The rain was no longer rain. It was a torrent, slicing across faces, hammering the earth, turning paths to rivers of mud. The sky split with jagged lightning, illuminating the forest like a shuttered window into hell. Wind tore at tattered banners, half buried, torii gates groaning beneath the storm's weight. Every sound the crash of water, the snap of a branch, the low drum of distant warpressed against the senses like steel.
Rin Tatsuya moved first, boots cutting into mud, cloak plastered to his frame. Behind him, Kaito stumbled, rain washing streaks of blood and grime into his eyes. Yet he moved, defiant, his chest heaving, fists gripping his sword with white-knuckled determination.
"Stay close," Rin said, voice calm, slicing through the storm like a blade through silk. "One misstep and the river will claim more than your pride."
"I've spilled worse in calmer weather," Kaito spat, voice ragged, eyes bright with fire. "Let them come."
They did not have long to wait. From the mist, from the curling shadows of the torn forest, the Red Serpent Banner emerged. Dozens of soldiers, elite and disciplined, soaked to the bone, armor slick with rain, eyes cold and unyielding. Behind them, a towering figure advanced a captain, scarred across the face, eyes like black coals, sword drawn and ready to cleave through hope itself.
Rin's hand flexed on his blade. "Focus. The storm will be our ally, but it is also a blade. Watch the wind, watch the rain, watch each shadow."
The first strike came without warning. Lightning flashed, illuminating Kaito as he barreled forward, steel singing through the air. Rin moved like smoke, sidestepping a blade that would have split his chest, letting the world speak through sound and movement. Mud spattered. Rain hissed. Blood mingled with water.
Kaito's strikes were wild, furious not precise, but powerful, each swing pushing enemies back, carving a rhythm of chaos. Rin's blade was calm, measured, cutting in minimal, perfect arcs, each move designed to end a life, not impress.
"You're sloppy!" Rin called over the storm, voice calm, commanding. "Do not fight like anger. Fight like inevitability!"
Kaito's eyes flicked toward him, fire and respect mingling. "Then show me, ghost! Show me inevitability!"
The elite soldiers pressed forward, forming a tight phalanx. Rain ran down their blades, mixing with the mud beneath their feet. Rin danced through them, a ghost in the storm, steel flashing, each strike deliberate. Heads fell, weapons dropped, bodies crumpled, all in measured motion. Kaito followed, catching openings Rin created, strength meeting precision. The storm became their partner, masking movements, hiding attacks, revealing only death.
A Red Serpent captain, the scarred figure, advanced. Each step was deliberate, each swing designed to challenge Rin. Rain hammered them, lightning splitting the canopy. Steel rang against steel. Every strike from Rin cut with surgical precision, every counter from the captain pressed him to the edge. Mud flew. Rain mixed with blood. Rin's cloak clung, soaked through, yet his movements were liquid, perfect.
"You think the Arinaga ghost can survive the storm?" the captain hissed, teeth bared. "I've killed ghosts before dawn!"
"I am no ghost," Rin said quietly, voice soft but sharp as a knife. "I am the reckoning."
The captain faltered for a heartbeat, the faintest crack in his composure. Rin seized it. A feint, a pivot, a thrust perfectly timed. Steel met steel with a deafening clang, and the captain staggered back, chest bleeding, eyes closing. He recovered, fury blazing, swinging wildly. Rin sidestepped, letting the strike crash into a half-collapsed torii, splinters flying like shrapnel.
Kaito intercepted a soldier who leapt to flank Rin, slamming him into the mud, rain soaking him as he raised a hand to help Rin. "You're fast," he said, voice gritted. "Faster than death itself!"
Rin's blade sliced a line through the mist, cutting another soldier down. "Do not praise the inevitable," he said, cold, tone final. "Survive first, then speak."
The storm seemed alive. Lightning split the sky again, illuminating the battlefield: mud, rain, steel, screaming soldiers, fallen forms. Rin and Kaito moved together, two halves of a lethal whole. The captain pressed again, but now Kaito and Rin were synced, Kaito's raw force covering angles, Rin's precision opening gaps, guiding the dance of death.
One soldier lunged at Rin's side. Kaito's sword caught him midair, spinning, throwing him into the mud. Rin didn't pause, one step, one clean arc, and the captain's sword nearly fell from his hands. Lightning flashed across the scarred face, and for a heartbeat, Rin met the captain's gaze. Cold, empty, inevitable.
The final exchange was brutal. Rain and blood sprayed across the misted ground. Every strike mattered. Every movement calculated. A feint, a parry, a subtle shift and the captain's knees buckled, chest pierced, sword clattering into the mud. He fell forward, rain washing the dark life from him as lightning struck a torii nearby, splintering wood around them.
Silence descended immediately, broken only by the storm and the faint drum of distant war. Rin exhaled slowly, lowering his blade. Kaito leaned against a half-collapsed gate, breathing hard, mud streaked across his face, chest heaving.
"You… you are a storm," Kaito said, voice rough but awed. "Not just a man… a storm made flesh."
Rin glanced at him, eyes sharp, yet softer than before, a flicker of recognition. "And you… are fire. You burn fast. Don't let it consume you."
Kaito grinned, teeth bared through the grime. "Then we're perfect together. Storm and fire."
Rin's eyes returned to the horizon, where smoke and distant movement marked the Red Serpent's approach. "This… is only the beginning," he said quietly, voice low, lethal. "They come in numbers. We have time, but only a heartbeat of it."
Kaito's grin faded. "Numbers don't scare me. Never have. Never will."
Rin didn't respond, letting the silence stretch, letting the storm speak. Together, they moved forward, side by side, boots sinking into mud, swords ready, hearts pounding. Each knew the next battle would be worse, larger, deadlier. Yet a thread had formed between them, trust forged in blood, rain, and fire.
Lightning struck the ridge ahead, illuminating the valley in a sheet of pale fire. Smoke rose, dark and curling, the drumbeat of war relentless. And somewhere among it all, they knew survival would demand everything. Steel, fire, storm, and heart.
They walked into the storm, two ghosts of vengeance, bound by blood and mud, toward a battlefield that would decide everything. And as thunder rolled across the valley, Rin Tatsuya whispered, almost to himself, almost to Kaito, but loud enough to cut the storm:
"Let them come. We are the reckoning."