The thunder does not ask permission to roar. It is not anger that drives it, but the simple, undeniable fact of its existence. So too does the lightning seek the ground—not from malice, but from need.
The Hollowed was stronger than anything Kaito had faced.
Its claws were like scythes, its limbs moving with a speed that belied its bulk. It fought with a savage intelligence, herding them away from the clearing, driving them toward a steep ravine that cut through the mountain like a wound. The sound of rushing water echoed from below—a river, fast and cold, fed by the spring melt.
Kaito and Tetsuya fought side by side, their earlier hostility forgotten in the face of a common enemy. The Flowing River Style flowed around the Hollowed's attacks, while Tetsuya's brutal, feral style tore into its defenses. But it was not enough. The creature was regenerating too quickly, its wounds closing almost as fast as they were made.
"We need to take its head!" Kaito shouted, dodging a swipe that would have taken his arm off.
"I know!" Tetsuya snarled, driving one of his serrated blades into the Hollowed's side. The creature shrieked, backhanding him across the clearing. He slammed into a tree with a crack of breaking wood and slumped to the ground, dazed.
The Hollowed turned its full attention to Kaito.
He fell back, his blade moving in desperate arcs, but he was tiring. His earlier fight with Tetsuya had taken too much out of him. His arms were lead, his legs trembling, his vision beginning to blur at the edges.
"Ren!" he shouted. "We need you!"
Ren was frozen at the edge of the clearing, his pale yellow blade in his hands, his face a mask of terror. He was shaking, his eyes wide, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
"I can't," he whispered. "I can't, I can't, I can't—"
The Hollowed saw him. Its dark eyes fixed on the trembling boy, and its grin widened.
"The weak one first," it hissed, and lunged.
The movement was too fast. Kaito was too far away. He saw the claws descending toward Ren's head, saw the boy's face go white, saw his mouth open in a scream that never came.
And then Ren's eyes rolled back in his head.
His body moved.
It was not the jerky, puppet-like motion Kaito had seen in the alley. This was fluid, graceful, terrifying. Ren's blade came up in a single, seamless motion, the pale yellow metal blazing with trapped lightning. He stepped into the Hollowed's lunge, his body twisting, and brought the sword down in an arc that left a trail of light in the air.
First Form: Resounding Thunder—Clap.
The blade connected with the Hollowed's outstretched arm, and the limb came off in a spray of black blood. The creature howled, stumbling back, its regeneration already working to seal the wound, but Ren did not stop.
Second Form: Resounding Thunder—Echo.
He was behind the Hollowed now, his speed almost impossible to track. His blade traced a second arc, this one horizontal, catching the creature across the back. The serrated edge bit deep, carving a furrow of black flesh.
The Hollowed spun, its remaining arm swinging wildly, but Ren was already moving, his body a blur of motion. His eyes were still rolled back, his face slack, but his body moved with the precision of a master swordsman.
Third Form: Resounding Thunder—Storm Front.
The blade moved in a series of rapid, percussive strikes, each one landing with the force of a lightning strike. The Hollowed's body was torn apart, piece by piece, its regeneration unable to keep pace with the onslaught. Black blood sprayed across the clearing, sizzling where it touched the fallen leaves.
Kaito watched, transfixed. This was the power that Genzo had spoken of—the power that existed only when Ren Shirogane was not conscious to hold it back.
The Hollowed was on its knees now, its body a ruin, its head barely attached to its shoulders. Ren stood over it, his blade raised for the final blow.
And then his eyes fluttered open.
The transformation ended as suddenly as it had begun. Ren's face went from slack to terrified in an instant. He looked down at the blade in his hands, at the ruined creature before him, and screamed.
"No! No, no, no, no!"
He stumbled backward, dropping his sword, his hands flying to his head. The Hollowed, sensing its chance, lunged forward, its claws reaching for the defenseless boy.
Kaito moved.
Fourth Form: Flowing River—Rapids.
It was a technique Genzo had shown him but never taught, a form that required the swordsman to surrender to the current, to become the water rather than guide it. Kaito's body moved with a speed he had never achieved before, his blade tracing a path that was not his own.
He met the Hollowed's lunge head-on. His sword carved through its remaining arm, then reversed, the copper blade finding the gap in its neck that Ren's assault had opened. He put all his weight behind it, all his strength, all his rage.
The blade bit deep. Bone cracked. Flesh parted.
And the Hollowed's head flew from its shoulders, tumbling through the air before dissolving into ash.
Kaito landed on the far side of the clearing, his momentum carrying him forward. He stumbled, caught himself, and turned to look at what he had done.
The Hollowed's body was already disintegrating, the grey ash swirling in the evening breeze. Ren was on his knees, his face buried in his hands, his shoulders shaking with sobs.
Tetsuya pushed himself up from where he had fallen, his amber eyes fixed on the dissolving remains of the Hollowed. His expression was unreadable.
"It's dead," he said, his voice flat.
Kaito nodded, his chest heaving. "It's dead."
Tetsuya looked at him, then at Ren, then back at the ash pile. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he walked to the body of the largest wolf—the one he had been crouched over when they found him—and knelt beside it.
"She was the alpha," he said quietly. "She raised me. After… after everything. She was my pack."
Kaito sheathed his sword and walked to stand beside him. He looked down at the wolf's body, at the wounds that the Hollowed had inflicted. He thought of his own family, his own loss.
"I'm sorry," he said.
Tetsuya's hands curled into fists. His shoulders trembled. When he spoke again, his voice was rough, raw. "I was going to kill you. For being in my way. For being in our territory."
"But you didn't."
"No." Tetsuya looked up at him, and for the first time, the feral rage in his eyes was tempered by something else. Something almost human. "You fought. You didn't run. You helped."
He rose, his gaze moving from Kaito to Ren, who was still weeping on the ground. "You're not weak. Both of you. You're just… stupid."
Kaito almost laughed. "Maybe."
Tetsuya extended a hand to Ren. The gesture was awkward, unpracticed, as if he had seen others do it but never done it himself. Ren looked up, his face blotchy with tears, and stared at the offered hand.
"Get up," Tetsuya said. "The Hollowed is dead. There's no more reason to cry."
"I'm not crying because of the Hollowed," Ren said, but he took the hand. Tetsuya pulled him to his feet with surprising gentleness.
"Then why?"
Ren wiped his face with his sleeve, his breath still hitching. "Because I don't remember. I never remember. And every time it happens, I'm afraid that one day… I won't wake up."
The three of them stood in the clearing as the sun set behind the mountains, casting long shadows across the blood-soaked earth. The bodies of the wolves lay around them, silent witnesses.
"We should bury them," Kaito said finally. "The wolves. They deserve that much."
Tetsuya looked at him, something shifting in his amber eyes. He nodded.
They worked through the twilight and into the night, digging graves in the cold, hard earth. Ren, despite his trembling hands, worked alongside them, his tears drying to silent resolve. Kaito's shoulder ached, his muscles screamed, but he did not stop. None of them did.
When the last wolf was laid to rest, Tetsuya stood at the head of the grave, his wolf-mask pelt hanging loose around his shoulders. He said no words, offered no prayer. He simply stood, his head bowed, for a long, silent moment.
Then he turned to Kaito and Ren.
"I'm coming with you," he said.
It was not a request.