Ishigo's breath came out in ragged gasps. He wasn't attacking. Not yet. He wasn't running either. He was calculating. His feet slid across the floor in rhythm, each step timed with a heartbeat. His mind, sharp as ever, dissected every movement, every shift of air.
The holographic kageshiki lunged, but Ishigo simply dodged, a fluid motion that seemed to mock their persistence. His eyes—gray and piercing—were focused, scanning for weaknesses. The attack came again, but he was already anticipating it, already moving out of its reach.
"Don't kill me,"he whispered under his breath, his tone a contradiction to his inner strength. It was weakness disguised as a plea, a silent acknowledgment of his fear. Fear he wasn't sure how to control. Fear that, for once, had him questioning himself.
If Daigo was here... he would never feel this way. Daigo was always in control, always calculating. But Ishigo had lost that part of himself somewhere along the way. He had let his emotions get the better of him.
He pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the here and now. His eyes narrowed as he faced the kageshiki. They were relentless—calculating, mechanical. But Ishigo was human. He wasn't made of cold precision. He was driven by something deeper.
Then Daigo's voice echoed through his mind, mocking him. "Why are you running like a coward? Attack me."
Ishigo froze, his jaw tightening. Coward? The word hit him harder than he expected. It burned. Deep down, he hated it when anyone called him that. He wasn't a coward. No. He couldn't be. Not after everything they'd been through.
"I'm no coward," Ishigo muttered under his breath, his grip on his katana tightening. He wasn't running anymore. The shift in his stance was instantaneous. His body moved before his mind could catch up.
With a growl, he rushed forward. His katana cut through the air—blindingly fast. He swung it down toward the kageshiki, but in the blink of an eye, it vanished. Gone.
"Damn it," Ishigo muttered, skidding to a halt. His eyes flashed with a momentary flicker of frustration, then cold calculation. His pulse quickened. He adjusted his glasses—gray eyes glowing with intensity. Every sense he had sharpened in that single moment of stillness.
He closed his eyes. The world around him fell into silence.
Then, in a blur of motion, Ishigo turned. His katana whipped up, slicing through the air where the attack would come.
There it was—the strike, aimed to kill. He met it with the edge of his blade. The force behind the clash reverberated through his arms. The red wire—the heart of the kageshiki—snapped in two with a satisfying hiss.
The construct stuttered, glitching out of existence. Ishigo stood tall, his chest heaving. He hadn't just defended himself—he had done more. He had proved something to himself.
His badge flickered. Numbers appeared, the faint hum of energy reaching into him, filling the gaps in his power. 0(12). A new level. A new strength.
"Cool,"he muttered to himself, the faintest of smirks tugging at his lips. It wasn't cocky, just acknowledgment. He was no longer the unsure kid running from his own shadow.
The kageshiki charged again, but this time, Ishigo was ready. He darted forward, jumping into the air, eyes scanning the battlefield.
His senses were honed. The moment he saw the faintest flicker of red wire, he positioned himself perfectly, his katana striking with deadly precision. The wire split open like paper under his blade, and the hologram vanished.
Ishigo landed softly, the rush of victory flooding his veins.
His mind wasn't racing, though. It was calm—focused. He didn't feel invincible, but for the first time in a long while, he felt like he was finally in control.
"Congratulations," came the mechanical voice from the wall. "You have been selected for the test."
Ishigo took a breath, his smile barely there. He didn't need the acknowledgment. He didn't need anyone to tell him what he had done. He already knew.
The fight, the test—it wasn't over. But in that moment, Ishigo understood something. This wasn't about surviving. It was about proving to himself that he could face the hardest battles—not with brute force, but with calculated moves and control.
The kageshiki weren't his real enemies. It was everything inside him—the fears, the doubts—that had held him back.
And now? Now he was ready.