The morning air was crisp, but Renjiro barely felt it.
He stood in the middle of the training grounds, his muscles stiff from lack of sleep. The whispers had not left him. Even now, as the first light of dawn stretched across the sky, he could still hear them—faint, distant echoes in the back of his mind.
"You are changing."
Renjiro exhaled sharply, shaking the thought away.
Across from him, Takeshi watched in silence, arms crossed over his chest.
Takeshi was a warrior built from countless battles—tall and broad-shouldered, his body marked by old scars that spoke of victories and losses alike. His dark brown hair was tied back in a simple knot, strands of gray beginning to show near his temples. His sharp eyes, once filled with patience, now held something else.
Worry.
Renjiro ignored it.
"Again." His voice was cold, unwavering.
Takeshi's gaze remained fixed on him, searching for something beneath the surface. After a long pause, he sighed and adjusted his stance.
"Fine."
And then, he moved.
Renjiro barely had time to react. A blur of motion—faster than before. Takeshi's footwork was precise, calculated, his strikes sharp as a blade.
Renjiro dodged the first blow. Parried the second. But Takeshi's movements were relentless.
A fist shot toward his ribs—he barely blocked it. A spinning kick aimed for his head—he ducked, the force of the wind brushing against his cheek.
He had trained with Takeshi for years. He knew his patterns. His weaknesses.
But today—Takeshi was holding nothing back.
"You're getting reckless." Takeshi's voice was steady, but his attacks didn't stop.
"No." Renjiro gritted his teeth. "I'm getting stronger."
He twisted, aiming a counterattack—a sharp strike toward Takeshi's open side.
But the moment before impact—
Takeshi vanished.
Renjiro's breath hitched.
Before he could react, a powerful force slammed into his back.
The world spun.
Then—impact.
Renjiro hit the ground hard, dust rising around him. His vision blurred for a moment, his body screaming in protest.
Footsteps approached.
Takeshi loomed over him, his expression unreadable.
"Again." Renjiro growled, trying to push himself up.
But Takeshi's foot pressed lightly against his back, keeping him down.
"No."
The word was firm. Final.
Renjiro's body tensed.
"Something is different about you." Takeshi's voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. "Your movements are changing. Your mind is elsewhere."
Silence.
Renjiro didn't respond.
He couldn't.
Because he knew Takeshi was right.
The whispers. The darkness curling in the back of his mind. The voice that had spoken to him last night, its presence lingering like a shadow beneath his skin.
Takeshi's foot lifted, allowing Renjiro to sit up.
"Talk to me, Renjiro."
Renjiro stared at the ground, his hands curled into fists.
"I don't need to." His voice was sharp, laced with something unrecognizable.
Takeshi studied him for a long moment.
Then, he sighed.
"If you refuse to speak, then listen."
Renjiro finally met his gaze.
Takeshi's expression was serious—more serious than Renjiro had ever seen before.
"Power is dangerous when wielded by a wounded heart." His voice was quiet but firm. "I have seen men walk this path before. I have seen what becomes of them."
His fingers curled into a fist at his side.
"And I have had to kill them."
A cold wind swept through the training grounds.
Renjiro's pulse pounded.
Takeshi's eyes never left his. Not a threat. A warning.
"Do not let that darkness consume you, Renjiro."
For the first time in a long while, Renjiro hesitated.
The voice in the back of his mind whispered again, softer this time.
"He does not understand."
"He will betray you, too."
Renjiro inhaled sharply, pushing himself to his feet. His expression was blank.
"We're done for today."
Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving Takeshi standing alone.
But he could still feel his mentor's gaze on his back.
And for the first time in his life—
Renjiro felt truly alone.