Raiyokan and the Fibonacci Sequence

Chapter 10: Psychobiology of Discord

The deadly struggle, where I found myself confronted by both Peter and Mariana, unleashed a wave of dread. The possibility of losing Mariana forever—especially by my own hand—shook me to my core.

Upon returning home, I plunged into reflection, trying to unravel what connected me to Peter. As unease wrapped around me, I tried to decipher that link. There were no clear memories of him, not even from my past life as Kenzo. Yet I was certain his origins lay in my former universe.

My mind sought to reconstruct Peter's image. His powers—echoes of our shared heritage—reminded me of the warriors from the Thunder clan. Rival to the Raiyokans, their bow-like weapons sliced through the air like sharp blades, tracing a lineage of fearless fighters.

The origins of the Thunders remained shrouded in mystery. What I did know was that they emerged during a turbulent period of social inequality in my old universe, Nexus. What angered me most was the way they spread fear and terror, justifying their cruelty by pointing to the harsh environment they claimed had shaped them. They blamed social disparities for their actions, treating their atrocities as mere consequences of their circumstances, painting themselves as society's victims.

I decided not to dwell on that clan anymore—there was already a new layer of trouble in my life. Now, Mariana possessed knowledge of my identity, a secret I had kept solely to myself for so long.

When we parted ways at Master Nakamura's dojo after the near-tragic fight, a respectful silence hung between us. Mariana did not rush to seek answers. It was as though she understood that truth, when revealed, must be a fruit ripened by time.

The absence of immediate questions felt like an invitation to introspection. I needed to process the events that had unfolded. When I eventually shared my origins with Mariana, it would not be a confession of sin, but a story rooted in trust and mutual understanding.

A few days later, on the familiar campus of Pampulha, the prospect of seeing Mariana for the first time since the incident filled my thoughts with uncertainty. The unresolved circumstances lingered, stirring unease as I tried to anticipate our approaching encounter.

Between averted glances and calculated distances, Mariana and I avoided the collision of worlds that had so recently coexisted in harmony. It wasn't hostility, but rather a conscious choice of respect.

It was in this atmosphere that the neuroanatomy professor, as if sensing the tension in my life, began the lecture with a topic that would soon stir revolt within me. The subject was psychobiology.

In the classroom, the concepts of interaction between biology and psychology unfolded, revealing the connections between the nervous system and human behavior. Yet what should have been an academic exploration became quicksand for my emotions as the professor delved deeper.

He stated that living in adverse environments could lead to biological dysfunctions in the central nervous system, triggering aggressive behavior.

— That's really fascinating! — said Mariana.

The intensity of my reaction became almost tangible when he went on to claim that many individuals considered outcasts were, in fact, victims of society. The idea of linking Peter's cruelty to a social issue brought back the same justification the Thunders had once used.

Distress gripped me, for those words seemed to excuse the hostility I had faced. The image of Peter—his bitterness and his attempts to make me harm Mariana—emerged like an unwanted specter in the classroom, a feeling I had not yet fully acknowledged.

— Diego, you seem a bit agitated. Is something wrong? — Mariana asked, concerned.

In a burst of impulsiveness, I rose to my feet, my voice carrying the weight of my disagreement.