The next morning brought rain—a steady drizzle that turned the school courtyard into a maze of puddles and made everyone hunker deeper into their jackets. Kai barely noticed the weather as he walked through the gates, his mind still processing the previous evening's conversation with his family.
After they'd left the gym, Uncle Hiroshi had spent two hours outlining exactly what the next four days would look like. Two training sessions daily, specialized conditioning work, and what he'd euphemistically called "tactical preparation"—which apparently meant studying videos of Elite Boxing Academy fighters to identify patterns in their training methods.
Yuki had insisted on walking him to school, claiming she wanted to make sure he wasn't having second thoughts about the weekend. But Kai suspected she was more worried about him doing something else impulsive before Saturday arrived.
"You're being unusually quiet," she observed as they climbed the steps toward the main building. "Having regrets?"
"Not regrets exactly," Kai said, adjusting his bag to keep his textbooks dry. "More like... perspective. I'm starting to understand why Uncle Hiroshi looked so concerned yesterday."
"Because you're about to fight someone who could seriously hurt you?"
"Because I've committed to something I can't control the outcome of. In four days, I'm going to step into that ring regardless of whether I'm ready or not."
Yuki stopped walking, causing a minor traffic jam as other students flowed around them. "Kai, if you're having doubts—"
"I'm not having doubts about doing it," he interrupted. "I'm having doubts about my chances of walking away intact."
"That's not exactly reassuring."
"It's realistic. Daichi's been training seriously for years. I've been training casually for months. The smart money says I'm going to get destroyed."
"Then why go through with it?"
The question was fair, and Kai found himself struggling to answer it in a way that wouldn't reveal too much about his real motivations. How could he explain that he'd already seen what happened when people like Daichi faced no meaningful opposition? That he'd watched firsthand as that lack of consequences allowed cruelty to escalate into something genuinely monstrous?
"Because someone has to," he said finally. "And if not me, then who?"
"Anyone who's actually qualified to handle it. Teachers, administrators, the police if it's really that serious."
"You know how well that works. How many times have students complained about Daichi over the years? How many reports have been filed that disappeared into bureaucratic nowhere?" Kai shook his head. "Sometimes the only way to solve a problem is to confront it directly."
They resumed walking, but Kai could feel Yuki's worried gaze on him as they navigated the crowded hallways. Students were definitely treating him differently this morning—some with obvious respect, others with the kind of morbid curiosity reserved for people who'd done something spectacularly stupid.
"There's something else," Yuki said as they reached her classroom. "Something I wanted to ask you about yesterday but didn't get the chance."
"What?"
"The way you fought. I heard descriptions from people who were there, and they all said the same thing—you fought like someone who knew what he was doing, even though you obviously don't have formal training."
Kai felt his stomach clench. "What do you mean?"
"I mean you went toe-to-toe with someone much more experienced and held your own. That doesn't happen by accident." She paused, studying his face. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"
It was a reasonable question, and one that Kai should have anticipated. His performance yesterday had been too competent for someone with his supposed level of experience. He'd relied on muscle memory and instincts from a life that technically hadn't happened yet, and apparently it had been noticeable.
"I watch a lot of boxing," he said, which was true if incomplete. "Maybe more than I should. And Uncle Hiroshi's been teaching me basics for months, even if we weren't calling it serious training."
"Watching and doing are completely different things."
"Maybe I'm a fast learner."
Yuki didn't look convinced, but the warning bell chose that moment to ring, cutting off further discussion. "We'll talk about this later," she said. "And Kai? Be careful today. People are going to be watching you differently now."
She was right. As Kai made his way to his own classroom, he could feel the attention following him like a spotlight. Conversations quieted when he passed, then resumed in urgent whispers after he'd moved on. By the time he reached his desk, he was beginning to understand what celebrities meant when they complained about living in a fishbowl.
"Well, if it isn't the man of the hour," Yamamoto said as Kai settled into his seat. "I heard you actually landed some shots on Daichi yesterday. That true?"
"Something like that."
"Dude, that's incredible. Nobody's ever even gotten close to him before." Yamamoto leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Is it true you're fighting him again this weekend? Like, officially?"
Word really did travel fast in high school. "Where did you hear that?"
"Everyone's talking about it. Some kind of formal match at your uncle's gym?" Yamamoto's eyes were bright with curiosity. "People are saying it's going to be a real boxing match, with rounds and everything."
"People say a lot of things."
"But is it true?"
Kai sighed. "Yeah, it's true."
"Holy shit." Yamamoto sat back in his chair, staring at Kai like he'd never seen him before. "You realize you're either the bravest person in this school or the stupidest, right?"
"Probably both."
The morning classes passed in a blur of barely suppressed excitement and constant attention. Teachers who'd never paid much notice to Kai suddenly seemed aware of his presence, and several made pointed comments about the importance of resolving conflicts through "proper channels" rather than violence.
During the break between second and third period, Kai found himself cornered by a group of underclassmen who peppered him with questions about fighting techniques and whether he thought he could actually win on Saturday. He answered as politely as he could while trying to escape to the bathroom, but their enthusiasm was both flattering and exhausting.
It was in the third-floor restroom that he finally encountered the reaction he'd been dreading.
"Well, well. If it isn't the school's newest celebrity."
Kai looked up from the sink to find Ryo Tanaka leaning against the bathroom door, arms crossed and expression decidedly unfriendly. Unlike Daichi's more obvious physicality or Kenji's raw aggression, Ryo had always been the cerebral member of the group—the one who planned harassment campaigns and found ways to make life miserable without leaving obvious evidence.
"Ryo," Kai said, keeping his voice neutral. "Enjoying the show?"
"Oh, I'm finding it fascinating. Really fascinating." Ryo pushed off from the door and took a step closer. "See, I've been thinking about yesterday's little performance, and something doesn't add up."
"What doesn't add up?"
"You've been at this school for three years, Kai. Three years of being the quiet, bookish kid who keeps his head down and minds his own business. Then suddenly, overnight, you develop the balls to challenge Daichi Sasaki to a fight?" Ryo shook his head. "That's not character growth. That's character replacement."
The observation was uncomfortably close to the truth, and Kai forced himself to remain calm. "People change."
"Not that fast they don't. Not that completely." Ryo circled around him, like a predator studying potential prey. "Which makes me wonder what really happened. Did you finally snap under the pressure? Are you having some kind of breakdown? Or is there something else going on here?"
"Like what?"
"Like maybe you're not as alone in this as you want everyone to think. Maybe someone's been coaching you, training you, preparing you for exactly this kind of confrontation."
Kai felt a chill that had nothing to do with the bathroom's temperature. If Ryo was thinking along these lines, how long before he started asking questions about Uncle Hiroshi's involvement? Or worse, started looking for ways to sabotage Saturday's fight before it could happen?
"That's an interesting theory," Kai said carefully. "Any evidence to back it up?"
"Not yet. But I'm going to be watching very carefully from now on. And if I find out you've been getting help—the kind of help that violates the spirit of your little challenge—well, let's just say Daichi isn't the only one you'll need to worry about."
"Is that a threat?"
"It's a promise. This weekend you're going to get into that ring with Daichi, and you're going to lose. Badly. And when you do, everyone's going to remember that actions have consequences, and that there's a price for stepping out of line."
Ryo headed for the door, then paused. "Oh, and Kai? You might want to be extra careful about who you trust over the next few days. Not everyone who seems supportive actually wants you to succeed."
He left Kai alone in the bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror and trying to process the implications of what he'd just heard. Ryo wasn't just angry about yesterday's confrontation—he was actively planning to interfere with Saturday's fight.
Which meant the next four days were going to be even more complicated than Kai had anticipated.
The rest of the morning passed without incident, but Kai found himself paying closer attention to the people around him. Ryo's warning about trust had struck home, and he began noticing things he'd missed before. The way certain conversations stopped when he approached. The way some students seemed to be watching him a little too carefully. The way his usual lunch table had mysteriously filled up with people he barely knew.
By the time the lunch bell rang, Kai had developed a healthy case of paranoia.
He was picking at a convenience store sandwich in the courtyard, trying to find a quiet spot away from the crowds, when Takeshi appeared with his own lunch tray.
"Mind if I sit?" Takeshi asked. "The cafeteria's turned into a circus. Everyone wants to talk about Saturday's fight."
"Sure," Kai said, gesturing to the bench beside him. "Though I should warn you, I'm apparently radioactive now. People seem to think associating with me might be contagious."
"Good thing I'm not people." Takeshi settled onto the bench and unwrapped his sandwich. "Besides, after yesterday I figure I owe you one."
"How do you figure?"
"You stood up to Daichi partly to protect people like me. The least I can do is not abandon you when things get complicated."
It was a small gesture, but it meant more to Kai than Takeshi could have known. In his original timeline, most of his friendships had been superficial—based on shared classes or mutual convenience rather than any real connection. Having someone willing to stick by him during a difficult situation felt like something worth protecting.
"I appreciate that," Kai said. "Though you should probably know that Ryo cornered me earlier. He's suspicious about how I managed to hold my own against Daichi yesterday."
"Suspicious how?"
"He thinks I'm getting outside help. Training or coaching that would give me an unfair advantage."
Takeshi frowned. "Are you?"
"I'm training with my uncle starting today. But that's not exactly a secret—half the school knows he used to box professionally."
"So what's Ryo's problem?"
"I think he's looking for an excuse to sabotage Saturday's fight. If he can convince people that I'm cheating somehow, it gives them justification to call the whole thing off."
"Would that be such a bad thing?"
Kai looked at his friend—really looked at him—and saw someone who'd spent years living in fear of drawing the wrong kind of attention. Takeshi was genuinely concerned about Kai's safety, but he was also someone who'd learned that the safest approach to bullies was to avoid confrontation entirely.
"Yeah, it would be," Kai said quietly. "Because if I back down now, things go back to exactly the way they were before. Daichi keeps terrorizing people, everyone keeps their heads down and hopes they don't become his next target, and nothing changes."
"And if you go through with it and lose?"
"Then at least we'll know someone was willing to try."
Takeshi was quiet for a moment, processing that logic. "You really think this is going to make a difference?"
"I think doing nothing definitely won't make a difference."
"Fair point." Takeshi took a bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. "So what do you need from me?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean you're obviously going to spend the next four days training like crazy, and Ryo's going to spend them looking for ways to cause trouble. What can I do to help?"
The offer caught Kai off guard. "You don't have to—"
"Yes, I do. You're risking your neck partly to protect people like me. The least I can do is watch your back while you're doing it."
"Alright," Kai said after a moment. "Keep your ears open. If Ryo or any of Daichi's crew start planning something, I need to know about it. And if anyone asks you about my training or preparation, you don't know anything."
"Got it. Anything else?"
"Yeah. If this goes badly on Saturday, don't let it discourage you from standing up for yourself when you need to. Sometimes fighting back is the only way to make bullies leave you alone."
"You sound like you're expecting the worst."
"I'm preparing for the worst while hoping for the best," Kai corrected. "There's a difference."
They finished lunch in comfortable silence, watching other students navigate the complex social dynamics that defined high school life. Some groups clustered around popular kids who dominated through charisma and social connections. Others formed around shared interests or mutual protection. A few individuals, like Kai used to be, floated between groups without belonging to any of them.
But watching it all now, with the perspective of someone who'd lived through the long-term consequences of teenage social hierarchies, Kai could see patterns that had been invisible to him before. The way casual cruelty got normalized through repetition. The way bystanders learned to look away rather than risk becoming targets themselves. The way small injustices accumulated into larger ones when nobody was willing to draw a line.
Daichi Sasaki wasn't just a high school bully. He was a preview of the kind of person he'd become if his behavior was never challenged, never forced to face real consequences. And stopping him now wasn't just about protecting current victims—it was about preventing future ones.
The afternoon bell rang, calling them back to classes. As they gathered their things, Takeshi turned to Kai with a thoughtful expression.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Yesterday morning, you were the same person you'd always been. Quiet, careful, analytical. Then something changed, and by lunch you were challenging the most dangerous guy in school to a fight." Takeshi paused. "What happened? What made you decide that this was the moment to stop being careful?"
It was essentially the same question Yuki had asked, and Kai still didn't have a good answer that wouldn't reveal too much about his real situation.
"I guess I realized that being careful hadn't been protecting anyone," he said finally. "Including me."
"And you think being reckless will work better?"
"I think being strategic will work better. And sometimes strategy requires taking calculated risks."
"Is that what this is? A calculated risk?"
Kai thought about the question as they walked back toward the main building. Was this really a calculated decision, or was it an emotional reaction to trauma that technically hadn't happened yet? Was he making rational choices based on future knowledge, or was he just acting out his own frustrations and regrets?
"Ask me again on Sunday," he said. "After we see how it turns out."
The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, though Kai found himself having trouble concentrating on his classes. His mind kept drifting to the training session waiting for him after school, and the three days of preparation that would follow. Four days to become someone capable of surviving in the ring with a trained fighter.
It didn't seem like nearly enough time.
When the final bell rang, Kai was already packing his bag and planning his route to the gym. He needed to get there quickly, before any of Daichi's friends decided to follow him and see what kind of preparation he was receiving.
But as he headed for the exit, a familiar voice called his name.
"Kai! Wait up!"
He turned to find Yuki hurrying down the hallway, her school bag bouncing against her hip as she tried to catch up with him.
"I thought you might want company walking to the gym," she said when she reached him. "You know, moral support and all that."
"You don't have to—"
"Yes, I do. We talked about this yesterday, remember? If you're determined to go through with this crazy plan, then the people who care about you are going to make sure you don't kill yourself in the process."
They walked together through the afternoon streets, past shops and cafes that were just beginning to fill with the after-school crowd. The rain had stopped, but the air still held that crisp, clean smell that came after storms.
"Are you nervous?" Yuki asked as they approached the gym's neighborhood.
"Terrified," Kai admitted. "But not about the training. About whether four days will be enough to make a real difference."
"Uncle Hiroshi seems to think it's possible."
"Uncle Hiroshi's an optimist when it comes to boxing. He believes that technique and determination can overcome almost any disadvantage."
"And you don't?"
"I think technique and determination are great, but they're not magic. Daichi's going to have every possible advantage except one."
"Which is?"
Kai thought about the question as they reached the gym's entrance. What advantage did he really have? Future knowledge was useful for strategic planning, but it didn't translate directly into fighting ability. Motivation was important, but Daichi would be motivated too—probably more motivated, since his reputation was on the line.
"I know exactly what I'm fighting for," he said finally. "And I know exactly what happens if I don't."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I've seen what people like Daichi become when they never face real consequences for their actions. And I'd rather get beaten up trying to stop that than spend the rest of my life wishing I'd had the courage to try."
Yuki studied his face for a moment, and Kai could see her trying to understand the intensity behind his words. How could he explain that he was fighting not just for current victims, but for all the future victims who would suffer if Daichi was never forced to change?
"Alright," she said finally. "Then let's go make sure you're ready to win this thing."
They pushed through the gym's front door together, and Kai felt some of his nervousness transform into determination. He might not have years of formal training, but he had something potentially more valuable—absolute clarity about what was at stake.
The next four days would determine whether that would be enough.