Episode 8 - Broken Blaze

The normal morning , Mishina Prefectural High was soaked in cold rain, the sky hanging low and heavy. Students shuffled in, umbrellas dripping, murmuring about the sudden shift in weather. It was as if the city itself sensed something simmering beneath its skin.

Genji leaned against a pillar near the school gate, arms crossed, eyes sharp.

He was waiting.

Sure enough, Blaze Kuronuma sauntered up the steps, drenched but uncaring, his jacket slung over one shoulder. A bruise darkened the edge of his jaw, barely hidden by his unruly hair.

Genji's brow furrowed.

That wasn't from yesterday.

Blaze caught his stare and smirked, though it was thinner than before — brittle, like glass about to shatter.

"Yo," Blaze said, voice rough.

"You look like crap," Genji replied bluntly.

Blaze laughed hollowly and pushed past him into the building.

Genji watched him go, unease growing in his gut.

Something was wrong.

Really wrong.

Lunch Break — Rooftop

Xao Min was already waiting, kicking her legs over the edge, munching on a melon bun.

"You look serious," she said around a mouthful.

Genji didn't answer. His gaze drifted to where Blaze sat alone, across the roof. He wasn't eating. Just staring at the sky, rain soaking through his shirt.

Genji made up his mind.

"I'm gonna find out what's up with him."

Xao Min blinked. "Why? He seems like the type who likes being left alone."

"Maybe," Genji said, standing up. "But sometimes... people don't get to choose."

That Night — The City

The storm thickened as night fell. Neon lights smeared the wet streets, colors bleeding together like bruises.

Genji followed.

He'd seen Blaze leave school with a group of older guys — rough-looking, faces hard, tattoos peeking from under sleeves. They moved like a pack of wolves, and Blaze, despite his cocky grin, didn't belong with them.

Genji trailed from the shadows, heart thudding in his chest.

They led him to an abandoned warehouse at the edge of Sector 9 — a known hotspot for illegal underground fights.

The smell hit him first — sweat, blood, desperation.

Inside, a ring had been set up, crudely marked with rusted chains. People crowded around, shouting, waving money, placing bets. The air was thick with smoke and hunger.

And there, shirtless, fists taped, stood Blaze.

His body was a map of scars and bruises, but his golden eyes burned fiercely.

The announcer's voice cracked through the noise:

"AND IN THIS CORNER — THE BLACK-FLAME KICKER, BLAZE KURONUMA!"

Roars erupted.

Genji's fists clenched.

Blaze faced his opponent — a monstrous man with muscles like stone, tattoos swirling over his arms. The bell rang.

They collided.

At first, Blaze held his ground, weaving under punches, snapping sharp kicks at the giant's knees and ribs. His technique was brutal yet beautiful — focused, efficient.

Then came the move.

"Baek Won Kick..." Genji whispered.

白遠蹴 (Baek Won Shū) — The White Distant Kick. A forbidden Korean-Japanese hybrid technique. Focusing all muscle power and inner force into a single devastating mid-range strike, capable of breaking bones... or worse.

Blaze unleashed it — a spiraling, snapping kick that cracked the giant's arm like a twig.

The crowd roared, drunk on violence.

Blaze stood over his fallen opponent, panting, bleeding from the lip, but victorious.

The bookies threw cash at him like he was some kind of animal.

Blaze didn't even pick it up.

A man in a long coat stepped forward, thrusting a wad of bills into Blaze's hand. Blaze nodded once, then limped away into the rain.

Genji followed.

Sector 9 — Back Alleys

Blaze staggered through the maze of alleys, clutching his ribs. His breath was ragged, each step heavier than the last.

Genji kept his distance until Blaze finally collapsed against a wall, sliding down with a groan.

Genji stepped into the flickering light of a broken streetlamp.

"You fight for money," Genji said quietly.

Blaze's head jerked up, wild like a cornered dog.

"You followed me?"

"Yeah."

"Go home, transfer boy," Blaze spat, wiping blood from his mouth.

Genji didn't move.

Blaze barked a harsh laugh. "What, you want to feel better about yourself? Pity the poor delinquent?"

"No," Genji said simply. "I want to know why."

Blaze's face twisted.

For a long, brittle moment, the rain spoke louder than either of them.

Finally, Blaze whispered, "I have a little sister."

Genji blinked.

"Yuna. She's twelve. Can't walk. Got hit by a drunk driver two years ago. Parents bailed after the hospital bills piled up. Left us with nothing."

His hands trembled as he spoke, fists digging into his jeans.

"I dropped out for a year to work. Did construction, deliveries, whatever. But it wasn't enough. Not even close."

He looked up, golden eyes burning with something terrible.

"So I started fighting. Underground matches pay real cash. Enough for rent, meds... maybe someday surgery."

Genji felt something sharp twist inside him.

Blaze's voice cracked. "I don't like it. I hate it. Every damn night I step into that ring, I feel like I'm losing a piece of myself. But if it keeps Yuna alive..." His head bowed. "I'll sell my soul if I have to."

A silence heavier than steel settled between them.

Genji stepped forward.

Then, without a word, he dropped to one knee and offered Blaze his hand.

Blaze stared at it like it was a gun pointed at his head.

"I'm not here to pity you," Genji said. "I'm here to fight with you."

Blaze blinked, rain dripping from his lashes.

"You don't have to do this alone," Genji said. "Not anymore."

Slowly — painfully — Blaze reached up and grasped his hand.

Genji hauled him to his feet.

"You're strong," Genji said. "But you're not invincible."

Blaze snorted weakly. "Yeah. No kidding."

"Let's get you patched up."

As they limped away together, Blaze chuckled under his breath.

"You're crazy, you know that?"

"Yeah," Genji grinned. "But so are you."

The Next Day — Mishima High

Xao Min nearly dropped her juice box when she saw them walk into class together.

Genji with his usual calm swagger.

And Blaze — bruised, bandaged, but actually smiling — beside him.

"WHAAAAAA?!" she yelped, nearly falling out of her chair.

Genji gave her a casual wave.

Blaze just rolled his eyes like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The classroom buzzed with whispers.

"Are they friends now?"

"Didn't they almost fight yesterday?!"

"What the heck happened?!"

Xao Min sprinted over, grabbing Genji by the collar.

"You tamed the delinquent?! How?!"

Genji just shrugged, that glint in his eye.

"Sometimes," he said, "you just gotta punch fate in the face."

Blaze laughed — a real, rough, unguarded laugh — for the first time in a long time.

And in that broken, battered school under a grey sky, two warriors, bound not by blood, but by battle and scars, became brothers.

Not by choice.

But by need.

By survival.

And by the unbreakable law of those who have walked through hell...

And chosen to keep walking.

To Be Continued...