There was an accident

(One year later)

The grueling days and even longer weeks ended for the senior graders as they got their final diplomas and graduated from high school. It was one of the rare occasions when relatives of boarding school students showed up inside the building, witnessing their family members receive their well-earned certificates.

The one blue-eyed student sat among his classmates, staring blankly as the headmistress gave her speech about the importance of discipline and hard work. The seventeen-year-old was still wearing the school's gray uniform, tucked and ironed perfectly to fit his slender frame.

The school's senior class sat at the back of the dark auditorium. The top student for another year in a row scanned the crowd, anxious for a glimpse of his adoptive parents, but without finding them in the sea of faces.

The headmistress concluded her statement and thanked everyone for their support as the audience clapped for her. She wished everyone a successful future while the agitated student clasped tightly to his diploma, glancing at the door behind him.

The highest-ranking graduate was the first to leave the ceremony. A loud thud echoed as he threw his certificate into the nearest dumpster. His strides were quick and determined as he grabbed his backpack and left the boarding school.

He pushed the large doors open, letting the warm spring breeze welcome his face and play with his messy hair.

Natsuo loosened the strangling tie around his neck and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt on his way to the iron gates. He marveled when the mild wind carried the cherry petals around him, causing some of them to get stuck in his hair.

He smiled, feeling relieved and content that he was finally able to start a new life. The time had come for him to be free - he was no longer held back by oppressive rules or watched over by staff. There was no one to stop him now.

Natsuo took a deep breath and started to walk, his steps growing longer and smoother with each step he took. The young man still remembered the way to the city, the route he had been forced to travel when his former father deprived him of his freedom.

But then, his joy turned to anxiety as he saw the familiar silhouette of the black car pulling into the school. The young graduate dashed behind the nearby tree and tried to shrink as much as possible, hoping it would be enough to hide him from unwanted visitors.

He carefully peered as his adoptive parents stepped out of the vehicle, taking notice of how Masashi was still wearing his work suit, his tie neatly knotted and his shoes polished - clearly, something more significant came up for him to be late, or maybe he just didn't care. The man said it himself - he wasn't his son, never was, and never will be.

His adoptive mother wore a formal dress and had her hair combed back, looking absent-minded and lost as always. She followed her husband like an obedient pet, always at his side, never saying a word without his permission.

Natsuo's stomach tightened from anger when he saw them. He felt nothing but disgust for the two who were supposed to be his guardians and protectors, and yet they never contacted him, not even on his birthday or other special days.

Like a broken and discarded old toy, he had been forgotten and abandoned. He vowed to himself that he would never forgive them and would never look them directly in the eye again.

The seventeen-year-old turned his face away from the pair as they approached the doors, waiting until they were out of sight. Lastly, he took a deep breath and started running, trying to get as far away from his old life.

(Elsewhere at the same time)

The sky had darkened all afternoon and became thick with clouds as night approached. Lightning flashed across the sky and thunder rumbled, reverberating throughout Palm Beach in Florida.

It brought Jiro back to one year ago when he tried to escape the mansion where he was being held captive. Downpour and wind were his only ally that night as he climbed the estate's fence and ran away into the unknown.

But it had been a short relief from the nightmare he was living in since a police car on patrol had spotted him and chased him. His parents and uncle had just noticed the boy was missing when the officers returned with the squirming teenager, soaked and tired from the night's events.

Jiro sobbed in a language the police didn't understand, but his uncle and father speaking fluent English assured them that everything was fine, thanking them for their help and rewarding them with cash.

The eighteen-year-old young man punched a bag in the dim gym as glimpses of memories of that night came back to him. Those same emotions bubbled up in him once again and he hit the sack harder, trying to fight away the flashbacks and the pain they evoked.

His shoulders had grown wider over time and he resembled more of a man than a boy. His voice had deepened and his eyes held steely courage since his parents had scolded him for making up lies and slandering his uncle's name.

He had trained himself to be hardened and vigilant, constantly aware of his uncle's presence and ready to defend himself at the first sign of a wandering hand. The former fearful boy was no longer willing to be a victim and was prepared to fight back.

After a few more punches, he shouted a frustrated curse and threw his gloves away, giving himself a few moments to catch his breath and compose himself. His hands were shaking from the intensity of his workout, but also from the emotional turmoil it had caused.

Jiro could feel his uncle's gaze on him before he even turned around - the man was watching him and waiting for his response. He lurked in the shadows, looming ominously in the doorway. His attention never wavered from the maturing teenager as he stepped into his mansion's home gym.

"You are doing well. Though you could use a bit more work on your feet," Toshiro's deep voice explained as he headed to the punching bag.

The thunder outside briefly illuminated the space, casting a harsh light on the two of them. Jiro tensed as the tall man's features became visible for a split second before darkness settled in again.

Toshiro taught him how to use his feet to his advantage when fighting - he demonstrated how to use side steps, pivoting, and quick footwork to dodge punches. The young man's stare was unreadable and emotionless as he watched the man's movements.

"What the hell do you want?" Jiro growled. He knew there was more to the situation than simply teaching him.

The older man brushed his black hair with gold rings on his fingers and adjusted the collar of his suit. He turned to his nephew and looked him directly in the eyes with a hard expression.

"There was an accident."