Scar

In the solitude of his room, Hiro sat on the edge of his bed, his fingers tracing the outline of his new, roughly cut hair. He muttered to himself, a smirk playing on his lips, "Dodged that talk with Maki for two days straight... But now, there's no escaping it."

He leaned back, the springs of the old mattress groaning under his weight. The thought of the upcoming exchange tournament loomed in his mind, casting a shadow over his thoughts. "And then there's Mai," he sighed, the name bringing a twist of complexity to his expression. He let out a weary sigh, the sound filled with annoyance and a tinge of something else—perhaps apprehension.

With a deep breath, Hiro lay back on the bed, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling. "Tomorrow's going to be one hell of a day," he whispered to the emptiness of the room.

Hiro's room, with its stark walls and the scant light filtering through the blinds, felt too constrictive for the turmoil brewing within him. Closing his eyes, Hiro sought the tranquility needed to call upon Buda, his mentor of spiritual and cursed energy. As he slipped into meditation, the boundaries of his mind expanded, reaching out to the entity that had taught him so much.

In the vast emptiness of his meditative state, Buda's presence emerged, marked by a laugh that was as wise as it was unsettling. "What troubles you, Hiro?" Buda's voice echoed in the void.

"I need advice," Hiro began, his voice steady despite the chaos of his emotions. "Tomorrow is the tournament, and both Maki and Mai..."

There was a pause, a silence that stretched through the ages Buda had witnessed. Then, with a depth that seemed to ripple through time, Buda spoke, "Well... Hiro... I possess the knowledge of thousands of years, but honestly... I do not understand women."

Hiro exhaled, a sound of frustration that seemed to vibrate against the calm of the meditation. "Damn it, tomorrow they'll both have my head if I don't come to some sort of peace."

The laughter that followed from Buda was rich and knowing. "You may be powerful, Hiro, but even you still fear the wrath of women."

With those words echoing in his mind, Hiro opened his eyes, returning to the reality of his room, the weight of tomorrow's challenges settling heavily upon him.

Hiro flopped back onto the bed, his hands clasping over his eyes as he let out a low curse. "Damn you, Buda, for all your enlightenment, you leave me in the dark here," he grumbled into the silence of the room.

He propped himself up on his elbows, a rueful laugh escaping him as memories flooded in—an unbidden parade of disastrous break-ups. "Should've learned my lesson after Akane set fire to my favorite jacket," he muttered. "And then there was Kaori with her penchant for dramatics... that scene at the ramen shop was one for the ages."

His gaze drifted to the window, where the pane still held a slight distortion—a remnant of the time Hitomi had hurled a rock through it in a fit of rage. "And let's not forget Hitomi. My poor window didn't stand a chance."

Hiro shook his head, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Motorcycles, clothes, public decency... all casualties of my romantic escapades. And now, I've got to face Maki and Mai on the same day. Can't wait to see what gets burned, punctured, or shattered this time around."

He let out a long, drawn-out sigh, the humor fading from his voice as he lay back down. "No cursed spirit or training has ever prepared me for this... The real curse is the drama that follows love." With a final shake of his head, he reached for calmness, trying to find the eye of the storm that was his love life.

Hiro rose to his feet, a renewed sense of resolve stiffening his spine. "Can't hide away in this old apartment forever," he said, his voice a low murmur in the quiet room. It was time to face the music, time to step out of the shadows of his past and into the light of the challenges that awaited him.

He strode across the room, his movements a mix of the fighter's agility and the monk's deliberate grace. Grabbing his jacket, he felt the weight of the day ahead. With each step, his resolve hardened; Hiro Takashi was not one to shy away from a challenge, be it in the ring, the temple, or the complicated arena of human relationships.

Exiting his apartment, Hiro locked the door behind him, the click of the lock serving as a metaphorical sealing away of his hesitation. His boots thudded against the concrete as he made his way to where his motorcycle was parked—a sleek machine that seemed to echo his new, rougher edge.

Swinging his leg over the bike, he felt the familiar thrum of the engine coming to life, a vibration that resonated with his own restless energy. With a twist of the throttle, the motorcycle roared, a beast awakened, and they were off.

The wind whipped through Hiro's freshly cut hair as he navigated the streets, the city blurring past him in a cascade of colors and sounds. The pulse of the bike beneath him was like a living thing, a companion in his solitary journey. The road stretched out before him, leading towards the school and all the uncertainty that awaited him there.

As the gates of the school came into view, Hiro throttled down, the bike purring as he eased into the flow of students and faculty arriving for the day. He parked with practiced ease, the kickstand coming down with a clink that cut through the morning din.

Killing the engine, Hiro took a moment to collect himself. Today, he would not just be confronting spirits and curses; he would be navigating the perilous waters of his personal life. With a final deep breath, he removed his helmet, stepped off the bike, and walked towards the heart of Jujutsu High.

_______

Maki Zenin, her focus unwavering, ran a whetstone along the edge of her sword, the steel singing with each precise stroke. The sound was a sharp counterpoint to the turmoil hidden beneath her calm exterior.

Nobara Kugisaki approached, her curiosity piqued by Maki's intense concentration. "Hey, Maki, what's got you sharpening that blade like you're about to go to war?" she asked, a playful edge to her voice.

Maki didn't look up, the rhythm of her task unbroken. "Just preparing," she replied curtly.

Nobara leaned in, trying to catch Maki's eye. "Preparing for a cursed spirit or preparing for Hiro?" she prodded with a knowing look.

The question finally drew Maki's gaze, her eyes sharp as the blade she held. "Maybe both," she answered, the steel in her voice matching the weapon in her hands.

Nobara chuckled and sat down beside her friend. "Come on, what's really eating you? Hiro's been acting weird, but that's just how he is after... you know, his 'enlightenment'."

Maki paused, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "It's not just that. It's everything. Tomorrow's the exchange event, and Mai will be there too," she confessed, the words like weights lifted off her.

Nobara's eyes widened in realization. "Ah, so it's a double-edged sword today. Hiro and his drama, plus Mai and her... Mai-ness."

Maki couldn't help but let out a small laugh, despite the situation. "Exactly. And I don't know which one I'm less prepared to deal with."

"Look," Nobara said, placing a reassuring hand on Maki's shoulder. "You're the strongest person I know, Maki. You'll figure it out. With or without the sword."

Maki met Nobara's gaze, a flicker of gratitude shining through. "Thanks, Nobara. I just hope this blade won't be necessary for any of it."

With a shared smile, they returned to the task at hand, the sharpening of the blade now a backdrop to the strengthening of their bond.

Maki ran her thumb along the edge of her blade, assessing its sharpness, then glanced up at Nobara with a sly grin. "Do you think it's sharp enough to cut through an enlightened idiot?"

Nobara burst into laughter, her voice echoing through the room. "Oh, absolutely. But let's try to avoid a bloodbath before the exchange event, shall we?"

Their laughter was a brief respite from the tension, but it caught the attention of Megumi Fushiguro, who was observing from a distance. Concerned, he pulled out his phone and quickly typed a message to Hiro.

Megumi: "Heads up, Hiro. The storm is brewing at Jujutsu High. Maki's sharpening her sword and I'm not sure it's just for the curses. Tread carefully."

His message sent, Megumi pocketed his phone, his gaze lingering on Maki and Nobara, hoping his warning would be enough to keep the peace—at least for now.

As Hiro made his way across the school complex, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to see Megumi's message lighting up the screen. A smirk flickered across his face as he read the warning. "The calm before the storm, huh?" he mused to himself.

He typed a quick response back to Megumi: "Appreciate the heads-up. Guess it's time to see if my new edge is sharp enough to handle Maki's blade."

Slipping the phone back into his pocket, Hiro's smirk softened into a contemplative expression. He knew that facing Maki wouldn't be as straightforward as dodging a physical attack. The real challenge would be navigating the emotional undercurrents of their confrontation.

With a deep breath, he pushed open the door to his room, his mind already strategizing the best way to approach the inevitable showdown.

________

In a dimly lit room, Yamada sat hunched over a Monopoly board, flanked by Kenjaku and Choso. The atmosphere was surprisingly light, a stark contrast to the gravity of their usual dealings.

"I want to be part of tomorrow's plan," Yamada insisted, his eyes fixed on the board but his mind clearly elsewhere.

Kenjaku, moving his piece with calculated precision, replied without looking up, "No, Yamada. Your role isn't necessary for this. We're just going in to retrieve the fingers and get out. Hanami will handle the major distraction."

Just then, Choso erupted with glee, "Yes! You landed on my Park Place with a hotel, Yamada! Pay up!"

Yamada's face twisted into a scowl. "That's so unfair! You're just lucky I landed there."

Choso leaned in, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Luck? This is strategy. Pay your dues, Yamada."

Yamada grumbled as he counted out the Monopoly money, "This game is rigged. You and Kenjaku probably planned this."

Kenjaku chuckled, watching the exchange with a bemused expression. "If only our real plans went as smoothly as Choso's Monopoly strategies."

Yamada's frustration boiled over, and with a swift, petulant motion, he swept his arm across the board, sending the Monopoly pieces flying. "This is stupid!" he exclaimed, his face flushed with the heat of his tantrum.

Kenjaku sighed, leaning back in his chair, an eyebrow raised in mild amusement. "Temper, temper, Yamada. It's just a game."

Choso, however, was less forgiving. He glared at Yamada, his annoyance evident. "Really mature, Yamada. Just because you're losing, you ruin the game for everyone?"

Yamada stood up abruptly, knocking his chair back. "It's not about the game! You don't get it!" he shouted, his anger a mask for the deeper unrest he felt about being sidelined from the plan.

Kenjaku intervened, his voice calm but authoritative. "Sit down, Yamada. Losing your temper won't change the plan. We have our roles, and yours doesn't involve tomorrow's operation."

Yamada, still simmering with anger, picked up his chair and sat down, though his glare remained fixed on the scattered Monopoly pieces. "Fine," he muttered, the word heavy with unspoken grievances.

Choso began picking up the pieces, his movements deliberate. "Next time, try to keep your cool, Yamada. It's just a game, after all."

The room settled into an uneasy quiet, the tension still lingering in the air, a foreboding reminder of the more serious games they were all entangled in.

_________

Megumi's voice echoed through the halls of Jujutsu High, carrying the message that Professor Gojo had an announcement to make. In his room, Hiro sighed deeply upon hearing it. "What a nuisance," he muttered under his breath, his mind still preoccupied with the impending confrontations and the tournament.

Pushing himself off the bed, Hiro made his way toward the training area where the announcement was to take place. As he walked, his steps were measured, each one a deliberate effort to maintain the calm facade he had been struggling to uphold.

Upon reaching the training area, he found Panda, Inumaki, Maki, and Nobara already gathered. Each of them bore expressions of curiosity and anticipation, wondering what Gojo had in store for them.

Hiro took his place among them, giving a slight nod in greeting but remaining silent. His presence was like a shadow, noticeable yet subtly apart from the group. He crossed his arms and waited, his gaze drifting across his peers, all the while keeping an internal vigil against the emotional turmoil that threatened to surface.

Megumi quietly positioned himself beside Hiro, who glanced his way with a subtle curiosity. "Any idea what this is about?" Hiro asked in a low voice.

Megumi shrugged, his expression unreadable. "No clue. With Gojo, it could be anything."

Their attention was drawn to the entrance of the training area as Satoru Gojo burst in, his usual exuberance on full display. "My dear students, today I have a very, very important announcement," he declared, his voice filled with excitement.

The reaction from the students was muted; no one seemed particularly thrilled or surprised. Maki's gaze flickered between Hiro and Gojo, a hint of apprehension in her eyes. Hiro, however, kept his focus solely on Gojo, his expression unreadable.

Gojo continued, undeterred by the lack of enthusiasm. "We have a new first-year student joining us. Please welcome the incredible Yazu Yoshida!"

From the bleachers, a young man descended towards the group. He had warm brown eyes and long, slightly curly hair, giving him a charming appearance. Nobara Kugisaki leaned over to Maki and whispered, "He's pretty good-looking, don't you think?"

Maki offered a non-committal hum in response, her attention still partially on Hiro, while Hiro maintained his stoic demeanor, observing the new student with a mix of interest and detachment.

Yazu Yoshida stood confidently among the Jujutsu High students, his presence undeniably charismatic yet tinged with an air of arrogance. "I'm Yazu Yoshida, and I'm here to raise the bar," he proclaimed boldly, his tone flirting with conceit.

The students exchanged looks, their reactions a blend of intrigue and skepticism. Nobara, unable to resist, quipped, "Raise the bar or just raise our eyebrows?"

Panda, as always seeking harmony, commented diplomatically, "Well, everyone deserves a shot. Let's see what he brings to the table."

Inumaki, succinct as ever, simply uttered "Salmon," his expression a mix of mild amusement and detached observation.

Maki, her attention divided between Hiro and the newcomer, remarked with a hint of dryness, "Bold words. Hope he's ready to back them up."

Hiro watched Yazu with a thoughtful gaze. The arrogance on display was a mirror to his own former self, a reflection of who he had been before his transformation. "Confidence is an asset," Hiro said, his voice steady and measured. "But it's the skill that counts in the end."

Yazu met Hiro's challenge with a smirk. "Don't worry about me. I've got the skills to match," he retorted, brimming with self-assuredness.

Gojo, observing the dynamics with evident amusement, clapped his hands to draw attention. "Okay, folks, let's get back to training. Yazu, you're up. Time to show us what you've got."

Yazu scanned the group, his eyes finally settling on Hiro. "So, who's the top dog around here?" he asked, his voice carrying a note of challenge. "I want to measure myself against the best."

Panda, sensing the brewing tension, replied, "That would be Gojo-sensei, but..."

Yazu cut him off with a laugh. "I meant among the students. Though, I wouldn't mind a round with the legendary Gojo either."

Nobara smirked, "Well, if it's raw power you're looking for, you might be looking at him," she said, nodding towards Hiro.

Hiro, who had been watching the exchange silently, met Yazu's gaze. "You're looking to prove yourself?" he asked, his tone neutral yet piercing.

Yazu stepped closer, a confident grin on his face. "Exactly. And I think a sparring match with you would be just the thing."

Maki chimed in, her voice laced with caution, "Yazu, you might want to rethink that. Hiro's not someone you want to underestimate."

Yazu waved her off. "I'm not underestimating anyone. I just believe in my own strength."

Hiro's expression remained unchanged, but his eyes reflected the seriousness of the challenge. "Alright, Yazu. Let's see what you've got. But remember, it's just a spar."

As they prepared to face off, the rest of the students stepped back, giving them space. The air was charged with anticipation; Yazu's confidence had set the stage for an intriguing confrontation.

Yazu assumed a fighter's stance, his eyes locked on Hiro with a mix of eagerness and arrogance. Hiro, with a calm that belied the tension of the moment, remarked, "Don't want to get my shirt dirty." He casually removed his shirt, revealing a torso marked with an array of scars.

The other students reacted with a mix of respect and concern. Nobara whispered to Maki, "Those scars... Hiro's been through a lot."

Panda nodded solemnly, "Each one tells a story of a battle he's faced."

Yazu, however, let out a mocking laugh. "Looks like you're not as good as they say. Those scars just mean you can't block or dodge properly."

Hiro's expression remained impassive, but his eyes hardened slightly. "This guy's annoying," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

From the sidelines, Maki couldn't help but shout, "But that's just like you, idiot! You used to be the same!"

The comment drew a few chuckles from the group, but all eyes were on Hiro and Yazu, the air crackling with the anticipation of their imminent clash.

The air around Hiro and Yazu seemed to shimmer with the tension of their impending duel. Yazu, full of youthful confidence, launched into the fight with a series of quick, agile strikes. His fists moved in swift jabs, aiming to find any weak spot in Hiro's defense, while his feet darted in and out, delivering sharp, calculated kicks.

Hiro, however, seemed almost disinterested in the fight, moving with a calm, measured grace that was in stark contrast to Yazu's fervor. He effortlessly dodged Yazu's punches, each movement fluid and precise. When Yazu's foot lashed out with a kick, Hiro would subtly shift his stance, the attack missing by mere inches.

The onlookers watched in awe, their eyes darting back and forth between the two combatants. Nobara whispered to Maki, "Yazu's good, but Hiro's on another level."

Maki nodded in agreement. "Hiro's barely breaking a sweat. He's just toying with him."

Indeed, Hiro seemed to be holding back, his movements more about evasion and control than aggression. Each time Yazu thought he had Hiro cornered, Hiro would calmly sidestep or duck, his expression unchanging.

Yazu, growing increasingly frustrated, upped the intensity of his attacks, but Hiro's calm demeanor never wavered. He continued to move with an ease that suggested he was in complete control of the situation, his body bearing the scars of countless battles, yet moving as if untouched by them. The contrast between Yazu's earnest attempts and Hiro's composed defense painted a clear picture of the gap in their experience and skill.

Yazu's smile turned into a wide, arrogant grin. "Domain Expansion: Orchestra of Fate!" he declared triumphantly. Suddenly, the scenery around Hiro and Yazu transformed, and they found themselves standing in what appeared to be an opulent theater, surrounded by ethereal entities playing various instruments.

"In my domain," Yazu announced with a flourish, "the power I wield depends on the note played by these musicians. It could cause your mind to collapse, grant me a sword that cuts through anything, give me control over your cursed energy, or even strip you of your own techniques."

Hiro, unfazed by the dramatic change in environment, stood calmly, observing the spectral musicians and the surreal setting. His expression was one of someone who had seen many strange things and was not easily intimidated.

The other students, watching from outside the domain, could only imagine what was happening inside. Maki's eyes were wide with concern, while Nobara muttered, "That's some fancy technique..."

Panda, always the voice of reason, said, "Hiro's faced worse. He'll find a way through this."

Inside the domain, Hiro's steady gaze never left Yazu. He had faced many challenges and opponents, and this was yet another test of his resolve and skill. The notes from the ghostly orchestra filled the air, each one seemingly charged with potential power for Yazu, but Hiro remained ready, prepared to counter whatever Yazu's domain might unleash.

As the ethereal musicians began the stirring notes of Beethoven's 4th Symphony, Yazu recognized the tune and laughed triumphantly. "This symphony signifies that I can take any technique I've witnessed with my own eyes. And since Gojo-sensei's Limitless is always—"

But Hiro didn't let him finish. With a swift, deliberate movement, Hiro brought his fingers together, forming a triangle. "Domain Expansion: Dragon Temple," he intoned with commanding clarity.

In an instant, the opulent theater faded away, replaced by an awe-inspiring scene that seemed to be pulled from the depths of myth and legend. The new domain was a vast, ancient temple set amidst a roiling sky, with dragons, each exuding an aura of power and wisdom, spiraling around its peaks. The dragons, radiant with hues of red and blue, seemed to be embodiments of elemental forces, their eyes glowing with an inner fire.

In the center of this domain stood Hiro, his figure now casting the shadow of a warrior enshrined in the heart of the temple. His presence was magnified, with the aura of the dragons intertwining with his own energy, creating a domain of immense power that countered Yazu's Orchestra of Fate.

Yazu, caught off guard by the sudden shift and the overwhelming majesty of Hiro's domain, took a step back. The tables had turned, and the confidence he had exhibited was now replaced by a flicker of doubt as he stood face to face with the true might of Hiro's technique. The dragons roared in a silent symphony, and the very air of the temple crackled with Hiro's unleashed potential.

Hiro shook his head, looking down at Yazu with a blend of disappointment and irritation. "Idiot," he chided. "You wasted your Domain Expansion, and the Exchange Event is tomorrow."

With a flick of his wrist, Hiro's majestic dragon temple dissolved, the grandeur of the dragons and the stormy skies fading as they returned to the reality of the training area.

Yazu, frustration evident on his face, was quick to react. "Don't underestimate me!" he snapped, launching a swift kick towards Hiro.

But Hiro was already a step ahead. He sidestepped the attack with ease, his movements fluid and controlled. As Yazu's leg extended past him, Hiro struck it with precision, causing Yazu to lose balance and stumble to the ground.

Standing over Yazu, Hiro's voice was firm and cold. "Don't ever try to mess with me again." His warning was clear, his tone leaving no room for argument. The surrounding students watched in silence, a mix of respect and awe for Hiro's skill evident in their eyes. Yazu, on the floor, clenched his fists, his earlier arrogance replaced with a burning sense of defeat and the realization that he had severely misjudged Hiro's capabilities.

As Hiro walked away, the tension from the confrontation dissipating with each step, Yazu regained his footing, brushing off the dust from his clothes. Maki approached with a bottle of water, offering it with a gesture that was almost an olive branch.

"Here," Maki said, her voice betraying none of the concern she might have felt.

Yazu took the bottle with a charming smile, the bruise to his ego seemingly forgotten. "I guess I wasn't as hydrated as I thought. Thanks," he replied, his voice smooth, a flirtatious glint in his eye despite the recent knockdown.

Maki raised an eyebrow, her expression unimpressed by the attempt at charm. "Stay hydrated, especially if you plan on calling out the big guns."

He took a long drink, still holding her gaze. "Well, I always perform better in front of a beautiful audience," Yazu quipped, his confidence apparently unshaken.

Maki shook her head, a small smirk playing on her lips. "Flattery will get you nowhere. Save it for the curses."

Yazu chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Noted. But seriously, next time I'll be more than just talk."

"Good," Maki replied, her tone firm yet not unkind. "Because talk won't help you in the Exchange Event."

As Maki began to turn away, Yazu found his voice again, the setback on the mat not dampening his bold spirit. "Hey, what's your name?" he called after her.

"Maki Zenin," she replied without looking back.

Yazu's smile returned in full force. "Maki, you're quite beautiful. We should go out sometime," he suggested with a hint of daring.

Maki paused, turning back to face him with a playful smile. "I'm up for it. Just keep in mind, my ex is Hiro Takashi. He's not the jealous type, but if you're willing to take that risk, I'd say you're pretty brave."

For a moment, Yazu's confidence wavered, and he smiled nervously. "Your ex is Hiro? Uh, maybe I'll pass on that."

Maki's laughter rang clear as she walked away. "Smart decision," she tossed over her shoulder, leaving Yazu to contemplate the complexities of romantic endeavors within the world of Jujutsu sorcerers.

___________

Hiro sat alone on the soft, verdant grass, his gaze lost in the resplendent hues of the summer sunset. The sky was ablaze with oranges, pinks, and purples, each color bleeding into the next like watercolor on a canvas. The warmth of the fading sun kissed his skin, a gentle reminder of the world's enduring beauty.

His fingers absently traced the prominent scar on his neck, a tactile memory of battles past and the price of power. As he sat there, the sounds of the day gave way to the evening's tranquility, the world holding its breath in the moment between day and night.

Maki approached silently, her presence a comforting familiarity. She sat beside him, her eyes also drawn to the masterpiece in the sky. After a moment, she turned to Hiro, her voice soft but insistent. "Why have you been avoiding me since you came back from the temple?"

Hiro's hand paused on his scar, and he turned to look at her. The setting sun reflected in his eyes, revealing a depth that had been etched by his recent trials. "It's not that simple," he began, the words heavy with unspoken emotion. "There's a lot I still need to figure out—about myself, about us, and about what I faced there." His gaze returned to the sunset, as if seeking answers in its fading light.

Maki's words hung in the air, charged with the weight of their shared past. "I thought we were heading somewhere good, you know?" she confessed, her tone laced with vulnerability. "That kiss, the closeness we shared right before you left for the temple... it felt like a beginning, not an ending."

Hiro's gaze remained fixed on the horizon where the sun had almost disappeared, leaving a smear of twilight across the sky. The scar under his fingers felt like a jagged line separating his past from his present.

He sighed, a sound that seemed to carry his inner turmoil. "I know," he finally said. "I left thinking the same thing. But what I went through at the temple... it changed me, Maki. I came back feeling disconnected from everything, even from those moments we shared."

Maki reached out tentatively, her hand stopping just short of his. "Hiro, whatever you went through, you don't have to go through the aftermath alone. We— I'm here for you."

Hiro's shoulders tensed, then relaxed as he finally turned to face her. In the dimming light, his eyes met hers, and for a moment, there was a silent understanding between them. "I know," he said again, this time with a hint of warmth. "And I'm grateful. I just need time to sort through this... new version of me."

The last light of day slipped away, leaving them in the comforting embrace of dusk, where the promise of the night held all the potential of unspoken words and the hope of understanding.

Maki's eyes settled on the scar at Hiro's neck, a question in her gaze. "Your scar," she began tentatively, "how did you...?"

Hiro was still for a long moment before answering, his voice devoid of emotion. "I tried to take my life," he revealed without a hint of distress.

Maki's eyes widened, and she immediately regretted her question. "Hiro, I... I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"It's fine," he said, his face a mask of indifference. "It doesn't bring back bad memories or anything. After all, that was just one of eight attempts."

A silence fell between them, heavy with the weight of his words. Maki shifted, the discomfort evident in her posture.

Seeing her reaction, Hiro's voice softened slightly. "I'm sorry if that made you uncomfortable."

The silence lingered before Hiro decided to shift the conversation away from the darkness of his past. He glanced at Maki, noticing the details of her updated training attire. "Nice skirt," he commented casually, a small attempt to lighten the mood. "I like it better than the old one."

Maki, grateful for the change in topic, smiled softly and thanked him. She then slowly leaned in, resting her head against Hiro's shoulder. Hiro's initial instinct was to tense up, the unexpected contact catching him off guard, but then he consciously allowed himself to relax.

After a moment, Maki spoke up, her voice gentle, "Can we just stay like this for a while?"

Hiro nodded slightly, the simplest gesture, but one that acknowledged the comfort found in their quiet closeness. The evening around them felt still, as if giving them a momentary respite from the world's relentless pace.

Maki's voice held a teasing note as she broke the comfortable silence. "Just so you know, Yazu tried to hit on me earlier."

Hiro let out a low murmur, his words almost lost in the evening air. "That damn idiot."

A smile crept onto Maki's face as she sensed an opening. "Are you jealous?" she asked, a playful edge to her question.

Hiro took a moment before responding, his tone even, "Jealous? No. Annoyed? Yes. He should know better than to mess with my—" He cut himself off, perhaps revealing more than he intended.

"Your what, Hiro?" Maki pressed, her curiosity piqued by his hesitation.

Hiro sighed, the words coming out reluctantly. "My... people. You're important to me, Maki. I don't want him, or anyone, causing you trouble."

Maki lifted her head to look at him, a softness in her eyes. "I can handle a little flirting. But it's... nice to know you're looking out for me."

Their eyes met, and for a moment, there was an understanding that transcended words—a silent acknowledgment of the bond they shared, complicated yet unbreakable.

Maki observed Hiro closely, sensing the weight of his thoughts. "You used to aim to be the strongest, to protect everyone. Has that goal shifted?" she asked, her voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

Hiro's response came after a tense silence, his words laden with a somber resolve. "My only goal now... is to kill Yamada." The declaration was stark, reflective of a deep-seated determination.

Maki's expression shifted to one of understanding, yet filled with worry. She knew the troubled history between Hiro and Yamada — the deep wounds left by Yamada's actions. "Yamada killed Yina, your friend, his own sister. He murdered Li Wen, your mentor. He nearly ended your life. And now he threatens everything we stand for," she said, piecing together the gravity of the situation.

Hiro nodded, his gaze distant. "It's a path I have to walk alone. This... vengeance, it's mine to claim."

Maki reached out, her touch a silent offer of solidarity. "But Hiro, this burden doesn't have to be yours alone to bear. We're here for you."

He glanced at her, the conflict evident in his eyes. "I appreciate that, Maki. But this is something I must do on my own. It's the only way to end this cycle of violence and protect what's left."

Maki understood the solitary nature of his quest, yet her concern for him remained. She squeezed his hand in a gesture of unspoken support, respecting his decision but silently vowing to be there for him, no matter how dark the path he chose to walk.

Hiro turned to face Maki, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "Can I kiss you?" he asked softly. "Lately, I haven't been feeling much of anything."

Maki gave him a gentle smile, understanding the depth of his turmoil. She reached up, cradling his face in her hands, and brought her lips to his in a tender kiss. As their lips met, Maki felt a rush of sensations — the familiar sparks, the fluttering in her stomach that she had once associated with their closeness.

But as they parted, Hiro's expression was one of apology and regret. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, "I didn't feel anything."

The moment hung between them, poignant and bittersweet. Maki's heart ached for Hiro, for the emotional disconnect that his experiences had wrought upon him. She knew this journey had changed him, perhaps irrevocably, and though she longed to bridge the gap between them, she realized that some distances were too great to be crossed by desire alone.

With a sad smile, she whispered, "It's okay, Hiro. You don't have to apologize for how you feel, or in this case, don't feel. I'm here for you, no matter what."