## Chapter 32: The Weight of a Broken Mask
The air in the headquarters was thick with tension, a palpable weight that settled over everyone present. News of Kazu's sudden outburst had spread like wildfire, igniting whispers and concerned glances. For someone who had always been carefree and playful, his angered form was something none of them could have prepared for. His usual warmth was replaced by an aura of intensity that made everyone uneasy, casting a shadow over the camaraderie they had once shared.
Unmei, Shiro, Daichi, and the others were gathered in the common area, their voices low as they exchanged worried looks.
"Did you see his eyes?" Aoi said in a hushed tone, her voice trembling slightly. "They were… different."
"Not just his eyes," Michael added, leaning against the wall with arms crossed tightly over his chest. "The whole vibe around him changed. It was terrifying."
Daichi sighed deeply, his usually calm demeanour shaken. "I think we've all forgotten that Kazu carries his scars. Maybe we pushed him too far," he reflected, his brow furrowed in concern.
The door to the infirmary creaked open, and Kazu stepped out. His usual messy hair was now dishevelled, hanging limply around his face, and his eyes appeared dark and heavy with unspoken burdens. He walked with purpose, ignoring everyone's stares as if he were a ghost passing through a living nightmare.
"Kazu—" Unmei started, but Kazu held up a hand to stop him.
"I need space," Kazu said quietly, his voice low but firm. He didn't sound like the Kazu they knew; instead, he exuded an unsettling aura that made it clear he was not in a place to engage with them.
He walked past them, heading straight to the training room to unleash his frustration. Once there, he unleashed a torrent of pent-up energy. Every punch, kick, and move against the training dummies seemed to echo his inner turmoil, each strike resonating with years of suppressed emotions.
Atama Kaku watched him from the shadows of the doorway, her heart conflicted. She had never seen her brother like this; it unnerved her more than she wanted to admit. But she couldn't shake the weight of her anger and guilt that sat heavily on her chest.
After a while, Hanzo entered the training room, his usual playful smirk replaced by a serious expression that spoke volumes about his concern for Kazu. He stood at the edge of the room, watching Kazu tear into the dummies with an intensity that bordered on desperation.
"Kazu," Hanzo called out softly, hoping to reach him through the fog of rage that enveloped him.
"What do you want?" Kazu growled without turning around.
"Just to talk," Hanzo replied gently.
"I don't feel like talking," Kazu snapped back sharply, finally turning to face Hanzo. His eyes burned with anger and pain that made Hanzo's heartache.
Hanzo didn't flinch at Kazu's hostility; instead, he took a step closer. "You've been carrying too much for too long, haven't you? It's okay to let it out," he urged sincerely.
Kazu froze momentarily, his fists clenching tightly at his sides as he struggled against the tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. For the first time in years, he let himself speak freely. "I've been carrying this weight for years, Hanzo. Blamed for things I didn't do. I hated it for reasons I don't understand. And now… now my sister refuses to see me for who I am." His voice cracked under the strain of vulnerability.
The raw honesty in Kazu's words silenced Hanzo for a moment as he absorbed the depth of Kazu's suffering. "You don't have to do this alone," Hanzo finally said softly but firmly. "We're here for you. I'm here for you."
Kazu let out a bitter laugh that held no humour. "That's what they all say until they see the mess I am inside." His words dripped with despair as he turned away again.
Before Hanzo could respond further, Daichi and Unmei walked into the training room together, their expressions a mix of worry and determination etched across their faces.
"You're not a mess, Kazu," Daichi said firmly as he stepped forward. "You're human. And you're allowed to feel this way." His voice carried an undeniable strength that echoed in the stillness of the room.
Unmei nodded in agreement, her eyes filled with compassion. "We're not going anywhere. You've always been there for us through thick and thin. Let us be here for you now."
Kazu looked at them then—looked—his anger slowly melting into exhaustion as he processed their words. For what felt like an eternity, silence enveloped them all until finally, he took a shaky breath and allowed himself to believe that maybe—just maybe—he wasn't as alone as he thought he was.
In that moment of shared vulnerability among friends who truly cared for him, Kazu felt an unexpected flicker of hope ignite within him—a small yet powerful reminder that healing was possible even amidst profound pain and turmoil.