When a Hitman Gets Haunted by a Ghost
Chapter 35: The Bears

Chapter 35: The Bears

The place the blond kid brought Kant to turned out to be an underground organization. They called themselves the Bears.

Apparently, someone had misspelled Justice Bearers as Justice Bears, and someone else had shortened it to just Bears. Kant had never heard of them before, but curiosity drove him inside.

The Bears lived in a large warehouse on the side of an industrial neighborhood. From the outside, it looked like a metal scrap, but the interior was built into something that resembled a home.

Cramped bedrooms with bunk beds, lounges... random stuff lying around... But what stood out to Kant weren’t the throwing knives stabbed into what seemed to be their dining table, no—it was the boxing ring with red and blue ropes and a spotlight on top of it that drew him in.

Two of the older men were sparring. They were fast—faster than anyone Kant had ever seen. Their movements were composed and coordinated, unlike the clumsy, raw street fights, where getting scratched was more likely than getting punched.

Here, each punch was thrown with control and precision. The intensity of it was almost mesmerizing, and before Kant knew it, he was staring at them, eyes wide in silent admiration.

"Do you know what is a bear’s role in the forest?" a deep voice asked from above.

Kant turned to look at the tall man. He stood with confidence, hands clasped behind his back like a soldier.

Kant shifted slightly on his feet, trying to figure out where this conversation was headed. He hadn’t expected philosophical talk, not from the looks of these guys.

"To survive?" Kant finally guessed.

The leader smiled faintly. "Survival, yes, but also something more. A bear isn’t just another animal. It’s an enforcer of order."

"Enforcer of order?" Kant echoed, skeptical but cautious not to annoy the tall man.

"That’s right. A bear cleanses the land," the leader explained. "In a forest, there are creatures that don’t belong. They disrupt the balance, prey on others, or grow too powerful and threaten the harmony of the entire ecosystem."

"So... humans," Kant murmured.

The leader laughed and gave the blond kid a tap on the shoulder. "Jones, where did you find this boy?"

Jones grinned, sending Kant a knowing glance. "I saw him sleeping on the street. He would have frozen to death there, so I brought him here."

The leader gave a nod, turning his gaze back to Kant, assessing him with a keen, experienced eye.

"A bear’s purpose is to protect what matters. Ripping to shreds those who do bad things and standing up for their own."

The tall man walked to the boxing ring, leaving Kant to process the words—or decide whether to join the Bears or leave.

Jones leaned against the wall, watching Kant’s thoughtful frown with an amused expression. "Silas likes metaphors. In a few minutes, he’ll come back and ask you ’are you a bear or a human’?"

Kant glanced at Jones, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. "What do I have to do then?"

Jones grinned, his teeth flashing like the edges of a blade. "Depends. Do you want to stay or leave?"

"..."

"Well? Are you going to stay or go out to freeze?" Jones pressed.

Kant thought over it carefully, then said, "Stay."

Satisfied, Jones pushed off the wall and clapped. "We have a new bear in the forest!" he yelled across the area.

Their surroundings fell silent for a moment, all heads turning towards Jones and Kant. The fighters in the ring paused mid-motion, and the bedroom doors slowly opened, faces of all ages poking out to see who was the new member.

Kant shifted uncomfortably under the weight of their attention. "Did you have to say it like that?" he muttered under his breath.

Jones smirked, completely unfazed. "Why not? If you’re going to join the Bears, you have to be able to keep your cool even when the whole world stares you down."

Silas’ lips curved into a faint smile as he straightened, leaning against the ropes with a fatherly chuckle. "Jones, stop making the new cub nervous. Let him decide for himself if he belongs here."

Kant bristled at being called a "cub." He wasn’t a kid and he didn’t like the idea of being the runt in the room. "I’m not nervous. I belong here."

Silas gestured for Kant to approach the ring.

Swallowing his nerves, Kant climbed in. The stares made him feel small, but he forced himself to stand tall.

"If you want to call yourself a Bear, show us you’ve got what it takes." Silas tilted his head toward the men who were sparring earlier, telling Kant to choose one to spar with.

Kant hesitated, glancing at the fighters, who watched him with half-hearted curiosity and slight amusement. His heart pounded, but he stepped toward the man he’d been watching earlier.

Face-to-face, he realized how terrifying it was. Even if the man he chose was shorter than the other, he was still much taller than him.

Jones hopped onto the ropes to watch. "That’s the spirit! Don’t worry—if you get flattened, I’ll scrape you off in one piece."

Kant bit his lip, praying he’d survive this.

"What’s your name, cub?" the fighter he picked asked.

"Kant," he replied, his voice a bit too quiet. He shook his head, trying to ignore his natural instinct to run away.

Judging by everyone’s faces, nobody expected Kant to win. This must have been a test of courage. So he stepped into the center of the ring and raised his voice, "What’s yours?"

"Cole," the man said, his voice low and calm as he raised his arms for a fight.

Kant quickly got into a defensive stance, stiff as a board. He could take a few punches in sloppy street fights, but one hit from this fighter would send him flying out of the ring. He had to make sure to dodge. Just dodge.

Cole chuckled. "Ease up, it’s just sparring."

Kant tried to loosen his shoulders as he shifted his stance, but he felt like a stone.

"Ready?" Cole asked, his voice steady.

Kant gave a jerky nod.

"Good. Let’s see if you’ve got claws."

Cole moved first, with a quick jab aimed straight for Kant’s center. It was faster than expected.

Kant barely sidestepped, his heart leaping into his throat. From what Kant had seen, Cole went for a low kick when his opponent sidestepped. Kant quickly moved back, barely in time before Cole’s foot swept at his shins.

"Not bad," Cole said, a flicker of approval crossing his face. "But dodging isn’t enough, cub."

Huffing, Kant scanned Cole’s body language, trying to tell where the next strike would come from.

Cole circled slowly, his gaze locked on Kant with an almost predatory intensity. His movements were fluid, his stance relaxed but ready.

Kant mirrored him, trying to keep his breathing steady.

Cole feinted a jab, and Kant flinched, stepping back instinctively. The crowd groaned, a few chuckles rippling through the area.

Jones’ voice cut through the noise. "Your moves are too obvious!"

Kant glanced at the blond kid watching the ring with rapt entertainment. He knew very well that he was moving too soon, but he couldn’t help it.

Cole smirked. "Eyes on me, cub. You watch the hands, you miss the fight."

Kant gritted his teeth, focusing harder. Cole shifted again, his weight moving subtly onto his back foot. "Stand your ground."

This time, Kant saw it in real time. When the kick came, he braced and stepped into it instead of away, raising his guard just in time to deflect the impact with his forearm. The force rattled him, but he stayed on his feet.

"That’s better," Cole said, nodding. "Now, try countering."

Kant huffed, his heartbeat thudding in his ears. He shook off the hesitation, his fists tightening as he shifted his stance. The crowd quieted with anticipation.

Cole stepped forward again, his movements deliberately slower this time, testing Kant’s reactions.

When the punch came, a jab aimed at Kant’s head, he raised his guard and absorbed it, feeling the impact reverberate through his arms.

It hurt, but it also gave him an opening. Before Cole could pull back, Kant swung a hook aimed at his ribs. It was far from perfect and not nearly as fast as he wanted it to be—but it connected. The thud of the impact was followed by a low grunt from Cole.

Kant stepped back, his breaths ragged but his eyes sharp. "Like that?" he said, his voice steadier than he felt.

"Look at him grinning!" Jones’ laughter rang out. "This guy’s starting to enjoy it!"

Kant hadn’t realized he was smiling. He quickly schooled his expression and raised his arms, expecting Cole to strike again. But instead, the man straightened and gave Kant an acknowledging nod.

"Not bad. You’ve got a decent bite."

The crowd murmured approvingly, and Silas clapped. "Good job! You have great potential."

Kant slowly straightened, looking around in bewilderment. Was it over already?

Cole smirked. "Don’t drop your guard yet, cub." He feinted another strike, and Kant instinctively blocked, countering with a quick punch to Cole’s solar plexus.

Cole staggered back, coughing as he clutched his stomach.

The room fell silent.

Kant froze, unsure if he should apologize or brace himself for what came next.

But then laughter erupted, sharp and loud. Jones slapped his knee, nearly doubling over. "Oh my god, Cole, a newbie got you!"

Cole raised a hand, both to signal he was fine and to quiet Jones. Straightening, he gave Kant a long, appraising look, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Well, cub, you’ve got sharp instincts. I’ll give you that."

Silas stepped forward after observing Kant from a distance. "Welcome to the Bears," he said, extending a hand.

Kant hesitated, then took it, his grip firm. For the first time, the heaviness of being alone seemed to lift. Maybe this was a place where he belonged. A place with purpose.