Kenta did not know where he was walking. He moved with a single-minded, desperate purpose, wanting only to put as much distance as possible between himself and the painful awkwardness he had created with Sarah. The temple, the training grounds, her worried face—it all felt like a cage tightening around him. The voice in his head was a constant, gleeful companion.
She pities you now. She sees the broken thing you are. You are not a warrior; you are a patient, and she is tired of nursing your sickness.
He pushed through dense, unfamiliar bamboo groves, the stalks clattering around him like mocking laughter. The sound of rushing water grew from a whisper to a roar, and he broke through the treeline to find himself at the edge of a breathtaking, almost supernatural place.
It was a vast, circular river, so wide it was more an inland sea, its waters a deep, impossibly clear cerulean blue. A colossal, thundering waterfall fed it from a cliff face hundreds of feet high, the mist from its impact creating a permanent, shimmering rainbow. The place hummed with a deep, ancient energy. This was no ordinary river.
High above, perched on an outcrop hidden by the mist and spray, Jokedone stood watching. His emerald eyes were solemn. He had followed not to interfere, but to witness. He knew this place.
"The River of Echoed Selves," he murmured to the roaring water. "It does not show you what you want, little brother. It shows you what you are, deep down. For the greedy, it shows mountains of gold. For the lustful, visions of carnal pleasure. For the lost…" His gaze fell upon Kenta, a small, lonely figure on the shore. "It shows them the face of their own confusion."
He had brought Kenta here, subtly guiding his frantic flight, knowing this confrontation was inevitable. "Let us see what you are truly made of, Kenta Yazuru. Let the river pull the demon from your soul so you can look it in the eye."
Down below, Kenta stumbled to the water's edge, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He knelt, intending to splash the cold water on his face, to shock himself back to reality.
The moment his reflection coalesced on the pristine surface, he froze.
It wasn't his face.
It was the face from the pond, but now rendered in perfect, horrifying clarity. His features, but sharper, crueler. The eyes burned with a steady, hellish crimson light, and the smirk was one of absolute, arrogant dominion.
Running again? the reflection spoke, its voice no longer a whisper in his mind, but a clear, resonant sound that emanated from the water itself, audible even over the waterfall's roar. You can't run from me. I am you.
"You are the blade's corruption!" Kenta snarled, slamming his fist into the water. The image shattered, but reformed instantly, the smirk wider.
The blade? Foolish boy. The blade is just a piece of sharpened metal. I am the will that wields it. I am the truth you have spent your entire life suppressing. The rage when your father beat you. The helpless fury when your first master fell. The delicious, dark pleasure you felt when you first drew me and felt true, unlimited power.
The water began to churn. The reflection did not just stay in the water. It began to rise, pulling itself up, a figure of shimmering, liquid darkness taking solid form. It stepped onto the shore, an exact, malevolent duplicate of Kenta, down to the twin katanas at its hip.
You blame me for Hikari? the Corrupted Kenta laughed, a sound like cracking ice. She was weak! A creature of pure light trying to cage the void. The dissonance shattered her from the inside out. I didn't kill her; her own inadequacy did.
"Liar!" Kenta screamed, drawing Hikari no Ha. The Blade of Light flashed in the sun, but its gleam seemed feeble against the oppressive aura of his doppelgänger.
And Yami? the corruption continued, pacing slowly, its every movement a mockery of Kenta's own style. Ah, the great master of balance. She understood me. She danced with me. But in the end, even she knew the truth. The darkness isn't something to balance. It is the foundation. The light is the fleeting illusion. When she faced the true weight of it, the 'Dark Shadow' of existence itself, she broke. She looked into the heart of the void and chose to fall into it rather than live with the terror of what she saw. She didn't master the darkness; she surrendered to it. And you will too.
With a roar of pure, unadulterated anguish, Kenta lunged. Hikari no Ha cut a silver arc through the air.
The Corrupted Kenta didn't even bother to draw a blade. It moved with impossible speed, sidestepping the attack and delivering a brutal punch to Kenta's ribs. The impact was like being hit by a landslide. Kenta felt bones crack, the air exploding from his lungs as he was thrown backward, skidding across the pebbled shore.
See? the double taunted, standing over him. This is the difference between us. You fight with technique, with honor. I fight to win. I am the part of you that knows honor is a story told by the weak to make their losses feel noble.
Gasping for breath, Kenta pushed himself up. He attacked again, a flurry of strikes from the Hikari-ryu style. Each one was met, parried, or dodged with contemptuous ease. The Corrupted Kenta wasn't just stronger and faster; it was a perfect mirror of his skills, stripped of all restraint and fueled by boundless malice.
You think of her, don't you? the double hissed, its blade still sheathed as it effortlessly evaded a thrust. The girl from another world. You cling to the thought of her like a lifeline. But she is a distraction. A pretty, fragile chain that will bind you and get you killed. Let me in, and you will be free of such sentimental weaknesses. You will be powerful enough that no one will ever be able to take anything from you again.
"Shut up!" Kenta yelled, his attacks growing more desperate, more wild. The discipline Jokedone and Kaguya had drilled into him was crumbling under the onslaught of truth and pain.
Why do you resist? the corruption pressed, finally drawing its own blade. But it wasn't Hikari no Ha. It was Yami no Hikari, the dark blade manifest in its hand, pulsing with a voracious black energy. We are the same! Your pain is my nourishment. Your fear is my strength. Every time you hesitate, I grow. Every time you feel that spark of rage when you're treated unfairly, you feed me!
Their blades met—silver light against consuming darkness.
CLANG!
The sound was a physical shockwave that flattened the grass in a circle around them. Kenta was driven to one knee, his arms trembling, Hikari no Ha screaming as it resisted the pure negation of the dark blade's power.
You are not fighting me, you fool, the Corrupted Kenta snarled, leaning its weight down, its crimson eyes inches from Kenta's. You are fighting yourself. And you are losing.
From his vantage point, Jokedone watched, his face a mask of grim tension. This was the crucible. The river had done its job, giving form to the formless enemy. Now, Kenta had to choose: to be consumed by the reflection of his own darkest potential, or to find a way to face it. Not as a foreign demon, but as a part of himself he had to finally acknowledge and accept. The fight for his soul had become a duel in the physical world, and he was being brutally overpowered by the one opponent he could never escape: himself.