The evening sun stretched low across the floor of the dojo, casting long golden lines over the tatami mats. The students knelt before Ishido for their final training of the day. No weapons today. Only words.
Ishido stood before them, arms behind his back, his face calm but unreadable.
"This is not a lesson in battle," he said quietly. "But in memory."
He stepped forward, looking each of them in the eye.
"You have honoured me with your growth. Each and every one of you, but the ones who changed my heart and made me realise that I loved what I did, were the three of you."
"Kamui, your precision. Arma, your heart. Argon, your hunger for truth. No matter where you came from, you gave me your best—and that is all any teacher could ask for."
The wind whispered through the paper walls. Ishido's voice remained steady.
"If the world should take me… let it. I've lived my truth. I only hope, one day, you will live prosperous lives—for me, for yourself. Never forget that power is not evil. Fear is."
He gave a deep bow. The students hesitated… then slowly bowed back, slowly leaving and playing outside.
While Kamui, Arma and Argon just stood there, in the classroom, looking lost"
Later, the three of them walked in silence through the stone-paved road of the outer village.
"What do you think that was?" Kamui asked.
"It felt like… a goodbye, truly a goodbye," Arma said.
"No," Argon replied, eyes narrowed. "It felt like a warning."
They turned a corner near the merchant stalls when a shadow fell over them. Hooves. A large horse snorted beside them, and on it sat a massive man, cloaked in obsidian armour, sword resting across his side. His beard was thick and braided, his black eyes sharp beneath a furrowed brow.
"You boys," he said, voice like thunder. "Do you know where the dojo of a man named Ishido Shogo is?"
The three froze.
Then—almost simultaneously—they replied:
"Why do you ask?" Kamui's tone was calm.
"For who?" Arma asked.
"Who wants to know?" Argon finished.
The man growled. "Enough. If you don't answer, I'll send the three of you to the dungeons to work in the coal mines."
And then—
BOOM!!!
In a blur, Arma sprinted forward with the force of a charging bull, slamming his shoulder into the side of the horse and knocking the beast off balance.
It let out a shriek as it toppled, throwing the rider.
Argon shouted, "Now!"
In perfect rhythm, he knelt down, his blade acting as a launchpad, as Kamui sprinted and leapt, stepping off the steel.
CRACK—!!!
A spinning kick landed squarely on the warrior's head mid-air. The armoured giant hit the dirt with a grunt and lay still.
The boys didn't have time to celebrate.
More warriors—five, six, ten—poured into the alley behind them.
Kamui cursed. "Split!"
"I'll take the sewers!" Kamui barked, diving into the grates behind the fish stalls.
"I'm heading for the mountains!" Arma roared, knocking aside two warriors with his growing strength.
Argon ran the opposite way, cloak billowing behind him, scaling walls and alleyways until he reached the high gates of the royal compound.
He stepped into the grand stone hall, his breath steady, hands clenched at his sides.
And there, waiting in Argon's bedroom, sat Yoshiro—his father.
The man's black robes were pristine. His eyes were colder than iron.
"I warned you," Yoshiro said, not rising.
"This night, your master's teachings will be no more."
Argon stepped forward. "You sold him out. You coward. "
"I protected you, my only son, my heir."
Yoshiro stood now, voice rising.
"That man was planting poison in your mind. Teaching you rebellion. Teaching you about Varnaxis—the Forgotten God! Or the Morrom, even about Vauquelin! They are traitors! As I said, he planned to poison your minds to try and act like those criminals! A move that ruins our unity as a great nation!"
"No," Argon growled. "He's the one who made me feel whole. He didn't fill my head with the constant pressure of trying to fulfil my father's goals of having a son who will follow in his footsteps of being a corrupt government official! He gave us peace—through strength. Discipline through the blade. You fear him because he taught us to think for ourselves! You fear him because he made us acknowledge what this country has been hiding from us."
Yoshiro stepped forward now, face twisted with disappointment.
"You dare raise your voice to me, boy? You are my son, of House of Shinjuku. You bear a name of legacy. You are meant to uphold tradition—not destroy it."
"Then maybe I don't want the name. I don't care about the Shinjuku dynasty. I am myself. I am Argon, the disciple of Master Ishido." Argon whispered.
A pause.
And then—WHAM—Argon swung the hilt of his blade into his father's chest, sending him crashing into the wall.
Blood spilled from Yoshiro's mouth as he slumped, stunned. He couldn't acknowledge that this was his son...
The guards in the room unsheathed their swords, stepping forward with lethal intent. Aiming to kill Argon.
Argon turned to them, his aura shifting.
A flicker of energy—his Mabitake awakening, barely visible.
His eyes burned.
"Put down your weapons. Or I'll end each one of you. In one second."
The guards hesitated. Then slowly… lowered their blades.
Argon turned back to his father.
He took the ceremonial kimono of the Shinjuku Clan, tossed it on the floor, and spat on it.
"See you, father," he said. "You cling to lies. I will protect the one who taught me truth. Even if I die, I'll die for something that mattered. Until we meet again Father."
He turned to leave, his shadow long in the firelit hall.
"I know Kamui and Arma would do the same."
And then, at around midnight, we see the Horsemen and the government officials arriving at the Dojo, holding torches, spears, blades...they are here, they are here for Ishido.
As we see, Argon, Arma and Kamui, running to reach the Dojo.