Shingo Hara "Broken Heart, Broken Dreams, Broken Mind." (Chuluun Bold vs. Shingo Hara)

The serene garden behind the dojo, usually a sanctuary of peace and reflection, now felt tainted, the gentle glow of dawn doing little to dispel the lingering tension in the air. The dewy grass, undisturbed moments before, now bore the faint imprint of Hara’s meditative posture, a ghost of the tranquility that had been shattered. The delicate cherry blossoms, swaying softly in the morning breeze, seemed to whisper secrets of the turmoil that had just unfolded.

Hara’s smooth, flat stone, his former anchor, now stood cold and empty, a silent testament to the storm that had erupted within him. The cool morning air, which had filled his lungs with such promise of clarity, now seemed thick with betrayal and the acrid scent of raw anger. His efforts to clear his mind, the mindful breaths guided by Kami’s gentle wisdom, now felt like a cruel mockery, the echoes of her instructions drowned out by the deafening roar of his fury.

Kami’s words about ānāpānasati, the mindfulness of breathing, echoed faintly, tinged with a bitter irony. "By observing your breath, you tether your awareness to the present moment. This practice cultivates a calm and focused mind, essential for both training and combat." The present moment, however, was a maelstrom of pain and disbelief, and calmness felt like a distant, unattainable shore. The anchor of his breath had been severed, leaving his mind adrift in a sea of resentment.

The unbidden memories, once sharp and clear recollections of a burgeoning partnership, now twisted into instruments of torment. The initial awkwardness with Kami, the hesitant steps toward renewed understanding, now seemed like a fragile illusion, easily shattered by Svetlana’s calculated act. The gradual easing of tension, the burgeoning mutual respect, all felt like carefully constructed lies, built upon a foundation of deceit.

He remembered Kami’s fluid and precise submission techniques in the dojo, her firm yet gentle hands correcting his form. Her calm and steady voice, once a source of guidance and encouragement, now echoed with the sting of her final, cutting words. The newfound eagerness he had felt in absorbing her teachings now felt foolish, naive in the face of her apparent disdain.

Conversely, his role as mentor in aerial maneuvers, the hours spent guiding Kami through high-flying techniques, the encouragement and constructive feedback he had offered, now seemed meaningless. Had their shared laughter over minor mishaps, the exchanged stories that hinted at a growing camaraderie, all been a charade? The memory of their intense training sessions, the pushing of their limits, now felt like a shared journey down a path that had abruptly ended in a chasm of broken trust.

The long training session, the moment when Kami’s anger had flared, culminating in the accidental breaking of his nose, now seemed like a foreshadowing of the violence that had just erupted. His instinctive reach to calm her, her fierce resistance, the unexpected, tentative kiss – that moment, once a source of confused longing, now burned with the shame of betrayal. The world had indeed paused then, but the boundaries between them had not dissolved in love, but in a fleeting, ill-fated connection that had now been weaponized against him.

The shiver that had run down his spine at the memory of that kiss now returned, colder, sharper, laced with self-loathing. His heart rate quickened, not with longing, but with a furious pulse that threatened to overwhelm him. The struggle to refocus, to redirect his attention back to his breath, felt futile, the image of Svetlana’s forced kiss a persistent intrusion. The importance of mental discipline, especially with his upcoming match against Chuulun Bold, now felt like a cruel joke. How could he find focus amidst this raging storm within?

He had visualized the techniques Kami had taught him, mentally rehearsing each move and counter, imagining himself in the ring, executing flawless submissions, his opponent tapping out in defeat. That thought, once a source of bolstering confidence, now felt hollow, tainted by the realization of what he had lost. What was victory without her to share it with?

The sudden snap of a twig, the disruption of his fractured tranquility, now seemed like the universe itself mocking his attempts at peace. His eyes had fluttered open, his head turning toward the source of the sound, revealing Cassie’s purposeful stride across the garden. Her training attire, her tight ponytail, her contemplative expression, the determination etched into her features – all now seemed part of a carefully orchestrated play.

His deep sigh, the slow rise, the walk toward the dojo door – each movement now felt heavy with a sense of impending doom. Opening the wooden door to find Cassie relentlessly attacking the heavy bag, her punches and kicks echoing the violence in his own heart, felt like stepping into a mirror of his inner turmoil. The five minutes he had stood watching her, a silent observer of her raw power, now felt like an eternity, a prelude to the explosion that was to come.

Cassie’s violent scream, the final, impactful blow to the bag, now resonated with the primal scream that would soon tear from his own throat. His offer of water, a gesture of concern, now felt laced with a naive hope for understanding.

“Cuz you were beating that bag like it owed you money,” he had said, his voice betraying a hint of the turmoil brewing beneath the surface.

Cassie’s little laugh, her wiping of sweat, now seemed like a performance, a subtle manipulation.

“Cuz I got a question for you. How do you do it? How do you get that vicious in the ring? I am going to have to do it for this next match,” he had asked, seeking a strength he now felt utterly devoid of.

Her steady gaze, the slight crooked smile, the raised eyebrow, the quick snicker – each a calculated move in her intricate game.

“There you go with that ‘Cuz’ nonsense. You are beginning to get on my 2nd last nerve, Hara. Colton still has my last one,” she had retorted, her playful tone a stark contrast to the underlying tension.

Her brief laugh now echoed in his mind as a sound of cruel amusement.

“I don’t know why you are asking me, I’ve seen what you can do, Hara. You’re no ‘care bear’ when you’re angry. Why do you need my help?” she had challenged, her words a subtle goad.

His averted gaze, his mumbled explanation, “The only time I get that way is because of her. You know I am not normally like that. When something happens to her, when she is in pain, when she is hurt, I...I.. just can't help it” – each word now felt like a vulnerability she had expertly exploited.

Cassie’s lit-up face, her feigned delight at his honesty, now seemed like a mask of cunning. “Hara, you can’t strategize your every match on Kami. She will not always get hurt; she will not always have something happen. Focus Hara. Think about it, She wants to kill you, how can you rely on her to help you fight if she can't stand to be around you? You need something else, Hara..either you have that fighting spirit in you, or you don't. It's that simple.” Her words, meant to provoke, now felt like a cruel prophecy fulfilled.

His dark brown eyes, the look of fire and determination that had momentarily filled them, now felt like a fleeting spark, quickly extinguished by the cold reality of her betrayal. “You think I don't have what it takes to win? You think I don't have a fighting spirit? How long have you known me cuz? You think because she bats those emerald, green eyes, that I become weak and useless. You should know better.” His defiant words now rang with a hollow bravado.

The forceful kicks against the heavy bag, the spinning jump kick, his desperate attempt to prove his strength, now seemed like a futile display. “This is what I bring to a fight!” he had declared, but the conviction in his voice had already begun to waver.

Cassie’s shaking head, her knowing smile, now felt like a confirmation of his inadequacy. “That's all you have, Hara? You are going to need a bit more ‘UMPH’ in your spine if you want to take on anyone. Put your heart into it, or better yet, not your heart, your head. Fight like it was the end of the world, like someone stole your lunch money.” Her words, intended to ignite his anger, had instead laid the groundwork for her ultimate deception.

Her pause, her focused gaze, her calculated smile, the shift of her eyes from the door to him – each movement now seemed like the precise execution of a carefully crafted plan. The quick turn, the swiftness of a thunderstorm, the strike like lightning, the forceful grab, the hard, forced kiss – it all unfolded with a chilling precision.

“HARA??” Kami’s voice, striking hard, now echoed in his memory as the sound of his world shattering. His stunned turn, the realization of the scene before her, the weight of her betrayed gaze – it was a moment frozen in time, a tableau of his undoing.

His instinctive push of Cassie, the wiping of his mouth, now felt like a desperate attempt to erase the stain of her deceit. “WHAT THE HELL CASSIE!! What are you doing? What about William? You would do this to Kami? She is your fucking best friend! You think you can play these silly little fuck, fuck games with people? You are sorely mistaken. Is this what you want, because I sure as hell don't want it. I love her not you!” His vehement denial, his declaration of love, now felt tragically ironic, falling on ears that were already closed to him.

Cassie’s quiet seat on the floor, the tiny smirk on her face, now seemed like a victory sign, a confirmation of her successful manipulation. His stunned, upset state, his lack of true anger in that moment, now felt like a critical failure. Cassie’s knowing look at Kami, their silent communication, Kami’s immediate understanding – it was a conspiracy laid bare.

“You two disgust me! How...?” Kami’s voice, laced with pain and disbelief, now cut him deeper than any physical blow.

Her gaze, fixed on him, now burned with accusation. “Three days ago, I was fighting visions in my mind that made me want to hurt you, I thought we were working past that, I thought that kiss meant...” Her words trailed off, the unspoken meaning hanging heavy in the air, now twisted into a cruel reminder of his perceived betrayal.

Her look at Cassie, the subtle nod that sealed their pact, now felt like a final nail in the coffin of their relationship. “No..it couldn't have, and you know what Hara. It never will! Your actions are fake, you're just upset that you got caught, you don't lov...” Her pause, her piercing gaze, now felt like the prelude to his ultimate condemnation.

“You never. Did!” Her final words, delivered with unwavering conviction, now echoed in the emptiness she had created.

Her last gaze at Cassie, who smiled her knowing smile, now felt like a silent acknowledgment of a shared victory, a victory won at his expense. “And you...You call yourself my friend, from this point on...You BOTH, mean NOTHING to me!” Her pronouncement now stripped him bare, leaving him with nothing but the burning embers of his rage.

Kami’s turn, her unyielding back, the slam of the door – each action a definitive severing of their bond. Her stance against the door, the internal struggle he could not see, her forced act of cruelty for his own sake – all were hidden from his view, leaving only the raw pain of her rejection. Did he have it in him? Or was his “vow” to Kami, now seemingly broken, truly conditional?

The primal rage that seized him then was unlike anything he had felt before. The stool he picked up and sent flying, its violent crash against the far wall, was a physical manifestation of the chaos within him. Turning back to Cassie, his slow, deliberate walk, his clenched fists with their white knuckles, his low, venomous voice – it was the emergence of a beast he had long tried to keep caged.

“Look what the fuck you did. You ruined it, you fucking ruined everything. You took the only thing I cared about in this miserable excuse of existence away from me. You will pay for this. Everyone will pay for this. I am going to burn the whole fucking world down around you.” His words, fueled by a pain so profound it bordered on madness, were a declaration of war.

Slamming open the far door, storming out into the morning air, walking into the woods – each step was a retreat into the primal depths of his fury. The large, primal scream that tore from his throat was not just an expression of pain, but a release of the raw, untamed power that Cassie had so deliberately unleashed.

Kami’s shut eyes, the echoing scream in her ears, the deep breath, the push away from the door, Cassie’s opening of it – their silent vigil, staring in the direction of his anguish, was a testament to the weight of their actions.

“How did you know,” Kami had asked, her confusion evident.

Cassie’s explanation, “How did I know what to do, or when to do it? Colton and I walked in the dojo three days ago, we saw you. And I saw you walking up the path just now. It was the only thing I could think of. He needed this, Bold will destroy him, otherwise. Kami, I love you to death, but Hara can't make it in that match, if protecting you is all he fears. He has to lose you. I'm glad you caught on to that,” revealed the cold calculation behind her actions, a twisted form of love and protection.

Kami’s internal struggle, the conflict between her understanding of Cassie’s logic and her deep-seated sense of wrong, was palpable. “I know why you did it, Cassie and your tactics make sense, that is your mother's side of doing things. Head games, but I have a code, a code of honesty, it's a reflection of who I am. I just broke that code.” Her lowered head spoke volumes of her inner turmoil.

Cassie’s unwavering conviction, “You broke that code to save the man you love...How is that NOT honorable, Kami?” offered a different perspective, a justification rooted in a deeper love.

Kami’s forced smile, the shared walk toward the Kominka as another primal rage echoed from the woods, painted a picture of two women bound by a difficult choice. “I hope he's going to be ok,” Kami murmured, her concern genuine despite the harshness of her words.

Cassie’s grim reply, “He isn't Kami..and that is what WE all need right now. The pressure was building inside him like a ticking bomb. And you and I both know Hara’s strongest when he’s broken open. It’s cruel. But it’s true,” underscored the brutal necessity of their actions.

Kami’s tightening jaw, her narrowed eyes fixed on the woods, the still-faint echo of his scream – it was a visceral reminder of the pain they had inflicted. “So you broke him… on purpose. Just so he could win?” Her trembling voice revealed the depth of her hurt and anger. “You manipulated him. You used me.”

Cassie’s unflinching stance, “No. I protected him. And I protected you too. You would’ve told him to stay calm, to center himself. That’s not what he needs right now. He needs to unleash everything he’s been caging inside. He needs to become the storm, Kami—not the eye of it,” offered a rationale born of a fierce understanding of Hara’s nature.

Kami’s turned back, her clenched fists, spoke of her internal battle. “You didn’t see his face… when he looked at me. He believed it. Every word I said. That I meant none of it. That I never cared.” The raw pain in her voice was undeniable.

Cassie’s gentler tone, “He’ll know the truth, eventually. But after he wins. And maybe when the fire’s cooled and the smoke’s cleared, he’ll see what we did… for what it really was,” offered a glimmer of hope amidst the devastation.

Kami’s silent response, her palm pressed to her heart, her shallow breaths, her glistening eyes – they conveyed a grief that words could not express.

Cassie’s quieter admission, “You know what hurts more than what we did, Kami? The fact that it worked,” was a stark acknowledgment of the effectiveness of their brutal strategy, a truth that offered little comfort.

The silence that followed, the gentle rustling of leaves in the peaceful garden, now felt heavy with the weight of their shared burden. The sanctuary behind the dojo had become a stage for their painful drama, the choices they had made leaving invisible scars on the tranquil landscape.

Deep within the woods, Hara knelt in the dirt, his fists buried into the earth, a primal connection to the raw, untamed energy of the forest. The rage had not dissipated; it coursed through his veins, a relentless torrent, each heartbeat a furious drumbeat echoing the war within. But beneath the fury, behind the burning fire of his anger, a new element was solidifying: purpose.

He opened his eyes slowly, the turbulent clouds of doubt finally beginning to dissipate, replaced by a steely resolve. The gentle philosophy of peace, the mindful breaths Kami had taught him, now felt like relics of a former self. The serenity he had sought in meditation now seemed like a weakness he could no longer afford.

“I don’t need peace. I need victory,” he muttered to himself, the words a guttural declaration, a turning point in his internal battle.

He stood, brushing the soil from his hands, a symbolic shedding of his former vulnerabilities. The match against Chuulun Bold was no longer just about a title, a mark of his skill. It had become something far more personal, a crucible in which his shattered emotions would be forged into a weapon.

It was about proving them wrong, about defying their expectations, about demonstrating that he was not defined by his love for Kami, nor broken by her perceived rejection. He would not be consumed by the pain they had inflicted. Instead, he would channel it, refine it, and unleash it upon his opponent.

He would show them that he was more than what they thought – more than love, which had seemingly betrayed him; more than pain, which he would now weaponize; more than what they had broken, for in his brokenness, a new, dangerous strength was being born.

The memory of Kami’s tear-filled eyes, her final, cutting words, ignited a fresh wave of fury. He would make them regret their actions. He would make them witness the consequences of their manipulation. He would win, not for the honor, not for the glory, but to silence the voices of doubt and betrayal that now echoed in his mind.

The internal struggle, however, was far from over. A part of him, the part that still clung to the memory of their betrayal.

He opened his eyes slowly. No longer clouded by doubt.

Hara (to himself):

“I don’t need peace. I need victory.”

It was time to make them all remember who the "Midnight Dragon" truly was.

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