The day of the Chinese New Year dawned quietly, the world outside cloaked in a blanket of pristine snow. The rooftops of Rin and Kenji's home wore their winter mantle with grace, while the garden, dormant beneath the frost, held within it the quiet promise of spring. The year of the Tiger had arrived, fierce and determined, yet the morning carried with it a serenity that felt timeless.
In their bedroom, Rin stirred from sleep, her body stretching slowly beneath the soft warmth of the duvet. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, she lay still, taking in the peaceful quiet of the house. Kenji's side of the bed was empty, the sheets cool to the touch. He had risen early, as he often did, to train in the dojo. Rin smiled faintly to herself, her thoughts lingering on him before she swung her legs over the side of the bed.
The weight of her eighth month of pregnancy was a constant companion now, making each movement deliberate and slow. Rin moved with care, her hands instinctively resting on the gentle curve of her belly as she stood. The fitted red blouse she chose for the day slipped over her with ease, its fabric soft against her skin. The long sleeves and the small bow she tied at the back added a touch of elegance, the vibrant color a nod to the festive spirit of the holiday. Loose linen pants completed her outfit, and as she fastened the iconic gold earrings from Mayumi, she caught her reflection in the mirror. She smiled softly, a quiet pride warming her expression.
The bathroom was her next stop, and the routine there was unhurried, almost meditative. By the time she emerged, her mind felt clear, her body refreshed. Slipping her feet into her slippers, she made her way downstairs, her steps light but deliberate. The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator as she entered the kitchen.
Rin opened the fridge with purpose, her cravings guiding her search. In recent weeks, her appetite had taken a turn, with fish and nuts becoming staples of her diet. Chocolate, once a favorite indulgence, now seemed unappealing, its richness cloying rather than comforting. Her eyes scanned the shelves, searching for the thick slices of salmon she was certain had been there yesterday. But the space where they should have been was empty.
A sigh escaped her lips, dramatic and tinged with exasperation. She knew exactly where the salmon had gone. Kenji, ever the early riser, had likely eaten it raw before heading out to train. It wasn't the first time. Memories of him swallowing raw eggs whole straight down his throat and consuming other uncooked marinade foods surfaced in her mind, drawing a mix of amusement and mild dismay. She shuddered slightly at the thought but couldn't suppress the small smile that tugged at her lips. It was such a Kenji thing to do. His habits of the past.
Resigning herself to the absence of her intended breakfast, Rin turned her attention to the pantry. The shelves offered a modest selection, and she settled on an apple and a handful of nuts. After washing the apple, she bit into it, the crisp sweetness a welcome contrast to the chilly morning air. Nibbling thoughtfully, she made her way to the window, her gaze drawn to the dojo beyond the garden.
The building stood solid and proud, its roof dusted with snow. From her vantage point, Rin could see faint wisps of steam rising from its windows, a testament to the warmth within. She imagined Kenji inside, his movements precise and fluid as he trained. The thought of him—his discipline, his strength, the quiet intensity he carried—filled her with a deep sense of admiration. Her free hand rested on her belly as she gazed out, the rhythmic crunch of the apple and nuts punctuating the stillness.
The day stretched before her, full of possibility and quiet celebration. Yet in that moment, as she stood by the window with the snow-covered garden and dojo before her, Rin felt a profound sense of contentment. This was their life—imperfect in its quirks, yet rich with love and promise.
After finishing the apple, Rin brushed her hands together, a soft smile playing on her lips as she decided to visit Kenji at the dojo. She poured the remaining nuts into her mouth, savoring the earthy crunch as she chewed. Her coat hung by the door, and she slipped it on with ease, the fabric warm against the icy chill outside. Opening the door to the backyard, Rin paused on the threshold, her breath forming small clouds in the crisp winter air.
The garden stretched before her, its beauty subdued under a blanket of snow. Unlike the front garden, this space was a sanctuary, its design intricate and purposeful. The snow-covered paths meandered between skeletal trees and dormant flower beds, and in the distance, a pond lay still, its surface frozen in a thin sheet of ice. The stream that fed it murmured softly beneath the snow, a reminder of life persisting even in winter's grasp. Rin's heart swelled as she imagined the transformation that spring would bring: blossoms spilling over branches, the sound of water trickling into the pond, and koi fish darting through its depths.
But more than anything, she looked forward to holding Akira in her arms amid the garden's renewal. The thought filled her with a mix of joy and trepidation. Knowing their son would be a big baby, the prospect of childbirth loomed large in her mind. But with the anxiety came a sense of resolve, the knowledge that the reward would far outweigh the pain.
The path to the dojo had been cleared of snow, the stone walkway visible beneath her feet. Rin walked carefully, her breath steady as she approached the building. The wooden structure stood strong and serene, a reflection of its purpose. As she opened the door, a wave of warm air greeted her, mingling with the faint scent of cedarwood and sweat. The transition from the crisp cold to the dojo's inviting warmth was immediate, and Rin took a moment to absorb her surroundings.
The interior was minimalist yet steeped in tradition. Screens lined the walls, their soft glow illuminating the space from above and the sides. The tatami mats stretched across the training area, their natural tones grounding the room in simplicity. Above, the painted ceiling drew Rin's gaze, its artistry captivating. The phoenix and its encircling fire were rendered in delicate strokes, the work of Lucas's friend whose talent had also adorned their bedroom. The painting was a subtle yet powerful nod to their intertwined destinies, its symbolism resonating deeply with Rin.
The dojo's design reflected Kenji's dual nature: disciplined and rooted in tradition, yet adaptable and modern. One section was dedicated to traditional martial arts, ready for sparring and practice. Another section behind the wide door-housed gym equipment, a nod to Kenji's commitment to physical strength and endurance. The walls, constructed from smooth stone, added a spartan touch, their cold austerity a reminder of the discipline required within these walls.
Rin's eyes found Kenji, his presence commanding even in solitude. He was in the gym section, his body a testament to years of rigorous training. Shirtless and focused, his muscles rippled with each movement as he performed push-ups. A large, smooth stone rested on his back, its weight a challenge he met with unwavering determination. Sweat glistened on his skin, and his breaths were steady, controlled.
Rin smiled, a mischievous glint sparking in her eyes. Quietly, she approached him, her footsteps light on the floor. Kenji was so absorbed in his exercise that he didn't notice her until she climbed onto the stone on his back, settling herself with a playful laugh.
Kenji paused for a moment, his head turning slightly as a faint smile curved his lips. Without a word, he resumed his push-ups, now carrying not only the stone's weight but also Rin's. She burst into laughter, her voice bright and unrestrained, echoing through the dojo. Kenji's smile widened, his amusement evident even as he maintained his steady rhythm.
"You're making this too easy." Rin teased, leaning forward slightly.
Kenji grunted softly, his tone laced with humor.
"Easy? Maybe I should add a few more stones."
Rin laughed even harder, her joy infectious. For a moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift, replaced by the lightness of their shared laughter. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of the dojo and the quiet beauty of the snow-covered garden beyond, the two of them found a sense of balance—a harmony between strength and play, discipline and love.
As Rin slid off Kenji's back, her laughter fading into a soft, lingering smile, he carefully placed the smooth stone aside and straightened up. The motion sent droplets of sweat trailing down his back, and he raked his hand through his damp hair, pushing it back from his face in a casual, unthinking gesture. The sight of him, so effortlessly composed and strong, caught Rin off guard. A faint blush crept to the tips of her ears, and she quickly averted her gaze, hoping Kenji wouldn't notice.
"How are you feeling?" He asked, his voice steady but carrying an undertone of genuine concern.
Rin shook herself free from her wandering thoughts, her hands brushing lightly over the gentle curve of her growing belly.
"I'm feeling well." She said softly, her smile tender but genuine. "With each day, Akira feels stronger. He's moving so much, turning and kicking... It makes me happy, but..."
Her voice faltered, her gaze dropping to the floor as a shadow of uncertainty crossed her face.
"Sometimes it's overwhelming. The stress, the uncertainty. It creeps in when I least expect it."
Kenji's brow furrowed slightly, the weight of her words settling over him. He stepped closer, his presence a steady anchor against the tide of her emotions.
"I know you've been worried." He said, his tone calm yet firm. "But I've made sure we have the best care, Rin. Private. The doctors will ensure that everything goes smoothly. Akira will be born healthy and safe."
Rin's expression shifted, a flicker of panic rising in her eyes.
"I don't know." She murmured, her voice trembling. "Sometimes I think I'd feel safer at home. Without doctors, without all the... interference."
Kenji's gaze held hers, steady and unwavering, as if willing his certainty to become her own.
"Trust them." He said quietly. "And trust me. I'll be with you every step of the way. Nothing will happen to you or Akira. I promise."
The conviction in his voice eased some of the tension in her chest. Rin nodded slowly, her breathing evening out. Kenji reached out, his hand resting gently on her belly. The warmth of his touch seeped through the fabric of her blouse, and they both felt it at the same time—a small, strong movement beneath his hand.
"He's awake." Rin whispered, her voice soft with wonder.
Kenji's lips curved into a faint smile, his fingers brushing gently over the spot where Akira had kicked.
"He's been waking up to my voice lately." He said, his tone light but filled with quiet pride. "I think he already knows who's in charge."
Rin chuckled softly, the sound breaking through the heaviness of her earlier thoughts.
"You think so?" She asked, her eyes brightening as she looked up at him.
"I know so." Kenji replied, his smile deepening. They stayed like that for a moment, their connection deepened by the life growing between them. The dojo's quiet warmth wrapped around them, a cocoon of peace in the midst of winter's chill.
Eventually, Kenji broke the silence, his voice gentle.
"I'm going to take a shower." He said, stepping back slightly, though his hand lingered for a moment longer on her belly.
Rin's blush returned, her cheeks tinged with a soft pink.
"Are you ending your training because of me?" she asked, her voice playful but tinged with guilt.
Kenji shook his head, his smile reassuring.
"No." He said. "I've been at it long enough. Besides, I'll come back later this evening for the next round. For now, let's head home."
Together, they walked back to the house, the snow crunching softly beneath their feet. The path felt longer somehow, stretched by the quiet comfort of their shared silence. The warmth of their home greeted them as they stepped inside, the familiar scents and soft lighting wrapping around them like a well-worn blanket.
Rin settled herself on the couch, her body sinking into the plush cushions with a sigh of relief. Her hands rested on Akira for a moment, feeling the faint movements within. Reaching for a book on the coffee table, its page bookmarked with a Kenji's black feather, she opened it to the chapter she had been reading. The text focused on natural medicine, particularly herbs that soothed pain. Her fingers traced the delicate print as she began to read, the words weaving a quiet rhythm that matched the steady beating of her heart.
Kenji lingered for a moment, watching her from the doorway. Her face, serene in concentration, was a picture of quiet strength. He smiled to himself before heading toward the shower, the sound of running water soon filling the house.
As the afternoon light filtered through the windows, Rin felt a sense of calm settle over her. The day's worries seemed to fade, replaced by the steady rhythm of their life together. The anticipation of the evening ahead, of the future they were building, filled her with quiet contentment.
Kenji emerged from the shower, the faint mist of steam trailing behind him as he stepped into the warmth of their home. His usual attire—a plain black T-shirt and loose pants—clung comfortably to his frame, a stark contrast to the intensity of his earlier training. Rin, nestled on the couch with her book, caught a glimpse of him through the arch leading to the kitchen. Her eyes sparkled with quiet amusement as she watched him open the fridge, his gaze scanning its contents with the intent focus of someone on a mission.
"There are no more eggs." Rin called out, her tone playful as she hid her chuckle behind the edge of her book. She didn't need to look up to feel Kenji's gaze settle on her from behind the fridge door. A soft, knowing smile tugged at her lips.
Kenji rolled his eyes, though a small curve played at the corner of his mouth.
"You're going to finish me off someday."he muttered under his breath, the warmth in his voice belying the words. He reached for a sausage, tearing off a piece with his teeth as he leaned casually against the counter.
"I'll cook lunch soon." Rin added, glancing up briefly. "I just want to finish this chapter first."
Kenji nodded, content to wait, though his appetite hinted at impatience. The quiet rhythm of their home enveloped them, the soft rustle of Rin's turning pages and the occasional creak of the snow on the roof settling blending into the tranquil backdrop of their day.
Then, the sound of the doorbell echoed through the house, breaking the spell of their shared peace. Kenji straightened, his senses sharpening instinctively. He could see through a small opening in the entrance door a figure standing by the gate. The person's coat was long and dark, their hood pulled low over their head, obscuring their face. The sight sent a ripple of protectiveness through Kenji, his instincts immediately attuned to Rin and the life growing within her.
Without a word, Kenji stepped outside, the chill of the evening air did not bite his skin. The snow crunched softly beneath him as he approached the gate, his posture steady but wary.
"What do you want?" he called out, his voice calm but firm.
The figure chuckled softly, a sound both familiar and disarming.
"Am I bothering you too much?" the figure replied, their voice unmistakable.
It was Yasuhiro.
Kenji's shoulders relaxed slightly, though he remained guarded. He walked to the gate and unlocked it, pushing it open to allow his father inside. The man stepped through, his presence commanding even in the muted light of the evening.
Inside the foyer, Yasuhiro removed his coat, revealing a form that was neither fully human nor entirely Akuma. Though he had assumed a human shape, the remnants of his true nature clung to him. Horns curled elegantly on his forehead, and black scales covered one side of his body, their texture catching the light beneath his dark clothing. It was a stark reminder of his duality, his desire to fit in now between two worlds.
Kenji crossed his arms, leaning slightly against the wall as he regarded his father.
"The human form doesn't suit you." He remarked, his tone neutral but edged with subtle humor.
Yasuhiro's eyes narrowed slightly, irritation flickering across his face.
"Because it's awkward and pathetic." He admitted, his voice carrying a faint growl of displeasure. "But I thought it might make this visit less... intrusive."
Kenji's lips quirked in a faint smirk, but he said nothing further, stepping aside to allow Yasuhiro fully into the warmth of their home. The air in the foyer was thick with unspoken words, a tension that hinted at the complexity of their relationship. Yet, for all the weight of their history, the house itself seemed to soften the edges, offering a neutral ground for what was to come.
Rin, who had started cooking dinner in the form of beef stew, glanced at the approaching Yasuhiro with mild surprise. In her mind, he looked a bit like a half-feathered parrot, a thought that amused her despite herself. This mismatched impression did not align with the dignified appearance she associated with Yasuhiro whenever his long tail trailed behind him, and his expansive wings draped like a royal cloak. But now, he was different. There was no tail, no wings, just a figure in half-human form. Yet, Yasuhiro's aura remained as proud as ever, his chest thrust forward and the blue stone with Atsuna's soul hanging prominently around his neck without change.
Rin, standing at the counter and rhythmically chopping carrots, greeted Kenji's father with a polite nod. She added the vegetables to the simmering pot, the rich aroma of beef stew beginning to fill the kitchen. Yasuhiro returned her greeting with a slight inclination of his head.
"Would you like to stay for lunch?" Rin asked modestly, her voice steady as she stirred the pot, the ladle making soft ripples in the broth.
Yasuhiro shook his head.
"I can't." He replied, his tone firm but not unkind. "I have two matters to discuss with you both, and then I must move on."
But as he finished speaking, the blue stone on his necklace began to glow brighter, its light casting soft, wavering patterns on the walls. From within the pendant emerged the shimmering, ethereal form of Atsuna, her presence gentle yet commanding.
"Nonsense." Atsuna said, her voice warm but insistent, a smile playing on her translucent lips. "You can spare more time than that."
Yasuhiro's arms crossed over his chest as he looked at her, his expression torn between irritation and affection. His eyes held a pleading look, but Atsuna's radiant smile remained unwavering. After a moment, Yasuhiro exhaled deeply, the tension in his posture softening.
"Fine." He muttered, though his tone carried a hint of reluctance. "We'll stay a little longer."
Atsuna beamed, her spirit turning toward Rin and Kenji.
"It's so good to see you both." She said warmly. Her gaze lingered on Rin, softening further. "How are you feeling, dear? And how is Akira?"
Rin's lips curved into a gentle smile as she continued her work in the kitchen, her hands steady as she peeled a potato.
"We're doing well." She replied. "He's been very active lately. Strong kicks. It's... reassuring."
"That's wonderful to hear." Atsuna said, her voice tinged with pride. She moved closer, her ethereal presence hovering beside Rin as they began to discuss her and baby's well-being. Their conversation flowed easily, the warmth between them adding to the cozy atmosphere of the kitchen. Atsuna's light laughter mingled with the sound of the stew bubbling softly on the stove, creating a symphony of domestic harmony.
Meanwhile, Kenji's focus shifted to Yasuhiro, who stood at the edge of the room, his gaze thoughtful.
"How's the search for participants for the Tenshikai tournament going?" Kenji asked, his tone casual but carrying an undercurrent of interest.
Yasuhiro's lips curved into a faint smile.
"That's one of the matters I came to discuss." He said, reaching into his trouser pocket. He pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper and handed it to Kenji. "I call this »The List of Losers« for This Year."
Kenji unfolded the paper and scanned the names, his expression remaining neutral. The list contained seven names—the other participants in this year's tournament besides him. Some names, like "Red Kiriko," struck him as unimpressive, while others, such as "The First Thunder," seemed overly dramatic. Rin husband's eyes flew dispassionately over the letter with practiced ease without even reading thoroughly, as if he only wanted to read his horoscope at the end of some magazine.
"Red Kiriko?" Kenji said with a quiet scoff, his tone dripping with skepticism. "Sounds more like a stain than a contender."
Yasuhiro's smirk widened slightly, his amusement barely concealed.
"Maybe she's better than she sounds." He said, though his tone carried a trace of irony. "But you'll see for yourself soon enough."
Kenji folded the paper and placed it on the table.
"I'll familiarize myself with their fighting techniques later." He said. "But I'm almost certain that this edition will be... not very engaging."
Yasuhiro nodded in agreement, his smile sharpening slightly.
"Confidence suits you." He remarked, his tone carrying a hint of approval. "I dare say you have it in your blood."
The air between them settled into a quiet understanding, the weight of their shared history and the looming tournament hanging unspoken but palpable. Yasuhiro's presence, though commanding, felt less intrusive than usual. Kenji turned his gaze to Rin, who was deep in conversation with Atsuna, her hands gracefully moving as she spoke. A flicker of concern crossed his face as he shifted his attention back to Yasuhiro. His voice was steady but firm, laced with a protectiveness that was almost palpable.
"During the tournament, I want Rin to be protected." He said. "On the first day of the Tenshikai Tournament, she'll be a week away from giving birth."
Yasuhiro regarded him with a calm yet commanding presence.
"She will be." He reassured, his voice carrying the weight of his authority. "Both she and you will have a distinguished place beside me in the VIP box. From there, you can watch the battles unfold. And if you are called to fight, I will remain by her side, ensuring her safety. If not me, then Atsuna certainly will."
Yasuhiro's gaze shifted briefly to the women. Atsuna's radiant form seemed to glow brighter as she laughed softly, her ethereal presence exuding warmth. Rin's face mirrored that warmth, her eyes alight with trust and contentment. Yasuhiro's usually stern demeanor softened for a fleeting moment before he returned his focus to Kenji.
"As for the venue..." Yasuhiro continued, his tone turning more pragmatic. "I've decided to make a change. After the destruction of the coliseum where the previous tournaments were held, I've opted to use one of the arenas in the human world for the fifth edition. It will draw better publicity and dismiss this outdated notion that Hideya's coliseum was ever safe."
Kenji's brow furrowed, his tension visible in the way his shoulders squared.
"Where is this arena?" He asked, his voice edged with unease.
"The Kobe Stadium, near Osaka." Yasuhiro replied smoothly, as if the choice were self-evident.
Kenji's frown deepened, unease quickly turning to frustration.
"You're putting people and the city at risk." he said, his voice low but firm. "If the stadium doesn't have a protective barrier strong enough to withstand the participants' powers, the consequences could be..."
Yasuhiro's response was a deliberate, indulgent wave of his Akuma hand, the scaled and spiked limb glinting faintly in the warm light of the kitchen.
"The souls of the martial arts masters who perished in the explosion during the fourth tournament are the perfect nourishment for the barrier I'm constructing." he said, his tone carrying an air of detached confidence.
Kenji's jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. The anger rising within him was evident. Dark eyes narrowed as his emotions threatened to spill over. Rin, still engaged in conversation with Atsuna, caught the shift in his demeanor. Her gaze flickered toward him, her brow furrowing with subtle concern.
Yasuhiro, however, remained unfazed, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he stepped closer to his son.
"If you're so upset..." He said, his voice calm but pointed "Do you have another way to create an equally strong barrier?"
Kenji's silence was telling. His teeth hid as he struggled for a response, but none came. The weight of his father's question hung heavily between them, the tension thick and unyielding. Yasuhiro's chuckle broke the silence, low and almost amused.
"That's what I thought." He said, his tone laced with quiet triumph.
Kenji exhaled slowly through his nose, his shoulders relaxing slightly as the anger ebbed, replaced by reluctant acceptance. His gaze lowered briefly before meeting Yasuhiro's once more, the fire in his eyes tempered but not extinguished. The unspoken conflict between them simmered beneath the surface, a battle of wills neither was fully willing to concede.
The aroma of Rin's beef stew deepened, a grounding presence in the charged atmosphere. The warmth of the kitchen, combined with Atsuna's radiant glow and Kenji's wife's quiet strength, seemed to anchor them all, a reminder of the bonds that tied them together despite their differences.
Yasuhiro's gaze softened slightly as he glanced once more toward Rin and Atsuna.
"For all our differences, Kenji..." he said quietly "you know as well as I do that protecting what matters most sometimes requires choices others may not understand. I'm doing this for the tournament—and for you."
Kenji's lips pressed into a thin line, but he nodded, the tension in his muscles easing ever so slightly. In the background, Rin's laughter rose again, light and soothing, as she shared a moment with her mother-in-law. It was a sound that reminded Kenji of what he was fighting for, a beacon in the storm of his thoughts.
As the savory aroma of the lunch filled the house, Rin carefully plated the meal, ladling the hearty stew over perfectly steamed rice. She sprinkled a touch of fresh parsley over the top, the green flecks adding a pop of color against the warm, rich hues of the dish. She handed the plates to Kenji, who carried them to the low table in the dining room, his movements steady and purposeful.
The group sat around the table, the atmosphere both warm and charged with the weight of their earlier discussion—but a curious Rin paused before taking a seat and reached for a piece of paper lying on the table—for the names of those who might stand against Kenji in his quest to defend the title of Blood King.
As her eyes scanned the list, a flicker of amusement danced across her face. The aliases interspersed among the names were as dramatic as they were cryptic. "Demon of Wamoari" caught her attention, and she couldn't help but wonder how much "demon" there truly was in this particular contender. The thought of it being someone entirely unrelated to demonic blood made her smile inwardly.
But then, her amusement faltered. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she instinctively brought a hand to her mouth.
"Kenji?" She said, her voice edged with a mix of disbelief and concern. "Did you read this list carefully?"
Kenji, already seated and starting to eat, glanced up at her.
"Not really." He admitted. "I skimmed it earlier. I'll go through it in detail later."
Rin's hand trembled slightly as she lowered the paper. Her voice was quieter now, almost hesitant.
"Tao Luoyang is on this list."
The name hung in the air, heavy with significance. Rin's master, the one who had shaped so much of who she was, had entered the tournament. The revelation sent a ripple of emotions through her—excitement, curiosity, and a gnawing unease. Questions flooded her mind. Why had Tao left the monastery? Was this connected to the prophecy she had always doubted? Did Tao seek her out, or was he looking for the Fire of Destiny—Kenji—on his own terms? Or perhaps it was something deeper, tied to his past friendship with Hideya?
She placed the paper aside with trembling hands, her thoughts spiraling. The meal momentarily forgotten.
"I don't understand..." she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else.
Kenji, noticing her unease, set down his chopsticks and gave her a reassuring smile.
"This is good news." He said simply.
Rin looked up at him, her brow furrowed.
"What do you mean?" She asked, her voice tinged with both curiosity and disbelief.
Kenji's smile deepened, and he leaned forward slightly.
"Because," he began, his tone steady and calm "as his former student, you know all of his weaknesses."
Rin's cheeks flushed, and she let out an awkward laugh, shaking her head.
"That feels like such a betrayal." She said, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her sleeve. "To talk about my master's weaknesses like that..."
Yasuhiro, who had been quietly observing the exchange, chuckled softly.
"It's not betrayal." He said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "It's the reality of this tournament. Before a fight, competitors do everything they can to learn about their opponents. Some even hire others to gather information. It's all part of the game."
He paused, a faint smirk playing on his lips.
"Hideya considered it an art form." He added, his tone laced with irony. "He wrote entire chronicles about the fighters he'd faced, detailing their strengths and weaknesses. To him, it wasn't just strategy; it was a passion."
Kenji's expression remained calm, though a flicker of amusement danced in his eyes.
"See?" He said to Rin, his voice teasing. "It's practically tradition."
Rin sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly, though the tension didn't fully leave her. She cautiously sat down at the table and glanced down at her plate, the steam rising from the stew curling into the air. The rich aroma grounded her, reminding her of the here and now. She picked up her spoon and took a small bite, savoring the comforting warmth of the meal.
As the group continued to eat, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, but Rin's thoughts lingered on Tao. The mixture of excitement and apprehension remained, a quiet undercurrent to the warmth of the day. She couldn't shake the feeling that her upcoming encounter with her master would be a turning point—for her, for Kenji, and perhaps for the prophecy she had spent so long questioning and finally believed.
Rin's curiosity deepened as she set her spoon down and leaned slightly forward, her gaze steady on Yasuhiro.
"How does the Tenshikai tournament proceed?" She asked, her voice steady but laced with intrigue.
Yasuhiro met her gaze, his expression softening slightly as he prepared to explain.
"The tournament is structured over three days." He began, his tone taking on the cadence of a storyteller. "On the first two days, eight competitors, Kenji too, engage in battles, narrowing the field. By the final day, only two remain. The last day is preceded by a banquet, a tradition that has persisted despite other changes."
Rin tilted her head slightly.
"A banquet?" She echoed, her tone laced with a mix of surprise and curiosity.
"Yes. It's a symbolic gesture, a brief moment of camaraderie before the final match."
Yasuhiro said, his voice tinged with a mix of nostalgia and pride. His gaze grew distant, as if he were momentarily transported back to one of those evenings, the laughter and tension of competitors mingling in the air.
"It's a tradition that reminds us all of the shared journey, even when we're about to face each other as rivals. There's a beauty in that fleeting camaraderie. In the past, the tournament's final match was a fight to the death." he said, his voice lowering slightly, heavy with the weight of memory. "But that tradition ended when Izanami, my mother, restructured the tournament to make it more palatable for the media. It became a spectacle for the human world, though the core essence remains unchanged."
Rin absorbed this, her fingers idly tracing the edge of her plate. The mention of Izanami piqued her interest further, but she decided to save her questions for another time.
"How long were you the Blood King?" She asked after a pause.
"From the time Kenji was born until the day I injured Hideya under the lung." He said finally, his voice quiet but resolute. "Twenty-three years. I was the longest-reigning Blood King in the tournament's history."
Yasuhiro's voice held a faint note of pride, but there was a deeper undercurrent of weariness, as if the weight of those years still lingered in his memory.
"It was a reign filled with challenges." He added after a pause. "Every victory carved into my belt came with a price—not just in battle, but in the sacrifices it demanded of me and those around me."
Kenji, who had been listening quietly, glanced at his father with a mix of respect and contemplation. The weight of Yasuhiro's legacy was not lost on him.
Yasuhiro continued, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"During my reign, there were so many red pearls on my belt that we introduced a new tradition. Five red pearls could be exchanged for one blue pearl. It was a symbolic gesture of dominance and longevity."
Seizing the moment, Yasuhiro reached into his pocket and retrieved a small vial. The glass glinted in the light, its contents—a few remaining drops of Phoenix Tears—shimmering faintly. Rin's eyes widened slightly as she noticed how little was left.
"I thought I had filled that not long ago..." she said, her voice tinged with surprise.
Yasuhiro's expression was calm but firm.
"The tears are nearly gone." He said. "I need more if I am to maintain this human form. Without them, it becomes increasingly difficult."
Rin nodded, already standing.
"I'll refill it." She said, though her interest lingered. "But why is the stability of your form so disturbed?"
He exhaled softly.
"As my abilities developed over the years, the Akuma aspect began to take over—visually and otherwise. Returning to a human form, as I did in my younger days, has become increasingly challenging."
Atsuna's ethereal form drifted closer, her expression warm.
"But when you do," she said softly, "it reminds me of the day we first met.
Rin's curiosity deepened, and she glanced between Atsuna and Yasuhiro.
"How did you meet?" She asked, her voice gentle but eager.
Kenji, who had been silent until now, suddenly turned his head, suppressing a laugh. He coughed lightly, masking his amusement as he looked away. Yasuhiro shot him a sharp sideways glance, his face mixed in exasperation and seriousness.
"Let's change the subject." Yasuhiro said firmly, his tone carried a faint hint of an order. For a brief moment, his gaze softened, a flicker of something unspoken passing across his face—a memory, perhaps, or a vulnerability he rarely allowed to surface. He straightened quickly, masking it with his usual composure, but the fleeting shift did not go unnoticed.
Rin's cheeks flushed slightly, and she nodded, sensing the shift in the atmosphere.
"I'll be right back with the vial." She said quickly, retreating toward the stairs. As she ascended, she could hear Kenji's muffled laughter and Yasuhiro's hard reprimand. A small smile tugged at her lips as she reached the upper floor, the dynamic of their exchange lingering in her chest.
When she returned downstairs, the vial of Phoenix Tears in her hand shimmered faintly in the soft light of the room. She approached Yasuhiro, who stood near the dining table, his posture as regal as ever, even in the warm and informal setting of their home. As she handed the vial to him, he nodded slightly, his expression unreadable, and uncorked it with a practiced motion.
With care, he tilted the vial, letting a few drops fall into his palm. The liquid, like spilled mercury, coalesced into small, luminous spheres. He plucked three of them with deliberate precision and swallowed them one by one. The transformation began almost immediately. The Akuma that enshrouded half of his body—the black scales, the horns, the subtle shimmer of his otherworldly essence—began to fade. The scales melted seamlessly into his skin, and the horns dissolved into tiny, flickering flakes of fire that vanished before they touched the ground.
Now fully human in appearance, Yasuhiro's expression darkened slightly. He looked at his hands, turning them over as if inspecting a stranger's. There was no satisfaction in his eyes, only a muted displeasure that lingered like an aftertaste. Despite his mastery over both forms, Yasuhiro preferred his Akuma visage. Taking the Phoenix Tears always left him with the faint, irksome feeling of compliance—as though he were taking medicine rather than embracing a gift.
Atsuna, glowing softly beside him, caught the subtle shift in his demeanor. Her smile wavered, and a touch of sadness crept into her expression.
"I'd rather stay longer." She said softly, her gaze shifting between Kenji and Rin. "But there are other matters that demand our attention."
As she prepared to retreat back into the blue stone nestled around Yasuhiro's neck, Atsuna turned to Kenji, her voice warm but firm.
"After Akira's birth, you must go to the Saru River. Don't forget the tradition."
Kenji, standing by the sink as he began gathering the dishes, gave a slight nod. He knew well the importance of this custom. The Saru River, icy and unforgiving even in the hottest of summers, was sacred to his mother's lineage. It was the same river where he and Rin had exchanged their vows, its rushing waters a witness to their union. The tradition dictated that a newborn be immersed in the river's waters to bless them with a good heart and a warrior's spirit. The thought of subjecting a days-old Akira to such a ritual stirred both his respect for the tradition and a protective unease. But he also knew that to forgo it would offend Atsuna deeply, even in her spectral form.
With a faint, affectionate smile, Atsuna gave them both one last look before her glowing figure dissolved back into the pendant. The blue stone pulsed briefly, then dimmed, its light now faint and steady. Yasuhiro adjusted the chain around his neck and turned toward the door.
"Thank you for the Tears." He said, his voice low and measured. "I'll take our leave now."
Kenji walked him to the door, exchanging a brief, silent nod of understanding as Yasuhiro stepped out into the cold January air. The door closed with a soft click, and the house felt quieter in his absence, though the weight of his visit lingered.
Rin, finishing the last of her tidying, turned to Kenji, her brow arched in curiosity.
"What was so funny at the table earlier?" She asked, her tone light but insistent. "When I asked about how your parents met?"
Kenji paused, a small, amused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he dried his hands with a towel.
"The story of how they met could be turned into a book... Or maybe a legend."
Rin crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes narrowing playfully.
"A legend, you say?" She teased. "Well, I'd love to learn about the 'genesis' of the Fire of Destiny though.
Kenji chuckled softly, shaking his head as he began stacking the plates.
"You might regret asking." He warned, though his tone held no real caution. There was a light in his eyes, a rare mix of fondness and mischief that Rin recognized all too well.
She leaned against the counter, her smile turning sly.
"I'll take my chances." She said, her voice lilting with humor.
Kenji glanced at her, his amusement deepening.
"Alright." He said finally. "But don't say I didn't warn you."
The warmth between them lingered as they finished cleaning up, the promise of a story—one filled with history, mystery, and a touch of destiny—hanging in the air like an unspoken bond. Outside, the snow continued to fall, blanketing the garden and the world beyond in a quiet, sacred stillness.
Rin and Kenji remained by the kitchen island, the soft glow of warm light enveloping the room. Rin perched on a chair, her fingers delicately peeling a tangerine, the citrus aroma mingling with the coziness of the evening. Kenji leaned against the counter, his arms crossed, his eyes briefly following her movements before gathering his thoughts to begin the story she'd requested.
"Atsuna," he began, his voice low and steady, "was a Miko. She wasn't just a shrine maiden—she was a medium, a bridge between the human world and the divine. She served the priests at a Shinto shrine in Tokyo and was renowned for her Kagura dances. They said she could channel the spirits of the Kami [1] with every movement."
[1] «Kami: the Japanese concept of god, deity, or spirit. It is a central concept in Shintō, the native religion of the people of the Japanese Archipelago.»
Rin paused her peeling, her attention fully on Kenji.
"And that's when Yasuhiro saw her?" She prompted gently.
Kenji nodded.
"Yes. He saw her dancing Kagura one evening and it was as if something inside him awoke. He fell in love with her - completely. He told her that he wasn't just the Kami who possessed her in the ceremony of becoming a Miko; he was the embodiment of the divine spirit for whom she danced. And," Kenji added with a wry smile "he immediately declared that this meant she was his wife."
Rin raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at her lips.
"Just like that?"
"Just like that." Kenji confirmed, his tone carrying a hint of amusement. "Atsuna was a little naïve, or maybe Yasuhiro was just very convincing. Either way, he had a way of making her believe him. And when he revealed his full Akuma form to her... it was impossible not to believe."
Rin's fingers stilled on the tangerine, her eyes widening slightly.
"He revealed himself?" She echoed, her voice tinged with awe.
Kenji nodded again.
"He did. It was his way of showing her the truth. And despite the danger, despite everything, Atsuna wasn't afraid. She was... captivated. Their romance continued, and Atsuna began summoning him through song and rituals whenever she wanted to see him. For a time, it was their secret."
Rin's smile softened, her mind painting vivid images of the scenes Kenji described.
"And then?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Then Yasuhiro took things a step further." Kenji said, his tone carrying a trace of dry humor. "One day, he abducted Atsuna from the shrine. She was declared missing, but in reality, she was living with him in his hideout."
Rin's jaw dropped slightly.
"He abducted her?"
"That's how the story goes." Kenji replied with a slight shrug. "Yasuhiro always called her his Persephone after that. And sometimes, she called him Hades."
Rin's laughter bubbled up, light and melodic.
"Persephone and Hades." She repeated. "It's oddly fitting. But also romantic, in a way."
Kenji smiled under his breath, hearing Rin's laughter.
"They thought so too. It was their way of exchanging affection, even if it made me roll my eyes every time."
Rin chuckled, then resumed peeling her tangerine.
"And that's where you come into the story?" She asked, glancing at him.
"Less than a year after the abduction, I was born. My earliest memories are of that hideout. It was home for a long time."
Rin's smile deepened as she popped a piece of the fruit into her mouth.
"It really does sound like the foundation for the Fire of Destiny." She said softly. "A spiritual Miko and a demon... it's almost too perfect."
Kenji shrugged slightly, a small, conspiratorial smile playing on his lips.
"There's more." he said, his voice dropping slightly as though sharing a secret. "Whenever Yasuhiro hears the sound of Kagura suzu [2] bells in silence, his scales rise. And sometimes, Atsuna hums the rhythm of the song she used to summon him, just to tease him."
Rin laughed quietly, the sound warm and full of delight.
"Really?" She asked, her tone incredulous but amused.
"Yes." Kenji confirmed, shaking his head slightly. "She knows exactly how to get under his skin, even now."
[2] «Kagura suzu: A set of twelve to fifteen bells on a short rod, used in the Kagura dance— a traditional Japanese sacred dance and musical performance dedicated to Shintō gods, often performed at shrines to entertain deities and bring blessings.»
Rin's laughter softened into a smile, and she tilted her head.
"How do you know all this?" she asked.
"I learned it from my grandmother." He said. "Izanami had a way of knowing everything about everyone, and she loved to tell stories when it suited her... Especially when she wanted to teach someone something."
Rin's eyes sparkled with curiosity.
"What lesson was she trying to teach you with this story?"
Kenji fell silent for a moment, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"She told it as a cautionary tale." He admitted, his tone carrying a trace of humor. "About relationships with women."
Rin's laughter rang out again, light and genuine.
"Izanami sounds like quite the character."
Kenji chuckled softly.
"She was." He said simply.
The warmth between them lingered as Rin finished her tangerine, and Kenji leaned back against the counter, the story of his parents hanging in the air like an unspoken bridge between past and present. The room, bathed in the soft glow of light, seemed to hold the echoes of history and destiny, intertwining them with the quiet intimacy of the moment.
Kenji leaned back slightly, his expression contemplative as he gently slid a sheet of paper across the smooth surface of the kitchen island. The faint rustle of the paper drew Rin's attention. She paused mid-bite, her fingers holding the peeled segment of a tangerine. The list of names was a stark reminder of the challenges ahead, the potential rivals Kenji would face in the upcoming Tenshikai tournament.
"While we're talking about family" Kenji began, his voice steady but tinged with curiosity, "I'd like to know more about your master, Tao Luoyang."
Rin's gaze faltered, and she looked slightly to the side, her hands idly peeling another fruit. A faint blush dusted her cheeks as she hesitated, searching for the right words.
"I never really knew if I could consider Tao as family." She admitted softly. "On one hand, he taught me everything I know. But on the other..."
Her voice trailed off, her eyes flickering with a mix of emotions.
"Tao was... spartan. Cold, even. He never showed affection in the way you might expect from someone who's supposed to be a mentor, let alone family. But I can't deny his patience. He was always... there."
Kenji nodded, his expression one of quiet understanding.
"I know what you mean." he said, his voice carrying a hint of bitterness softened by a wry smile. "It's how I felt with Hideya. He's my grandfather, and he taught me Onikata from the time I was six. He took me in, trained me. But warmth? Comfort? That was never part of it. His lessons were brutal, his expectations relentless. It was... survival. Not family."
Their shared experiences hung in the air, unspoken but deeply felt. Both Rin and Kenji had grown up in worlds where emotions were luxuries they couldn't afford, leaving them to navigate their childhoods alone. But now, together, they were rediscovering what it meant to feel, to connect, to belong.
Rin's lips curved into a faint smile, the warmth of their bond softening the edges of her memories. She set the tangerine peel aside and met Kenji's gaze.
"Tao Luoyang's fighting techniques are... intricate." She said, shifting the focus of the conversation. "Like me, he uses five animal styles: the tiger, the dragon, the crane, the viper, and the monkey. But he's also incorporated elements of karate into his movements. It's a seamless blend of tradition and precision."
Kenji's interest piqued, and he leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the counter.
"And you chose acrobatics." he said, a note of admiration in his tone.
Rin nodded.
"Yes. It felt natural to me. But Tao... his strength lies in his complete control over KI and his endurance in long battles. He's nearly impossible to provoke, and his patience can outlast even the most aggressive opponents."
Kenji considered this, his mind already analyzing potential strategies.
"Could he fight in the Phoenix style like you?" He asked.
Rin shook her head.
"No. Tao taught me how to control and focus CHI during my training for the Dancing Phoenix, but in the process of self-discovery, I realized that the Phoenix style isn't something that can be taught. It's... personal. It's inspired by the soul of the one who uses it. There are no set rules, no rigid forms. It's intuition, guided by the raw power of CHI. Certain patterns emerge naturally, but they're unique to the one who fights from the heart."
Kenji's eyes narrowed slightly, his analytical mind processing every detail.
"Does he have any weaknesses?" He asked, his tone matter-of-fact.
Rin hesitated, her loyalty to her master briefly warring with her allegiance to her husband. Finally, she sighed.
"His left shoulder." She admitted quietly. "He dislocated it years ago, and though he's recovered, it's still a vulnerability. And he struggles against opponents who are too fast. Sometimes he'll take a hit intentionally, just to get close enough to grab his opponent's limb and turn the fight in his favor."
Kenji nodded, storing the information in his head.
"Good to know." He said, his voice steady. "Thank you, Rin."
She offered him a small smile, her heart warmed by the trust they shared. As the conversation shifted back to the list of potential rivals, the room seemed to hum with a quiet intensity, the weight of the upcoming tournament blending with the intimacy of their moment together. The snow outside fell in gentle, rhythmic patterns, a reminder of the stillness that lay beyond the storm of challenges ahead.
Rin divided a mandarin orange in her hands, the citrus scent mingling with the warm air of the kitchen. She handed one half to Kenji, her fingers brushing his for a brief moment before she settled back into her chair. Her thoughts, however, drifted far from the simplicity of the shared fruit. As she chewed slowly, her mind churned with unease.
"I don't know why Tao s participating in the Tenshikai tournament." She admitted softly, her gaze dropping to the remaining segments. "It's not like him to care about wealth or titles. That... that's not who he is."
Kenji leaned back, taking a moment to study her face.
"Then why do you think he's here?" he asked, his voice steady but curious.
Rin hesitated, the answer tangled in her chest.
"I think... he's looking for me." She said finally, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "Though whether that's good or bad news, I'm not sure."
Kenji shrugged slightly.
"Maybe he has something important to tell you about the prophecy." he suggested. "There could be signs, or something we haven't considered yet. Whatever it is, we'll talk to him when the time comes. It's better than speculating too much now."
As Kenji spoke, Rin felt a fluttering movement in her belly—Akira's gentle, persistent kicks responding to the cadence of their conversation. She placed a hand on him, though her thoughts remained clouded.
"I just... I don't know how he'll react." She admitted, her voice quieter now. "To us. To you."
Kenji's gaze softened, and he reached out, his hand brushing her fingers.
"Rin," he said, his voice low but firm. "You're worrying too much. Maybe Tao has something to say, maybe he doesn't. Either way, we'll handle it. You've already fulfilled part of the prophecy. You found the Fire of Destiny. If that doesn't make you chosen by fate, I don't know what does."
Rin's lips curved into a small smile, though doubt still flickered in her eyes.
"But what if he doesn't see it that way?" she asked softly.
Kenji's faint smile deepened into something warmer, more reassuring.
"Then that's his problem." He said simply. "We don't need his approval. Seeking approval from the elders always sounded to me like a distasteful way to subordinate your life to someone else's expectations. We're building our own life now. And nothing—not Tao, not anyone—is going to change that."
Rin's heart softened at his words, her lingering anxiety easing slightly under the weight of his conviction.
"You make it sound so simple." She murmured.
"Because it is." Kenji replied, his tone light but resolute. "We belong to each other, Rin. That's what matters. Everything else is just noise."
For a moment, silence settled between them, but it was a comforting silence, filled with the quiet assurance of shared understanding. Rin reached for another piece of the orange, handing it to Kenji as her smile grew a little brighter. The tension in her chest loosened, replaced by a sense of calm that she hadn't felt in days. Kenji, with his unwavering presence, had a way of grounding her, reminding her of the strength they shared together.
Outside, the snow continued to fall gently, blanketing the world in a serene hush. Inside, the warmth of their bond was a quiet beacon against the uncertainties that lay ahead.
Kenji swallowed the last segment of the mandarin orange that Rin had handed him, savoring the citrus sweetness. With a slight stretch, he glanced toward the dojo.
"I should get back to training." He said, his voice steady but tinged with the quiet resolve of a man dedicated to his craft.
Rin nodded, though a faint pang of longing flickered in her chest. She rested her chin on her hand, her gaze lingering on him.
"I wish I could train alongside you." She murmured, her voice carrying a wistful note. "It has been a very long time since we last fought."
Kenji's brow furrowed slightly as he considered her words.
"I'll be training Onikata tonight." He replied. "It's... not exactly light practice."
Far from dissuading her, the mention of Onikata only deepened Rin's intrigue. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity.
"Let me watch!" She said, her tone almost playful but underpinned with genuine interest.
Kenji hesitated, glancing upward as if seeking guidance from the ceiling itself. After a moment, he exhaled and nodded.
"Alright." He said. "But I'll show you something else first—something I brought back from the old Hideya's residence."
Rin's brow furrowed slightly in curiosity, but she rose to follow him. Together, they stepped out into the crisp darkness of the winter evening. The garden's snow-covered paths sparkled faintly under the soft glow of the moon, and the air carried a serene stillness. Rin wrapped her coat tighter around herself as they reached the dojo, its silhouette stark against the starry sky.
Inside, the warmth of the dojo embraced them, a stark contrast to the biting chill outside. Rin sat quietly in the tatami mat section, her hands resting in her lap as Kenji disappeared behind one of the wooden screens. The faint rustling of movement filled the air, and then he emerged, transformed.
Kenji's Akuma form was striking, his dark-red eyes glowing faintly against the dim lighting. Its horns curved elegantly, and its dragon-like wings stretched wide, covered halfway with dark and shiny feathers. Balanced effortlessly on his shoulders was a massive jade pillar, its surface etched with intricate, mystical carvings that shimmered faintly in the ambient light. He stabilized the pillar with his wings as he carried it, placing it gently on the ground with a precision that belied its immense weight.
Rin's gaze was immediately drawn to the carvings. She leaned forward, lightly brushing her fingers against the cool jade that bore designs depicting demons and legendary animals.
"What is this?" She asked, her voice hushed with awe.
Kenji folded his wings slightly, his stance relaxed yet commanding.
"It's a training pillar for Onikata." He explained. "A regular punching bag or wooden dummy wouldn't last more than a single strike. They'd be torn apart. Jade, though... it's different. It absorbs the power of KI-charged blows, containing the energy and preventing it from spreading. It's the perfect material for what I need."
Rin nodded, marveling at the thoughtfulness of the design. Her gaze lingered on the pillar, but then Kenji's voice drew her attention back.
"There's something else I found." He said, his tone softer now. He reached behind him and pulled out a red bundle, carefully unwrapping it to reveal a familiar garment.
Rin's breath caught in her throat as she recognized it. The red battle dress, embroidered with a phoenix, though unfinished, seemed to glow in the dojo's warm light. She reached out to touch the fabric, her fingers trembling slightly.
"Kenji..." she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "This... this is the dress I made from the two robes I received on my first day at the residence."
Kenji's expression softened as he watched her.
"I thought you'd want it back." He said simply.
Rin's eyes shimmered as she held the dress close, her gratitude evident in the way she looked at him.
"Thank you." She said, her voice barely above a whisper. Rising on her toes, she kissed him softly. His eyes opened a little wider, unprepared for Rin's move. The warmth of her lips sent a ripple through him. His wings trembled slightly, the feathers elongating as his dark-red eyes glowed a little brighter.
Rin pulled back with a knowing smile. She understood the effect her CHI had on Kenji—how it amplified his Akuma strength and fueled his KI. Kenji nodded lightly, a little bit speechless, his gaze steady as he turned toward the jade pillar.
Rin settled back onto the mat, the battle dress still in her hands, as she watched Kenji approach the pillar. He stood before it, firm and deliberate. With a deep inhale, he focused his energy, his KI surging through him like an firery current. His first strike landed with a resounding impact, the jade absorbing the force with a faint, otherworldly hum. Rin watched in awe as he moved with precision and power, his Akuma form radiating an intensity that left her breathless.
The rhythmic sound of his strikes filled the dojo, a symphony of strength and discipline. And as Rin watched, she felt a renewed sense of admiration for the man she had chosen—a man who carried the weight of his past with unwavering valor, yet who always found room in his heart for her and the life they were building together.
After dozen minutes of observing Kenji, Rin gently smiled as she looked at her pregnant belly, the fabric of her blouse stretching softly over it. The rhythmic cadence of Kenji's strikes against the jade pillar resonated through the dojo, like a steady heartbeat of discipline and strength. Rin's thoughts began to wander, her gaze drifting to her hands resting lightly on her belly. She wondered, with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation, what Akira's martial arts training would be like.
It was almost certain that his son's training would begin in his childhood. The Hayashida family's legacy as a bloodline of warriors was an undeniable part of their identity. Rin's lips curved into a faint smile as she envisioned her son's small hands forming fists, his eyes wide with resolve as he mirrored Kenji's movements. The image filled her with both pride and an ache of protectiveness. She turned her thoughts into words, her voice soft but steady as she began discussing the future.
Kenji paused mid-strike, his wings shifting slightly as he turned to face her.
"Training usually starts when a child is around five years old." He said thoughtfully, his dark-red eyes meeting hers. "But it depends on their development. If they have the right predispositions, it could start earlier."
Rin watched him resume his practice, his movements fluid and precise, and let his words settle in her mind. Two pieces of information surfaced: Kenji had told her once that he started learning Onikata at six, and that he believed it was better to master another fighting style first before delving into Onikata's intensity. She leaned forward slightly, her curiosity piqued.
"Kenji," she asked, her voice laced with both intrigue and caution "do you think we'll teach Akira Onikata?"
Kenji's movements slowed, his gaze darkening for a moment as if her question had opened a door to a part of his past he rarely visited. He straightened, letting out a quiet breath before answering.
"Yes," he said finally, his tone measured. "But only when Akira is emotionally stable and wise in his strength."
Rin's intuition told her there was more behind his words, and she wasn't mistaken. Kenji's eyes softened slightly, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through his usual stoicism.
"When I was six, Hideya started teaching me Onikata." He began, his voice low. "The consequences were... bad. The style's demands were absurd, especially for a child. Many of the scars you've seen on my hands and forearms are from those early years."
Rin listened intently, her heart aching as she imagined a young Kenji enduring such pain. He continued, his tone tinged with bitterness.
"Hideya had a way of making it seem like everything was for my own good. But it wasn't. It broke me in ways I didn't even understand until much later. I had to rebuild myself piece by piece, and even now, some pieces are still missing."
Rin's gaze didn't waver. She was a humble and understanding listener, her silence offering him space to share without fear of judgment. She could feel the weight of his words, the scars they left not only on his body but also on his soul. After a moment, she reached out, her fingers brushing his arm gently.
"Kenji," she said softly "what do you think would be a good start for Akira's training?"
Kenji's expression shifted, a faint smile breaking through the heaviness. He placed his hand over hers briefly, a gesture of gratitude for her unwavering support.
"A good beginning would be training with you." He said, his voice warm. "You could teach him the basics of the animal styles, just like Tao taught you. It would teach him gentleness, prudence, and discipline. And it would strengthen the bond between you two in those early years."
Rin's smile grew, her heart swelling at the thought.
"And later?" She asked.
Kenji's eyes held a quiet self-confidence as he answered.
"Later, when it's time for him to learn more intense techniques and how to survive on the battlegrounds, that's when I'll step in. But the foundation... that starts with you. Mothers are the most important figures in a child's life during those first years. Akira will learn strength from me, but he'll learn balance from you."
Rin's cheeks flushed slightly at his words, and she nodded, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. Together, they were crafting a future for their son—one built on resilience, wisdom, and love. As Kenji returned to his training, Rin watched him with a quiet pride, the rhythm of his strikes against the jade pillar echoing the steady heartbeat of their shared resolve.
Rin returned to sitting quietly, her gaze fixed on Kenji as he moved with calculated precision, his every strike radiating an energy that seemed to ripple through the air. His KI-charged attacks sparked like miniature fireworks, dissipating into the stillness of the dojo. Each kick sent delicate flames cascading from the scales on his shoulders and legs, the fire dancing briefly before fading into embers. When his wings struck the jade pillar, they cut through the air with a sharpness that seemed almost tangible, the sound resonating like the clash of swords.
Rin's eyes followed the rhythm, each strike finding its place in an invisible melody. The blows, though aggressive, had a cadence that replayed in her mind like a song—a powerful, repetitive rhythm that drew her deeper into her thoughts. Her attention shifted to the jade pillar, now glowing faintly in spots where Kenji's strikes had left their mark. The red hues of those glowing spots indicated the sheer amount of KI invested in each attack, and Rin found herself mesmerized by the interplay of power and discipline.
She narrowed her eyes, pondering the energy trapped within the jade. Her thoughts drifted to how much of that power she could channel into her CHI. The idea was tempting. If she could absorb even a fraction of the pillar's warmth and energy, she could restore herself—heal for longer hours, and perhaps ease the lingering fatigue that had plagued her. Lately, she had felt drained, her emotions running high and a persistent headache clouding her focus from time to time. Ever since she had given Yasuhiro the Phoenix Tears, it was as though a part of her vitality had been taken with them.
Kenji, mid-strike, noticed her gaze lingering on the jade. He paused, wiping a sheen of sweat from his brow, and approached her with a knowing smile.
"You're thinking about it, aren't you?" He asked, his voice soft but laced with understanding.
Rin's cheeks flushed, her fingers brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"I was just wondering... could I? Would it even work?"
"Go ahead." He nodded. "You need KI more than the pillar does."
Her hesitation melted away under his reassurance. Rising from the floor, she stepped closer to the jade pillar, its surface still faintly warm from Kenji's strikes. Tentatively, she placed her hands against it, feeling the energy seep into her skin. The warmth was soothing, spreading through her body like a gentle current. She closed her eyes, her arms wrapping around it slowly and instinctively. The sensation was deeply comforting, and for the first time in days, she felt the tension in her chest begin to dissolve.
Then, she felt Akira stir.
At first, it was a familiar, pleasant movement, the kind that often brought a smile to her face. But within moments, the sensation changed. Her smile faltered as a wave of pressure built in her abdomen, sharp and unexpected. Pain lanced through her, and her legs grew unsteady, a lightness overtaking them that left her swaying. Kenji, ever vigilant, caught her just as her knees began to buckle.
"Rin?" He said, his voice tight with concern as he lowered her gently onto the tatami mat. "What's happening?"
Rin's breathing was shallow, her hands clutching her belly as she curled into herself.
"Akira," she whispered, her voice trembling. "He's... panicking. Troubled by something."
Kenji's jaw tightened as he supported her head, his other hand resting lightly on her stomach. He could feel the faint movements beneath his palm, erratic and restless.
"Just breathe." He urged her, his tone calm but firm. "Focus on your breath. I'm here."
Rin closed her eyes, her breaths uneven as she tried to steady herself. The sensation was strange—a mix of tickling and stabbing, pain and tension, all swirling together in a way that felt entirely unnatural. Yet, as she followed Kenji's voice, grounding herself in his presence, the storm within her began to subside. Slowly, Akira's movements grew less frantic, the pressure easing until it faded entirely. Rin let out a shaky breath, her body relaxing against the mat.
"It's calming down." She murmured, her voice weak but steady. "He's calming down."
Kenji exhaled softly, relief washing over his features.
"That's enough for today." He said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I'm taking you to bed. You need to rest."
Rin managed a faint smile, her hand reaching up to touch his cheek.
"I'm okay now..." She whispered, though her exhaustion was evident.
Kenji shook his head gently, his expression both tender and resolute.
"Rest." He repeated.
Carefully, he lifted her into his arms, cradling her against his chest as he carried her out of the dojo. The winter air greeted them once more, crisp and cold, but Kenji's warmth shielded her from the chill.
As he laid her down in their bed, Rin's eyes fluttered shut, her body sinking into the mattress. Kenji pulled the duvet over her, his hand lingering briefly on her cheek.
"Sleep, I'll be watchful." He murmured, his voice a soft promise.
Kenji sat by her bedside for a moment longer, watching her breathe, the steady rise and fall of her chest soothing his own frayed nerves. The image of her swaying earlier, the sudden panic in her voice, replayed in his mind. His fists clenched briefly, his claws biting into his palms. He needed to ensure her safety, not just from external threats but from moments like these—moments where his strength felt useless.
Rising quietly, he walked to the window, gazing out at the moonlit garden. The jade pillar in the dojo stood faintly visible through the glass, a silent sentinel of his training and discipline. But tonight, it felt like a reminder of his limitations.
He exhaled, and the glass reflected his figure—one that, though balancing between legend and reality, held a human heart within. Turning to Rin, he knelt by the bed for a moment, his claw gliding over her hand with its smooth side.
"We will get through this. Through everything." His voice, though soft, carried the weight of a vow—a promise not just to her, but to their unborn child.
He stood up and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead before turning off the light. The room was swallowed by darkness, yet the warmth they shared remained, like a lantern's flame against the chill of a winter night.