The sky had turned a deep bruised purple when the boy finally found the strength to take a step forward.
The young man with white hair stood under the crumbling archway of the ancient dojo, his arms folded, his expression blank and merciless. His long white hair drifted in the wind, and his emerald eyes gleamed like sharpened blades under the dying light.
"Before you start bleeding properly," he said, voice like ice,"Tell me your name. If you don't even know who you are, you're already dead."
The boy's throat was raw from the dry mountain air. His ribs ached with every shallow breath. Blood still dripped from the cracks in his battered skin.But somehow — through all of it — he stood tall.Or at least, as tall as his broken body would allow.
He looked up, locking eyes with those cold emerald flames.
And for the first time in his miserable life — he did not look away.
In a voice hoarse but unbroken, he answered:
"Rai... Tsuki."
The name fell into the empty dojo like a hammer against ancient glass.Sharp. Heavy. Irreversible.
For the first time, the young man's mask cracked.
A flicker passed through his emerald eyes — brief, but undeniable.
Recognition.Surprise.A shadow of something deeper — something dangerous.
But it was gone an instant later, buried beneath a glacier of ruthless indifference.
"Fine. Rai Tsuki. Your bloodline doesn't save you here. Your suffering will be your own.""Welcome to Hell."
As Rai struggled to stay standing, blood dripping from his lip, the white-haired young man watched him through half-lidded eyes.
(He thought to himself, cold and sharp:)
"Tch... The Tsuki bloodline... A cursed family of monsters. Legends in the martial world. Every one of them born to destroy or be destroyed.""But blood means nothing if the heart is weak. Let's see if you're worth the name you carry."
Without another word, he moved —fast, brutal, merciless.
And Rai's first lesson began.
A wooden staff slammed into Rai's ribs with enough force to lift him off his feet.He crashed into the cracked floor, coughing blood, pain detonating through his chest.
Before he could even gasp, another strike landed across his back.And another.And another.
"First lesson:" the young man said coldly, striking again without hesitation,"Pain is your new language. You don't breathe unless you speak it. You don't live unless you master it."
Rai tried to crawl away, only to be kicked hard enough to roll him back toward the center of the dojo.
"Second lesson:""Trust is death. Hope is death. Mercy is death."
Strike.Strike.Strike.
The wooden staff became a storm.Each blow a brutal punctuation mark on his battered flesh.
"Fight back, Rai Tsuki. Or rot here like the weak you were born to be."
Rai screamed — not in fear —but in rage.
He forced himself up, staggering, fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white.
In a wild, broken burst of movement, he grabbed a discarded wooden sword from the floor.It shook violently in his tiny, bloodied hands — but he held it.
He swung.
The young man sidestepped lazily, letting the swing pass harmlessly by.But Rai swung again. And again. And again.
Wild. Sloppy.But relentless.
For the first time, Rai was not fighting to survive.
He was fighting to exist.
The young man swept his legs out from under him with one precise motion.Rai slammed into the ground hard, bones screaming.
But he did not drop the sword.
Even as his body betrayed him —even as darkness clawed at the edges of his vision —he clung to the weapon with all the strength left in his broken frame.
The white-haired young man stood over him, expression unreadable.
Silence filled the hollow dojo, broken only by Rai's ragged, blood-soaked breathing.
Finally, the young man spoke, voice low and dangerous:
"Your grandfather once crawled up these mountains.""He bled like you. He broke like you.""And he conquered it all."
He leaned down, emerald eyes inches from Rai's battered face, each word like a dagger:
"But you, Rai Tsuki...""You will either surpass him — or die long before his shadow even notices you existed."
He straightened, stepping back.
"Crawl to your corner. Sleep if you can.""Tomorrow... we break every part of you that's still human."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and vanished into the shadows of the ruined dojo.
Rai lay broken on the floor, blood pooling around him.
The ancient wooden beams above him looked like the ribs of some dying beast.
Every breath was agony.Every blink burned.
But through it all —through the blood, the pain, the endless cold —
he smiled.
A twisted, broken smile carved from pure, stubborn defiance.
Because he knew:
The boy named Rai Tsuki had died today.
And something far worse was about to be born.