The tournament was known as the Runoris Great Tournament. It was a battle of honor where different clans fought for pride and riches. Each clan sent four warriors to compete, and for three consecutive years, one clan had remained undefeated. Their champions were Kaito, Ryuji, Reiko, and Drala—each a warrior of unmatched skill. Among them, Drala Hashimoto stood above the rest. Even Kaito, renowned for his precision, agility, and durability, could not rival Drala's sheer power. Rumors surrounded Drala—some whispered that he wielded forbidden magic, others claimed he was a god in human form.
But since the last tournament, Drala had been banished forever. His crime was unforgivable. The tournament had one sacred rule—never take a life. Drala had shattered this commandment, slicing an opponent into pieces in mere seconds. For his bloodlust, he was cast out, stripped of his place in the clan.
Since then, the clan had struggled to find a worthy fourth fighter. Satoshi Nawa-Kara Kitotsuki, Kaito's younger brother, never imagined he would be considered.
"This is your perfect chance, kiddo," Kaito said with a smirk.
"Go ahead. I know you can do it. It'd be an honor to fight alongside you in the tournament."
"What?!" Satoshi's eyes widened. "No way!!"
"Come on, do it for me, kiddo," Kaito nudged.
Satoshi sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Alright, fine."
"Ah, perfect! Let's get into training. The selection is tomorrow, and a bit of revision won't hurt," Kaito grinned.
With a reluctant nod, Satoshi followed his brother to the dojo. To his surprise, it was eerily quiet—not many were training this time. The tension of choosing a fourth warrior weighed heavily on the clan.
Grabbing a wooden katana, he faced his brother. Kaito took his stance, wooden sword in hand.
"Position yourself," Kaito commanded, as he always did.
Satoshi obeyed, steadying himself.
Kaito lunged. Satoshi dodged with inhuman speed, catching his brother off balance. He struck swiftly, landing a clean hit.
"Alright, playtime's over, bakaro," Kaito smirked.
He moved with terrifying speed, breaking through Satoshi's defenses, striking him again and again. The younger warrior barely had time to process what was happening.
How is he so fast?
But then—it happened.
Something inside Satoshi boiled. His vision blurred. His mind became a haze. Red lines appeared across Kaito's body—lines that weren't there before. Cut marks.
"Uh, kiddo? Your eyes are turning yellow. Do you need some re—" Kaito's words were cut short.
Satoshi's body moved on its own. He lunged, striking Kaito hard in the chest.
Kaito coughed but steadied himself. "Alright, so you still wanna go on? That's fine by me."
He lunged again. But Satoshi didn't dodge. His body refused to move away. Instead, his arm acted on its own, delivering another precise blow to Kaito's chest.
Kaito staggered back, falling into a defensive stance. Satoshi wanted to stop—but he couldn't.
His body moved with terrifying speed, striking Kaito over and over. The red lines multiplied. His vision darkened. He saw slices on his brother's arms, his chest, his head.
What is happening to me?!
Kaito was saying something, but the words were muffled. The only thing Satoshi could see was red.
Then—darkness.
---
He awoke in a bed. A comfortable bed.
His heart pounded as he sat up. Was it a dream? No—it felt too real.
Satoshi rushed outside, searching for Kaito.
He found him beneath a cherry blossom tree, petals falling in the gentle breeze.
"Kaito, you baka!" he shouted, running up to him.
Sitting beside his brother, he laughed. "I just had the craziest dream of my life. I defeated you in a battle. And you couldn't do anything to stop me. One day, I'll do that in real life. Just you wait!"
Kaito turned to him, eyes unreadable. "You already did."
Satoshi's smile faded. "What?"
"The dream you saw... was real." Kaito's voice was grim. "I don't want to talk about it. Just pack your stuff. The selection is happening soon."
Satoshi stared in disbelief. He had really beaten Kaito? The red lines were real?
His brother walked away, heading to the dojo. He picked up his katana—a blade polished to perfection.
Satoshi grabbed his own. Rust clung to its edges. Kaito had always told him to care for his sword like a loved one. But he had neglected it.
Even so—it still cut like butter.
"You ready, kid? Mount your horse. We're heading to Shenajaki."
Satoshi's eyes widened. "Shenajaki? Isn't that where the tournament is held? I thought there was a selection."
Kaito smirked. "Selection's canceled. You're in. Now hurry up, bakaro."
Satoshi said nothing, only galloped forward.
With his brother at his side, he rode toward Shenajaki. The Runoris Great Tournament awaited.