[I don't know.]

  [What do you mean, you don't know?]

  Catching himself, he glances sideways.

  The lit corridor almost blinds his eyes.

  [I mean, I do know. It's just, there are several branches.]

  [Well, start looking into them. See which one you'll do.]

  The woman sighs, already leaving.

  He heads to the staircase and sits down.

  Gathering his thoughts.

  Before making his way to his room.

  Notebook. Pen.

  Laptop.

  All the same.

  Still anxious.

  Still nervous.

  With trembling hands, he turns on his laptop before staring at the screen.

  Maybe not today.

  Fingers spin the pen around.

  You already didn't yesterday.

  I'm not sure about this, but it's necessary.

  I'll just... search for today.

  Leaning forward, he types some names, writing them down after visiting their websites.

  I could call them.

  I...

  He closes his laptop with heavy breaths.

  An uncomfortable sensation grips his heart.

  I feel awful.

  It's always the same.

  The chair scrapes against the floor as he stands up. With heavy steps, he goes towards the bathroom door.

  He stays still, unblinking, before he decides to enter.

  Standing in front of the mirror, he takes off his shirt, fingers poking his scar.

  It doesn't hurt.

  Not anymore.

  Hinozu chuckles.

  [It's really unfair.]

  [I always try to make things right. Training, studying...]

  [No, you don't study that much. Because of those calls, or whatever.]

  His gaze turns sideways.

  [Does it even work?]

  He sighs.

  [I want to believe they do. I'm... Progressing. As always.]

  [But still...]

  [I'm worse than them.]

  [Even the average person. They don't train. They aren't as smart. They don't do anything meaningful.]

  [But still!]

  Raising a fist, he thrusts it towards the mirror.

  Stopping just short.

  And his reflection looks back.

  As if laughing at his cowardice.

  [Still, I'm worse.]

  Taking the rest of his clothes off, he steps under the shower. The cold tiles bite his feet. Turning the handle towards cold, he hesitates before turning it to the middle.

  His fingers brush through his hair as he rinses it. His eyes close as lukewarm water flows down.

  [I can't compare myself with them.]

  [Ayumu.]

  [Kanna.]

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  [The Exterminators.]

  [The Families.]

  [Not even.]

  [I can only do so with ordinary people.]

  [Who don't do anything with their lives.]

  [And still...]

  He laughs, rinsing his hair over and over.

  Isn't it funny?

  Feeling his throat tightening, he laughs again.

  [I'm...]

  I am...

  A sob escapes him, masked by laughter.

  Tears break free, masked by water.

  You always end up crying.

  I don't like it.

  Stop crying. It won't get you anywhere.

  [I'm... I-I do things.]

  A raspy voice.

  [I put in effort.]

  [I try to think about my future. Do something about it, too.]

  Leaning his forehead on the wall, he clenches his teeth.

  [I'm grateful for this life.]

  He wails.

  [I'm grateful for... my struggles.]

  The water runs cold.

  [I'm grateful for all I am.]

  With a final sob, he still stands under the water.

  Not rinsing. Not cleaning.

  Just letting it flow down his skin.

  His hands are clasped in front, a thumb brushing the other.

  Closing the shower, he dries off with a towel before stepping out.

  Clothes. Hair. Deodorant. Perfume. Shoes.

  Outside. Out of the Center.

  Enormous clouds cover the sky, providing shade from the heat.

  Walking through the street, he decides to head to the park.

  Stepping carefully on the grass, he finds a comfortable spot, sitting down under a tree.

  Peace, as he closes his eyes.

  To the sounds.

  Birds chirping.

  Calm conversations.

  Giggles.

  Splashing of water.

  The ringing of a phone.

  A wide smile spreads across his face.

  Retrieving his phone from his pocket, he accepts the call.

  [Hello? Who's calling?]

  [It's Hernan, from the HDom Dojang. I wanted to see if you had decided on... what we discussed.]

  [To be honest... I haven't. Maybe...]

  [I suggest you come. You've really shown your skill in the practice lesson.]

  [I already told you, I've got no money.]

  [I know. Still, I want to coach you. I'm sure you'll become even better, and then you can pay me.]

  Hinozu stands up, adjusting his collar.

  [I've got the direction. When do I come?]

  [Whenever you want.]

  [Okay. See you, then.]

  [Of course. Thank you for your consideration.]

  Hanging up, he searches for the dojang's address. Taking a glance at the route, he starts walking towards it.

  [Well... Seems like the solution was to contact a nobody.]

  Hinozu fixes his hair. His eyes spot something on a lamppost while waiting for the traffic light.

  A bald woman with a stoma pastes a poster.

  Nergui Lorei.

  Missing.

  The traffic light turns green.

  Hinozu steps towards the woman.

  [Excuse me.]

  Meeting his gaze, the woman adjusts her voice valve.

  [Yes?]

  She says, her voice coarse and low-pitched.

  [Do you... know this person? Lorei, I mean.]

  The woman nods.

  [I'm his Mother.]

  Hinozu's gaze scatters, avoiding the woman.

  [Trying to find him?]

  [I don't know. It's been 2 years.]

  I was...

  [I see. Well, uh, good luck... then. Have a nice day.]

  [You too.]

  He walks away, stopping again at the crossing.

  Red again.

  As soon as it turns green, he moves briskly. Looking back, he clicks his tongue in frustration.

  [Fuck! I should've...]

  [Told her... at least.]

  After a few minutes of walking, he looks around for the dojang.

  There.

  It seems a gray, run-down building stained with dirt. The sign hangs sideways. Hinozu approaches reluctantly, peeking inside.

  There's enough equipment, though the rest is gray concrete.

  No trophies, medals, posters, or anything.

  [You've come.]

  Turning left, he sees the coach.

  A short, skinny man, with half his face mangled. A wide half-smile plays at his lips, one eye shinier than the other.

  [Please, come inside. I'm really glad to have you here.]

  [Same.]

  He says, following the man inside. The smell of dust creeps up his nostrils.

  [So... what's your goal by learning?]

  Hernan walks over to a plastic chair and sits down. The rusty ceiling fan spins as he flicks a switch.

  [I want to pass the Assessment.]

  [I'm sorry, what?]

  [The Assessment. I want to pass it. You know, Exterminators, Isothes. All that stuff.]

  The man bites his lower lip, pondering. Then, he shakes his head.

  [I don't know if I'll be able to... help you with that matter.]

  [Are you sure?]

  [Yeah. I can only teach you to fight better.]

  Hinozu takes a few steps, crouching down to pick up a dusty head guard.

  [That's enough for me. As well as training here, whenever I want. Would that be possible?]

  Hernan hesitates, mumbling something to himself. Then, as Hinozu's gaze sets on him, Hernan speaks.

  [O-okay. You can do that.]

  [Good. Let's start right now. So?]

  [Let's spar first. Then, we'll see your skill level better.]

  [You already saw that. Two weeks ago.]

  The coach chuckles.

  [Sparring is different.]

  [I see.]

  Hernan stands up, putting on his equipment.

  [Equipment's limited. For sparring, we'll use a head guard, shin guards, and gloves.]

  [What about the boots?]

  [No boots. They'll run down quickly, so I save them for competitions. It's just... how it is.]

  The man hands Hinozu his equipment and helps him put it on.

  Once done, they walk over to a poorly carpeted area with wooden posts used to form the ring.

  [Please try to stay in the middle, as the posts can fall off.]

  [Alright. I'm ready.]

  [Okay. You're free to do whatever form, this is just for me to assess the technique and power.]

  They both take their respective stances.

  Hernan places his left leg forward.

  Hinozu keeps his right leg forward, bending it, and the left one behind.

  Hernan closes the distance swiftly, throwing a palm directed at Hinozu's nose.

  Stepping aside, Hinozu throws a side kick to his shins before punching straight.

  Hernan blocks and roundhouse kicks him on the side.

  Hinozu gasps, wincing from pain.

  Closing the distance between his legs, he bends the hind one as he turns his foot.

  Hernan approaches before front-kicking him in the knee.

  A punch jerks his head to the side.

  His vision blurs a little.

  Blocking a side kick, Hinozu steps forward.

  His arm extends in a punch before snapping back.

  His torso and hips rotate by the second.

  Lifting his leg, he swipes it towards the side.

  Hernan steps back.

  Evading it.

  Stepping forward.

  Shift, kick.

  To the leg.

  To the side.

  A fist pounds Hinozu's jaw, rattling his teeth.

  [You're doing well. But you won't become better this way.]

  [Couldn't... care—]

  A kick zips upwards, hitting Hinozu's nose.

  He bares his teeth, eyes focused on a single point.

  Hinozu jumps forward, standing on his heels.

  His whole body whizzes to the side as his leg thrusts above.

  His shin bashes Hernan's face.

  A crystal eye shatters as the man collapses to the ground.

  Hinozu's legs give out, and he tries to breathe.

  Blood rushes out of his nose.

  As gray turns black.

  ——

  [You're really good at this.]

  Hinozu gazes outside the window, focused on the setting Sun.

  [I guess. Nearly lost, though.]

  Hernan sighs.

  [Do you know how many years I've been practicing?]

  The boy shakes his head.

  [Over 12 years. And you still managed to defeat me.]

  [Do you know what kinds of people I'll be in with?]

  [Whatever it is... You can't really learn from me. Just follow your instincts. You can use this dojang for training. Whenever you like.]

  [Plus, I've never really achieved anything from this passion of mine. I can't say it won't be the same for you... but keep going.]

  Hernan runs a palm through his face.

  [This is all I've ever known to do. Don't have studies, skills, talent, anything like that. That's for the lucky ones. Since young, all I've managed to do is practice martial arts.]

  [Once, I used to be pretty successful. Got called over to Russia for training and professional competitions. I made money, had some fame around the city, and was living well. Some years after, I made my own dojang.]

  [Nobody ever came. A few people, but they left shortly after. Guess I didn't know how to teach or was too harsh. And then... it all went down.]

  [The whole city was destroyed... We were told to evacuate and leave everything behind. I fled to Poland for a few days, and after it was over, I tried to come back to Russia.]

  The man twiddles his thumbs, voice cracking a little. A car honks somewhere in the distance, followed by a loud screech.

  [There was nothing anymore. Not Russia, not the city, not the dojang. Not the life I had.]

  [Then, I heard the IEM was helping the victims, so I traveled here, to the headquarters. Brought what little money I had left.]

  Hinozu's gaze wanders outside.

  [They denied any help to anyone. I couldn't believe it.]

  [Tried many times, but it was pointless. What was lost was lost forever. So... I tried making my own dojang here.]

  [Didn't work out.]

  [And, uh... here I am, I guess.]

  He chuckles softly.

  [I'm sure you won't end up like me. You've got talent and will.]

  Hinozu stands up, wincing at his hurting legs.

  [Thanks, I guess. I'll return home now. See you tomorrow, Hernan.]

  [Take care.]

  He nods, heading towards the door.

  [Uh... How's your eye?]

  [Happened many times already. Don't worry about it.]

  [I see. Why didn't you buy one that's... better? More solid?]

  [No money.]

  [Right. Same.]

  A chuckle escapes him. Then, he steps outside, closing the door behind him.

  The setting Sun paints the sky in blue, orange, and red, reflecting on windows and puddles.

  [It rained...?]

  Missed it.

  Wandering through the streets, he takes in the scenery, stopping around to take a photo or two.

  After half an hour, he finds himself in the park. Walking over to the timber bridge, he leans on the railing. A mix of warm colors and purple reflects on the lake below.

  Several ducks swim about in silence. Searching around in his pocket, he retrieves a small item covered in cloth.

  A small piece of bread. Crumbling some with his fingers, he throws it at the water. The ducks gather around, eating what they can.

  [Would you... my place, as a 3rd Rank?]

  Another piece.

  I don't know.

  Don't know why...

  It weighs so heavily on me.

  A few quacks can be heard. A gentle breeze rustles the leaves.

  Does it mean...

  What I did had no meaning?

  No value?

  Another piece. Less crumbled.

  I don't want to believe that.

  I don't want to think it was pointless.

  Was it always this easy?

  Why didn't it happen before?

  I...

  [I...]

  [Am I... feeling pity for myself?]

  ...

  I refuse.

  Throwing the remaining piece of bread, he walks away.

  [I'll do it myself.]

  [Like I've always done.]