Chapter 34: I Will Fight Too

  The humid air of the remote Hanyuun meadows was thick and still, broken only by the sharp, rhythmic slice of a wooden sword cutting through the oppressive quiet. Sweat dripped from Raito’s brow, stinging his eyes as he completed his final, trembling swing.

  “Nine hundred ninety-seven… nine hundred ninety-eight… nine hundred ninety-nine… one thousand,” he panted, his breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. He stumbled, leaning on his knees, every muscle in his body screaming in protest as he looked toward the figure sitting calmly on a nearby tree stump.

  “I’m done with the sword swings, Grandpa,” Raito said, his voice a strained whisper.

  Sun Yoon took a slow, deliberate sip of his tea, his expression as serene as the ancient trees that surrounded them. “Good, young Raito,” he said, his voice a soft, quiet rustle like leaves in the wind. “Now we can move on to the next phase of your training.”

  Raito looked around the small, secluded clearing. It was a place he didn’t recognize, a patch of earth surrounded by a short grassy terrain that was certainly not on Biyuu Island. “That reminds me, Grandpa,” he said, his voice regaining some of its usual strength. “Why did we have to train… here? Wherever ‘here’ is.”

  Sun Yoon stroked his long, white moustache thoughtfully. “To focus, of course,” he explained, his voice gentle but firm. “If we trained back on Biyuu, there would be too many distractions.” He looked at Raito, a knowing glint in his old eyes. “Your heart would be pulled in too many directions.”

  “I guess…” Raito said, the answer not quite satisfying. The truth was, he missed her. He missed the easy comfort of their shared farmhouse, the familiar chaos of Kumatou village, the sound of her laughter. He missed Yukari.

  “Here, catch this,” Sun Yoon said, tossing a new wooden sword toward Raito. It looked identical to the one he had just been using, but as he reached out and caught it, a jolt of surprise shot through him. The weight. It was impossibly heavy. His arm was immediately pulled down by the sheer force of gravity, his grip failing as the sword slipped from his fingers. It fell with a loud thoom, cracking the very earth beneath it.

  “Grandpa… what was that?” Raito could only stare, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and disbelief.

  “Your new wooden sword, of course,” Sun Yoon replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

  “But… but that was heavy,” Raito stammered, his mind still reeling. “I thought you wanted to kill me.”

  The old hermit just laughed, a soft, quiet sound that seemed to make the very air around them tremble. “You said you wanted to train, right?” he asked, his voice losing its earlier warmth. “So, I am training you. And I have said, I will be very strict with you.”

  “But the weight… it’s impossible for…” Raito began, his voice trailing off as he looked at the heavy wooden sword lying in the cracked earth.

  “Giving up already, young Raito?” Sun Yoon’s voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and serious as he glared at the young man, his earlier gentle demeanor gone. “Does your resolve only go so far?”

  “No… I’m not giving up,” Raito declared, the image of Yukari, her hands bound, a helpless look in her silver eyes while he could only watch, flashing through his mind.

  “Good,” Sun Yoon said, the gentleness returning to his eyes. He stood up, his movements slow and deliberate as he walked over to Raito. “Then I shall explain it bluntly. You are weak, young Raito, both physically and mentally. Your physical struggle comes from the fact that you have never trained in your entire life. Therefore, that new sword shall be your guide. Once you have mastered it, able to swing it as if it were as light as a feather, then you will obtain a stronger body.”

  He paused, his gaze softening. “As for the mental side, I am afraid I can’t help you much. That must come from yourself. And I know you understand where this weakness comes from, right?”

  The memory of the cold, dark prison cell, of the endless days of torture, flashed through Raito’s mind. He shivered, his breath catching in his throat. “I know, Grandpa,” he said, his voice a quiet, determined whisper. “I will try to find a way to break free.”

  Sun Yoon nodded, a flicker of approval in his old eyes. “Then what are you waiting for, young Raito?” he asked, gesturing to the heavy wooden sword. “Lift it.”

  Raito crouched down, his muscles straining as he tried to lift the sword. He could feel the weight pulling him down, his arms trembling with the effort. “Seriously, how heavy is this, Grandpa?” he asked, his voice a strained grunt.

  “Enough,” Sun Yoon said, a small, knowing smile on his face.

  The days that followed were a grueling, relentless blur of pain and progress. The first day was spent with Raito just trying to pull the heavy wooden sword from the cracked earth. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, a fire he had never known burning in his arms and back. His hands, unaccustomed to such a strain, were raw and blistered by the second evening, the rough wood of the hilt a constant, agonizing friction against his skin. On the fourth day, with a final, desperate grunt that echoed through the quiet clearing, he finally managed to lift it. But his victory was short-lived. His arms shook so violently under the immense weight that he could barely hold it for a minute before it crashed back to the ground, sending a shower of dirt and small stones into the air. The eight day was better. He held it for an hour, a feat of pure, stubborn willpower that drew a rare, surprised look from the old hermit. By the eleventh day, after just over a week of little more than lifting and holding, he managed his first swing. It was slow, shaky, a clumsy arc that groaned under the immense weight, but it was progress.

  The fifteenth day, however, was a step backward. Sun Yoon called it sparring, but to Raito, it was torture. He couldn’t even swing the sword properly; his movements were clumsy and slow, a pathetic display born from two warring forces: the sheer, crushing weight of the wooden blade that made his muscles scream, and the deeper, innate fear that coiled in his gut, making him flinch and hesitate with every advance. Sun Yoon, moving with an effortless, almost lazy grace, disarmed him with a single, gentle tap. The feel of the wood against his skin, the sharp, sudden pain, sent a jolt of familiar terror through him. He dropped the sword and cowered on the ground, his body shaking, the memory of the cold, dark prison cell, of the endless, hopeless pain, flooding his mind.

  “This won’t do, young Raito,” Sun Yoon said, his voice a quiet, disappointed murmur on the sixteenth day as he stopped his strike, the tip of his own wooden sword hovering inches from Raito’s face.

  Raito opened his eyes, but his head remained turned away, his expression full of a fear he couldn’t hide, his gaze fixed on the ground. “It seems whatever mental block you have is deeper than I thought,” Sun Yoon said, his voice losing its earlier sternness. “We need to change our approach.”

  Raito felt a fresh wave of defeat wash over him. “I can already lift the sword, swing once or twice, get used to the weight,” he said, his voice a low, pained whisper. “But I somehow still don’t know how to fix myself. Every time we spar, my mind always drifts to that cold and dark place. I immediately close my eyes and feel the helplessness claim my entire being. I am still afraid.”

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  “Then come with me, young Raito,” Sun Yoon said, gesturing for him to follow as he began to walk toward the edge of the clearing. “There might be a place here that can help you.”

  “Do I leave the sword?” Raito asked, a flicker of his usual humor returning.

  “Unfortunately, no,” Sun Yoon replied with a laugh. “The sword must always stay with you.”

  Raito groaned, but he picked up the impossibly heavy wooden sword and followed the old hermit, his steps slow and heavy, but his heart full of a new, desperate hope.

  Their journey took them deeper into the heart of the mysterious island. The open meadows of the outskirts gave way to a dense, humid jungle, the air thick with the scent of rain and unknown flowers. After what felt like hours of walking, they arrived at another quiet clearing. Here, a clean, clear river flowed gently, its water sparkling in the dappled sunlight. Next to it stood a lone, small building, like a forgotten shrine, its wooden frame weathered by time but still standing strong.

  “This place will be your new home, young Raito,” Sun Yoon said, pointing to the building.

  “And what am I supposed to do here, Grandpa?” Raito asked, his gaze fixed on the strange, silent structure.

  “Find a way to free your mind,” Sun Yoon said, his voice a cryptic whisper. “That is your task.”

  As he spoke, another gust of wind swept through the clearing, and in the blink of an eye, Sun Yoon was gone.

  “Wha—?” Raito was shocked by the old hermit’s sudden disappearance, but he quickly resolved himself. He had come this far. He wouldn’t turn back now. He opened the door to the shrine. It was a small, rectangular building, with absolutely nothing inside. The walls were bare, the floor was clean, and there was no furniture, no decorations, nothing.

  He stepped inside. Another gust of wind, and the door slammed shut behind him. “What the…” Raito muttered, his heart pounding in his chest. “Okay, that was creepy.” He tried the door; it was locked. “But seriously, what am I supposed to do here?” he said to the empty room.

  He scanned his surroundings. No windows. Just one exit, the door he had just come through, and it was now sealed tight. “Hello?” he shouted, and the sound of his own voice echoed back at him, a lonely, hollow thing in the enclosed space.

  As time went on, a strange thing began to happen. The sounds from outside—the gentle murmur of the river, the distant cries of animals, the rustle of leaves in the wind—began to filter into the small shrine, echoing and amplifying until they were impossibly loud.

  “Why is it so loud in here?” Raito said, his hands flying up to cover his ears. But it was no use. The sounds grew louder, more distorted, twisting into something cruel and familiar. The rush of the river became the mocking laughter of the guards in the Jinlun prison. The rustle of the leaves became whispers, hissing at him from the darkness.

  “You’re weak.”

  “Broken by simple torture.”

  He fell to his knees, his breathing ragged, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead as the sounds continued to echo in his mind, each one a fresh blow to his psyche.

  “You can’t stand next to her.”

  “Dead weight.”

  The phantom pain of the torture, the feeling of the cold stone floor, the memory of the endless, hopeless days… it all came rushing back, a tidal wave of despair that threatened to drown him.

  “You couldn’t even lift a single box back then, and now you want to fight?” the voices sneered, the laughter growing louder, more piercing. “Just give up. You’re useless.”

  The echoes swirled around him, a vortex of his deepest fears. “She’s better off without you. She’s probably already found a better man. Give up, give up, give up.”

  Raito curled into a fetal position, his hands clamped over his ears, doing everything he could to muddle the sound, but nothing worked. The world around him turned a pitch-black darkness. Then, stars seemed to streak across the room, and suddenly, everything was burning.

  “No, stop,” he pleaded, his voice a raw, desperate whisper. “I’m scared. Please, stop. It hurts.”

  He was back in that jail cell, the phantom pain of the torture a fresh, searing agony. “I’ll tell you everything,” he cried, the same words he had uttered in his desperation, the same confession that had saved Yukari but damned him. “I’m the one who corrupted her.”

  Maybe I shouldn’t have taken that crying girl back to my apartment, a new, insidious thought whispered in his mind. If I could change the past, maybe I wouldn’t be in so much pain. Yes, everything is that girl’s fault.

  “Hate her,” the voice echoed. “Shun her.”

  But despite the temptation, despite the crushing weight of his trauma, there was one thing Raito couldn’t bring himself to do. He couldn’t truly hate the girl he loved. Even when she had lied to him, even when she had become a puppet to protect him, even when it had shattered his heart, he still couldn’t hate her.

  “No…” he whispered, his voice a raw, defiant thing in the darkness. “I can’t… I can’t hate her.”

  “Then why do you fight?” the voices asked, their tone shifting, becoming more analytical, more cruel. “You are scared of getting hurt. Do you want to be a heaping pile of flesh again, hoping the pain would subside if you die?”

  The pain, the suffering… it was too much. But then, a memory, so clear and bright it cut through the darkness, flashed through his mind. The genuine smile of a girl who had worn a fake persona for centuries, a smile he had been the first to see. That girl, she shouldn’t be burdened with anything, especially not because of him.

  He fought because of a simple, honest reason. Not to be a hero, not to be a savior. He had given up on being someone important long ago. He wants to fight to stand by her, as an equal, to be able to share her burden.

  He gripped his wooden sword, ignoring the immense weight, and with a groan that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul, he stood up. His muscles ached, but he didn’t care. He came face to face with the phantoms of the guards who had tortured him. A stick moved towards him, ready to beat him again, but this time, he caught it. And with a steady, unwavering swing, he smacked the guard with his own wooden sword.

  Everything became clear.

  “Good,” a new voice echoed, this one calm and familiar. “That is you. You are a nobody, but even a nobody can fight. Remember that.”

  The darkness receded, the phantom pain faded, and he was back, standing in the middle of the small, quiet room. The door swung open, and Sun Yoon stood there, a gentle, knowing smile on his face.

  “Grandpa?” Raito asked, his voice a mixture of confusion and relief as he stared at the familiar, gentle face of the old hermit. “Wha… what was that?”

  “That, young Raito, was your trial,” Sun Yoon said, his voice calm and steady. “To see if you are truly willing to change. And it seems you are.”

  “I… I don’t know,” Raito said, his mind still reeling. “Everything felt so real, so loud.”

  Without warning, Sun Yoon lunged, his own wooden sword a blur of motion as he aimed a swift, decisive blow at his pupil. “Wait!” Raito yelped, but this time, he didn’t close his eyes. He didn’t cower. He raised his own impossibly heavy sword and, with a grunt that seemed to come from the very core of his being, he parried the attack.

  Sun Yoon’s smile widened. “So… still scared?” he asked, his voice full of a gentle, probing curiosity.

  “Yes, I am,” Raito admitted, his own voice now a low, steady thing. “Very much so. But that only means I’m alive. And I can still struggle. I will fight.” His eyes burned with a new, unwavering resolve.

  Sun Yoon nodded, a look of profound pride on his old face. “Now that, is the real progress,” he said. He gestured back toward the entrance of the clearing. “Now, let’s go back and resume the training.”

  “Can’t we take a break, Grandpa?” Raito sighed, the exhaustion of his mental trial crashing down on him.

  “I told you I am strict, young Raito,” the old hermit replied with a laugh.

  “Hello, dead weight.”

  The voice, a low, confident purr, came from just beyond the open door of the shrine. Min Eun stood there, a sinister smirk on her face, her three masked goons flanking her.

  “Min Eun,” Raito said, his voice a low growl. “Why are you here? How did you find me?”

  “Our intel is quite good darling. Can’t believe you ran away deep in Izumi territory. As to why I am here, it’s because I want to make sure that little girl pays for her insolence,” she replied, her voice a venomous honey. “And the easiest way to do that is through you. Boys, attack him.”

  Sun Yoon just smiled, his earlier cheerfulness replaced by a calm, analytical focus. “Apparently, sparring has to wait,” he said, not a hint of concern in his voice. He looked at Raito. “You think you can handle them?”

  “Me!?” Raito asked, his voice a mix of shock and disbelief. “Alone?”

  Sun Yoon simply nodded.

  Raito looked at the four figures in front of him, then back at his master. A small, confident smile spread across his face. He didn’t shiver, and his breathing was steady. “Urgh, fine,” he said, his voice full of a newfound, almost reckless confidence. “I guess this is part of the training. I think I can handle it.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t let them kill you,” Sun Yoon said with a smile. “Have fun, young Raito.”

  As Raito leaped from the shrine, his heavy wooden sword held steady, the old hermit turned his gaze back to the empty, silent room. “And thank you, old friend,” he whispered.

  Far away, in the rebel cave on Hakurou Island, Yukari suddenly paused, her hand flying to her chest.

  Raito? she thought, a strange, warm feeling spreading through her. She smiled, a genuine, unguarded expression that she hadn’t shown in days.

  “Something wrong, Yukari?” Rara asked, noticing the sudden change in her friend’s demeanor.

  “Nothing,” Yukari replied, her voice a soft, happy hum. “Just… I just feel really happy right now.”

  Rara was left more confused than ever, but she couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her friend’s newfound joy.