Chapter 353: Final Thrust
Nash stood in the middle of the room, right where he’d stopped after walking through the wreckage of the door, halfway between Aiko and Jinzo.
He wasn’t moving.
His fist stayed clenched at his side, blood dripping slowly from his split knuckles. One drop hit the floor. Then another, a few seconds later, the tiny sound echoing far louder than it should have in that room. He wasn’t really looking at either of them. His eyes were locked on some vague point straight ahead, on the wall, like he wasn’t fully there in the room anymore, like something in him had just paused.
The distant noise of the ventilation became audible, that kind of background noise you never notice that suddenly rises to the surface when nothing else covers it. Jinzo could hear his own breathing now, ragged, far too loud in his own ears.
The seconds kept passing, one after another, none of them seeming ready to actually move on. A piece of wood, still balanced precariously against the broken doorframe, slowly slid loose and hit the floor with a small, sharp crack. Nobody flinched, but Jinzo felt his shoulders tense a little more with each small sound, like his whole body was waiting for something that stubbornly refused to arrive.
Aiko, still pressed against the far wall, felt a wave of relief build in her lungs and burst up her throat.
Her legs shook under her. Her eyes, which she’d held back this whole time, spilled over all at once, rolling down her cheeks without her making any effort to stop them. She raised a trembling hand to her mouth, her shoulders shaking softly, unable to say a word, unable to even really believe it was over.
But it was. The miracle had come, and the hero had made it in time.
A tear hit the floor. A drop of blood followed right after.
Jinzo opened his mouth, closed it again almost immediately without a sound coming out, his fingers clenching nervously against the fabric of his pants. He shot a quick glance at the broken door, then back at Nash, unable to decide if moving would be the worst idea he’d ever had, or the best one.
Aiko took the first step.
She pulled away from the wall, her legs still shaking but carrying her forward anyway, crossing the room while nearly stumbling over her own feet. She pressed herself against his chest, her arms wrapping around him with a kind of desperate force, her face burying itself into the fabric of his shirt.
"You came," she murmured, her voice broken, half muffled against him. "You actually came."
But Nash didn’t move.
His eyes stayed fixed on that same invisible point on the wall, like he hadn’t even really felt her arrive against him. He didn’t move, didn’t say anything. Aiko cried into his chest and he just stood there, still, like a statue someone had planted in the middle of the room.
Jinzo watched the scene without understanding, his brain spinning with nothing to grab onto, unable to read a single thing off that face half turned toward him. That silence, that total absence of reaction — not even a glance in his direction — did something to him worse than any threat could have.
He took a step back, slowly, testing it.
Nothing. Nash still didn’t move.
He stepped back again, his eyes darting toward the broken door, toward that opening that seemed, for one second, almost within reach.
That’s when he watched hell open its doors.
Nash’s eyes had just moved.
Not his head. Not his body. Just his eyes, slowly leaving their fixed point on the wall to land directly on Jinzo, without a word, without the slightest change in his expression.
Jinzo froze instantly, one foot still half-raised, his whole body going cold under that stare.
Nash finally moved.
He gently pushed Aiko back, one hand on her shoulder, easing her away without a word, his eyes never leaving Jinzo for a second. She stepped back on her own, understanding, wiping her tears with the back of her hand, pressing herself against the wall behind her.
Nash took a step.
Jinzo took his shot immediately, bolting toward the broken door, his legs carrying him in a desperate sprint.
Nash simply reached out an arm.
His hand closed around Jinzo’s collar at the exact moment he passed within reach, and with an almost lazy motion, without seeming to put any effort into it at all, he shoved him backward. Jinzo stumbled, fell, got back up right away, trying to circle around to the left this time.
Nash barely moved, half a step enough to cut off his path, his frame filling up all the available space. Next to him, Jinzo looked almost small — five foot seven against Nash’s six foot six of dense muscle, the gap so obvious it was almost comical, if the situation hadn’t been so terrifying.
"Move," Jinzo spat, trying to shove him with both hands.
Nash didn’t budge an inch. It was like pushing against a wall.
Jinzo backed off, panting, the rage starting to overtake the panic now. He tried a third time, aiming to slip past on the right this time, faster, more desperate.
Nash grabbed him again, by the shoulder this time, and simply spun him around, sending him back in the opposite direction with a sharp motion.
Jinzo nearly crashed into the foot of the bed, catching himself just in time, his breathing wheezing now, his hands shaking more from rage than fear.
"Stop!" he screamed, spinning around, fists clenched. "Stop doing that!"
Nash stayed still, watching him without a word.
That’s when Jinzo really snapped, something in his eyes shifting completely, the panic giving way to raw, uncontrolled fury.
"This isn’t fair!" he screamed, lunging forward, a fist flying straight at Nash’s face. "None of this is fair!"
The punch landed on Nash’s jaw with a sharp crack.
Nash didn’t even move his head.
Jinzo staggered back, shaking out his own hand, pain shooting through his fingers, his eyes staring in disbelief at his fist like he couldn’t believe it hadn’t done anything at all.
"You took everything from me!" he spat, his voice breaking between rage and something closer to despair. "My spot! My team! Jaz! Everyone used to look at me like I was somebody before you even showed up, and after you, it was hell! You think I wanted to become this? Some piece of shit everybody looks down on?"
He struck again, a second blow, more desperate than the first, aiming for the ribs this time.
Nash took it without moving, his face just as closed off as before.
"It’s your fault!" Jinzo screamed, tears of rage rising to his eyes now. "All of this, it’s your fault! So yeah, I wanted to take something from you, just once! Just once! You don’t even understand what that feels like, do you? You never had to fight for anything your whole life, did you? Everything just falls into your lap, every girl, all the respect, everything!"
He struck a third time, weaker, exhaustion starting to bleed through the rage.
Nash still said nothing, just watched him, motionless, letting every blow crash against him without the slightest visible effect.
Jinzo stopped hitting him, his arms dropping heavily to his sides, his breathing ragged, exhausted. The tears he’d been holding back this whole time started to fall, mixed with rage, with humiliation, with something closer to total collapse.
Nash stayed still, watching him, his face just as closed off as ever.
"Jaz," he said finally, his voice low. "Yeah. I took her from you. In the worst way."
Jinzo lifted his head.
"But Aiko," Nash went on, "you never touched her. Not once."
He took one more step.
"So I’m gonna let that go."
Jinzo blinked, in disbelief, a tremor running through his shoulders — not rage this time, but something closer to vertigo, like the ground had just given out beneath him in the right direction for once. His heart, which had been pounding since the moment the door blew open, started to slow, gradually, the fear retreating step by step in front of a sentence he hadn’t seen coming at all. A strange warmth rose in his chest, almost painful in how sharply it contrasted with everything he’d felt these last few minutes.
"You’re gonna... let it go?" he repeated, his voice cracked, almost seeking confirmation, still refusing to fully believe it.
"Yeah."
Jinzo’s shaking got worse, but differently now — raw relief, poorly digested, mixing with total confusion, like he didn’t know which foot to stand on anymore, caught between wanting to collapse in gratitude and wanting to keep his guard up.
"But," Nash said, "everything that happened tonight is coming out."
The relief in Jinzo’s chest shattered instantly. His eyes found Nash’s, and they spoke for him, better than any word could have.
"Your attempted rape of Aiko," Nash continued. "Your little arrangement with Apex’s people. All of it. You can kiss your spot on Blacklist goodbye. Kiss your reputation goodbye. Everyone’s gonna know exactly what you tried to do and what you got mixed up in."
Jinzo went pale, panic taking back over from the fragile relief he’d barely felt a second ago. His hands, which had gone still at his sides once he’d stopped hitting him, started shaking again.
"You can’t—" he started, his voice breaking mid-word, an involuntary step carrying him backward.
"I can," Nash cut in, without raising his voice. "You had nothing to do with them, but you picked the worst boat to jump on. Now you go down with it."
Jinzo stood there, mouth open, searching for something to add, a plea, an argument, anything that might make this decision waver — but nothing came. He closed his mouth, his shoulders sinking a little further, his eyes dropping to the carpet, to that same bloodstain still slowly spreading.
Nash half-turned toward the broken door, an almost weary gesture.
"So here’s what I’m offering. Once. You leave. You leave right now. You disappear, far, really far, and you never come back."
Silence fell again, thick, suffocating.
Jinzo stood frozen for a long moment, his chest rising fast, his fingers clenching and unclenching against the fabric of his pants, like he was searching for something to hold onto. His eyes moved from Nash to the door, then to Aiko, still pressed against the far wall, her arms crossed tight around herself, her gaze hard and wary, fixed on him without a shred of pity, then back to Nash.
There was so much he wanted to say. So much he’d stewed over, alone, for months, muttering to himself in his room, staring at the ceiling at night, picturing a thousand different versions of this moment, the one where he’d finally come out on top.
None of those versions looked anything like this — him, broken, on his knees in his head if not in his body, accepting the charity of a man he hated more than anything in the world.
"Fine," he finally muttered, his voice hollow, almost unrecognizable.
He started walking, passing Nash without looking at him, his steps dragging, heavy, his whole body sagging under the weight of defeat. Every step seemed to cost him something, like he was crossing a distance far greater than the actual space between the middle of the room and the door.
"You win again, huh," he said, his voice dropping back into a bitter murmur as he neared the broken doorway, not turning around. "The great Nash Blaze. Always saving everyone. Always the hero who pulls off everything he tries."
He stopped right at the threshold, his hand landing on the shattered doorframe, his fingers brushing the splintered wood almost absently.
Aiko, still against the wall, watched him leave without letting her guard down.
Nash stayed still in the center of the room, watching Jinzo walk away without another word.
"But you know what I learned," Jinzo went on, his voice shifting subtly, his fingers slowly tightening around the doorframe. "The worst thing you can do to a man..."
He spun around all at once, his fingers closing around a long broken piece of wood leaning against the doorframe, a rusted point still jutting from its end.
"Is go after what matters to him."
And with that, he ripped the nail free and charged straight at Aiko, who was standing right beside him.