Night had fallen once more over the dark ridges of the Arinval Forest.
The fire crackled faintly in their camp, reduced to embers.
Rei had collapsed after a full day of brutal training — legs bloodied, lungs raw. But as Kirozan watched him lie there, barely breathing, the boy stirred.
Not to rest. But to rise again.
Even after Day 2's torment, Rei limped into the woods alone — as if driven by something deeper than pain.
Kirozan lay beneath a low-hung canopy of trees, arms behind his head, eyes closed… yet not sleeping. Something felt off. Not danger — something else.
A faint rustle. Barely audible. Then the quiet patter of uneven footsteps. Kirozan's eyes opened slowly.
He turned toward Rei's bedroll. Empty.
The boy was limping through the forest, alone.
Kirozan rose, silent as a shadow, and followed — unseen.
They reached a flat clearing beneath a cluster of pale-leaved trees.
Rei closed his eyes. A soft hum of aura surged through his legs.
"Pulse Dash," he whispered.
He vanished forward — then stumbled, crashing into the dirt. Bloodied palms. Gasping breath. But he stood again. And again. And again.
Kirozan leaned against a tree far off, watching. After some time, a quiet smile crept across his face.
Let's see how far you go, he thought.
Then turned and walked away.
As Kirozan disappeared into the trees, memories surged forward — sudden and sharp.
Years Ago…
Rain lashed the streets of Tarnhill, a desolate slum between two warring provinces.
Corpses lined the alleyways, thrown like trash. Aura users had fought here just hours ago. Kirozan, retired from the battlefield but still carrying the scent of war, wandered through — quiet, unseen.
A scream.
A group of thugs — three grown men — cornered a boy.
Small. Bloodied. No older than nine. One eye swollen shut. Fists clenched.
"I said — back off!" the boy roared, voice cracking, arms raised even though he shook from head to toe.
One man laughed. "You've got nothing left, brat. Just lie down."
The boy didn't.
He charged. Wild. Desperate. And he landed a punch — right into the man's jaw.
The others beat him until he stopped moving.
But Kirozan had already moved.
A heartbeat later, the three men lay unconscious in the mud.
He stood over the boy, whose hand was still clenched even as his eyes fluttered open.
"Why fight?" Kirozan asked, crouching beside him. "No one would've blamed you for running."
The boy coughed, looked up, and whispered, "Because I promised I wouldn't… not again. Not after my sister... not after that day…"
Kirozan didn't ask for details.
He didn't need to.
He saw it in the boy's eyes — the fire of someone who had nothing left… except his will.
The boy passed out in his arms.
That night, Kirozan didn't walk away like he always had. He took the boy home. Fed him. Bandaged him.
And began to train him.
__
now
From that night onward, a pattern formed.
Every day, Rei trained under Kirozan's brutal guidance. And every night, after the world slept, Rei rose again — silently, painfully — and returned to that same hidden grove.
He thought Kirozan didn't know.
But each night, just as Rei disappeared into the dark, Kirozan's lips curled into a silent smile.
He never followed. Never watched again.
He didn't need to. Not yet.
Until Day 10.
Now… ten days had passed.
The wind was sharper tonight, and the moon bled red through the canopy.
Kirozan stood on the same hill as before, arms folded, eyes fixed below. Rei stood in the clearing once more — but different now. Poised. Still.
Without warning — he moved.
Pulse Dash.
Clean. Controlled. The blur of motion held shape. A small shockwave lifted dust behind him.
He skidded to a stop, panting. But grinning.
Kirozan stepped down from the shadows.
"You've mastered it," he said. "Just in time."
Rei's eyes widened. "You've been watching again?"
Kirozan nodded once. "Only when it mattered."
Rei looked down — then smiled to himself.
So… he didn't see the others.
Kirozan walked to him, slow and steady. He sat beside the boy on the forest floor, silent.
Rei didn't speak. His head gently rested on Kirozan's lap.
He whispered, "I'm glad you didn't watch everything."
Kirozan didn't respond — not in words. His hand rested lightly on Rei's head.
And for just a moment, the memory of Tarnhill flickered again — a bloodied boy, unconscious in his arms, held not as a soldier… but as something far more precious.
Family.
The wind stirred.
The trees whispered.
And under the pale moonlight… the past and present became one.