The sun dipped low behind the horizon, casting elongated shadows across the academy's vast training grounds. Most students had already left for the day, leaving behind a silence broken only by the occasional chirp of birds and the rustling of the wind through the trees.
Ash Aragon walked alone.
His body still bore the aches of the previous day's sparring session against Claire, and although his bones had mostly healed, the phantom pain remained. He liked to be alone at times like this — moments of reflection were essential. The subtle wind on his skin, the scent of fresh earth, the fading heat of day — these things reminded him he was alive, despite how often the past tried to pull him back into the grave.
But this evening wasn't meant for peace.
He felt it first — a change in the atmosphere. Like oxygen had been replaced with static. The calm was too calm.
Then, he heard the footsteps.
Slow. Measured. Confident.
Ash turned to find a lone figure emerging from the far edge of the clearing. The man walked with a presence that demanded attention. Silver hair framed a pale, handsome face. His eyes — amber like smoldering embers — were locked onto Ash as if dissecting him from the inside out.
He wore the standard uniform of a Rank S student, though his coat had been modified — longer, black with crimson accents, and the insignia of his rank was etched in silver at his collarbone.
"Kain Ryouji," Ash said softly.
Even if Ash hadn't known the face, he'd have recognized the pressure. Kain was the third most powerful student in the academy, a name that stirred equal parts fear and admiration. His strength wasn't just in his stats or technique — it was in the cold, precise cruelty with which he fought.
Kain stopped several meters away, arms crossed.
"I've heard a lot about you lately," he said.
Ash remained silent.
"People say you're talented. That Claire seems… intrigued."
There it was.
Ash exhaled slowly, tension crawling up his spine. "Is that why you're here?"
Kain smiled. It was slight, but sharp. "I wanted to see what made her curious."
"I'm not interested in games."
"This isn't a game."
In the blink of an eye, Kain moved.
Ash barely had time to react. A knee crashed into his gut, lifting him off the ground. The air fled from his lungs as he flew back, hitting the ground hard, rolling through the dirt.
He coughed violently, forcing himself to stand.
"I'm not the enemy," Ash said, activating his Sharingan, the red glow intensifying in the twilight.
Kain didn't respond. He lunged again, and the world blurred.
Ash dodged — barely. He countered with a palm strike aimed at Kain's chest, but it was caught mid-air.
Kain twisted his wrist and hurled Ash across the clearing like a rag doll. His back slammed against a tree, the bark cracking under the force.
Before he could even recover, Kain was there — relentless.
A punch to the ribs — a crack. Ash cried out, falling to one knee.
Another hit — shoulder, dislocated. He gasped, the world spinning.
Kain looked down at him, expression unreadable.
"You're fragile," he said. "I expected more."
Ash coughed blood, wiping his mouth. He looked up, eyes burning.
"I'm not done."
"You should be."
Ash moved with desperation, instinct taking over where technique had failed. He ducked beneath a sweeping kick, planted his feet, and launched a jab at Kain's side. It connected — barely — but Kain didn't even flinch. Instead, he retaliated with a backhand that sent Ash sprawling again, dirt and blood smearing his face.
This was no spar.
This was a beating.
And yet, Ash didn't stay down.
He groaned, pushing himself to his feet, arm dangling limp at his side, breathing shallow and erratic. His Sharingan spun rapidly now, reacting not just to his enemy — but to his pain. To his resolve.
"What is it that keeps you standing?" Kain asked, brow furrowing.
Ash's voice was strained, but steady. "I've already died once… and it wasn't enough to stop me."
Kain's eyes narrowed. "You're insane."
He charged again, aiming a strike to finish it — but something happened.
The moment Kain's fist approached Ash's face, the world slowed.
No — it didn't slow. Ash saw faster.
The Sharingan flared, spinning so violently it distorted its own pattern. The tomoe twisted, overlapping and tightening, forming a nearly completed evolution. A spiral of power pressed inward — chaotic, dangerous, ancient.
Kain felt it before he saw it. An oppressive wave of spiritual pressure slammed into him. His instinct screamed danger.
He halted his fist a millimeter from Ash's nose.
Their eyes locked.
Ash didn't seem to understand what was happening — but his gaze had changed. It was deeper. Hungrier. There was malice swimming behind the red.
Kain took a step back.
Ash's legs trembled — and at that moment, the air itself seemed to pulse, the tension mounting.
The tomoe inside Ash's Sharingan began to twist.
The shape started to shift…
…
And then — fade to black.