The thunder of boots against stone echoed behind Kairo as the guards closed the distance, their heavy breathing and rattling armor growing louder with each desperate stride. The boy's lungs burned as he pushed himself harder, but he could feel them gaining ground. There was no time to fight, no time to turn and face them properly.
In a moment of desperation, Kairo hastily unsheathed his wakizashi, stealing a glance back at his pursuers before hurling the blade behind him like a throwing knife. The steel spun end over end through the air, but an arrow intercepted it with impossible precision, deflecting the wakizashi back toward its owner as if some unseen hand had simply decided to return his weapon.
The unmistakable skill, speed, and precision of his sensei.
Kairo caught the wakizashi without breaking stride, but his frantic glances into the surrounding forest revealed nothing. His master was a shadow among shadows, invisible yet omnipresent. Every single second could bring an arrow from any direction, and his sensei had made that terrifyingly clear.
The boy veered sharply to the side, crashing through the underbrush as branches tore at his midnight-blue kimono and charcoal haori. Silk threads caught on thorns, pieces of fabric ripping away as he forced his way through the dense foliage. In a burst of tactical thinking, he tore off his haori completely and flung it backward, the garment landing squarely over one guard's face and sending the man stumbling into his companions.
Kairo didn't pause to watch the chaos. He spun around the thick trunk of a pine tree and launched himself upward, catching a sturdy branch and swinging to the next tree like some desperate forest spirit. Branch to branch, tree to tree, he moved through the canopy with the grace his years of training had instilled, until finally he found an opening in the forest floor below.
He landed in a crouch, his bare feet silent on the moss-covered ground. His gaze swept the clearing as he held his wakizashi close to his chest, listening for any sound of pursuit. The forest seemed peaceful, almost serene—
Thunk.
An arrow embedded itself in the earth mere inches from his foot. Before Kairo could even react, the whistle of another projectile filled the air. He tilted his head back instinctively, his veil sweeping back against his shoulder as the arrow grazed his chin, leaving a thin line of fire across his skin before tearing through the trunk of a nearby tree with explosive force.
"This is ridiculous," Kairo breathed, amber eyes blazing with frustrated fury.
Another arrow came whistling toward him, and in a moment of pure instinct, he swung his wakizashi to intercept it. The arrowhead struck the blade dead center, shattering the steel like glass and sending metal fragments spinning through the air as the arrow continued past him.
Kairo stared at the broken hilt in his hand for a split second before discarding it entirely. He dashed past a tree just as another arrow punched through the bark where his head had been, wood exploding outward in deadly splinters. The sound of destruction followed him as he ran—crack, BOOM, CRASH—each thunderous impact a warning that the next shot could end everything.
The guards have stopped their pursuit, he realized as he weaved between the trees, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Three minutes is over. If I was a guard, I wouldn't want to be here either.
But his sensei... his sensei was still hunting.
The forest became a nightmare of whistling death and exploding wood. Arrows came from every direction—ahead, behind, above. Each shot was perfectly calculated to miss by mere inches, close enough to tear fabric, to graze skin, to remind him that his master could end this hunt at any moment but was choosing not to. The psychological warfare was more terrifying than any direct attack.
Kairo's world narrowed to pure survival instinct: dodge, weave, roll, leap. His formal kimono was now little more than tattered rags, his noble bearing replaced by the desperate movements of hunted prey. The sound of his own heartbeat thundered in his ears, drowning out everything except the whistle of incoming arrows and the explosive destruction they left in their wake.
He's not trying to kill me, Kairo thought wildly as he dove behind a fallen log. He's trying to break me. To make me give up. To make me—
THWIP.
This arrow was different. It came lower, faster, with lethal intent.
Kairo's scream of pain echoed through the forest as the arrowhead punched through his left calf, the force of the impact sending him tumbling to the forest floor. He hit the ground hard, rolling through dead leaves and moss, his vision blurring with agony.
Gritting his teeth, the boy began to crawl forward on his elbows, dragging his wounded leg behind him. Through the trees ahead, he could see the distant lights of Kinugawa's harbor, so close now, just an arm's reach away from—
THUNK.
A katana buried itself in the earth inches from his head, the blade still vibrating from the impact. Behind him, soft footsteps approached, and his sensei's voice cut through the night air like a blade of its own.
"Fight."