Present day
The forest clearing was a battlefield, torn apart under the unforgiving blaze of the midday sun. Splintered trees leaned like wounded sentinels, their trunks gashed and oozing sap, while the earth beneath was no longer a forest floor, but a war-torn grave—churned into muddy furrows, littered with shredded moss and scattered pine needles.
The air clung thick with the iron tang of blood and the stench of beast, made alive by the ironfur bear's guttural roars and Kibo's ragged breathing. Neither yielded. Neither blinked. Spirit met spirit, each unwilling to fall—even as the toll of battle began to show.
Above them, the sun blazed down with no mercy. Harsh rays danced across the bear's metallic hide, glinting along the cracks of Kibo's katana, casting long, violent shadows over the ruined ground.
At the clearing's edge stood Aunt Sora. She didn't flinch. Her sharp gaze was hidden behind wire-framed glasses, and her hair was pulled into a tight bun, unmoved by wind or chaos. Arms crossed, posture still, her presence exuded a terrifying calm—like a surgeon observing a patient mid-operation.
In her mind, the world didn't roar.
It whispered.
Her thoughts moved with the slow, surgical calm of someone who had watched death unfold a thousand ways before.
Kibo's breathing is unstable.
Her gaze remained still behind the glint of her glasses.
The ironfur's paw is dragging—left shoulder compromised. But its core muscles are still intact. Still lethal.
The fight was dragging now. No longer a duel—just two bodies trying to outlast the other.
Both had reached the edge of something. And only one would walk away from it.
A subtle shimmer pulsed across Kibo's skin. Faint. Almost imperceptible.
Healing.
But not fast enough.
He's burning through energy faster than his body can recover. Still forcing movement.
Her eyes narrowed. Not from emotion—just focus. A cold calculation behind silver lenses.
He's bleeding from the flank, the ribs… and the right leg. Multiple fractures. He's compensating with adrenaline. Still choosing to press forward.
Her gaze lingered. Just for a breath longer than necessary.
Kibo… you always break yourself like this.
A crack formed in her expression. Small. Barely there.
And your katana is close to—
The thought didn't finish.
Because Kibo moved.
His face twisted—not into a smile, not really.
It was a grin torn from something deeper.
Wilder.
Not joy. Not bravado.
Just sheer, stubborn defiance.
His katana, webbed with cracks, caught the sunlight for one final gleam. Then it met the ironfur's claw with a metallic shriek that seemed to split the sky itself.
The impact jarred through his bones. His arms shuddered under the force.
Boots dragged trenches in the mud as his body slid back, the ground tearing beneath him.
But he didn't fall.
Didn't even flinch.
Instead—he laughed.
Not the laugh of someone winning. Not even someone holding on.
It was raw. Unhinged.
The sound of a man who had bled past reason and chose to stand anyway.
The next swipe came fast—massive, brutal.
Kibo ducked under it, shoulder brushing the dirt as he rolled, sloppily, just barely avoiding the crushing weight.
His katana lashed out mid-motion—shallow cut, a line of blood drawn from the bear's flank.
It barely noticed.
The ironfur's roar cracked through the clearing, a sound that rattled in Kibo's chest.
It spun. Claws raked the ground—right where he'd been.
He was already moving.
Not clean. Not smooth.
Just fast. Desperate.
A fallen log broke his momentum. He used it anyway, feet pounding against its slick surface as he launched upward, twisting mid-air.
The katana came down like a last prayer.
Steel struck hide.
And the blade shook violently in his grip, another fracture splitting along its edge.
He landed hard—too hard. His knees buckled, body jolting on impact.
But the ironfur didn't give him a moment.
It charged—branches exploding in its wake. A tidal wave of muscle and fury.
Kibo spun, brought the blade up—barely in time.
The clash spat sparks, and the force sent him reeling again, boots skidding through torn earth.
Still, he didn't stop.
Didn't let the blade fall.
The grin stayed—not from confidence.
But from something much colder.
I'm not done yet, he thought, blood dripping into his eyes. Not until this thing stops breathing.
The bear had every advantage—size, power, endurance.
With each clash, Kibo's katana lost more of itself. The blade dulled. The cracks deepened. The hilt grew slick with sweat and blood.
Even his healing, once reliable, was slowing. He was outpacing it now—burning himself faster than his body could mend.
He darted left, feinted, then slashed the bear's foreleg. It snarled in irritation, but showed no signs of weakening.
The counter came fast. A wide swipe aimed for his ribs. Kibo dove, mud smearing across his back as he rolled to safety—barely.
He sprang up again, katana raised. His breath was ragged, shoulders trembling. Still… he raised it.
Defiance, personified.
From the treeline, Syl stood frozen. The world narrowed—every sound muffled beneath the thundering of her heart. Her arms wrapped tight around herself, fingers digging in, white-knuckled.
Kibo's not going to win.
He's pushing too hard—I need to do something.
I need to…
She stepped forward, breath catching—
—and a hand clamped around her wrist.
Firm. Cold. Unyielding.
Syl gasped and turned.
Sora.
Standing still as stone beside her. Eyes locked on the battlefield. She didn't even glance at Syl.
"If you two dare move an inch from that spot," she said, voice low and sharp as a blade, "you'll be annihilated."
Syl's breath hitched. Her body jolted like she'd been slapped.
Sora's hand didn't tighten. But it didn't let go either.
Her gaze shifted, passing slowly over Syl… and then to Lily. The girl stood trembling, fists clenched at her sides, eyes wide with pain.
Sora's tone carved through the silence. "You both, your training are over. You think Kibo's going to die? If you believe that, you've learned nothing."
Lily's voice broke. "But Aunt Sora, he's going to—"
"Die?"
The word sliced the air.
Sora turned her head then. Just enough for the light to flash across her lenses.
"You underestimate him—and you forget yourself."
She released Syl's wrist.
The contact was gone in an instant. But it left a chill behind. Syl pulled her arm close, rubbing where the fingers had been, her skin prickling with shame and confusion.
Sora faced the battlefield again, her voice smooth but edged in ice.
"Kibo has always held back because of you two," she said, "tempering his strength to protect you both."
A pause. Measured. Cutting.
"He's not as reckless as he seems."
Then, her lips twitched. Barely. A suggestion of a smirk. Calculated.
"Besides… I'm here." Her tone darkened—final. "Do you think I'd let this spiral out of control?"
Lily's gaze snapped back to Kibo.
Blood pooled beneath him now, staining the earth like ink spilled across a ruined page.
Her heart clenched.
Syl stood beside her. Still trembling. Still silent.
I caused this, she thought.
I went to that cub… and now he's—
A flicker passed behind Sora's glasses. She turned slightly, looking at Syl— and this time, the smirk wasn't just a flicker.
It was intentional.
Brief. Cold. Knowing.
Then she turned back to the fight. And said nothing at all.
The ironfur reared up, towering over Kibo, then slammed both paws down like hammers. The ground cratered.
Kibo dove to the side, but the shockwave followed. Dirt kicked up and stung his eyes—
Then pain.
A massive paw caught his ribs, hurling him like a doll.
His back hit a tree with a sickening crack. Bark exploded.
He slid down the trunk, breath wheezing, blood trickling from his lips. His katana trembled in his grip.
Then—
A chuckle in his mind. Low and twisted.
"Oh, brat, you're losing a lot of blood—how amusing! Look at you, grinning like a fool while you're getting torn apart!"
Kibo coughed, spat red. He staggered to his knees. Then feet.
The grin never left. But now it was thinner. Pained. Stubborn.
"Not… done yet," he gasped aloud.
The bear charged. Its roar drowned everything.
Kibo's katana was failing—webbed with cracks, dull, near breaking. But he held it tighter, muscles coiling with everything he had left.
He roared, thrusting toward the beast's skull.
Time slowed.
The katana met metal—
And shattered.
Fragments exploded like shrapnel.
Kibo's eyes widened—but only for a second.
He let the hilt fall.
Then slammed his fists into the metal bear's skull.
A desperate strike.
It landed.
But momentum was merciless.
The beast's head collided with Kibo, and he was launched. Through branches. Through trees.
He hit the ground with a dull thud.
He didn't move.
The ironfur stumbled—dazed—but then growled. It lumbered toward him, towering over his fallen body. Its paw rose for the final strike.
From behind—
"Kibo!" Lily screamed.
She ran.
Syl didn't move. Her heart pounded. I couldn't do anything. Her nails dug into her skin. I couldn't…
Sora's smirk vanished.
The bear's paw froze. Mid-air.
Its body locked in place.
Ignis's voice echoed—not just in Kibo's head, but into the bear's world itself. A cold, ancient thunder:
"How dare you."
The bear flinched. Fear surged in its eyes.
Then—ice.
It erupted from Sora's hand, racing across the ground.
Frost climbed the ironfur's legs. Its fur froze mid-growl.
Lily reached Kibo. She dropped to her knees, pulling him into her arms.
"Kibo, Kibo—please, wake up! Open your eyes!"
Her voice cracked. Her face was wet with tears.
She pressed her ear to his chest.
A beat. A faint rhythm.
Her breath hitched.
"You're fine… you're fine…" she whispered, arms clutching tighter.
Syl stared at the ground. Her chest burned.
I stood there. I did nothing. While he fought. While she ran to him.
Her throat tightened.
She wanted to be the one beside him. But fear had held her hostage.
She clenched her fists.
Next time, she swore silently, I won't freeze.
Sora lowered her hand. The ice held the bear like a monument.
Time seemed to pause with it. Even the wind quieted.
Then— A soft rustle.
Barely audible.
Yet unnatural.
Syl's head lifted. Her breath hitched. High above, faint movement.
Dozens—maybe hundreds—of papers began to drift from the sky. Carried on a breeze that hadn't been there a moment before.
They spiraled slowly through the air, like autumn leaves—
But with no tree in sight.
One brushed against Syl's arm.
She blinked, dazed, and reached out. Her fingers caught it. Rough texture. Ink scrawled across the page in looping, familiar patterns.
"What's this…?" she murmured, voice soft with awe.
Another floated past Sora. She caught it with a precise motion, her expression unreadable.
Her eyes scanned the writing. Slowly.
A pause.
Then—
Her brow furrowed.
A shadow crossed her face. Her posture didn't change. Her expression barely moved.
But her silence shifted.
In her mind, the thought surfaced—
Dark.
Puzzled.
What are you up too, Granduncle?