The sound of fists pounding against stone echoed through the forest clearing, steady and relentless. Each strike shook the earth as if the boulder itself were an opponent, challenging the young oni's resolve. Sweat poured down his muscular frame, his scarred hands raw and bleeding, yet he pressed on without hesitation. Every strike, every crack of the stone under his fists, was a testament to his stubborn heart and unyielding will.
"Again… harder!" he roared, veins standing out across his arms as his fists collided with the rock. The boulder groaned under the impact, tiny cracks forming where his relentless blows landed. He didn't notice the bruises forming along his knuckles or the ache in his arms. Pain was irrelevant. Strength was all that mattered.
From the shadows, his twin brother observed quietly, a figure of calm precision against the younger oni's wild energy. Arms crossed, he watched without interrupting, letting the other spill his chaotic force against the unmoving stone. "You'll break your hands eventually," he said softly, voice calm like a still river.
The younger oni turned with a grin, wide and toothy, eyes glinting with defiance. "Then I'll break harder, brother! These fists weren't made to surrender!" He slammed another punch into the boulder, jagged lines spreading across its surface. The rock splintered slightly under the sheer force, and he stepped back, chest heaving, fists trembling from exertion.
"You're reckless," the older muttered, stepping into the clearing, his dark eyes surveying his twin with a mix of exasperation and quiet acknowledgment.
The younger laughed, a booming, unrestrained sound that carried across the forest. "Reckless? Perhaps. But strong. That counts for something, doesn't it?"
Before the older could respond, a familiar voice rang from the village path. "Hey! Are you two lazing around again?"
The younger's head snapped toward the voice, and there she was — the girl he had admired since childhood. Even at her young age, she towered over most of the boys in the village, her long lavender hair cascading down her back, eyes bright with energy, carrying a tray of steaming food. Her expression was a mix of pride and gentle reprimand, and his chest tightened at the sight.
"Ah!" he called, puffing out his chest. "Not at all! I was just… perfecting my rock-crushing punch! Want to see?"
She tilted her head, giggling softly. "Later. First, try this new recipe I made!"
His stomach growled in protest, but his heart swelled. Whatever trial lay within that bowl, he would face it. For her. He snatched the bowl from her hands without hesitation. The smell alone was dangerous — bitter herbs, partially cooked meat, and something faintly hissing from within. His eyes met his twin's, who had already melted into the shadows, attempting to avoid witnessing the impending disaster.
"Coward," he muttered under his breath, but there was no turning back. He lifted the bowl to his lips and swallowed.
The taste was a storm. Acid, fire, bitterness, and raw spice collided in his mouth, burning his throat and setting his stomach aflame. His body convulsed, yet beneath it all, his oni physiology absorbed the poison, neutralizing it entirely. He stood taller, chest heaving, tears streaming down his face from the intensity of the flavor.
"Delicious!" he shouted, forcing a grin through the pain. "Absolutely… delicious!"
The girl's eyes sparkled. "Really? You're amazing! Even Father said this dish was… challenging."
He wiped his tears with the back of his hand. "Challenging? Pfft! Just fuel for training! Next one, please!"
His twin's voice drifted from the shadows. "Challenging… indeed," he muttered dryly.
The younger ignored him, laughing loudly, wild and uncontained. The girl beamed at him, pride shining in her gaze, and for a moment, the chaos of his reckless life seemed worth it.
---
The night settled over the Oni village, silver moonlight spilling across rooftops and the forest beyond. The older twin meditated in the central courtyard, shadow clones forming and dissolving with precise, silent movements, a testament to his assassin training. Each motion was controlled, exact, and deadly in potential.
The younger, however, could be found in the training yard, fists wrapped in rough cloth, hammering against a wooden pillar until splinters flew. His body was battered, sweat streaked across his skin, and yet he never stopped. Each strike was a promise — a vow he had sworn long ago to the girl, to himself, and to the people he would one day protect.
"You're still at it?" the older twin's voice was quiet, almost amused as he appeared behind his brother without a sound.
The younger grinned over his shoulder, wild-eyed. "Heh. Can't let you leave me behind, brother. Someone has to protect the village, too, you know!"
"You'll never match me this way," the older replied, folding his arms. "I was chosen for the shadows. You… you lack the discipline."
He slammed his fists into the pillar one final time, splintering it further. He turned fully to face his twin, chest heaving, eyes blazing with determination. "Then I'll make my own path! Who needs shadows when you can smash through walls?"
The older's dark gaze softened slightly. "Reckless… perhaps that is your strength."
The younger blinked at the rare acknowledgment, then laughed, loud and unrestrained.
---
Years earlier, as children, he had watched the girl sparring with wooden swords in the same clearing. Her strikes were wild, untamed, but each carried a power that dwarfed most boys twice their age. He had stood at the edge, fists clenched, admiration growing with every swing.
"She's incredible," he whispered to no one in particular.
The older twin glanced at him, expression neutral. "Strong… but sloppy."
He ignored him. His eyes never left hers. That night, beneath a sky full of stars, he swore silently to himself: one day, he would be strong enough to stand beside her, to protect her, to fight by her side.
---
Back in the present, the forest surrounding the Oni village grew darker, shadows stretching across the ground like creeping fingers. The younger continued training, wrestling wild beasts, carrying boulders up hills, enduring every hardship he could throw at himself. Each scar, each blister, each aching muscle was a step toward the promise he had made.
Yet even amidst the sweat and blood, danger loomed. Rumors of the Orc Lord's armies had begun to reach the village, whispers of monsters that could lay waste to entire clans. Elders dismissed them as exaggerated tales, but he felt a growing unease in his chest.
One evening, as he sat on a hilltop watching the sun dip below the horizon, the girl approached him with a tray of food. He accepted it wordlessly, as he always did, tasting every bite.
"You don't have to force yourself," she said softly, her eyes meeting his. "Everyone else runs away… even your brother. But you… you never refuse."
He swallowed hard, savoring the flavor despite its fiery assault on his mouth. "Because it's yours," he said quietly, his voice steady despite the heat of the meal and the weight of the unspoken words.
She blinked, surprised, before smiling — a smile that reached her eyes and warmed him more than any training or victory ever could.
In that moment, he made another vow, even stronger than the first: no matter what came, no matter the danger, he would protect her. No one, not even a Demon Lord or an entire army, would take that away.
He rose to his feet, fists clenched, eyes shining with determination. His path was clear. Shadows or no shadows, precision or no technique, he would carve his own way with his fists, his strength, and his unbreakable heart. He would become a warrior worthy of standing beside her, worthy of standing beside his brother, and worthy of protecting the village he loved.
As the moon rose higher, casting silver light across the forest, his shadow stretched long and fierce across the clearing. He was reckless. He was wild. He was loud. But he was determined, and nothing would stand in the way of the oni who had sworn to protect.
And somewhere in the village, she watched him, unaware that every bite of her cooking, every pang of his burning stomach, had forged the first sparks of a legend — the oni who would one day become the Lord of Fists.