The air is thick with tension. A single overhead light hanging from the dojo hums softly above. Colton is taping his wrists to begin his workout when Cassie enters, fidgeting with her hands. Her face is torn with guilt. She doesn’t even know where to start.
“Colton... I need to tell you something. About a plan I kind of put together for Hara.”
Colton doesn’t look up right away. He senses the weight in her voice. He finishes wrapping his wrist and leans back, crossing his arms.
“Go on.”
In a quiet, shaky tone, her whispered voice escaped her lips.
“I did something. It was... spur of the moment. I didn’t think it through—I just acted. I thought about what mom would do to if it had been Dad.”
Colton tenses but waits.
“I got Kami involved... I used her, Colt. I kissed Hara…Just as she walked into the dojo.”
Colton’s eyes grew wide from shock. Not only was that a bad decision, but it was also the fact that she said it was something their mother would’ve done.
“Number one mom would never do that, and two dad would have killed the other guy, Cas, these two people are not toys you can just play with.”
Colton shook his head; he threw the tape he was using across the dojo and stared into Cassie’s remorseful eyes.
“But that’s not all of it…she went along... said things that made him believe it was his fault.. And it worked. He snapped. Got so angry he stormed off and said he’d make everyone suffer... especially me.”
Colton slams his hands on a nearby table, eyes blazing.
“Are you outta your damn mind?! You turned Kami against him? That’s not strategy, Cass—it’s sabotage!”
“I wasn’t trying to _hurt him! I was trying to help him win! He’s been soft, Colt. Too wrapped up in protecting Kami, in his feelings for her. He wasn’t focused. But now? Now he’s locked in. Furious. And that’s what it takes to beat someone like Chuulun Bold.”
Cassie tries to make Colton understand, but her attempts failed.
“At what cost, Cassie?! You think lighting a fuse under Hara’s rage was the answer? You think turning the one person he cares about into a _weapon_** is going to help him long term? He’s unstable, Cassie!”**
Her voice cracks, she thinks about everything Colton is saying, a tear streams down her cheek.
“I didn’t know it’d go that far. I thought he’d be mad—yeah—but not...that mad.”
She lowers her head, ashamed.
“I didn’t think about that.”
Colton’s unremorseful gaze leaves uneasy. She could tell Colton was not pleased at all.
“Of course you didn’t. You were too busy sucking his damn face to think straight.”
Cassie winces thinking about it. Colton grabs his bag, pacing like a caged animal.
“Now we’ve got more than the brutality of the Reapers to worry about. Now I’ve gotta come up with an entirely new plan—one that includes keeping a furious, barely-contained Hara from tearing through our match like a damn hurricane.”
Cassie stays silent, her heart heavy with regret.
In a quieter, yet sarcastic tone, Colton speaks.
“You wanted a fighter. Now you’ve got a monster. Let’s just hope he doesn’t kill the wrong people before this is over.”
Colton stares at Cassie for a long moment, jaw clenched, fury slowly giving way to something colder resolve. Without another word, he turns away, snatches up his bag from the bench, and storms out the dojo doors.
The dojo opens into breathtaking yet haunting moonlight pouring down like silver rain over the stone paths and koi ponds. Lanterns flicker in the breeze, their flames soft, ghostly. The faint sound of bamboo chimes ticks against the hush of midnight, adding a surreal calm to the chaos stirring within.
Colton’s boots crunch against gravel as he steps onto the path, moving past ancient cherry blossom trees, their petals drifting down like slow, silent snow. The soft scent of pine and Sakura fills the air, but it doesn’t ease the weight on his shoulders.
He glances left—past the koi pond with ripples from a frog’s jump. Right—toward the old stone lantern half-covered in moss. His eyes catch a broken bamboo practice sword resting at the base of a tree, snapped clean in half.
Colton’s pace quickens.
He walks through the wooded stretch that frames the garden’s edge, where shadows play tricks in the moonlight. The forest is quiet, save for the distant rustling of leaves. The trees are tall and stoic, their twisted roots pushing up through the earth like skeletal fingers. Mist gathers low to the ground, clinging to his legs as he pushes forward.
Then—movement. A faint, heavy breath carried on the wind. Colton slows, narrowing his eyes.
“Where the hell are you, Hara?”
Somewhere beyond the trees, deeper into the woods, a branch snaps. Not far. And there it is—that familiar pull in his gut. The presence of something wild, something barely restrained.
Colton sets his jaw, steels himself, and steps off the path—vanishing into the dark woods where the light of the garden dare not reach.
Colton moves like a ghost beneath the trees, his footsteps muffled by moss and mist. The forest grows darker, the moonlight barely piercing through the dense canopy above. Another sharp snap echoes—closer now. A breath. A shadow shifting.
Then he sees him.
Hara stands beneath a twisted cedar, his shirt soaked with sweat, chest heaving. His knuckles are scraped raw. The bark of a nearby tree is bloodied and broken—evidence of his fury.
Colton doesn’t say anything at first. He just watches.
“I figured you’d find me,” Hara mutters, voice low and feral, his back still turned. “You always do.”
“I had to,” Colton says, calm but direct. “Because you’re on the verge of burning the whole damn forest down.”
Hara finally turns—his eyes are wild, rimmed red. His body trembles barely held together.
“She kissed me, Colton,” he says, each word like acid on his tongue. “And Kami saw it. Saw everything. And she didn’t even try to stop it.”
“I know,” Colton replies quietly. “Cassie told me.”
Hara’s nostrils flare. “So, she admitted it.”
Colton nods. “All of it.”
Silence. The kind that crackles with electricity.
“Do you know what that did to me?” Hara growls. “I loved Kami. I trusted her. I protected her. I fought wars beside her. And in one second—one kiss—Cassie turned her into a knife in my chest.”
Colton doesn’t flinch. “You think I’m okay with what she did? I’m not. She broke something tonight. Something we might not be able to put back. But Hara—”
He steps closer.
“—you can’t let that rage break you.”
Hara glares at him. “It’s all I have left now.”
“No,” Colton snaps. “What you have left is a match. Against a monster. And if you waste everything you’ve got chasing ghosts, Chuulun Bold is going to break you in half.”
Hara’s breathing sharpens.
“You want revenge? Then keep that fire in your chest. Hold it tight. Don’t let it spill out on me. Don’t waste it on trees. Use it when it counts.”
“I don’t care about the match anymore!” Hara explodes, fists clenched at his sides. “I want to tear it all down. The dojo, the match, the Reapers, everything. I want it all to burn.”
“And when it’s all ash, what then?!” Colton fires back. “You think Kami comes back?! You think Cassie suddenly didn’t betray you?! No! All you’ll have left is ruin. We can fix this—but not tonight.”
Hara’s lip curls. He doesn’t believe him.
“Don’t lie to me, Colton.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Hara’s voice drops into something deeper. Darker.
“You think I don’t see it? You’re already looking past me. Past this. You want to fix Cassie. Protect her. Not me.”
Colton’s jaw tightens. “That’s not true.”
“LIAR!”
Before Colton can respond, Hara explodes. His fist crashes into Colton’s jaw with brutal speed. Colton’s head snaps back, and he stumbles to the ground, dazed. Blood touches his lip.
Hara breathes heavily, eyes burning like firelight in the shadows.
“You’re just like the rest of them,” he mutters. “You talk about control—about plans—but you don’t feel what I feel. You don’t know what it’s like to be hollow inside.”
He turns and walks away, vanishing into the deeper woods like a phantom swallowed by night.
Colton lays there for a moment, staring up through the trees, lips parted, blood pooling in his mouth. He wipes it away with the back of his hand, slowly gets to his feet, and steadies himself.
The sting fades. But the weight of what just happened doesn’t.
Back at the dojo…
Cassie sits on the bench, hugging her knees, her face pale. The door creaks open, and Colton steps in, his face bruised and bloodied.
Cassie’s breath catches.
“What happened?” she asks, standing quickly.
Colton doesn’t answer right away. He grabs a towel, wipes his face, and throws it aside.
“You really fucked up, Cass.”
Her eyes well with fresh tears.
“But it’ll have to wait,” Colton growls. “We’ve got the Russians first. And we need to be locked in. After that?”
He shoots her a glance that cuts like a blade.
“We deal with everything.”
Cassie swallows hard, nodding, as Colton turns his back again—just like he did in the woods—and starts preparing for war.
The lights overhead cast a soft amber hue over the dojo’s polished floors, reflecting a distorted image of Cassie as she stared down at her own shadow. Her fists were clenched at her sides, her chest tight. The smell of sweat, cedarwood, and faint incense still hung in the air—once calming, now choking. Everything felt too quiet, too still, except the storm inside her head.
Colton’s voice still echoed like a whip in her ears.
"Of course you didn’t. You were too busy sucking his damn face."
The words stung. Worse than any punch she'd ever taken. Cassie could still see the fire in his eyes, the disbelief, the hurt, the disappointment. That look was a scar now.
She wanted to justify it—say it was strategy, instinct, desperation. But that would be a lie. What happened with Hara was emotion, not logic. And dragging Kami into it? That was something else entirely.
She'd broken something in him. In all of them.
Cassie moved toward the center of the mat and dropped to her knees, eyes falling shut. For a moment, the world went dark. She tried to shut it all out—the voices, the anger, the mistakes—but they just got louder. Her breath caught in her throat.
How did it all spiral so fast?
(IN HER MIND)
Sensei Forrester slamming her to the mat again and again, barking:
"Get up, Cassie. Pain is just a reminder you're alive."
Kami's fists bruised and raw after another intense sparring session:
"You don’t hold back on me, got it? We fight until we bleed."
JR wiping blood from his nose, grinning:
"You punch like you’ve got something to prove. Don’t ever lose that."
BACK TO PRESENT – DOJO TRAINING ROOM
Cassie opened her eyes.
She stood.
The storm inside her had found its center.
The Red Reapers weren’t just any opponents. They were monsters—ruthless, calculated, violent. She remembered the sting of broken ribs, the choking haze of blood in her throat when they first crossed paths. She remembered the sick grin on Viktor’s face as he slammed Kami into the barricade, the way Svetlana taunted Kami, trying to get in her head.
They left marks. Not just on the body—but on the soul.
But this time, she’d be ready.
Because this time, it wasn’t just about revenge or proving herself.
It was about everything.
Everything they’d fought for.
Everything they’d bled for.
The UW stage had become a battlefield for more than titles. It was war. And letting the Russians continue their toxic influence, their manipulation, their dominance—it would make all their sacrifices meaningless. Cassie couldn’t allow that. Not when Kami was still healing. Not when Colton was doubting her. Not when Hara was unraveling into something dangerous.
This match—this one match—was the axis everything spun on.
DOJO – LATER THAT NIGHT
Cassie stepped out into the still night, the crisp breeze biting at her sweat-drenched skin. Her ponytail clung to her back, and the faint glimmer of mist rolled across the carefully kept stones of the courtyard.
The garden was quiet—serene in a way that felt almost disrespectful, considering the war raging inside her. Moonlight danced across the koi pond, illuminating the tranquil surface. The stone lanterns flickered faintly as fireflies darted between the Sakura branches overhead.
But Cassie’s focus wasn’t on the beauty.
It was on the shadows beyond the garden, where she knew Colton would be.
She passed the bamboo chimes that whispered softly in the breeze. Her boots moved silently across the wooden bridge that arched over the narrow stream. Every sound felt amplified—the distant croak of a frog, the creak of old wood, the quiet rustle of leaves shifting in the wind.
Cassie found Colton near the far side of the training grounds, just past the line of trees that split the garden from the wooded path. He was there, shirtless, gloves on, striking a heavy bag suspended from an old wooden post. Each hit echoed through the air like a drumbeat of fury.
She watched for a moment—his strikes were clean but angry. He wasn't training. He was unloading.
Cassie stepped forward.
“I’m not here to argue.”
Colton didn’t stop. Another sharp jab, followed by a brutal knee.
“But I am here to fight.”
He finally stopped, panting, sweat running down his neck. He turned halfway to glance at her, expression unreadable.
“For what? The match? Hara? Your conscience?”
“All of it.” She replied.
Colton stands in silence for a long moment, the weight of everything pressing heavy on his shoulders. He stares at the dojo door, then turns to Cassie. His voice is low, steady, but worn.
"This wasn’t what we came here to do. We were supposed to help fix a small problem. In and out. Not get dragged into working for the UW. Not this… war."
He glances down, clenching his fists—knuckles raw from too many fights, too many promises broken.
"But everyone else broke it all. And now I have to fix it."
His eyes drift past her, distant, almost haunted.
"This… this match—it’s the end of The Red Reaper. This is the final battle in this war. After this, no more distractions. No more ghosts chasing us through corridors and memories. I’m done cleaning up blood spilled for other people’s causes."
He looks at her now. Direct. No heat. Just the truth.
"I know you think you're doing the right thing, Cass… but we lost track. Hara, Kami—we’ve gotta pull them out before they drown in this place. Before we do."
(he pauses, his voice softens, breaking slightly)
"William’s probably waiting on your call. And Sammy…
(swallows hard)
"I just wanna see my boy again. I wanna hold him. Hear him laugh. I wanna wake up next to Lily and not wonder what hell I’m walking into that day. We have a life back home… and I’m done trading it away."
He steps closer, his voice gaining steel again.
"When this is over, when I fix this—really fix it—you and I? We’re going home. No more UW. No more missions. Just life."
He rests his hand gently on her shoulder—an anchor, not a shove.
"You with me?"
Cassie doesn’t speak. She just nods. Quiet. Eyes brimming with guilt and gratitude.
Colton turns to the door. His hand hovers over the handle for a beat before gripping it and pulling it open.
The lights flicker on. Cold white fluorescents buzz to life. The air is still, dust floating like snow through the beams. The place smells like old sweat and dried resolve.
Colton steps inside first, taking off his boots, rolling his shoulders like shedding armor. Cassie follows; her movements are slower, more uncertain.
The door shuts behind them with a definitive click.
—Muffled silence— then the sound of feet hitting mats, of sharp exhales and fists smacking flesh.
Colton stands opposite Cassie. No smiles. No jokes. Just respect and fire.
He nods once. She nods back.
CRACK!
Cassie launches the first strike—clean jab. Colton slips it, pivots, catches her with a counter-forearm that spins her back.
She recovers instantly, charging again. This time a low kick. He checks it, then sweeps her leg. She hits the mat hard—but rolls through. No hesitation. She's up again.
—Cassie holding pads as Colton throws blistering combos: jab, cross, elbow, spinning backfist.
—Colton pushing her to the ground over and over—Cassie slamming her palm down, snarling, getting up again.
—Colton yelling: "Faster!" as she sprints the length of the dojo, sweat pouring down her temple, chest heaving.
—Cassie drilling submissions, her forearms crushing into Colton's neck, his grimace showing the real pain—but no taps, no mercy.
—Colton delivering brutal knee strikes to the heavy bag—his rage carved into every motion. The bag swings wildly, the chains rattling overhead.
—Cassie throws a high kick. Colton ducks. She whirls—spinning elbow connects with his temple. He stumbles, wipes blood from his brow, and grins. “There she is.”
Time slows.
The camera pans over them mid-spar: both drenched, muscles shaking, eyes locked. Every movement is instinct, refined and sharpened by years of war and blood. This isn’t training. This is survival dressed in discipline.
Flash-cut:
—Colton wrapping his hands in silence.
—Cassie staring at her reflection in the mirror, whispering to herself, __"Don’t fall apart now."
—Colton meditating briefly, back straight, eyes closed—Lily’s face in his mind, Sammy’s laughter echoing faintly.
—Cassie lacing her boots tighter, tying them with a trembling hand.
—The two of them grappling in a chain of counters—move for move, neither giving ground.
Colton and Cassie stand in the center of the mat, sweat pouring off of them, lungs screaming. They stare at each other, exhausted… but unbroken.
Colton reaches out, grips her wrist, and pulls her into a firm nod of acknowledgment. Not a hug. Something stronger.
A silent promise.