The clearing still hummed with tension from their last encounter, the scorched ground a silent testament to their unresolved past. But this time, something had shifted. Toshiaki's presence was no longer merely bitter—it was dangerous.
Hayato sensed it immediately. The forest held its breath as Toshiaki stepped forward, his aura no longer a smoldering flame of anger, but a searing inferno of controlled vengeance.
"You still don't get it, do you?" Toshiaki's voice was low, threaded with venom. "You thought last night was the end of it? That we could just… move on?"
Hayato's fists clenched at his sides. "I don't know what I thought. But I came here to listen. I came here to make things right."
"You don't get to make things right, Hayato," Toshiaki snapped. "Not after what you took. Not after what I lost because of you."
Hayato's breath caught. "I never meant to take anything from you."
"You didn't have to mean it," Toshiaki said, stepping into the center of the clearing. His eyes burned with intensity, and the energy around him shimmered with rising menace. "You always had everything handed to you—the legacy, the power, the light. And all I had were shadows. You were the one they trained, the one they praised. I was just… forgotten."
"Toshiaki, I didn't choose—"
"No," Toshiaki cut him off. "But you didn't fight it either."
Without another word, the ground beneath him cracked as his aura surged outward—an overwhelming Nen technique that warped the very air between them. A deep pressure fell over the forest like a stormcloud, compressing everything beneath it. The trees groaned. The earth trembled.
Hayato's eyes widened. This was no longer the energy of someone lashing out in pain—this was refined, dangerous, and deadly.
Toshiaki had trained. He had evolved.
And now, he meant to break Hayato.
Toshiaki raised his hand, fingers glowing with dark-blue flame that twisted unnaturally. "Let me show you what the forgotten can become."
The first wave of energy struck before Hayato could fully react. It wasn't just force—it was memory. Emotion. Grief sharpened into a blade. Hayato staggered back, chest tight, as fragments of their childhood—the laughter, the bond, the silent goodbyes—crashed over him like a tidal wave.
His vision blurred. The Nen wasn't just physical—it was psychic. Designed to tear him apart from the inside out.
"You're using Emotion-Channeling Nen," Hayato said through clenched teeth. "You're feeding your energy through pain."
Toshiaki's smile was cold. "It's the only thing I've ever had enough of."
Hayato summoned his own aura, light surging around him like a shield against the onslaught. His Nen had always been rooted in clarity, in control—but that control now wavered under the sheer emotional weight pressing down on him.
They clashed again—light against shadow, restraint against wrath. Trees split and fell under the pressure. The ground buckled. The forest, so long a place of refuge, now bore witness to a war of souls.
Toshiaki's movements were relentless, driven by a fury so pure it bordered on madness. "You never turned around," he yelled, fists glowing as they collided with Hayato's defenses. "You never looked back to see what was happening behind you!"
Hayato blocked, barely holding his footing. "I was drowning in expectations!"
"And I was drowning in silence!" Toshiaki roared. "While they all looked to you, I disappeared! And no one noticed!"
The pain in his voice echoed louder than the crash of their Nen. It wasn't just about power anymore—it never had been.
Hayato faltered, his guard slipping for a moment too long. Toshiaki's fist connected with his side, sending him flying into a tree. Bark exploded around him as he crashed to the ground, coughing, blood at the edge of his lips.
Toshiaki approached slowly, breath heaving. "All I ever wanted… was to be seen."
Hayato, kneeling, looked up through bloodied lips and defiance. "I see you now."
Toshiaki stopped.
The sincerity in Hayato's voice cut through the storm. It was raw. Real. Not an apology—just truth, offered without defense.
"I see your pain," Hayato said, standing slowly, hand clutching his ribs. "And I know it's not enough. But you're not invisible anymore."
For the first time, Toshiaki's aura flickered.
The Nen flames around his fists dimmed, the pressure lifting slightly. But the air still throbbed with tension, and the weight of what had passed between them remained.
"I didn't know how to help you," Hayato continued. "I didn't even know you needed help. But I'm not here to fight you anymore, Toshiaki."
Toshiaki's hands trembled. His breath was uneven. The dark fire around him pulsed one last time… then faded.
Silence fell.
The forest exhaled.
Toshiaki turned his back, shoulders stiff. "You think this changes anything?"
"No," Hayato said. "But it's a start."
Toshiaki didn't answer. He stepped into the shadows of the trees, swallowed by the darkness once again. But he didn't vanish like before. This time, he looked back over his shoulder, eyes filled not just with pain—but with conflict.
"Don't follow me, Hayato," he said. "Not yet."
And then he was gone.
Hayato stood in the wreckage of their battle, the forest now scarred and silent. He looked around, heart still pounding, body aching. But inside, something had shifted. The fight had not brought resolution—but it had cracked open the truth.
Resentment had been unveiled. The fault lines exposed. And though the path forward remained uncertain, it was no longer obscured by lies or silence.
For now, that was enough.