The afternoon classes dragged on like slow torture. Kai found himself staring at the clock above the blackboard, watching the hands inch closer to four o'clock with a mixture of anticipation and something that might have been dread if he let himself think too hard about it.
Three hours and twenty-seven minutes.
His chemistry teacher, Sensei Fujita, was droning on about molecular bonds, but Kai's mind kept drifting to more immediate concerns. How much did he actually remember from Uncle Hiroshi's casual training sessions? Could muscle memory from a previous life translate into real fighting ability? And what exactly was he planning to do when he faced someone who'd been seriously training while he'd been reading about boxing from the safety of his bedroom?
"Nakamura-kun," Sensei Fujita's voice cut through his thoughts like a blade. "Perhaps you could share with the class what makes ionic bonds different from covalent bonds?"
Kai blinked, forcing himself to focus on the question. "Ionic bonds form when electrons are transferred from one atom to another, creating charged ions that attract each other. Covalent bonds form when atoms share electrons." He paused, then added, "The key difference is that ionic bonds typically form between metals and non-metals, while covalent bonds usually form between non-metals."
"Correct." Sensei Fujita's expression softened slightly. "Though I notice you seem distracted today. Everything alright?"
"Just thinking about an upcoming project," Kai said, which wasn't technically a lie.
Two hours and fifty-three minutes.
English literature was no better. Sensei Yamada was discussing the themes in a short story about a man who had to choose between duty and personal happiness, and Kai couldn't help but see parallels to his own situation. Was he making this choice out of duty to protect others, or was it really just pride and anger driving him toward what might be a very public humiliation?
"The protagonist's decision reveals something important about his character," Sensei Yamada was saying. "He chooses the difficult path not because it's easy, but because he believes it's right. Sometimes we have to make choices that seem impossible, but they define who we really are."
Kai wrote down the quote in his notebook, though he wasn't sure if it was for the class or for himself.
Two hours and fourteen minutes.
By the time PE class rolled around, Kai's nervous energy had built to the point where he could barely sit still. Sensei Ishida—the former Olympic boxer who coached the school's amateur team—had them running laps around the gymnasium, and Kai found himself pushing harder than usual, trying to work off some of the tension coiled in his muscles.
"Nakamura!" Sensei Ishida called out as Kai completed his fifth lap. "You're running like someone's chasing you. What's got you so wound up?"
Kai slowed to a jog, then stopped entirely as the older man approached. Sensei Ishida was in his fifties but still built like the athlete he'd once been, with graying hair and the kind of sharp eyes that missed nothing.
"Just felt like pushing myself today, Sensei," Kai said, trying to catch his breath.
"Uh-huh." Ishida studied him for a moment. "You know, I heard an interesting rumor about you today. Something about you finally deciding to take your uncle's boxing advice seriously."
Word really did travel fast in this school. "It's not a rumor. I talked to Uncle Hiroshi this morning about starting real training."
"Good for you. Hiroshi's a hell of a teacher, and he's been trying to get you into that gym for years." Ishida paused, his expression growing more serious. "But I also heard some other rumors. About challenges being issued and accepted. You want to tell me about that?"
Kai felt his stomach drop. If Sensei Ishida knew about the fight, there was a good chance other teachers knew too. And if the administration found out...
"I don't know what you mean, Sensei."
"Sure you don't." Ishida's tone was dry. "Look, kid, I was your age once. I know how these things work. Some hotshot wants to test the new guy, make sure everyone knows their place in the pecking order. But here's the thing—real fighters don't prove themselves in parking lots and back alleys. They prove themselves in proper rings, with proper rules and proper supervision."
"What if proper rings aren't an option?" Kai asked.
"Then you make them an option. You join a club, you enter sanctioned competitions, you do things the right way." Ishida stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Whatever you're thinking of doing after school today, don't. Come to the boxing club instead. We meet three times a week, and I guarantee you'll learn more in one proper training session than you will getting your face rearranged by some wannabe tough guy."
The offer was tempting. In his original timeline, Kai had always wondered what might have happened if he'd joined the school boxing team. Sensei Ishida was a legitimate coach with real credentials, and training with the school team would be infinitely safer than whatever was waiting for him behind the old gymnasium.
But it would also take time. Months, maybe years to develop real skills. And Daichi wouldn't wait for Kai to become a proper boxer before escalating his behavior. If anything, backing down from this challenge would make things worse for everyone Daichi targeted.
"I appreciate the offer, Sensei," Kai said finally. "And I might take you up on it soon. But today... today I have something I need to take care of first."
Ishida's expression grew disappointed. "You know I can't stop you from making stupid decisions, but I can try to minimize the damage. If you're determined to go through with whatever this is, at least remember the basics. Keep your hands up, move your feet, and don't let anger make you sloppy. And Nakamura?" He paused. "If things go badly, you come find me immediately. Understand?"
"Understood."
One hour and thirty-seven minutes.
The final period of the day was mathematics, and Kai spent most of it running calculations that had nothing to do with the equations on the blackboard. How many steps from the school entrance to the old gymnasium? Approximately three hundred. How long would it take word to spread if he lost badly? Probably fifteen minutes to reach the entire student body. What were the odds that Uncle Hiroshi would find out about this before Kai could explain it properly? Uncomfortably high.
When the final bell rang, Kai's classmates began their usual rush for the exits, chattering about after-school plans and weekend activities. But several of them lingered, shooting curious glances in his direction. Word about the challenge had definitely spread, and Kai suspected a significant portion of the school would be finding excuses to walk past the old gymnasium around four o'clock.
Takeshi appeared at his elbow as Kai packed his bag. "It's not too late to change your mind," he said quietly. "You could just... not show up. Say you got sick or had family emergency or something."
"And then what?" Kai asked. "Spend the rest of the semester—the rest of high school—knowing I backed down when it mattered? Spend every day waiting for Daichi to decide he wants to settle things anyway?"
"Better than spending it in a hospital bed."
Kai shouldered his bag and stood up. "Maybe. But I don't think running away is going to solve anything. It never has before."
They walked out of the classroom together, joining the stream of students heading for the exits. The afternoon sunlight felt warm on Kai's face as they stepped outside, and for a moment he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to just keep walking. To head home, tell Uncle Hiroshi about his day, help Emi with her homework, maybe call Yuki and see if she wanted to study together.
A normal afternoon in a normal life.
But normal hadn't been enough to protect the people he cared about before, and it wouldn't be enough now.
"I should go," Kai said, checking his watch. "Don't want to be late."
"Kai..." Takeshi's voice was strained. "I know we're not exactly best friends or anything, but you don't have to do this alone. I could come with you. Not to fight or anything, just... moral support."
The offer caught Kai off guard. In his original timeline, Takeshi had always been friendly but distant, the kind of classmate who'd share notes if you missed a day but wouldn't go out of his way to get involved in your problems. This version of events was already changing things in ways Kai hadn't anticipated.
"Thanks," Kai said, meaning it. "But this is something I need to handle myself. Besides, if things go badly, I don't want you getting caught up in it."
"What if things go well?"
"Then maybe we'll both learn something about what we're capable of."
They parted ways at the school gates, Takeshi heading toward the train station while Kai turned toward the older section of the campus. The old gymnasium had been built in the 1970s and replaced by a newer facility five years ago, but the building itself was still standing. It housed storage for outdated equipment and served as a meeting place for clubs that didn't need much space.
It also provided excellent cover for activities the administration preferred not to know about.
Kai's footsteps echoed off the concrete as he made his way around the building. The area behind the old gymnasium was a small courtyard surrounded by high walls, invisible from most of the campus and far enough from the main buildings that noise wouldn't carry to occupied classrooms.
He wasn't the first to arrive.
A crowd had already gathered—maybe twenty students, mostly older ones that Kai recognized from the higher grades. They stood in a rough circle, talking in low voices and shooting glances toward the center of the courtyard where a makeshift ring had been marked out with chalk lines on the concrete.
Daichi stood near the far wall, still in his school uniform but with his tie loosened and sleeves rolled up. He was talking animatedly with Sho Watanabe, gesturing with his hands in a way that suggested he was explaining strategy or technique. When he spotted Kai, his conversation stopped mid-sentence and a wide grin spread across his face.
"Well, well," Daichi called out, his voice carrying clearly across the courtyard. "Look who actually showed up. I have to admit, Kai, I wasn't sure you had it in you."
The conversations around the courtyard died down as other students turned to look at Kai. He could feel their attention like a physical weight, some curious, some excited, some clearly hoping to see him get demolished.
"I said I'd be here," Kai replied, stepping further into the courtyard. "I keep my promises."
"That's what I like to hear." Daichi pushed off from the wall and walked toward the center of the makeshift ring. "You ready to get started, or do you need a few minutes to pray first?"
The joke drew chuckles from several spectators, but Kai ignored them. Instead, he focused on Daichi's movement, the way he carried himself. The bully moved like someone comfortable with violence, balanced and alert. But there was also a swagger to his step that suggested overconfidence.
Good, Kai thought. Overconfidence can be exploited.
"I'm ready when you are," Kai said, walking to the opposite side of the chalk circle.
"Excellent." Daichi turned to address the crowd. "Alright, everyone, you know the rules. One round, three minutes. No weapons, no permanent damage. Sho's going to keep time and make sure nobody gets too carried away."
Sho held up his phone, finger poised over the timer. "You boys ready?"
Kai looked across the circle at Daichi, who was bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, hands already raised in a basic boxing stance. Everything about his posture screamed formal training—feet positioned correctly, guard up, chin tucked. This wasn't going to be a wild brawl, it was going to be a technical beating delivered by someone who actually knew what he was doing.
For a moment, doubt crept in. What was he thinking? He had maybe six months of casual training compared to Daichi's years of serious work. The smart play would be to find a way to delay, to stall until he could get some real instruction from Uncle Hiroshi or Sensei Ishida.
But then Kai thought about Yuki's face in that alley, about all the students who'd spent years living in fear of Daichi's moods, about the kid from the art club who went hungry because his lunch money kept disappearing.
Some fights couldn't wait for convenient timing.
"Ready," Kai said, raising his own hands.
"Then let's dance," Daichi said.
"Three... two... one... go!" Sho called out.
Daichi moved immediately, closing the distance between them with the fluid steps of someone who'd drilled footwork until it became second nature. His first punch was a quick jab aimed at Kai's face—not particularly hard, but fast and precise.
Kai barely managed to get his guard up in time, the impact stinging his forearms. Before he could recover, Daichi had already followed up with a right cross that slipped past Kai's defense and caught him on the shoulder.
The crowd made appreciative noises at the clean technique. This wasn't the wild swinging match they'd probably expected, it was a clinic in applied boxing fundamentals.
Kai tried to create distance, but Daichi stayed with him, throwing combinations that forced Kai to keep his guard high and his movement defensive. A jab-cross-hook sequence that Kai barely managed to deflect. An uppercut that missed his chin by inches. A body shot that he couldn't quite block, driving the air from his lungs.
This isn't working, Kai realized as he absorbed another clean hit to his ribs. He's better than me in every conventional way. Faster, more technical, more experienced.
But conventional wasn't the only option.
In his previous life, Kai had spent years studying boxing not as a participant but as an analyst. He'd memorized the careers of dozens of fighters, broken down their strategies, identified the patterns that separated winners from losers. And one thing he'd learned was that technical superiority didn't always determine the outcome of a fight.
Sometimes the winner was simply the fighter who was willing to take more risks.
Kai stopped backing up. Instead of trying to create distance, he stepped forward into Daichi's next combination, accepting a glancing blow to his temple in order to get inside the bully's guard. Suddenly they were chest to chest, too close for Daichi's longer punches to generate real power.
Daichi's eyes widened in surprise—this wasn't how their previous encounters had gone. He tried to push Kai away, to reestablish the distance where his technical advantages would dominate.
But Kai wasn't giving him the chance. He drove his shoulder into Daichi's chest, disrupting his balance, then grabbed the bully's shirt with his left hand while throwing a short right hook toward his ribs.
The punch connected with a satisfying thud, and Daichi's breath came out in a sharp gasp. For the first time since the fight started, he looked genuinely surprised.
"What the hell—" Daichi began, but Kai cut him off with another short punch, this one aimed at his solar plexus.
The crowd's mood shifted. What had started as an exhibition of technical boxing had become something messier, more desperate. Kai wasn't fighting like someone who'd been trained properly; he was fighting like someone who had nothing to lose.
And that, it turned out, made him dangerous in ways Daichi hadn't expected.
They broke apart, both breathing hard. Daichi's perfect stance had deteriorated into something more cautious, while Kai circled him with the patient intensity of someone who'd found a strategy that worked.
"Time!" Sho called out, though his voice seemed to come from very far away.
The courtyard erupted in confused chatter. This wasn't how most people had expected the fight to go. Daichi was clearly the better boxer, but somehow Kai was still standing, still moving, still looking like he wanted to continue.
"Well," Daichi said, rolling his shoulders to work out a kink. "That was... interesting. You fight dirtier than I expected."
"I fight to win," Kai replied. "Same as you."
"Fair enough." Daichi's expression had grown more serious, the casual arrogance replaced by genuine focus. "But you realize that was just a warm-up, right? Now that I know what you're capable of, things are going to get more serious."
Kai wiped blood from his split lip and smiled. "I'm counting on it."
Around them, the crowd pressed closer, sensing that the real fight was just beginning. This was no longer just about settling a school rivalry. This had become something larger—a test of will, determination, and the question of whether courage could overcome experience.
And somewhere in the back of Kai's mind, a quiet voice reminded him that he'd already survived much worse than anything Daichi Sasaki could dish out.
The only question now was whether he could make the bully understand that before someone got seriously hurt.