Steel screamed.
His katana clashed against my knife—
And by all logic, the longer blade should've won.
But no.
I pressed harder.
Despite its polished shine and impressive weight,
That sword in his hands was trembling.
A weapon meant for a master—
Now just a toy.
— You're… stronger than I expected, — he muttered, barely keeping his stance.
I smirked.
Bitterness laced my voice like venom.
— You underestimated me?
Pathetic.
That alone is worth punishment… brother.
— You're pushing it, Fio.
But it was already over.
I shifted my weight and struck—
The sound of splintering metal rang out.
His grip failed. The katana slipped from his hands.
He stumbled back.
The blade hit the floor.
I stepped forward—
And crushed it beneath my boot.
The steel cracked.
An accident.
But he didn't take it that way.
— You bastard! That katana was worth more than your life!
Rage lit his eyes.
He lunged—barehanded.
Desperate. Unarmed.
I didn't flinch.
I met him head-on.
Sharp, clean strikes. Movements carved into muscle and bone since I was a child.
He couldn't keep up.
Within a minute, he was on the ground—gasping.
Clutching his ribs.
— I… really did underestimate you, — he whispered.
— You got our father's skills… the only thing worth inheriting.
I remember him… cold. Silent.
How he killed those two drunk bastards who crashed into us—like it was nothing.
You've become just like him.
I'm… proud of you, brother.
Words meant to reach me.
But I felt nothing.
Nothing.
I looked at him—this man who called himself my brother—
And I knew:
If I left him alive…
He'd come back.
For the gang.
For his twisted ideals.
For power.
I raised the knife.
— I'm sorry… brother.
He never had the chance to speak again.
The blade sank into his throat with a dull thud.
He died before he could blink.
Silence.