As the winter sun fell on Ryo's face with little warmth, the old boat let out a deep horn sound and narrowly missed several of the small Sampans that populate the waters of Hong Kong. Feeling the sea air blow gently on his face, the blue sky above him, he gazed forward at the city he was approaching. The buildings were taller than those of Yokosuka, and were basking in the cold sunlight, beckoning to him with colour and danger. Here he was. An age away from his small, grey hometown - and alone.

At the harbour, the boat slowly drew to a standstill. Descending the steps, Ryo reflected on the life he had lead before that fateful incident on that cold December day. Before the horror, before the wave of loss that had given way to a quiet anger, he had led a happy life. The thought aggravated him, and as he ventured through the crowds of waiting predators, feeding on tourist dollars, Ryo fumbled for his money to buy a drink from an outdoor vending machine.

A sudden, screeching near miss with a motorbike shocked him, and Ryo's temper was instantly aroused. The rider was female, and had a striking body.

"Watch where you're going, you punk!"

Ryo scowled. "That goes for you too!"

Suddenly her expression changed; she turned suddenly mellow. Ryo was used to it, and recognised that she was attracted to him.

He asked the way to Wan Chai and walked off; he didn't intend to know her any better. My mind should be racing, he thought, I was almost killed. But the last few weeks, with all the fights and danger he had got into, had changed his reactions. Seeing a fountain in the distance, he walked on, and his previous thoughts continued. He remembered how he had trained with Fuku-san, liked school; even changed clothes. He had once cared for people. But that Ryo had now been replaced by a cold, careless version of himself. A hollow void occupied all that didn't matter; and all that mattered to Ryo now was revenge. The stalls he passed were new to him, the buildings were taller, and the girls were prettier. All passed him by, receiving no attention.

Nozomi was gone, Tom was gone, his father was gone. His world, his memories, his life; all were now the past.

The cold sun shone in Ryo's eyes. A small spark of sentimentality flickered in him, and then that too, was gone.