The first light of dawn had yet to break over the mountain peaks when Hiro emerged from his quarters. While the rest of the Khaos Brigade still slept, he had already completed two hours of rigorous physical training. Sweat dripped from his bare torso as he moved through a series of combat forms, his muscles hardened by months of relentless conditioning.
He had three days to prepare for Malthus. Three days to ensure he was ready to face one of the Fallen Angels responsible for his family's death. The thought fueled his every movement, each strike more precise than the last.
"You're up early, nya~"
Hiro didn't pause in his routine, but his peripheral vision caught Kuroka's lithe form as she approached. She wore a black kimono that hung loosely off her shoulders, revealing more skin than it concealed. Her amber eyes tracked his movements with predatory interest.
"I need to be ready," he replied simply, completing a complex sword kata without the Shadow Wolf—pure muscle memory and perfect form.
"For three days from now? Or for right now?" She moved closer, circling him like a cat stalking prey. "Because I can help with both."
Hiro stopped, turning to face her directly. His gaze was calm, calculating. "How?"
Kuroka's lips curved into a knowing smile. "As I mentioned yesterday—senjutsu. The life energy manipulation techniques of the youkai. Combined with your Sacred Gear, they could unlock potential you haven't even imagined."
"And what do you get out of it?" His question was direct, cutting through any pretense.
Her smile widened, showing sharp canines. "I told you before—I'm attracted to strength. And you, dragon boy, are very strong."
Hiro studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he moved. In a blur of motion that even a supernatural being struggled to follow, he appeared behind her, the Shadow Wolf's edge pressed gently against her throat.
"I am," he agreed, his voice deadly quiet. "And I don't like games."
Instead of fearing the blade, Kuroka purred with delight. "Oh, I like you even more now. No games, then. I genuinely want to help you access your full potential. And maybe..." She leaned back slightly, pressing herself against his chest, "we'll discover some pleasant side effects along the way."
Hiro held his position for a moment longer, then lowered the blade and stepped back. "Show me."
Two hours later, they sat cross-legged on a training mat in a secluded chamber. Incense burned in the corners, creating a atmosphere of focused concentration. Kuroka had already walked him through the basics of senjutsu, explaining how life energy flowed through all living beings.
"Now," she instructed, moving closer until their knees touched, "place your hands on my shoulders. I need to create a circuit of energy between us."
Hiro complied, his touch firm but controlled. Kuroka's skin felt warm, almost feverish, beneath his palms.
"Good. Now, close your eyes and focus on Orochi. Not just Raijin—the entirety of your Sacred Gear. Feel for those dormant signatures Le Fay mentioned."
Hiro let his consciousness sink inward, following Kuroka's guidance. Almost immediately, he sensed her life energy intertwining with his, like two rivers converging. The sensation was intimate, almost uncomfortably so, but he maintained his focus.
"Interesting," Orochi's voice rumbled through their shared connection. "The cat knows what she's doing."
In his mind's eye, Hiro saw the eight blades of the Eightfold Edge more clearly than ever before. Each pulsed with its own unique energy signature—Raijin's electric blue, Kaen's smoldering black-red, Mugetsu's ethereal gray. And beyond them, barely visible, the terrible darkness of Yamikiba.
"Don't push for the forbidden one," Kuroka murmured, as if sensing his attention drift. "Focus on the eight. Feel their resonance with your emotions, your needs."
As she spoke, her hands moved to rest on his forearms, and Hiro felt a surge of energy unlike anything he'd experienced. It was as if someone had turned up the volume on his Sacred Gear, making every sensation clearer, more accessible.
"What happens if I try to access another blade now?" he asked.
"Only one way to find out," Kuroka replied, her voice husky. "But know that forcing it could be dangerous. For both of us."
Hiro opened his eyes, meeting her amber gaze. "Danger doesn't concern me."
"I'm beginning to see that," she purred. "Very well. Focus on a specific need, a specific emotion. Let it guide you to the appropriate blade."
Hiro chose strategy, the need for perfect timing, for setting up his opponent. In his mind, he reached toward Shingan—the Doomsight, the blade that could manipulate time perception.
The moment he made contact, power surged through him. Not just his own energy, but Kuroka's as well, amplifying the connection. He felt the blade beginning to manifest, but something was wrong. The energy was wild, uncontrolled.
"Hold on!" Kuroka gasped, her grip tightening on his arms. "You're drawing too much at once!"
Instead of pulling back, Hiro did something unexpected. He redirected the excess energy, channeling it back through Kuroka and into himself in a perfect circuit. The wildness stabilized, became manageable, and suddenly—
A katana appeared in his left hand. Where Raijin was blue and electric, this blade seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly quality, as if it existed slightly out of phase with reality. Time itself seemed to slow around it.
"Incredible," Kuroka breathed, her eyes wide with amazement and something else—desire. "You manifested Shingan on your second try. And the way you controlled that energy surge..."
Hiro examined the blade, noting how time seemed to move differently in the air around it. "You helped."
"Maybe. But the control was all you." She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Do you have any idea how impressive that is?"
Their faces were inches apart now. Hiro could feel her breath against his skin, see the admiration and hunger in her eyes. For a moment, he considered closing the distance, giving in to the electric tension between them.
Instead, he allowed Shingan to dissipate and stood up in one fluid motion. "We should train with it. I need to understand its capabilities before facing Malthus."
Kuroka remained seated for a moment, a mix of frustration and respect playing across her features. Then she too rose, stretching languidly. "You're either incredibly disciplined or incredibly cruel, dragon boy."
"I'm focused," Hiro replied simply. "But thank you. Your technique is... effective."
"Oh, we're just getting started," she purred. "Tomorrow, we'll try for a third blade. And the day after..." She trailed off, but her meaning was clear.
News traveled fast in the Khaos Brigade. By the time Hiro entered the common room that evening, word of his successful manifestation of a second Sacred Gear blade had already spread.
"Quite the achievement," Arthur commented as Hiro entered. The descendant of King Arthur sat at a table with Le Fay and Bikou, magical diagrams spread between them. "Two dragon weapons manifested in separate sessions. Most Sacred Gear users struggle to achieve even one."
"Kuroka's methods are... unique," Le Fay added, her eyes twinkling with knowing amusement.
Bikou grinned openly. "I'll bet they are. She's been eyeing you like her next meal since day one."
Hiro ignored their implications, moving to examine the diagrams. "What's this?"
"Schematics of Malthus's meeting location," Arthur explained. "Vali had them sent over. We've been analyzing potential entry and exit points."
The diagrams showed a high-security compound in Tokyo's business district. Multiple buildings, underground passages, and extensive security measures. It would be a challenge even for a supernatural being.
"Where's Vali?" Hiro asked.
"Conference with the higher-ups," Bikou replied, spinning his staff between his fingers. "Something about additional missions for us after Tokyo."
"Speaking of Tokyo," a familiar voice interrupted. Kuroka entered the room, now fully dressed in her combat attire—black leather that accentuated every curve, but clearly designed for mobility. "I've volunteered for extraction duty."
"You'll be in the field?" Hiro asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.
"Of course. Can't have my favorite student getting himself killed, can I?" She winked, but her expression turned serious. "Besides, if things go wrong, my portals might be the fastest way out."
Le Fay looked up from the schematics. "That reminds me—I've been working on modifications to the stolen device. I think I can create a temporary stabilizer that might give you emergency access to your other blades during combat."
She produced a small silver bracelet, covered in intricate engravings. "It's not perfect, and it will drain your energy quickly, but in a life-or-death situation..."
Hiro examined the device, impressed by the craftsmanship. "How does it work?"
"It amplifies the connection between you and your Sacred Gear, similar to what Kuroka does but through mechanical means." Le Fay's eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "You'd still need to provide the emotional trigger, but it would make the manifestation much easier."
"Useful," Hiro acknowledged, slipping the bracelet on. It felt strangely warm against his skin. "Thank you."
"Just bring it back in one piece," she replied with a smile. "I'd like to study how it performs under real combat conditions."
As they continued planning, Hiro felt a presence approaching. Vali entered the room, his expression unusually grave.
"Change of plans," the White Dragon Emperor announced. "We've received intelligence that the meeting with Malthus might be a trap."
The room fell silent. Hiro's eyes narrowed. "What kind of trap?"
"The Grigori have been tracking Khaos Brigade movements. They know we might make a move against one of their operatives." Vali moved to the table, pointing at the schematics. "The security here is too light. Too convenient."
"You think they want us to attack?" Arthur asked.
"I think they want to lure us out and eliminate a threat," Vali replied. "The question is: do we abort, or do we turn their trap against them?"
Hiro's answer was immediate. "We go."
Every head in the room turned toward him.
"They're using Malthus as bait," he continued, his voice cold and determined. "Which means they'll have him under heavy guard. Exactly where I want him—surrounded by his colleagues, with nowhere to run."
Vali studied him for a long moment. "It will be extremely dangerous."
"Everything worth doing is," Hiro replied. "Besides, I don't plan on running away."
Kuroka's eyes gleamed with approval, while Bikou whistled low.
"I've studied the schematics," Hiro continued, moving to the table. "The compound has underground access here, and here. If we split into teams—one creating a distraction while another strikes directly..."
As he outlined his plan, the others listened with growing respect. This wasn't the isolated student they'd first met, or even the competent fighter from the three-faction summit. This was a strategist, a predator who had spent months planning his hunt.
When he finished, Vali smiled. "Bold. Dangerous. I like it."
"The monkey's right," Bikou added. "This could be fun after all."
"I'll handle the portal placements," Kuroka offered, her gaze meeting Hiro's. "But if this goes bad..."
"It won't," Hiro stated with absolute certainty. "I've waited ten years for this moment. I won't fail now."
The conviction in his voice left no room for doubt. As the meeting concluded and the others filed out, Kuroka lingered behind.
"That was quite the display of leadership," she purred, approaching him. "Very attractive."
"It's not about attraction," Hiro replied, but didn't move away as she came closer. "It's about necessity."
"Mmm, but the two aren't mutually exclusive, are they?" She placed a hand on his chest, right over where the dragon tattoo began. "You know, if this is going to be as dangerous as we think..."
She let the implication hang in the air. Hiro caught her wrist, his grip firm but not painful.
"If you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting," he said quietly, "then you should know—I don't do anything halfway."
Kuroka's smile turned predatory. "Neither do I, dragon boy. Neither do I."
For a moment, they stood there, tension crackling between them like electricity. Then Hiro released her wrist and stepped back.
"After Tokyo," he said simply. "When this is done."
"Promise?" she asked, her voice husky.
"I don't make promises I can't keep," he replied. "But if we both survive... we'll see."
As he left the room, Hiro felt Orochi stirring within him.
"The cat is becoming quite fond of you," the dragon observed with amusement.
"She's useful," Hiro replied mentally. "And strong."
"Is that all?" Orochi probed.
Hiro paused at the doorway to his quarters. "For now."
He had more important matters to focus on. In two days, he would face Malthus. In two days, he would confront one of those responsible for destroying everything he had once held dear.
And unlike every other challenge in his life, this time he wouldn't face it alone.
The thought should have comforted him. Instead, it made him realize how much he had changed since the isolated boy who had first discovered his family's legacy. He wasn't sure if that change made him stronger or more vulnerable.
"Both," Orochi answered his unspoken question. "And that, my vessel, is what will make you truly dangerous."
Hiro entered his room, already planning his training for the next day. Tomorrow, he would push himself further, manifest new blades, perfect his strategy. He would become the weapon he needed to be.
And if along the way he found something worth fighting for beyond vengeance...
Well, perhaps that wasn't such a bad thing after all.
As he began his nightly meditation, the Shadow Wolf laid across his knees, Hiro felt a strange sense of anticipation that had nothing to do with the upcoming mission. For the first time in years, he was looking forward to something beyond the next day's training, the next step in his revenge.
The path ahead was dangerous, filled with enemies and uncertain alliances. But for the first time since that night ten years ago, Hiro felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new revelations. Tonight, he would rest, gathering strength for the battles to come. Both the ones he could anticipate, and the ones that would catch him completely by surprise.
In his dreams, he saw blades of light and shadow, felt the rush of power and the warmth of unexpected connections. And somewhere in the darkness, a ninth blade waited, pulsing with terrible promise.
But that was a concern for another day. Tonight, Hiro simply slept, his body relaxed but his mind sharp, like a blade honed to its perfect edge and ready to cut.