Akari's katana gleamed under the pale moonlight. Her eyes locked onto the man blocking her path.
He was tall, lean, his stance relaxed—too relaxed. His sword rested lazily on his shoulder, as if he had all the time in the world.
"You should turn back," he said, voice calm. "This road doesn't lead where you think it does."
Akari's fingers tightened around her hilt. "Move."
The man sighed. "You're in a hurry. That's dangerous."
Akari's muscles tensed.
She vanished.
A blur—then steel clashed against steel.
CLANG!
She reappeared behind him, eyes narrowed. Her strike had been clean, aimed at his side—yet he had blocked it effortlessly.
He smirked. "Fast. But predictable."
Akari gritted her teeth. Again.
She lunged.
A sharp flurry of strikes—each one faster than the last. Left. Right. Low. Feint. A spin to the back—
The man parried every single one.
Then, he countered.
A horizontal slash—too fast.
Akari barely dodged, a few strands of her hair drifting in the air.
Her breath was heavy now. This wasn't a random obstacle. This was a test.
The man planted his sword into the ground. "You're skilled, but you're fighting the wrong battle."
Akari's grip tightened. "I don't have time for riddles."
"You're chasing after someone who no longer belongs to you." His eyes darkened. "Ryuji chose to leave."
Akari's heart pounded.
She charged—this time with everything.
BOOM!
A burst of energy exploded as her blade swung down—
But he caught it with one hand.
For the first time, Akari felt fear.
"You're still holding back," the man muttered. "That's why you'll never reach him."
With a flick of his wrist, he shoved her back.
Akari skidded across the dirt, chest heaving.
The man turned, already walking away.
"Come find me when you're ready to kill," he said. "Because that's what it'll take to get him back."
Then, he was gone.
Akari fell to one knee, gripping her blade.
Her hands were trembling.
Was he right? Had Ryuji really chosen to leave?
She shook her head violently.
No.
She wouldn't believe that.
Not until she saw him herself.
She wiped the blood from her lip, stood up, and ran.
She would not stop.
Scene 2 - Ryuji's First Lesson
The hall was silent.
Ryuji sat on his knees, his breath steady, eyes closed.
Kenshiro stood before him, arms crossed.
"You resisted it before," he said. "But that hesitation is gone now."
Ryuji's fingers twitched. "I didn't have a choice."
"There's always a choice."
Ryuji's fists clenched. "Then why does it feel like I'm being dragged into something I never wanted?"
Kenshiro smirked. "Because power doesn't care what you want."
A shadow moved from the side.
The armored warrior from before stepped forward, drawing his sword again.
"This time," Kenshiro said, "there won't be any holding back."
Ryuji's pulse quickened.
The warrior rushed forward.
A flash of silver—
Ryuji's instincts screamed.
He barely dodged the first strike. Then the second.
The third slashed across his shoulder.
Pain burned through him, but Ryuji gritted his teeth.
He countered with a blast of energy—but the warrior cut straight through it.
Then—a knee to the gut.
Ryuji crashed onto the stone floor, coughing blood.
Kenshiro sighed. "Still weak."
Ryuji struggled to his feet, panting. No.
Not this time.
His vision blurred—but something inside him roared.
A deep, ancient force.
His hand trembled—then his broken sword shifted.
The shattered blade moved on its own—reforming.
The warrior paused.
Kenshiro's smirk deepened. "There it is."
Ryuji's body felt light. His blood burned, but it wasn't pain. It was power.
The warrior lunged again—this time faster.
Ryuji moved without thinking.
His new blade met the attack—and shattered the warrior's sword into pieces.
Silence.
The warrior staggered back.
Kenshiro chuckled. "Now you're learning."
Ryuji panted, looking down at his hands.
His sword wasn't the same anymore. It was something else. Something new.
His chest rose and fell, his heart hammering in his ears.
Then, one thought pierced through the haze.
Akari.
She was still out there.
And she would come for him.
But by the time she did—
Would he even be the same person anymore?