Juichi's consciousness stirred in the strange twilight of Yūgen no Sekai—a realm where the sky bled into the earth in soft indigo hues, creating an endless mirror of stars above and below. The air shimmered with stillness, and yet everything felt alive.
As he sat up, memories surged back: the quest, the dragon, and most of all, the question that still burned—What happened to my father?
A familiar presence stood a few paces away. Sakata Buddha, ever the unpredictable wanderer, now wore an expression Juichi had never seen before. Gone was the lazy grin. In its place, a quiet, heavy gaze.
"You're awake," Sakata said, his voice stripped of its usual mischief.
Juichi rose to his feet, brushing off the surreal dust. "Sakata," he said, urgency creeping into his voice. "I met the dragon when I arrived in this world. It avoided my questions about my father. I need to know—do you know what happened to Kaito?"
Sakata's eyes darkened for a moment—just a flicker—but enough for Juichi to catch it.
"Kaito…" he repeated as if the name carried weight only he could feel. "He was a man who chased truths no one else dared to face."
"You knew him?" Juichi stepped forward, heart pounding.
"Our paths crossed," Sakata replied, still staring into the endless horizon. "He carried burdens that could crush most. And he vanished chasing something greater than himself."
Juichi's fists tightened. "What was it? What did he find?"
Sakata turned, finally meeting his eyes. "Some truths will change you. You're not ready for them yet."
Juichi didn't back down. "Then make me ready. Train me."
Sakata raised a brow—then smirked. "So you're serious. Fine. But this won't be a friendly spar. You'll crawl before you stand."
"I'm ready."
"Let's test that."
Before Juichi could blink, Sakata vanished.
WHAM!
A swift kick slammed into Juichi's ribs from behind, sending him sprawling across the mirrored floor. He gasped, and the wind knocked from his lungs.
"Lesson one," Sakata's voice echoed through the strange realm. "Anticipation."
Juichi coughed, dragging himself upright, only to be met with a flurry of punches. He blocked what he could, barely keeping up.
"You react too slow," Sakata chided between blows. "Combat isn't about reacting. It's about predicting."
Juichi grits his teeth. He focused—not on Sakata's fists, but on his movements, the shift of his feet, the twitch of his shoulders. He sensed a rhythm.
With a surge of will, he summoned wind beneath his feet, propelling himself backwards and breaking the onslaught.
"Better," Sakata said, nodding. "Still sloppy."
Juichi didn't wait this time. Fire surged through his veins as he rushed forward, fists igniting. He aimed for Sakata's gut, but the older man sidestepped, seized his arm and flipped him hard onto the ground.
"Lesson two," Sakata said, standing over him. "Control."
Groaning, Juichi closed his eyes. He breathed. The dragon's words echoed in his memory—Balance the flame with the stream. Stand firm like the mountain. Flow like the river.
He rose, slower this time, but different. Grounded.
Sakata tilted his head. "Show me."
Juichi moved in. Fire in his jab, water in his sweep. Sakata blocked the jab, but the low kick caught him off-guard, forcing him to retreat.
"Nice," Sakata grunted, rubbing his leg. "Now you're thinking."
The duel escalated. Lightning sparked at Juichi's heels; earth reinforced his stance, and wind quickened his strikes. He began weaving elements instinctively—his magic no longer wild, but a symphony of force.
Time lost all meaning. In Yūgen no Sekai, only the fight remained. Each blow, each dodge, echoed across the mirrored plane.
Finally, Sakata called a halt. Both were winded, sweat-drenched, bruised—but alive.
"You've got fire," Sakata said. "And heart."
Juichi dropped to his knees, breathing hard. "Does that mean… you'll tell me about Kaito now?"
Sakata placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"In time," he said gently. "Today, you earned the right to ask. The answers… will come soon."
Juichi's eyelids grew heavy. As he slumped into rest, the last thing he saw was Sakata's faint smile—mysterious, but no longer distant.
A promise hung in the silence.
To be continued…