"What a terrifying monster..."
Ralph wiped himself down with a towel, his chest heaving, his racket hand trembling slightly.
The loss had been brutal.
In their past matches, he'd at least managed to snag a point or two off Yoru. But this time? A complete shutout.
"Tsk~ Still ended too fast. Didn't even get to try out some new tricks I've been working on."
Yoru casually rested his hands behind his head.
Ralph rolled his eyes.
Is this guy even human?
But he caught the key detail. "You've got more up your sleeve?"
"Sort of. Picked up a few things recently."
Yoru packed his racket away, oblivious to Ralph's expression.
He's still hiding techniques?!
Ralph's eye twitched.
Knowing Yoru, whatever he called a "new trick" wouldn't be something as basic as a Sharp Angle Drive.
Last time Yoru said something like this, he'd mastered Samurai's Zone.
After the match, Yoru took Ryoma—now a champion—to a French restaurant.
In the U.S., anything labeled "high-end dining" was inevitably French-influenced.
Even so-called "Japanese" or "Chinese" fine dining had a French twist, something Yoru, having grown up with authentic Chinese cuisine in his past life, found deeply offensive.
And the "Chinese" food here?
A complete disgrace.
The menu always featured the same abomination: General Tso's Chicken—a dish with zero connection to the actual historical figure and a flavor that made Yoru want to vomit.
After years in the U.S., he'd learned one thing:
Better to eat straight-up French food than suffer through Franco-Chinese abominations.
Naturally, Ralph tagged along for the free meal.
"Damn capitalist," Ralph grumbled through a mouthful of food.
Yoru smirked. "Feel free to pay for yourself."
"Hell no! I can't afford this place!"
Ryoma, however, barely touched his meal.
The entire time, he bombarded Yoru with questions—especially about Samurai's Zone.
Ralph nearly choked. "Wait, Ryoma, you know how to use Zone?!"
"Yeah, learned it two years ago."
"FCK ME!"*
"You two are actual demons!"
Yoru scowled. "Watch your language around kids."
"I'm 15! Also a kid!"
"Since when do kids have chest hair?!"
"OH?? Since when did you peek?!"
"Your shirt's practically see-through, you golden gorilla!"
"FIGHT ME!"
"Hard pass. Your chest fur counts as a weapon. That's cheating."
"AAAAHHH—!!"
"Sigh..." Ryoma covered his eyes.
At this rate, these two would keep bickering until the meal ended.
Echizen Residence, U.S.
"Japan, huh?"
"Why'd Big Bro choose Japan...?"
"I came back to L.A. for middle school because I wanted to go to the same school as him..."
Ryoga's voice crackled through the phone.
Nanjirō yawned. "He said it's to spend time with your godmother. Since you're coming back, you can keep an eye on Ryoma. I'm heading to Japan with him."
After Ryoga's aunt won custody years ago, he'd moved to another state for school.
But as he grew older, he'd started making his own decisions.
For middle school, he'd chosen to return to L.A.—a request his aunt, understanding the importance of family, didn't oppose.
What Ryoga hadn't expected was Yoru's sudden decision to leave.
"Old man, you're going too?"
"Oi, I'm not that old! Stop copying your brother's bad habits!" Nanjirō's eyebrow twitched.
"Got it, old man!"
"I'll be careful, old man!"
"Enough!"
After the teasing, Ryoga's tone turned serious. "You know Ryoma. If he sees me, he'll challenge me to a match..."
Ever since they were kids, one of Ryoma's biggest wishes had been to face Ryoga properly.
The whole family knew.
But Ryoga's ability made that impossible.
Nanjirō shrugged. "Then don't let him see you. I'll arrange your schools. Just keep an eye on him from the shadows."
Silence.
Then, quietly:
"Old man... does Big Bro have a way to fix my problem?"
It wasn't just Ryoma who wanted this match.
Ryoga, too, longed to fulfill their childhood promise.
All these years, he'd never stopped training—battling prodigies, pushing his limits—all in hopes of controlling his cursed gift.
Yet the stronger he grew, the worse the backlash became.
At this point, only two solutions remained:
Ryoma becomes strong enough to stand on equal ground. **Yoru's Ten Senses Control evolves to manipulate consciousness itself.
And Ryoga trusted the second option far more.
For the first time, Nanjirō's voice turned grave.
"I'm not sure how strong he's gotten. But last I asked, he said he was 'close.'"
"...I see."
The call ended there.
This was their family's greatest burden.
Ryoga's ability had haunted Nanjirō for years.
Alone on the rooftop, Ryoga stared at the sky.
If facing Ryoma was his wish, then defeating Yoru was his goal.
No one had ever pushed him to such extremes.
That crushing defeat years ago had become his driving force.
And now, Nanjirō's words echoed:
"He's close."
Yoru was nearing the power to control consciousness.
Ryoga remembered his brother's explanation:
Ten Senses Control governed sight, hearing, touch, smell, taste, premonition, time-sense, space-sense, consciousness, and thought.
Back when Yoru left, he'd only mastered the first five.
Even premonition was beyond his reach—let alone consciousness, which lay three layers deeper.
Yet the memory of having just five senses hijacked was nightmare enough.
If Yoru could manipulate more...
The thought alone made Ryoga's blood run cold.
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