The room felt like it was closing in on Ishigo, the walls pressing in with every passing second, as if the very space was conspiring to trap him. The fluorescent lights above flickered intermittently, casting a harsh, unfeeling glow that made the air feel thick, oppressive.
Sweat stung his eyes, mixing with the salt of his fear. The scent of his own anxiety clung to his skin like a second layer, and every breath felt like an effort. He could taste the tang of adrenaline in the air, the bitter sharpness of what was to come.
Ishigo wiped the sweat from his forehead, his hand trembling. His heartbeat thudded in his ears—not from exertion, but from the weight of the moment. He was about to face Reika again, but this time, there would be no reprieve.
No breaks. No mercy. This was the real test. His body, his mind, his very spirit would be tested. To break or to rise. There was no other option.
"Remember, Ishigo,"Reika's voice sliced through the tension, sharp and calm, as her eyes locked onto his with a predatory gleam. "This fight is more than just power or speed. It's about your will. Your ability to push past your limits. Don't think, don't hesitate. Don't falter."
Ishigo's throat tightened. He swallowed hard, nodding. He knew what she was capable of. He had felt her power firsthand—her strikes were like crushing boulders, her precision deadly.
She was a monster of strength and discipline, a beast who never tired, who never hesitated. But Ishigo wasn't the same scared kid who had stumbled through his previous encounters. He had learned. He had bled, and now he would fight.
The trainer's voice broke the silence, flat and emotionless, as always. "You fight on a split stance. Fail to maintain it, show weakness, and you lose."
A split stance? Ishigo's muscles screamed in protest. He'd been on his feet for hours, already pushed beyond his limits by grueling training, but there was no turning back. He knew the consequences.
With gritted teeth, he sank into the stance, legs spread wide, hips low, every fiber of his being howling in agony as he held it. His body trembled with the strain, sweat blurring his vision, but his will remained unwavering. He wouldn't let her see his weakness—not yet, not ever.
Reika was already in position. She dropped into her split like it was second nature, flawless and effortless. There was no sign of strain in her—nothing but cold, controlled focus in her gaze. She wasn't just ready to fight. She was prepared to destroy him.
"Ready?" Her voice was ice-cold, but there was something darker lurking beneath, something more dangerous, something that said she wasn't just testing his limits—she was hunting him.
Ishigo's chest tightened. His body was aching, exhausted, but his resolve burned brighter than ever. "Ready," he rasped, his voice coming out steadier than he felt.
The battle began in an instant.
Reika moved with lightning speed, her leg shooting out like a coiled snake, aimed for his ribs. Ishigo barely managed to twist his body in time, feeling the edge of her foot graze him, the impact sharp and brutal.
A jolt of pain shot through him, but it was nothing compared to the storm rising in his chest. This wasn't about pain—it was about survival.
His fist flew out, aimed for her head, but Reika was already one step ahead. She ducked, the fluidity of her movements terrifying in its speed. In the blink of an eye, she was on him, her own fist driving down on his shoulder with the force of a battering ram.
The shock of the blow nearly sent him crashing to the floor, his shoulder a mass of searing pain, but he fought to stay upright. His legs threatened to give way, but he refused to let them.
"You're slow," Reika taunted, her voice laced with mockery. "You call this a fight? I'm barely breaking a sweat."
Ishigo's jaw tightened. She was right—he was slow. Slower than he had ever been. The pain in his body was overwhelming, but there was no room for weakness. Not now. Not when he had come this far.
His legs screamed in protest as he forced himself back into the fight. Each movement felt like dragging his own body through a fog of exhaustion, his limbs shaking with every step, every swing, but still, he fought. He would not quit.
Reika struck again. This time, it was a low, vicious kick aimed at his legs. He didn't even have time to react before it slammed into his thigh, sending a shockwave of pain up through his spine.
His legs buckled, and for a heartbeat, he thought he might collapse. But no—he wasn't going to give her that satisfaction. Not yet.
"Fight!" Reika's voice cut through his haze of pain, harsh and demanding. "Fight like you mean it. Or this ends now."
Ishigo's world narrowed. The room around him, the blinding pain, Reika's mocking voice—it all faded until there was nothing but him and her.
Nothing but the unbearable weight of the fight, the desperate need to survive. His body screamed for him to stop, to give in, but he wouldn't. Not when it had come to this.
His hands moved instinctively, his body on autopilot, each movement fueled by the raw, burning fire of his will to not fall. Strike. Block. Dodge. Every motion felt like it was tearing him apart, every muscle screamed for release, but there was no release. Not until this was over.
Then it happened. The slip. A momentary lapse in concentration, a second of weakness. And Reika saw it. She was on him before he could react, her leg coming up to slam into his side with the brutal force of a wrecking ball.
The impact sent him crashing to the floor, the air knocked from his lungs, and for a moment, everything went black.
But even in the blackness, something stirred within him—a spark, a flicker of something he had long buried. His determination flared, bright and fierce, and with a strangled gasp, he pushed through the haze of pain.
He reached for the floor, his hands trembling as he pushed himself back up. His body screamed in agony, but he would not let himself stay down.
"I'm not done," he rasped, the words bitter, harsh, but filled with a fire that surprised even him. His voice cracked, but the defiance was unmistakable.
Reika paused. Her eyes, which had been a cold, emotionless void, narrowed just slightly. There was something different there now—not mockery, not pity—but something akin to respect. Maybe even amusement. A flicker of acknowledgment.
"You've got spirit," she said, her voice low, barely above a whisper. "But spirit won't be enough."
The fight raged on, each strike, each blow, sending waves of agony through Ishigo's body. The room, the air, the sounds—they were all drowned out by the roaring storm in his chest. He refused to stop. He couldn't.
The trainer's voice came like a sharp crack of thunder, cutting through the tension like a knife. "Enough."
For a moment, time itself seemed to stop. Ishigo's body quivered, his legs on the verge of giving out, but he stood tall.
He refused to crumble. Reika stood beside him, her expression unreadable, but her eyes… there was something softer there. Something like respect. Or was it amusement?
The trainer studied them both, his gaze cold and calculating. Then, with a single nod, he spoke again. "You both passed. But this is only the beginning. The real trials start now."
Ishigo's body screamed in protest, his muscles aching, but something inside him had shifted. His mind was clearer, sharper, his resolve burning brighter than ever before. He had embraced the pain. He had endured it. And now… now he was ready.
Reika stood beside him, her expression as unreadable as always, but the glint in her eyes told him everything.
They had survived. But the true battle was just beginning.