"When three hearts beat in rhythm, even fate pauses to listen." —Ishido
The forest was quiet again. The branches of the great Tree of Echoes still swayed gently despite the stillness of the air, as if it too breathed with life. Ishido stood with his hands behind his back, watching the three boys from afar—Kamui, Arma, and Argon—each of them still kneeling in the soft mossy earth where they had been shown their first vision. As they looked at the place where the Tree was standing, but now it wasn't there, they asked their Master how it had disappeared, but he didn't answer.
It had been brief, only a flicker, but powerful.
Arma and Kamui faced it first-hand, seeing the power of the visions of the Tree, and it felt real. While Argon felt it from the dreams, he still isn't sure what that figure was. The figure that he was fighting against..., but from that vision onward, he always held his katana close.
But none of them spoke of it. Not yet. But it was eating them from inside.
"Come to the Academy Dojo," Ishido finally said. They heard his voice in the letter they received like a wind chime in spring. Even though it was Saturday and it was closed, Ishido explained in the letter: "My students, you all received this letter. I was thinking of hosting a small sparring tournament for all of you wanting to participate and further improve your skills! It is not for a grade, nor for praise, it's for you to continue developing in the right way."
Back in the upper district of the village, Argon snuck through the gates of his family's large mansion. He left during the morning. He explained to his father that he was going to a new academy, the one that his father's closest friend opened, so he let him.
No one ever noticed where he really went, to his real home. Not even the teachers in the other academy—he was careful like that. Every time he went back, he gave his father a detailed explanation of what he learned, but in fact, he learned all of that because of Ishido, and he intercepted every letter that his father's friend sent about him not showing up to the classes.
The tournament was on Sunday, but before it, there were a few lessons still. It's once a month that Ishido organises the tournament and the special classes, and the last time Argon won.
It was the first time all three of them were in the same place since the visions from the Tree that Ishido showed them.
Lessons continued, and classmates laughed. During the lunch break outside the Academy Dojo, the silence between Kamui, Arma, and Argon remained; they didn't want to talk about it yet, as they all tried to recap what they had seen.
It's something truly mysterious and magnificent at the same time. A shared bond. Something sacred.
Kamui sat with his hands in his hoodie pocket, glancing at the courtyard window.
"Hey," Arma whispered during the history class, nudging Kamui with a pencil. "Can't wait for me to beat you like last time?"
"This time it will be different. I at least stand a chance against Argon tank baby boy." Kamui replied, a grin creeping onto his face. As Arma laughed, fist-bumping Kamui's shoulder.
And so it began.
The school allowed a tournament every season—a casual one. Students signed up, sparred in friendly bouts, and a small crowd always gathered near the dojo, just behind the main building. This time, though, it felt different.
The names "Kamui", "Arma", and "Argon" were whispered like legends.
Some of the village people quietly raised their eyebrows at the skill on display. It was even attended by some of the veterans and some warriors currently in the army!
The three boys progressed easily through the rounds. Kamui's precise strikes, Arma's sheer power, and Argon's flow-like movement—each fight ended in cheers and awe.
By the quarterfinals, the courtyard was packed with students, and the older village people were cheering and placing quiet bets. But the boys weren't showing off. They weren't fighting for pride.
They were fighting for each other.
The Semifinals: Kamui vs Arma
The wind rustled through the open walls of the dojo. The sparring arena was marked by worn-down wooden planks and dust.
Ishido sat in the back corner, sipping tea, his eyes piercing as ever. He was feeling proudest when he saw the three of them, but his reactions were always the same for every student.
Arma stood first, cracking his knuckles.
"Kamui," he said with a nod, "don't go easy; otherwise, you are getting crushed."
Kamui smiled, stretching his shoulders. "Wouldn't dream of it. Someone is stuck in the past."
The match began with Arma charging forward, stomping with weight that shook the ground.
He was massive for his age—a boy built like stone. His fighting style was like a fortress walking, fists flying with hammer force.
He mostly relied on quick charges, hoping to catch his opponents off guard, but Kamui was something else this time.
Kamui danced around him, weaving, avoiding the blows—but barely. One swing caught Kamui's ribs and sent him sliding back.
"Come on, strategist!" Arma laughed. "You gonna just dodge? You didn't tell me that, if I remember?"
Kamui smirked. He was thinking. Always thinking. Like two steps ahead. "You're a wall, Arma. Walls don't move. But they do crack."
He shifted his stance—lower, looser—and started striking the legs. Swift kicks. Precise.
Arma grunted, missing his timing as Kamui spun behind him and struck again. Everything they poured into the sparring, they have learned from their Master themselves.
The two clashed like fire and stone. Arma's tank-like defence slowly began to show signs of stress. And then, Kamui saw it—one single opportunity.
He feinted left. Arma stepped just slightly off balance—and Kamui launched upward, twisting in the air, planting a clean elbow strike to Arma's chest.
SLAM.
Arma crashed into the dojo wall, leaving a small crack behind him.
Silence.
Then—
Cheers. Deafening cheers.
Kamui stumbled forward, bruised and breathless, and offered a hand to Arma.
"Good fight, my brother."
Arma smiled, wincing, and hugged him tight. "I'll get you next time. This time it has indeed turned."
In the stands, Argon stood silent, arms folded, his sword on his back. Watching. Memorising every move.
The Finals: Kamui vs Argon
Ishido stood now, stepping into the ring with both boys.
"You both have grown. But today, only one wins. Bow."
They bowed. The world disappeared.
Argon stepped first—fluid, patient, his katana still sheathed. Kamui came low, eyes locked. The first exchange was pure movement—like wind dancing with lightning.
Argon struck with the back of his sheathed blade, aiming for pressure points. Kamui dodged, slipped under, countered with a sweep.
Each hit was blocked.
Each dodge was perfect.
Sweat poured.
Knuckles bled.
Neither wanted to win for glory—only to push the other higher.
Kamui lunged.
A low sweep kick — blocked by a sliding step. A jab aimed for the ribs — parried. Argon countered with the back of his knuckles, aiming for Kamui's jaw.
Kamui ducked, twisted, and palm-striked toward Argon's shoulder.
But Argon was gone.
He moved with effortless grace, sidestepping like water flowing around stone.
Kamui smirked. "You've been training harder."
"I always train hard," Argon replied.
"You're the one who talks too much, even though it doesn't seem like it. "
Kamui feinted a dash forward, then instantly dropped into a reverse roundhouse kick, aiming for Argon's temple.
Argon leaned back, just inches from contact, and unsheathed his blade slightly, delivering a diagonal slice — but it was a controlled cut, precise enough to skim the air above Kamui's chest.
The crowd gasped.
Kamui backflipped away, landing on his feet, breath steady.
The Blade Awakens
Argon now stepped forward, drawing the katana fully — a beautiful, polished weapon with a glowing silver edge.
Kamui narrowed his eyes.
"You're going all out now, huh?"
"You beat Arma. You won't beat me unless you earn it."
The first strike came in fast — a horizontal slash that Kamui barely dodged by turning sideways.
Argon followed with a step-in thrust, aiming for Kamui's shoulder.
Kamui parried with his forearm, wincing as the steel kissed his skin, and answered with a sudden elbow to Argon's jaw.
It connected.
Argon stumbled back — just a half-step — and recovered immediately, slashing in a tight arc that forced Kamui to retreat.
Kamui thought fast.
He's faster than I expected. He's not just reacting… he's predicting me.
Kamui slowed his breathing.
He needed a new approach. Argon was adapting too quickly to basic attacks. He shifted into mixed stance — one hand raised, the other low, his feet perfectly angled.
He began using his environment — baiting Argon toward the wall, near the loose board in the floor.
Kamui faked another jab and this time took a shallow hit to the shoulder to get close.
Argon slashed down — Kamui caught the hilt of the sword with both hands, stopping it just inches from his neck.
"You're getting predictable," Argon said through clenched teeth.
"No," Kamui whispered. "You just haven't seen the endgame yet."
He let go of the blade, dropped to his back, and kicked upward into Argon's knees.
Argon's balance wavered. Kamui swept both legs, tripping Argon, and leapt up, ready to strike.
But Argon twisted mid-fall and kicked Kamui in the ribs, launching him back.
They both hit the ground and rolled in opposite directions, breathing hard.
Then—Kamui leapt, spinning in the air.
Argon stepped back, unsheathed his katana just slightly—CLANG—steel met bone as Kamui's hand chopped downward, redirecting the blade, grabbing Argon's wrist.
Kamui landed, locked Argon's elbow, and softly tapped his shoulder.
"…Match."
Silence.
Then thunderous applause.
Ishido stepped forward. He looked at the three boys—bloodied, exhausted, smiling.
"You are no longer just students," he said quietly. "You are brothers. And soon, you will be warriors."
He looked up at the sky.
"But even warriors must one day face truths they cannot fight."
He turned.
"And your truth…is coming."
That night, the boys sat on the school roof, eating rice balls and laughing.
"I should've won that," Arma muttered.
"You almost did," Kamui chuckled.
Argon was silent, fully lost in his thoughts. And then
Argon stared at the stars. "What was that vision… back at the tree?"
Kamui didn't answer.
Arma just stared..., afraid to answer.
But the wind carried the whisper of the Tree of Echoes, with Ishido silently meditating at the Academy...