The night was quiet. The kind of quiet that made even the softest footsteps echo through the streets.
Gun Park walked alone beneath the dim streetlights, dressed in a long black coat, hands in his pockets, eyes set forward. He wasn't headed anywhere in particular. Just walking. Taking in the silence.
He didn't expect to hear another set of footsteps behind him.
He stopped.
"You're following me," he said without turning around.
The footsteps stopped too.
"I want to talk," came Jalen's voice from behind him.
Gun slowly turned his head. His eyes were calm, unreadable. "Do you now?"
Jalen took a step forward. His face was serious. There was no arrogance in his posture, only resolve.
"I want to learn from you," he said.
Gun blinked. The streetlight above them buzzed faintly. "You want me to teach you?"
Jalen nodded.
"You copied my Brazilian kick. Almost perfectly." Gun's voice held no admiration, just observation. "You're talented. But talent means nothing without control. Why should I waste my time?"
"Because I'm not like the others," Jalen said simply. "I don't want your strength to impress anyone. I want to see how far I can take this. I've wasted my gift before. I won't waste it again."
Gun stared at him for a long moment.
"You're strong. Fast. You learn quickly. But you're still soft inside. I can see it." He stepped closer. "Do you even know what it means to walk this path?"
Jalen held his ground. "No. That's why I'm asking you."
The silence stretched between them.
Gun finally gave a small smirk. Just a twitch of the lip. "Interesting."
He walked past Jalen without another word.
As he passed, he said one thing.
"If you want me to teach you... prove you deserve it. Survive what's coming."
And then he disappeared into the dark, his footsteps fading like a shadow.
Jalen stood alone under the streetlight, heart steady.
He didn't get a yes.
But he didn't get a no either.