Sri Muang family and his ease at sharing the meal painted him as a prodigal son returning after a tumultuous journey.
There was an undeniable joy in the way he reunited with those who had shared his childhood.
Kirishima silently wished that he would never again have to bow in defeat.
At the same time, seeing him finally at home made him acutely aware of how precious his adoptive parents were—lending their unwavering love.
Without a family, he would never have been able to grow up so smoothly.
No amount of gratitude could ever repay the debt he owed to these loved ones.
The same went for the friends who had, in many ways, helped raise him—they, too, were invaluable.
Though each of them had their quirks, they were genuinely good people who cared deeply for Kirishima.
Thinking of these blessed connections in his life, Kirishima vowed to protect them at all costs.
He felt a pang of regret toward Takeru, but he had no desire to live a life as crooked as his past.
He was determined to walk the royal road, protect everyone, and become the strongest of all.
Kirishima clenched his fist beneath the table.
The final night in Kyoto slipped away, ushering in a new resolve.
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