"It was like... I came into his mind."
A young girl's voice echoed softly through the darkness—it was Kara.
~~~3 Years Ago~~~
[Kara's POV]
I-It's the British man...
"Yo! Ryujin!!"
Ryujin's eyelids parted slowly, like dawn breaking over a stormy sea, and there—framed in the haze of awakening—the first sight that met him was Roger.
"You overslept again! Haha! So much for a weapon!"
"Jeez... Shut up.. What do you want?..."
Ryujin muttered.
It was a bright sunny day... You slept by the docks.. With that man.
"We gotta continue our patrols you know! or else we're gonna get a good scolding from the squad leader!"
The British man reminded Ryujin-sama..
"Ah right.."
They walked together across the dock. The man glanced back at Ryujin-sama and asked,
"Are you hungry? I have some bread right here."
Ryujin-sama took the bread and he thanked him. He smiled to Ryujin joyfully as they walked together. But the smile quickly turned into a subtle but playful annoyance in The Brit's end.
"You should smile more you know!"
He cried out to Ryujin.
Ryujin simply ignored him.
"So.. Where are we going now?"
"Oi! Don't just ignore what I told ya!"
"A weapon doesn't feel emotions. Now help me."
Ryujin-sama coldly replied, his tone stripped of warmth, like steel dulled by too many battles.
"Jeez man... You're a pain in the ass... really!"
The man scoffed, his voice caught somewhere between irritation and amusement.
"I'm simply just following orders."
The words carried no life, only the chill of obedience.
I, was standing apart, I whispered to myself, trying understand the picture painted before my eyes.
"Their bond seemed unbreakable... You even felt like... just the two of you, against the world. Day, night, rain or shine... you two came to places together, wherever the squad leader wanted you to go..."
My voice trembled slightly, echoing with both awe and sorrow.
Then, a shift in the air—subtle but unmistakable. A presence loomed behind me, weight pressing down like a hand on her shoulder. I turned fast, breath catching.
It was Ryujin-sama.
His eyes, sharp and shadowed, pierced through the veil of memory. When he spoke, his voice was almost a whisper, yet heavy enough to shake the air.
"Roger, He... is a traitor."
My eyes widened. My lips parted, but no words came out. The world around me fractured—the battlefield fading, sound collapsing into silence.
Then came darkness.
Thick, weightless, endless.
And from within that darkness, a flicker of light—a quiet evening under a deep blue sky, the smell of rain-soaked wood and burning campfire filling her lungs.
The ground was uneven, the forest dim. I could see them—two figures by the fire. Roger-san and Ryujin-sama.
"The usual long night you two had..."
I whispered.
"Here you go! Ryujin!"
Roger's voice rang out, bright and alive, carrying the warmth of someone untouched by exhaustion. He tossed a can of food to his partner with a grin.
Ryujin caught it with ease, his movements steady.
"Thanks."
The can was dented, labeled in a fading village dialect. Just rations from locals who'd pitied the two young soldiers. Still, Roger treated it like a feast.
As Ryujin peeled open the lid, his eyes lifted toward Roger. Something quiet lingered behind his gaze, something almost human—curiosity.
"How... are you so cheery all the time?"
Roger blinked, then burst out laughing, clutching his stomach.
"Ryujin! That does not sound like you at all! Did you hit your head or something?... Or—ah-hah! You got laid?!"
Ryujin-sama froze, almost choking on his breath.
"Wha—Laid? No... I'm still a virgin."
For a heartbeat, silence. Then—laughter again. Loud, uncontrollable, echoing into the forest night.
"HAHAHA! It must be that tall blonde lady!"
Roger leaned back, eyes glinting mischievously in the firelight. His laughter rolled like thunder, shaking the stillness around them.
He let the laughter fade, a crooked grin lingering as his gaze softened—just for a moment. Beneath that smile, there was something else—nostalgia, maybe even envy.
Then, as if to chase away the thought, Roger snapped his fingers.
"Oh! By the way! How's that friend of yours who can got that strange ass tech? When's he joining Squad One?"
"Ayro..."
Ryujin said quietly, eyes turning distant.
"Yeah! He's the same age as us, right?"
Roger asked, flicking a small ember with his boot.
"Yeah... he'll be coming to the defense soon."
Ryujin's voice softened, almost proud—but quickly restrained.
Roger nodded thoughtfully, then blinked as if realizing something obvious.
"Oh wait! Here's a spoon!"
[Present Battle]
There was a time when Roger's hands offered Ryujin help—small, simple things, like a spoon or a steady grip in chaos. But in the present, that time felt like a ghost. Now, those same hands hurled only steel.
Roger's blade tore through the air, not with warning, but with deadly intent—aimed straight at Ryujin's life.
They continued to exchange blows in the pouring rain, each strike echoing through the storm like a drumbeat of war.
Wind and water clashed with raw force, their movements a blur beneath the darkened sky, as if the storm itself raged in sync with their fury.
[Kara's POV]
"What happened?... I have to know.. I have to help you... It doesn't have to go that way.. Is there?.. Nothing we can do?..."
I thought to myself.
"Hey Ryujin! We have a nickname in the Defense now!"
Roger's voice broke through the quiet night, rough and bright, carrying the kind of excitement only he could summon after days of endless marching.
Ryujin turned his head slightly, half-listening as he adjusted his gloves by the flickering campfire.
"Hoh?.. "
he hummed in response, uninterested but humoring him.
"We're now known as the R&R! The higher-ups are finally noticing us!"
Roger's grin stretched wide, his laughter echoing into the trees. He puffed out his chest in mock pride, as if the title alone meant the world to him.
Ryujin-sama looked up from the flame, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite himself.
"R&R... huh? That's a stupid name."
"Oh, come on!"
Roger waved a hand dismissively.
"It's cool! 'R&R'—Ryujin and Roger! Two men against the world!"
He leaned closer, smirking through the shadows.
"We're practically famous now. The others said we're unstoppable—like the perfect pair."
Ryujin-sama said nothing for a long moment. The firelight painted his face in amber and gold, and for the first time in a while, he allowed himself to smile—not out of pride, but quiet gratitude.
"Perfect pair, huh? That's rich."
His tone softened, carried by a kind of warmth that came rarely to him.
"You talk too much, you know that?"
Roger laughed again, tilting his head back.
"And you think too much, Ryujin. That's what makes us even."
The crackling of fire filled the silence that followed, the night air thick with smoke and brotherhood.
Two soldiers. Two sides of a single coin.
And for that fleeting second, the world felt still—like nothing could ever break them.
Then—darkness.
The memory began to fade, the fire dimming into embers as I stood in the echo of their laughter.
I reached out, instinctively trying to stop it from slipping away, my hand trembled as the scene dissolved like mist between my fingers.
Flashes came next—rapid, relentless.
Ryujin-sama and Roger-san fighting side by side through rain and blood.
Back-to-back against impossible odds.
Laughing after victory.
Bleeding after defeat.
Brothers in everything but name.
My heart clenched. I could barely breathe as the memories pulsed through me, each one more vivid, more painful.
"These... are all... precious memories..."
I whispered, voice breaking as tears welled in my eyes.
"You guys fought for each other... but... why? Why are you trying to take each other's throat?"
For a heartbeat, silence followed—no rain, no wind, no sound.
Then, a familiar voice cut through her world once more—calm, low, and impossibly close.
"You're wrong."
~~~Shioizaki Park~~~
As Kirashi held Kara's hand, her eyes still glowing red, she murmured with fierce certainty,
"He's not gonna die."
Kirashi didn't understand Kara's words. Slowly, the red glow in her eyes began to fade, softening until they returned to their natural, sky-blue hue.
Kara suddenly lost consciousness, her eyelids fluttering closed as darkness gently claimed her.
"Kara-chan!"
[Ryujin Vs Roger]
"Is that all you got?! Ryujin?! You've trained for years and years on end! You've gotten really rusty! Fits for the half assed cold bastard you are!"
Ryujin clenched his teeth through the fierce battle, but it was Roger's words that cut deeper wounding him more than the crashing clash of their blades.
"Shut the fuck up!"
"Look at you! You're already breathing so heavily!"
Their battle quickly came to a halt. Roger sneered,
"So much for a "living weapon," and you can't even beat me?! Pathetic!"
Ryujin's grip tightened around his spear, knuckles whitening as determination flared anew within him.
"If you want to kill me.. Just do it already. There's no point in continuing my adventure anymore.."
Suddenly, Ryujin released his spear, the weapon slipping from his grasp as he sank to his knees. Vulnerable and unguarded, he created a vast opening—an invitation for Roger's strike—his surrender heavy with silent meaning beneath the storm's relentless roar.
Roger seized the moment, dashing swiftly toward Ryujin's exposed head. But as he closed in,
Ryujin's lips curled into a defiant smirk, and with steady resolve, he whispered,
"Spring, Water Work."
Time seemed to halt between them—the rainy evening at the park dissolving into a shimmering shallow salt lake beneath vast, endless blue skies. And there, at the heart of the swelling wave, stood Ryujin, calm and unwavering.
"It's over.. Old Friend."
Roger sneers.
"Haha! What is this? Your last resort?!"
"No.. It's trust."
Roger didn't understand the words that slipped from Ryujin's lips.
Then, suddenly, the sanctuary Ryujin had woven—a calm salt lake under bright skies—shattered. A darker, fiercer blue surged forward, hotter and more intense: Itoshi's flame.
Without warning, Itoshi appeared, closing the distance between himself and Roger with a cold intensity. His voice was sharp as he asked,
"Did you ever apologize to your shoes?"
Roger's confusion deepened, caught off guard by the strange question.
Itoshi's flames licked hungrily at Roger's fancy shoes, reducing them to smoldering ash. Roger responded swiftly, summoning his wind powers to shield himself, but his defense faltered.
Instead, his wind spiraled outward, creating a vacuum that enclosed the three of them—Roger at the center. Within that swirling void, Itoshi's blue flame surged, converging into a focused, searing torrent aimed directly at the center. Roger.
~~~To Be Continued~~~