The sun had not yet risen. Dawn struggled behind thick gray clouds as silence hung over the scorched battlefield.
Mai stood over the spot where Ran Fuji had fallen. Smoke still curled from the soil, but he was gone.
Only the deep gouge in the ground, a cracked thorn from his armor, and a trail of blood leading into the forest remained.
"He escaped," Tiffany whispered, her voice low. "Somehow."
Mai didn't answer. Her aura still flickered, faint traces of the black-red veins glowing beneath her skin.
Behind them, Duncan stirred. He sat up slowly, coughing, his wound wrapped hastily with cloth and energy threads.
"You're lucky to be alive," Tiffany said, kneeling beside him.
He smirked faintly. "Didn't feel like it last night."
Then — silence.
Mai walked over. Slowly. Her steps were heavy, unsure. She looked at Duncan, then knelt beside him.
Without words, she wrapped her arms around him.
The hug was not passionate. It was not even warm. But it was real.
Duncan didn't know what to do. For a moment, he sat frozen. Then, gently, he lowered his forehead to her shoulder.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
"I know," she replied.
Tiffany looked away. The moment was not hers. But the pain in her chest said otherwise.
Suddenly, the wind shifted.
A pulse. A presence.
Far to the east, past the ridge, two auras collided— one calm and ancient, the other burning and bitter.
Mai turned sharply. "It's starting."
Nagasaki – The Forgotten Garden
Sensei Yamura stood in silence, white robes fluttering in the morning wind. His eyes were closed, but his senses were wide open.
Across from him stood Michael Kate.
Older now. Hardened. With anger coiled like a spring beneath his skin.
"I didn't come to talk," Michael said. "This ends now."
Yamura slowly opened his eyes. "Yes. For both of us."
Michael drew his twin iron tonfa, once forged in the dojo Yamura built. "You created me. And you cast me out."
"I warned you," Yamura replied. "If you train monsters, they will devour you."
Michael charged.
The ground cracked beneath his steps. Yamura moved only when needed, deflecting blow after blow with open palms and precise redirections.
But Michael was faster than before — and crueler.
He struck with fury, combinations that once would have failed now pushed Yamura back.
"You still hesitate!" Michael shouted, slamming his tonfa down. "That's why your students die."
Yamura countered, flipping Michael over and slamming him to the earth — but not hard enough to break bones.
Michael coughed, laughed bitterly. "See? You can't even finish me."
"I don't need to," Yamura said, but his breath was slower. "Your hatred will finish you."
Michael stood again, panting. "Then let's burn together."
He raised both weapons and unleashed a pulse of Anchor Auras, thick it shattered the ground around them.
Yamura steadied himself. He closed his eyes and whispered one word.
"Flow."
A red energy pulsed from his center. The old technique: Flow Break. The ultimate counter. The world seemed to slow.
He approached — step by step — and struck.
One hit. Center mass.
A shockwave rippled.
Michael fell to one knee.
Yamura staggered.
Then — silence.
Neither moved.
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