Bullet's Resolve: Return to Duty

Over the following days.

Conflicts erupted on the deck of the small warship almost every day.

The dull thuds of fists and feet colliding echoed through the vessel. The tremors of muscles striking the deck traveled along its steel frame, mixed with the youths' suppressed growls and heavy falls, becoming the ship's most constant—and most alarming—background noise.

Every time, Bullet charged first, like a beast that had fixed its sights on prey and knew only how to move forward.

And every time, Sakazuki subdued him cleanly and decisively.

It was a pure, brutal suppression through overwhelming strength.

Yet even so, Bullet never once yielded.

Even when he was pinned to the deck, his chest tightly pressed down and his breathing so chaotic he was nearly suffocating, his gaze remained vicious.

It was the look of someone ready to pounce again at any moment.

As though the instant his opponent let down his guard, he would strike back regardless of the cost.

Sakazuki understood that perfectly, and he never held back.

Rather than disciplining the boy, his attitude was more like compensation.

Compensation for the person he once was—the one who could only rely on anger, stubborn endurance, and taking blow after blow to get back on his feet.

So every strike he threw was full force.

Every suppression laid bare exactly where the gap between them lay.

The soldiers on deck gradually went from shock to treating it as nothing unusual.

"...They're at it again."

"How many times has this been now?"

Someone watched the figures rolling across the deck and clicked his tongue quietly.

"But that kid's seriously absurd."

"He gets beaten that badly every day, and the next day he's somehow still full of energy."

"That recovery ability... he's a monster, isn't he?"

Another soldier swallowed and added