The red Honda Civic Type R cut through the early morning haze like a blade.
Reeves gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. His mind was a storm—papers, reports, unanswered questions, and one name circling everything like a whirlpool.
Noah.
He hadn't seen the boy since last time at the shelter. Since the case went cold. Since Falcon Corps buried it under layers of legal silence.
Then his phone rang.
He tapped the button on the steering wheel.
"Officer Reeves," came a voice over the speaker. "It's me, Nigel. I looked into Renzo's background."
Reeves exhaled sharply. "Nice. Please tell me what you found."
He kept the phone on speaker, eyes flicking between the road and the display screen.
Nigel's voice crackled slightly through the car's speakers.
"So, from what I could gather, Renzo wasn't your average thug. He's a full-fledged gangster—worked for major organizations, did jobs that never left a trace. We couldn't touch him because every crime he committed had someone else's fingerprints. And not just any fingerprints—high-level and foolproof ones."
A pause.
"He stopped twenty years ago. After he got married."
Reeves frowned.
"His wife… she left him eight years back, right?"
"Yeah," Nigel said. "She's in Tokyo now. Married to a retired Yakuza guy. He's in his late forties—about the same age Renzo would've been when he died."
Reeves didn't respond immediately.
That bit of info lingered.
Coincidence?
Maybe.
But nothing felt like a coincidence anymore.
"I appreciate it, Nigel," Reeves said. "You've done more than I expected."
There was a short silence before Nigel added:
"Wait. There's one more thing."
Reeves waited.
"Three years ago, Renzo visited a small shoe factory in Lelich ."
Reeves' grip tightened.
"That's Falcon-owned land."
"Exactly," Nigel said. "And that's the only movement I found that doesn't make sense. Everything else checks out. But this?"
Another pause.
"Reeves… be careful. You're stepping into something big. Falcon Corps isn't just rich. They're untouchable."
Reeves stared at the highway ahead.
"I know," he muttered. "But I'm already in too deep."
He ended the call.
Silence filled the cabin, interrupted only by the hum of the engine.
He pulled up the map on his dash display, fingers tapping the touchscreen with practiced ease.
Destination: Lelich
Distance: 61 km
Estimated Time: 52 minutes
He stared at the blinking route.
One step closer.
One question closer to an answer.
He shifted down smoothly, foot steady on the clutch.
First gear.
Then second.
Third.
Fourth.
With each shift, the Civic surged forward, the tachometer needle dancing like a heartbeat climbing toward danger.
Fifth gear locked in.
The speedometer climbed.
Trees blurred past the window.
The city behind him faded fast.
He gripped the wheel tighter.
"Lelich…" he murmured. "I hope you have something to show me."
Falcon Corps HQ – Training Room B13
Noah stood in front of Tadashi.
They'd been staring at each other for nearly three minutes without a word.
The room was silent, save for the soft hum of the air filtration system above.
What's with this guy? He isn't saying anything.
Noah narrowed his eyes.
Is this some kind of test? A psychological game? Or is he just messing with me?
Tadashi suddenly yawned.
"What?" he asked, stretching his arms. "Just gonna stare at me for the rest of the time?"
Noah blinked.
The hell, man. He was the one who was staring at me!
He held back the comment.
Tadashi stepped forward.
"You gave me a kick I didn't expect," he said. "I'll admit—I was surprised. But that's all you've got."
His tone was calm. Clinical.
"I know you've been trying to learn on your own. Watching videos. Practicing in secret. But self-taught moves won't work here. Brian's giving you a chance. He's the best damn coach you could get. And even with his help…"
Tadashi took a step back and dropped into a stance.
"…you're still lacking"
Then he moved.
Fists flashed.
Jabs.
So fast, so precise, they sent wind slicing through the air. Noah felt it brush past his face, saw his own hair flutter slightly from the force.
If those punches had landed…
Damn. If he had hit me with this punch, I would've been dead.
Tadashi slowed, returning back to neutral.
"This is a jab," he explained. "Common technique. Used in boxing, muay thai, karate. Simple. Fast. Deadly."
Noah nodded slowly. "I see. But I couldn't keep up with the speed. I could barely see it clearly."
Tadashi crossed his arms.
"That's because your reflexes are trash. And your training history is nonexistent."
He pointed at Noah.
"Do what I did. Five hundred times. Now."
Noah's eye twitched.
"5... 500? I'm not sure if I can do 100…"
Tadashi cut him off.
"No excuses. Try. You learn only when you try. We don't have time to waste, Noah."
Noah lowered his gaze.
Yeah… he's right.
I don't have time.
Not with Meridian High waiting in the wings.
He rolled his shoulders.
Then started jabbing.
Each motion clumsy at first. Each breath heavier than the last.
Tadashi watched, correcting posture, form, timing.
"Elbows in."
"Faster recovery."
"Don't lock your wrist."
"Again."
Over and over.
Until sweat soaked Noah's shirt and his arms screamed for mercy.
Gym Session – Later That Day
Brian met him at the gym entrance.
"Ready?" he asked.
Noah gave a tired nod.
"Let's go."
Two hours later, Noah staggered out.
His body felt like jelly. His limbs refused to obey.
Still, there was something different.
His legs didn't shake as much as yesterday.
His core stayed stable during lifts.
It's small but significant. So the training is effective. He thought.
Falcon Dormitory – Evening
He entered his room, drenched in sweat.
Clothes clung to his skin. His muscles ached. His lungs burned.
He peeled off his shirt and stepped into the shower.
Hot water hit his back like a massage.
He closed his eyes.
Thoughts drifted in.
Tadashi said we don't have time. So does that mean I'm going to Meridian soon?
He let the water run down his neck.
Is it really a high school? Or is it something else entirely?
His fists clenched slightly.
Seems like I'll find out in a month.