The clang of steel echoed the moment their blades met. Renji staggered back, the force of Halfka's opening strike rattling up his arms like a hammer blow. His grip faltered, the sword feeling heavier than it should have, almost alien without the shadows flowing through him to balance its weight.
Kalfka didn't let him recover. The captain stepped in with brutal precision, his blade a blur of silver. Each strike was tight, efficient, meant to end the fight quickly. Renji blocked one slash, then another, but the third slipped past his guard and nicked across his shoulder, hot pain blooming instantly.
He hissed, stumbling sideways.
Halfka's grin widened. "That all you've got, abyss spawn? You'll be dead before you draw breath in a real fight."
Renji tightened his stance, but the truth was obvious. Without his powers, his technique was raw—fast, but unpolished, lacking the refined precision of someone like Kafka. His strikes came wide, his footing unsteady. Every parry felt a heartbeat too slow.
Kalfka pressed harder, his sword crashing down in a heavy arc. Renji barely raised his blade in time, the impact reverberating through his chest. The force drove him to his knees, boots skidding across the training floor. He pushed up with a snarl, trying to swing in return, but Kalfka batted his strike aside with contemptuous ease and nearly slashed across his ribs
A collective murmur rippled through the council chamber above
On the platform, Hikari gripped the railing so tightly her knuckles whitened. Her lips parted as though she wanted to shout, but she bit down the urge. Every slash that skimmed too close made her stomach twist.
Beside her, Ayaka's face stayed carefully neutral, but her eyes betrayed her. They followed Renji's every movement with unnerving focus. When Halfka's blade nearly carved into his neck, the faintest crease of her brow appeared before she quickly masked it.
Renji exhaled hard, sweat beading along his brow. His body screamed to draw on the abyss, to let the shadows steady his hand, but he remembered Arashi's warning. No powers. Only steel.
Kalfka circled him like a predator. "Pathetic. Without your cursed blood, you're nothing." His sword whistled through the air, the edge grazing Renji's forearm and drawing a thin line of blood.
Renji flinched, his grip tightening desperately. He lashed out with a clumsy swing, but Kalfka pivoted effortlessly, his blade slamming against Renji's with punishing force. The impact tore the sword from Renji's hand.
The clang of steel hitting stone rang like a death knell.
Renji froze, breath catching in his throat. His fingers flexed in disbelief, suddenly empty. Across from him, Kalfka raised his blade high, eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
On the platform, Hikari stepped forward instinctively, her voice catching in her throat, but she stopped when Arashi's calm stare cut into her. She swallowed her protest, but her unease was plain.
Ayaka, meanwhile, leaned subtly on the railing, her lips pressing into a thin line. She said nothing, but her eyes lingered on Renji's empty hands with sharp intensity.
Renji backed away, boots scraping across the floor, every muscle taut with survival instinct. He ducked one slash, then twisted away from another, the blade hissing past his cheek close enough to cut a few strands of hair.
Kalfka bore down on him like a storm, relentless and merciless, his strikes forcing Renji further and further into retreat.
Steel clashed, then silence—Renji had nothing left but his reflexes, darting and stumbling away from fatal arcs, each dodge slower than the last.
Sweat stung his eyes. His chest heaved.
His sword lay several feet away, but every time he darted a glance toward it, Halfka's blade came for his throat, leaving him no chance to reclaim it.
The tension in the hall thickened like smoke. One wrong step, one falter, and it would all be over.
Renji's trial had only just begun—and already he was on the brink of defeat.
Kalfka's blade hissed past his chest, close enough that Renji swore he felt the kiss of fire on his skin. He stumbled back again, lungs burning, sweat soaking his shirt. His sword lay out of reach, taunting him like a lifeline in a storm.
Useless. I'm useless without the abyss… The thought stabbed through his mind like poison.
Kalfka smirked, raising his blade for the finishing blow. "You fight like a child with a stick. I'll end your misery quickly."
Renji's eyes squeezed shut. And in that flicker of darkness, a memory surfaced—unbidden, sharp as steel.
Within the Kokuryūkai, Hanzo's voice, stern yet steady, echoing through the hollow space of his youth when he had been nothing more than the Empty Vessel in the gamma squad.
"A sword is not weight, Renji. It is rhythm.
The weak see a blade as iron.
The strong see it as breath."
Renji's eyes snapped open. Breath rushed into his lungs. The words burned into him, steadying his shaking hands, slowing his frantic heartbeat.
Kalfka lunged, but this time Renji moved differently. He dove, rolling across the ground, snatching his fallen sword in a single, desperate motion. When he rose, his grip wasn't frantic anymore. His stance widened. His shoulders squared.
Kalfka's smirk faltered.
Renji exhaled once, steady and deep, and stepped forward
Steel sang as their blades collided, but the impact was different now. This time, Kalfka felt resistance—not clumsy, not frantic, but sharp, deliberate. The force of Renji's strike sent a tremor up his arm, surprising him enough to stagger a half-step back.
His brows lifted. "What—?"
Renji didn't let him finish. He charged, blade flashing in a flurry that was no longer wild but rhythmic, like a drumbeat finding its tempo. He struck high, low, feinted left, then drove his sword forward in a thrust that nearly grazed Halfka's ribs.
The captain twisted away, eyes narrowing. He had expected Renji to crumble, not rise.
Above, Hikari's lips parted in a sharp inhale, relief sparking in her eyes. Ayaka leaned subtly forward, her mask of neutrality slipping just enough to reveal a flicker of intrigue.
Renji's blade crashed against Halfka's again, and this time it was the captain who grunted at the force. The shock of impact rippled through him. Beneath his eyes, surprise flared like lightning.
Renji's teeth bared in a feral grin. Hanzo's words echoed once more: Not weight. Breath. He moved like he was inhaling and exhaling through the blade itself, each swing flowing into the next with newfound precision.
The chamber rang with the furious rhythm of steel on steel, sparks scattering as Renji pressed forward, refusing to give ground.
Kalfka blocked, parried, retaliated—but for the first time, he felt himself tested.
And the trial had only just begun.
The training chamber thundered with steel, every clash sending vibrations up Renji's arms and across the watching council. He drove forward, every strike born of Hanzo's long-buried lessons—discipline mingled with raw instinct.
Kalfka parried, his smirk now long gone, teeth clenched as Renji's momentum forced him backward. Sparks spat from their blades, their footwork tearing grooves into the sanded floor.
"You've changed…" Kalfka muttered under his breath, straining against another heavy blow.
Renji's eyes burned like molten coals. "No. I just remembered."
The next strike nearly tore the sword from Halfka's grip. He grunted, spinning away, but Renji followed with a relentless rhythm, blade flashing again and again—high, low, left, right—each one faster, sharper. The chamber's silence broke under the furious tempo, until even seasoned soldiers watching from the gallery leaned forward, breathless.
Hikari's hands clenched at her sides, her unease rising. Ayaka's brow twitched, her eyes narrowing as though she couldn't quite reconcile the wild boy she'd arrested with the warrior who now pressed her captain to his limit.
Halfka's defense cracked. Renji caught the rhythm—his rhythm—and pushed harder, every step forward stealing ground from the veteran. The clash of swords turned savage, sparks streaking across Renji's face as he bore down, teeth gritted.
"Enough!" Kalfka roared, pouring his strength into a brutal overhead slash.
Renji met it head-on. Steel screamed. The force rippled through the floor. For a moment, the two men stood locked, faces inches apart, sweat dripping into their eyes.
Then Renji surged.
With a guttural cry, he twisted his blade, ripped Halfka's sword aside, and in a single sweeping motion swung upward. The momentum carried his strike through the captain's guard, cutting a blazing arc that halted—shuddering—just shy of Halfka's throat.
The tip of the blade hovered there, quivering inches from flesh.
The entire chamber froze.
Arashi shot to his feet, eyes wide, hand already half-raised to intervene, fear flashing across his iron-forged face. He hadn't believed Renji could leash that much fury in time.
Halfka's chest heaved, eyes wide in disbelief. For the first time in years, the captain had felt death whisper at his neck.
Renji stood over him, sword trembling, his breath ragged. The abyss pulsed faintly in his right eye, a flicker of darkness trying to claw its way free—but he held it. He forced it down, inch by inch, until only the blade remained, frozen in control rather than consumed by it.
Finally, he exhaled. The sword slid away, its tip scraping the floor as he stepped back.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Kalfka straightened slowly, staring at him as though seeing him anew. Arashi lowered his hand, though his body remained taut with unspoken tension. Hikari let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, while Ayaka's gaze lingered, sharp and calculating.
Renji's chest rose and fell, sweat dripping from his chin. He tightened his grip on the blade and lifted his head toward the council.
Trial One was over. And he had not only survived it—he had dominated it.
The chamber remained heavy with silence, only the lingering hum of steel in the air.
Then, Kalfka straightened his posture and sheathed his sword with a snap. His lips curved into something between a smirk and genuine respect.
"You've got fangs after all," he said, voice rough but steady. "I almost thought you'd take my head. Good thing you stopped when you did—means you're not just a wild blade, but one with control."
A ripple of murmurs swept through the room.
Hikari's shoulders softened as she exhaled, relief shining faintly in her eyes. She masked it quickly, clasping her hands behind her back. Ayaka's reaction was quieter—a sharp narrowing of her gaze, like someone updating calculations in their mind. Even so, there was no denying the faint flicker of acknowledgment in her stare.
Master Daichi leaned forward, voice cutting across the chamber. "Remarkable. The boy is raw, but that instinct… that control at the brink of blood… he's no ordinary vessel."
Kalfka chuckled, rubbing at his neck as though to confirm it was still there. "No ordinary boy either. You've got the makings of a warrior. Train him, and he'll outpace us sooner than we'd like to admit."
Renji stood at the center, chest heaving, sword still quivering faintly in his grip. Sweat soaked his hairline, but beneath it all, his eyes held fire—a stubborn refusal to break. He looked from face to face, trying to read them.
Every voice in the chamber had weighed in. Every voice… except one.
At the head of the room, Arashi remained motionless. His face was carved from stone, unreadable, his gaze fixed on Renji as though he were staring through him rather than at him. He neither commended nor condemned.
The silence was louder than any praise.
Renji swallowed, his throat dry, the edge of victory soured by the weight of Arashi's wordless judgment.
The trial had ended. He had passed. But standing there, sword heavy in his hand, Renji couldn't shake the gnawing truth in his gut.
A harder test was still ahead.