Ayaka stepped briskly into Master Arashi's study, her boots clicking against the polished wood floor. The chamber smelled faintly of incense and burning cedar, but her father's presence still managed to overshadow everything. She paused only long enough to bow before speaking.
"Father—the four trials of fire? Really?" Her voice carried a sharp edge, more worry than defiance.
Arashi looked up from the papers spread across his desk. His eyes, as sharp as tempered steel, softened briefly when he saw her. "Good to see you back on your feet, Ayaka."
She frowned. "Father, you know this test is suicide. No one has ever survived all four trials. You can't just throw him into this."
Arashi leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers, amusement flickering across his face. "Are you the one doing them? Or is he? Renji is not just anyone. He's a carrier of the abyss. His lineage is tainted."
"At least his father was different," Ayaka shot back. "I checked his records myself. You could accept him if you wanted to. Instead, you're sending him to die."
Arashi's gaze sharpened, the faintest trace of curiosity lacing his words. "Renji already gave his consent. He wants to face the trials. Tell me, Ayaka—is there something I should know? Why are you so concerned?"
The silence that followed pressed heavy between them. Ayaka's lips parted, but no words came.
Arashi eventually broke it, his voice calm but firm. "Renji will begin the trials in the next few hours. If he truly inherited his father's determination, if he has even half his resilience, the trials will not break him."
Ayaka clenched her fists. "And if he makes a mistake?"
Arashi's expression darkened, his words heavy with finality. "Then pray he does not. For one mistake in fire leaves only ashes."
---
Meanwhile, his second night in the guild's jail was cold and damp, Renji sat cross-legged on the floor, wrists resting loosely on his knees, his breath slow but steady. His cell was more of a cage than a room, bars close enough together to remind him he wasn't trusted.
Hikari had been released and given quarters, but Arashi had bluntly refused to extend the same courtesy to Renji until the trials were done. To him, Renji wasn't a guest. He was a gamble.
The click of a door at the far end of the hall drew Renji's attention. A faint aroma—savory, rich, and familiar—floated toward him. His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn't eaten in nearly twelve hours.
Moments later, Hikari's silhouette appeared. She carried a small tray and crouched at the bars, sliding it through the narrow gap at the bottom. "Eat," she urged softly.
Renji gave her a tired smirk, though his eyes betrayed his hunger. "Been through worse. This is nothing." Still, he pulled the tray closer and lifted the lid. The warm, nostalgic scent of omurice filled the air.
For the first time since stepping foot into the guild, Renji allowed himself to relax. He dug in quickly, each bite restoring a fraction of his strength.
"I did some digging," Hikari said, leaning closer. "It's not going to be easy to win their trust. The trials… they're designed to break you."
Renji swallowed and nodded for her to continue.
"The first test pits you against a Sheshi veteran in a duel. The second—" she hesitated, lowering her voice, "—you'll have to survive a fight against a demon they keep caged here. One they consider too dangerous to release."
Renji froze mid-bite, spoon hovering. "Lovely. And the third?"
"They call it the Oath of Flame," Hikari said. "I don't know the details. Some kind of spiritual binding. If you pass, the final judgment comes down to an official." She looked at him meaningfully. "In this case, Ayaka."
Renji groaned, dropping the spoon back onto the tray. "Great. She hates me. Getting a fair judgment from her will be about as easy as teaching a chicken to grow teeth."
"You're wrong," Hikari countered firmly. "You saved her life. She won't forget that."
"Yeah, well," Renji muttered, finishing off the last bites, "she didn't look like a very grateful type when she slapped chains on me."
"She was doing her job, Renji. Be honest—if a hunter with a cursed demon eye was operating in your city without clearance, how would you react?"
Renji's eyes narrowed. He sat back, thinking it over. Finally, he sighed. "…Fair point."
But inside, the fire in him burned hotter. If Arashi thought the trials would break him, he was about to learn just how wrong he was…
Early the following morning, Renji stood at the center of the underground training hall, the stone floor cool beneath his boots. The cavernous chamber stretched wide, lit by braziers that burned with steady crimson flames. Every flicker of firelight threw long shadows against the walls, as though the place itself was hungry to see blood spilled.
Above him, a high platform ran along the far wall. Behind its black iron bars stood the council of the Hono no Sheshi. Master Arashi loomed in the middle, hands clasped behind his back, his presence as unyielding as the stone walls. At his side, Master Daichi stroked his beard thoughtfully, while Lieutenant Ayaka stood stiff and silent, her sharp eyes never leaving Renji.
Renji's gaze dropped to the arena floor. His opponent was already stretching. Captain Halfka, a veteran of countless campaigns, towered over most men. His scarred jaw caught the firelight, his every movement brimming with the confidence of one who had survived more battles than he could count. The simple training vest he wore could barely hide the taut bands of muscle shifting beneath his skin. When he caught Renji looking, Kalfka cracked his knuckles and grinned like a wolf ready to tear into prey.
The tension in the hall tightened when Arashi stepped forward. His voice carried across the chamber, clear and commanding.
"The first test," he declared, "shall be a duel to measure your skill stripped of your abyssal crutch. There will be no powers here. No dark flame. No currents. Only steel."
Renji's brow furrowed. A duel without his abilities meant his raw training would be put on full display. No room for tricks. No shadows to lean on.
Arashi's tone sharpened like the edge of a blade. "Two swords lie within the arena. Claim one. Victory shall come only by submission or knockout. Extreme methods are permitted, so long as they do not end in immediate death."
Gasps rippled across the upper platform. Hikari, standing apart from the others, leaned forward in alarm. "Sir? You can't—"
Ayaka's voice joined hers, equally urgent. "Father, this could—"
Arashi raised one hand, silencing them both without sparing them a glance. His eyes burned holes into Renji, his words heavy with warning.
"If you cannot leash the darkness," Arashi intoned, "then it will leash you. Better you break here, in the fire of trial, than out there where the world will burn for your failure."
Renji's jaw tightened, but he didn't look away. The words were meant to cut him down, to brand him a danger. But instead, they fueled the furnace inside him. He stepped forward, shoulders squared, as the braziers hissed and flared like they too hungered for the fight.
Kalfka rolled his shoulders and stalked to one of the swords resting on the ground. He lifted it with casual ease, the steel flashing red in the firelight. Renji approached the other, his hand closing around the hilt. The weight of the blade settled into his palm, familiar yet heavy with expectation.
The air thickened as the two men faced each other.
The trial had begun.