Unexpected Turn

The next morning, Parvet woke up feeling strangely unmotivated. His body still ached from yesterday's brutal training, and for the first time in a while, he didn't feel like working out.

"Maybe I should just take it easy today."

Skipping his usual routine, he got ready for school and left the house.

As he entered the school, the first thing he noticed was Mia. She was standing near the entrance, but something was off. There was a bruise on her face.

"Did someone hit her? But who could even land a hit on Mia?"

Before he could ask, the principal stepped in front of him, blocking his path. His expression was unreadable, but his presence alone sent a shiver down Parvet's spine.

"She won't be training you today," the principal said, his voice calm yet firm. "Go away or I'll cook you."

Parvet stared at him, confused. "Cook me? What the hell does that mean?"

But something in the principal's eyes told him this wasn't a joke. It was a warning.

"…Okay," Parvet muttered and turned around, heading straight to his classroom.

- His mind was racing.

- Why did the principal seem so serious?

- Who hurt Mia?

And why did it feel like something big was about to happen?

He couldn't shake the feeling that today wouldn't be as normal as it seemed.

Parvat walked into the classroom, still distracted by the bruise on Mia's face and the principal's strange warning. As he took his seat, his eyes flicked to the three new students standing at the front of the class.

"These are our new transfer students," the teacher announced. "Isen Hayashi, Ai Sakuragi, and..." He paused, glancing at the brown-haired girl, who stood with crossed arms and an unreadable expression.

"…And her."

The girl didn't even blink. Her presence radiated confidence, yet something about her made everyone hesitate—like she carried a storm behind those sharp brown eyes.

Parvat's curiosity flickered. Why didn't the teacher say her name?

The lesson began, and Parvat quickly noticed how smart Ai and the brown-haired girl were. They answered every question as if they already knew the whole syllabus. Even the teacher seemed impressed, while the other students could only watch in silence.

Isen—the red-haired boy—sat quietly in the corner, keeping his head low, like he wanted to disappear.

"What kind of school is this?" Parvat wondered.

---

Lunchtime – The Challenge

The bell rang, breaking the tension. Parvat found a quiet corner to eat alone, his mind still buzzing with everything that had happened that morning.

He had barely taken two bites when trouble found him again.

"Hey, new kid," a voice sneered.

Parvat sighed, looking up to see a tall, cocky-looking boy standing in front of him.

"I heard you like picking fights. How about you try me next?"

Parvat's eyes narrowed. He pushed his tray aside and stood up slowly.

"Alright, let's get this over with. I'll beat you fast and get back to my lunch."

But before the fight could begin, someone stepped between them.

The brown-haired girl.

"You want to fight him?" she asked calmly.

The guy blinked. "What?"

She smirked, her voice like ice.

"Then fight me."

Parvat's eyes widened. He didn't expect this.

Even Ai stepped forward, trying to defuse the situation. "You don't need to do this—"

But the brown-haired girl cut her off.

"I decide what I need to do."

Her cold gaze fixed on the troublemaker.

"You want a fight? Then I'll give you one."

Parvat watched closely, something inside him stirring.

"Who is this girl? Why is she stepping in?"

The guy laughed nervously. "Tch... I'm not fighting a girl."

She took a step closer, her brown eyes locking onto him.

"You're scared."

He froze.

The whole cafeteria went quiet.

Without another word, the troublemaker backed off, muttering curses under his breath.

The girl turned to Parvat, her eyes sharp.

"You..." she said, almost testing him.

Parvat raised an eyebrow. "Me?"

Her smirk returned.

"You're the one I want to fight."

He said "what?"

A Clash of Fists

The air in the cafeteria grew thick with tension as the brown-haired girl stared Parvat down.

"You..." she repeated, her smirk widening. "You're the one I want to fight."

Parvat scoffed, rolling his shoulders. "You sure about that?"

Instead of answering, she simply raised her fists.

A silent challenge.

The crowd backed away, forming a rough circle around them. No teachers. No interference.

Just a fight between two warriors of the street.

---

The First Blow

Neither of them wasted time.

Parvat lunged forward first, throwing a fast right hook. She barely dodged it, countering with a sharp jab to his ribs.

The impact sent a dull pain through his side, but he gritted his teeth and swung again—this time connecting.

A solid punch to her jaw.

She stumbled back but didn't fall. Instead, she wiped her mouth and grinned.

"Not bad."

She launched forward, slamming her knee into Parvat's stomach. The force knocked the wind out of him, but he refused to go down.

---

A Brawl with No Rules

They moved like wild animals, fists flying without restraint.

Parvat landed a straight punch to her nose. A small trickle of blood ran down, but she barely flinched.

She responded with a brutal uppercut, sending his head snapping back. He could taste iron in his mouth—his lip split open.

A quick elbow from her smashed into his cheek. He staggered but retaliated with a hard punch to her stomach.

Neither backed down.

The cafeteria echoed with the sound of fists meeting flesh.

Their breathing grew heavy, their movements slower—but the fire in their eyes refused to die.

---

The Final Punch

Both fighters stood face-to-face, bruised and bloodied, but still standing.

Parvat wiped the blood from his nose and chuckled. "You're tough."

She smirked, raising her fist. "You too."

And with one last burst of energy, they swung at the same time—

A final punch, straight to each other's cheeks.

The impact sent Parvat crashing onto the ground, lying flat on his back. His vision spun, his body refusing to move.

She took a step back, wobbling slightly. Her legs threatened to give out, but instead of falling, she dragged herself to a chair and sat down, exhausted.

---

Aftermath

She wiped the blood from her lips and let out a slow breath. "You're too strong... I've never met a guy like you."

From the crowd, Ai stepped forward, carrying a bottle of water.

"I told you not to pick a fight," she sighed, handing it to the brown-haired girl.

Parvat, still on the ground, let out a weak laugh. "Damn… that was fun."

The cafeteria remained silent, everyone still stunned by what they had just witnessed.

One thing was clear—

This wasn't the last time Parvat and the brown-haired girl would fight.

A Lesson in Defeat

Parvat lay on the ground, staring at the ceiling with burning frustration in his chest.

He lost.

Not just to anyone, but to a girl.

His fists clenched as he tried to sit up, but his body ached from the punches. The brown-haired girl sat calmly in her chair, taking a sip of water.

She glanced at him and smirked. "You look pissed."

Parvat didn't respond. He just wiped the blood from his nose and sat up, glaring at the ground.

"Hey, it's not that deep," she added, stretching her arms. "Losing a fight doesn't mean you're weak. You just don't know how to fight properly."

Parvat exhaled sharply. "Tch... Whatever."

Ai sighed and shook her head. "See? This is why I told you not to pick fights."

The cafeteria was still silent. People were staring. Some were whispering.

Parvat couldn't take it anymore.

Without another word, he stood up and walked away.

---

A New Path

As soon as he got home, he slammed his bag onto the bed and grabbed his phone.

He was angry. Not just at her, but at himself.

"I should have won... What did I do wrong?"

His mind raced as he opened the browser.

"How to win fights?"

Countless results popped up, but one thing kept appearing over and over again—

Martial arts.

Parvat's eyes narrowed as he clicked on a video.

The title read:

"Why Fighters Rely on Kicks: The Power of Taekwondo."

He pressed play.

A professional fighter appeared on the screen, explaining how kicks were stronger than punches—how a single well-placed kick could end a fight instantly.

Parvat leaned forward, watching intently.

"This is it," he muttered. "This is what I need."

His fists clenched in determination.

"If I had used kicks, I wouldn't have lost. If I train my legs, I can be stronger than before."

Then, he checked his calendar.

Five days of vacation.

That was all the time he had.

"Taekwondo... That's what I'll train in these five days."

His defeat wouldn't be for nothing.

He swore to himself—

The next time he fought, he wouldn't lose.