The sky was grey. Not the kind of grey that hinted at rain, but the suffocating sort that draped itself over the world like a cold, damp blanket. Ehito felt it the moment they stepped outside. Lia to his right. Tilan a step behind. Their usual quiet walk to school was interrupted—not by noise, but by silence. The kind of silence that screams before a storm.
They're here.
Ehito's thoughts were sharp. Instinct screamed. Movement to the left—too quiet, too smooth. His eyes didn't shift, but he knew.
One man. One woman. Close. Too close.
Tilan felt it too. He didn't need words. His body shifted subtly, eyes scanning with the same cold detachment that matched Ehito's.
Same aura. Same strength. Same intent.
The ground pulsed. Not from footsteps, but pressure. Killing intent. Focused. Refined. The kind of presence that didn't belong on a school street.
This isn't random. They waited.
Lia didn't speak. But her hand had tightened slightly around her bag. She felt it too—but unlike them, she wasn't trained for this.
They came without warning. One moment, stillness. The next, chaos.
Ehito moved first.
Protect Lia.
His foot slammed into the pavement, the impact cracking stone. He intercepted the male attacker mid-dash, arm sweeping out in a brutal arc. The man blocked, but the force of the clash sent ripples down the concrete.
Tilan met the woman. Sharp, agile, deadly. She spun low, blade flashing—Tilan bent backward, spine arching with inhuman precision, his fist already rising.
They're coordinated.
Just like us, Ehito replied mentally, the silent bond between them a perfect echo.
The street became a battlefield. Cars halted. Glass shattered. Civilians fled. But Ehito saw only movements. Patterns. Vectors. Angles. Every feint, every strike had a rhythm. And they were matching it.
His footwork adjusted mid-dodge, sweeping Lia behind a streetlight.
Stay.
No words. Just the urge pulsed through the air. Lia obeyed, stepping back—eyes wide, heart pounding.
They're reading us too fast, Tilan thought, deflecting a kick that nearly shattered his ribs. They've fought like this before.
Good.
Ehito shifted gears. No wasted motion. He feigned a left hook, then twisted on his heel—knee slamming into the attacker's stomach. The man grunted but didn't fall.
They're trained in suppression. Holding back strength to exhaust us.
Tilan adjusted his tempo. One-two-jump. His shoulder clipped the woman's jaw, spinning her—but she recovered mid-air, flipping back onto a car roof.
Ehito's fists bled. His breath remained calm. The cold efficiency in his gaze didn't waver. Neither did Tilan's. Their minds moved as one. Their bodies mirrored each other. Like a choreographed duel against fate.
Push them back. Make space.
Ehito ducked under a sweep, his hand snatching a loose tile from a broken wall. He hurled it mid-spin, aiming for the attacker's blind spot. It hit—just enough to stagger.
Tilan capitalized. A rising uppercut. Not to kill, just to break balance.
They're adapting. Faster than expected.
Then we go faster.
Suddenly, the male opponent broke rhythm. A direct charge—no feints. Brutal. Reckless.
Ehito met him head-on. Blow for blow. Fist against fist. Flesh tore. Bones cracked. But it wasn't pain he felt. Only calculation.
He's trying to trade hits. I win that game.
He spun, elbow striking the temple. The man dropped to one knee. But his eyes burned. He rose.
Tilan's opponent was different. Graceful. Deadly. Her knife danced, slicing through air like whispers. She slashed at his chest—he twisted, letting the blade cut shallow.
Bait.
He grabbed her wrist. Twisted. Her body followed—until he flipped her over his shoulder into a parked car's windshield. Glass exploded.
For a heartbeat, silence returned.
Then—
A scream.
Lia's.
Ehito turned.
Too slow.
The woman had moved. Just a blur. Lia had stood up—wrong timing. A knife gleamed.
Move!
Ehito didn't think. He ran.
But he wasn't fast enough.
Blood hit the pavement.
Her knees gave out. Her body slumped.
No.
His chest hollowed. Time slowed.
Tilan's heart stopped for a beat. Rage didn't come. Only precision. Cold. Focused.
We end this.
And they did
The two fighters stood frozen, their minds filled with contained rage, a deep pain running through them that they suppressed only to transform it into strength. The wind howled around them, blowing the rain into their faces like an icy breeze, but neither of them moved. They had no time to stop, to mourn, or to lose themselves in the pain of their loss. Their duty, their mission, their only thought now was to face the attackers—and only they could.
Ehito's eyes were fixed on Lia's lifeless body, lying on the ground, rain streaming down her pale face. The pain was too intense to express, but the hatred was clear, sharp, a guiding thread in his mind. She shouldn't have died like this… he thought. She didn't deserve this. Not this way.
Tilan, standing beside him, didn't need words. They were like mirrors to each other, and the pain that filled Tilan was the same. There was no room for confusion, for anxiety. They were united in their despair, but also in their desire for vengeance. They had sworn not to let anyone who caused Lia's suffering get away.
The bodies of the two assailants now lay there, motionless, a tragic but inevitable end. But the silence that reigned was heavy, oppressive. The two friends exchanged a glance, and in their eyes, there was a silent agreement, a silence that no one else could understand. No words. No tears. Only the promise to act.
"She's dead…" thought Tilan, the thought ringing like a hammer blow in his mind. But it wasn't a thought that would slow him down or make him waver. He wouldn't allow himself that luxury. The pain was there, but it was within him. To express it would only make them more vulnerable.
Ehito bent over Lia's body. He checked her pulse, but he already knew. It took just a fraction of a second to understand there was no life left. It was the confirmation of an unbearable moment. His mind, like Tilan's, filled with that dull rage, with that inexorable anger. They had lost a member of their family, a bond that had nothing to do with the tournament, nothing to do with this violence. It was more than that.
For a moment, Ehito struggled against the temptation to destroy everything around him. But he knew that's not what she would have wanted. That's not what he should do. But the rage, the desire to crush everything, to avenge her death… it was unbearable.
They couldn't allow themselves to give in to this rage. The tournament, the fights, all of it had become secondary. What mattered at that moment was the promise of vengeance they had made without words. But they couldn't let their pain consume them.
They finally stood up. Ehito, calmer, turned away from Lia and cast one last glance at her lifeless face. Tilan, silent beside him, did the same. Their minds were focused on what they had to do. The silence reigned around them, an almost unreal silence. But in their minds, the violence of what they had just gone through pushed them forward, giving them a greater, more sinister goal.
The two friends were ready to face anything that could stand in their way. Their bodies were still marked by the scars of battle, but nothing would stop them now. They had already moved on. The only goal that mattered now was for those responsible for Lia's death to pay for what they had done. No matter how.
They moved forward into the darkness, their silhouettes blending into the rainy night. A final glance exchanged, a final breath, and they disappeared