The roaring, crackling sound of the incoming flames was the last thing I heard. A blinding wall of searing heat slammed into my chest, instantly stealing the breath from my lungs and throwing me backward into the dark.
Then, there was nothing but a heavy, suffocating silence.
When I finally opened my eyes, the burning alleyway, the deafening shockwaves, and the terrifying pressure of the Yamata Clan were completely gone.
I was standing in an endless, tranquil expanse of cool, misty white light. The pain in my scraped knees and the desperate burning in my throat had entirely vanished.
"You always did have a habit of taking on more than you could carry, Shujin."
The voice was warm, deep, and impossibly familiar.
I spun around, the phantom mist swirling and rippling beneath my boots. Standing just a few paces away, there he was. Illuminated by a soft, ethereal glow.
He looked exactly as I remembered him before the cabin burned—red hair like me, taller than me, broad-shouldered, with kind, tired eyes and a gentle smile that completely contradicted the brutal world we lived in.
It was my father.
"Dad?" I whispered, my voice trembling as a lump formed in my throat.
"I... I can't do this. Sensei is dying, a family is on the brink of death, my squad is in trouble, and I don't have an element—"
My father stepped forward, closing the distance between us. He reached out, resting a heavy, comforting hand on my shoulder. The warmth of his touch felt so incredibly real that it made my chest ache.
"You are exactly where you are meant to be," he said softly, his gaze locking onto mine with an unwavering certainty. "You don't have to be the strongest warrior in the room or have an element at all to be the only one whose will to fight and protect is greater than everyone else's. Remember why you pick up the sword in the first place."
"But what if I fail?" I asked, my grip tightening on a sword I could no longer feel.
His smile widened slightly, a quiet, profound pride radiating from his weathered face. "You carry my spirit, Shujinko. No matter how dark the path gets, or how impossible the odds seem, I will always be with you. In every breath you take, and in every strike you make. I am right here."
He gave my shoulder one final, firm squeeze.
"Now, wake up."
The endless expanse of misty white light shattered like fragile glass.
The deafening, chaotic roar of the alleyway violently rushed back into my ears, accompanied by the suffocating stench of burning sulfur and scorched earth.
I gasped, my lungs burning as I blindly clawed at the raked gravel beneath me.
I was alive.
I forced my stinging eyes open, expecting to see my own skin charred black, but I was entirely unburned.
Surrounding me in a perfect, shimmering dome was a thick, swirling sphere of pressurized water. The blistering wave of concentrated fire was violently crashing against the outside of it, hissing loudly and instantly evaporating into thick white steam.
I looked through the translucent barrier toward the roaring wind dome across the alley, utterly confused about how this was happening. Then I noticed it.
Sensei's sword was right under me. When the tattooed leader had crashed into him, his sword went flying on impact as well. Luckily it landed under me.
He must've managed to extend his Boru through his sword to shield us from the blast. Even while pinned to the ground, suffocating and bleeding out.
As the flames finally died out, the protective water sphere lost its form, splashing heavily onto the scorched cobblestone in a puddle at my feet.
Behind me, Ging was huddled in a tight ball, coughing heavily but completely safe. Saki was already back on her feet a few paces away, having gracefully evaded the blast entirely.
The fire-wielding Yamata Clan member lowered his katana, his manic, bloodthirsty chuckle dying in his throat.
He had caramel skin tone, with dark brown eyes, and spiky long blonde hair.
He clicked his tongue in annoyance, glaring through the steam at our Sensei.
"Stubborn bastard," he muttered.
The lingering phantom warmth of my father's hand on my shoulder anchored me. The terror that had paralyzed me moments ago entirely evaporated, replaced by a cold, stubborn focus. I slowly pushed myself off the wet ground and wrapped my fingers around the leather grip of my training sword.
I stepped in front of Ging, leveling the tip of my heavy training blade directly at the thug's chest.
"We aren't running," I stated, my voice ringing with a cold, calm certainty I didn't know I possessed.
The clan member threw his head back and laughed, the sound harsh and grating. "You Academy dogs never do. No matter how hopelessly wrong you are, dying, with the exact same stupid look on your faces, thinking you fought for a good cause."
Suddenly, the ambient pressure in the alleyway spiked. A suffocating, oppressive heat radiating from the thug's body washed over us, turning the humid night air into a blistering oven.
He tilted his head toward the sky, his jaw unhinged in a silent, manic roar as the Boru around him surged to terrifying new heights.
The roaring orange flames wreathing his katana began to rapidly shift. The color bled out of the fire, bleaching into a blinding, incandescent white-grey.
My heart slammed against my ribs. White fire. It was the exact same flame my father had wielded. My mind raced in absolute shock. How does he have that? Elemental mutations like that are strictly bound to inherited bloodlines... aren't they?
The clan member lowered his gaze back to us, his arrogance completely replaced by a feral, bloodthirsty euphoria. "That's called evolving, kids. Take notes."
With a flick of his wrist, he slashed his katana vertically. The blazing white fire detached from the blade, launching toward us in a searing crescent at blinding speed.