Disclaimer: This is a nonprofit fictional story, a FanFiction based on Ken Akamatsu's Negima. I do not own Negima, or most of the other characters included in this work, excepting where it is stated in the author's notes. It is not intended or presented for any commercial profit or personal gain; it is simply a story written for personal fulfillment and presented for public enjoyment, and as an honest homage to the fine story conceived and written by Ken Akamatsu, as well as all the other (innumerable) works that find place herein (and their authors).

Chapter Three: I Will Not Bow

Kain and Kenjirô watched from the wings as the 7th and 10th-ranked fighters battled for the right to lose to Byakuya in the next round. Then, finally….

"My turn," Kenjirô murmured. "Well, here goes nothing."

He started to walk out into the arena, but he stopped suddenly and glanced back at Kain. There was a glint in his eye, an intense fire. "That promise we made at the Festival," Kenjirô said. "I'm making it again. I'll see you in the next round, Kain…so wait for me there."

Kain stared for a moment, then smiled slightly. "Sure, Kenjirô," he replied. "I'll be waiting. Let's cross swords for real this time."

Kenjirô manifested his sword and walked out onto the arena floor as Koto began her usual introductory rants.

"And now we have something truly unique: two Blade yôkai meeting together for the first time, both of the names famous—perhaps the most noteworthy members of their clan! First we have a famous fighter who has been missing from the public eye for over twenty years, but his feats are still legendary! The swordsman who once dominated the grand circuit of Granicus, a man whose skill and power rivaled the greatest of human mages! The legendary Blade yôkai, Hanatabi Kôtarô!

"And his opponent is no less of a celebrity! The man who has dominated the most recent season of the Granicus League alongside his partner, whom you may have heard of: Kalan Lockeheart! Lest anyone believe that this man was merely basking in the shadow of his famed companion, we remind our audience that for a good month, while Kalan Lockeheart mysteriously disappeared, this man battled their foes, two-on-one, carrying the team all by himself and still without any traditional rest or recovery time! Using a style quite reminiscent of the man who came before him, this matchup has our judges, audience and experts all atwitter: who will proceed to join our quarterfinalists? Will it be the old generation…or the new? Presenting the new generation's Tanabi Kôjirô!"

Kôtarô was dressed in a fine silver kimono, the rich robe of a rather traditional Japanese nobleman—it was probable, with the yôkai blood in him and the legend behind him, that he had lived through the times of its common use. Kenjirô, on the other hand, was in a simple black sweater and black slacks. Both carried their swords of choice, long katana, and both wore their hair in their ponytails, Kenjirô's short, and Kôtarô's rather long.

"I have nothing to say to you," Kôtarô remarked to Kenjirô's surprise. "All I will say is that I won't go easy on you. I won't hold back at all—I expect you to match me. It is, after all, the duty of the rising generation to surpass the old."

Kenjirô held his surprised look for a moment, then allowed himself a small smile. "All right. That's fair. Let's settle this as Blade demons…we'll talk with our swords."

Finally Koto called the start of the match, and the two swordsmen came together….

8-8-8

Yukari sat next to Kazumi and stared down at the match. The other three were above in the VIP boxes, serving, but Yukari had been granted a convenient break and had joined her friend for this most important fight. She watched the two men duel, their swords flashing and slashing, ringing from their impacts and motion. The deadly beautiful dance was instinctive and choreographed, two eerily-similar swordsmen employing the near-exact same techniques, attacks, counters, and defenses. She watched them, and she recalled her conversation with Kenjirô just the day before….

[Yukari greeted Kenjirô as he came into the competitor's tunnel and offered him the towel to wipe down his sweat. With hardly a word, she next grabbed bandages and applied them to Kenjirô's wounded forearm. "You did well," she congratulated him, but there was a slight emptiness evident in her words.

"Not really…I slipped up and let him cut me. Shouldn't have happened." He stopped and glanced down at Yukari. "…What's up? You seem bothered by something."

"Well…it's about…your next match…you'll have to face that man…Hanatabi Kôtarô-san, right?"

"Yes, that's true…my hardest battle yet."

"Well…no…more than that…isn't that man…?"

"He's my father. Probably. So?"

Yukari stared, surprised at Kenjirô's callousness. "S-so!? B-but…!"

"I've never known him before in my entire life. But my mother told me that my father was Hanatabi Kôtarô. She told me about him. He appeared near her village one night, nearly twenty-five years ago, mortally wounded…apparently just after trying to fight Kalan Lockeheart in a deathmatch. My mother was only ten years old at the time. Despite the protests of many of the other villagers, she began to care for him and nurse him back to health, even convincing her family to help her move him into their house, where he lay bed-ridden for several years. A short time before I was born, he had finally recovered enough to leave the village. I've never met him once, I've only heard his name—the name of one of the most powerful and feared yôkai in the world."

"I-I'm sorry," Yukari offered after a short silence. "I-I mean…that must be…."

"It doesn't mean anything," Kenjirô denied, silencing her with a wave. "There's nothing to apologize for, and I don't hate or blame him for anything. I understand quite well who and what he was, even if I've never spoken to him…it's in my blood, after all. The bastard half-demon son…I was feared and despised in the village of my birth. I can only imagine what my father went through. I knew I didn't belong there, and I know he didn't either. We are Blade yôkai…we are vagabonds, warriors, those who know nothing but the blade and blood and fighting. To stay, settle down, raise a son in that environment, in a quiet, backwater village of hostile humans…it couldn't happen. He endured the oppression for ten years, and I endured it for less before leaving the village to make my own way in the world. I feel nothing of this upcoming fight. No, that isn't true," he corrected himself suddenly. "I feel a bit of trepidation and anticipation…this is the most intense fight I'll have seen yet. I can't guarantee that I'll be able to surpass the original…even if he's now a ghost of his former self, Hanatabi Kôtarô is one of the mightiest warriors to walk this world in the past few centuries, and maybe longer. Still…if I want to go on to fight Kain, I can't lose here…."

Yukari was quiet again for several moments. "Nothing, really?" she asked softly. "Family ties…really mean nothing to you? You believe you wouldn't have been better off if he hadn't left your mother, pregnant with you?"

"Better off…who can say?" Kenjirô smiled slightly. "Do you…like me, Yukari-san?"

This question caused Yukari to elicit a shriek of panic. "W-w-w-w-what are you talking abooouuut…? I-I-I-I mean I, I see you as a friend, a-a-and you're a very important support for me, along with Kain-sensei, but…."

Kenjirô chuckled slightly. "I'm not as naïve or tactless or clueless as I appear, Yukari-san. When I first started hanging out with Kain at Mahora, I needled him about his harem. I belittled him for letting 'girl problems' get in the way of his potential, his training, his fighting…in the way of being my rival. But after spending months with him, training with him, training with the rest of those girls…I began to understand him, and them, a little more. It's easy for me to reject the idea. I am not human, Yukari-san, no matter how I look. Oh, we're built mostly the same, and I, myself, am half-human. But, instinctively, I have different drives and motivations than normal humans, and I understand that my father is that way and more. I saw a little of that for myself recently. It could be…any number of things, but the fact that Kain could be my rival and also be so distracted by women was…demeaning to me, somehow. But after all this time, I've come to know him and them. Whatever someone might say about teenage girls besides, it's easy to see why so many of your classmates idolize him, worship him, wish they could get close to him. He's a marvelous young man, and he's so very kind to everyone…he cares about people, probably too much. He can't turn his back on any of you, he can't ignore human relationships like I can, like I have. We're the same—we've both lived all our lives without our fathers, but while he desperately struggles to find any connection to that man, I never cared anything one way or the other about mine. It is how it is."

Kenjirô manifested his sword. "This is me…this is my soul. Beautiful, perhaps, to some, but sharp, hard, deadly, with only one useable purpose…a sword is a weapon for fighting men, whatever motives you want to assign to a man's battle, be it killing or defense. It cannot effectively be used to hunt, as the bow or spear, it cannot serve as a tool like an axe or a flail. It is solely a weapon created so that humanoid creatures could battle and kill each other. And my essence is built around that. As my father's was. That is the one thing you've always refused to understand about me, Yukari-san.

"Of course, I'm not heartless or completely devoid of emotion, but I can separate myself from those connections more easily. Kain ignored all the girls around him because he couldn't stand to hurt anyone…all those girls pining for him, following him, striving to live his dream. And then there's you. While everyone else is focusing on Kain, you're always supporting me, looking up to me, confiding in me. You respect Kain, sure, but here I am, just a friend of his, someone you briefly met and helped out, and…you're paying more attention to me than him?" He shook his head. "I see, although I don't really understand. Some of you girls seem like you'd rather gnaw your own arm off than admit those feelings out loud, especially to the person involved. But I see all the same, and I…well, because I'm not human, I can put those thoughts aside, I can simply ignore them because they…are not a part of my nature. I'm just saying this…if you really want to keep following me, walking beside me, you should…understand about me. And you shouldn't misunderstand what this means to me. But I will say this…I'm doing this to win your freedom, Yukari-san. I won't leave you like this, no matter what happens. That's my promise to you."]

Yukari's mind returned to the present and she stared at the match below. ('You dummy. I do understand…what you are, and what this means. Acting all cool, all composed…that's not like you at all, you know. You might not even realize it, but you're acting totally different because of your dad. You think that human emotions don't mean anything to you…I don't know if it's because you're half-human, or you yôkai have more human feelings than you admit, but you're as emotional as any of us. You may not have thought about your father before…but now he's here, and part of you wants to be just like him. You want to be the man who follows after him, the perfect warrior. And now…look at you…throwing yourself into the battle, fighting just to fight. I can see it…winning doesn't matter, losing doesn't matter, killing doesn't matter, dying doesn't matter, living doesn't matter, and not killing doesn't matter. It's just the fight…you and your dad….

('Yes, Kenjirô-kun, I am in love with you. Kain-sensei is amazing, but…from the moment we first found you, something about you…just fascinated me. You're the real reason, the only real reason why I came to this world in the first place. Maybe this is my sin, for falling in love with someone not quite human, but if so, then I will bear it. I will stay with you, follow after you, as long as I can…and I will continue to believe in you…so please…don't die, Kenjirô-kun….')

8-8-8

The blades hummed as they tore through the air in this dance. They seemed to emanate the emotions they must have felt; there was a stir, a pressure, a pulse in the atmosphere from these two similar swordsmen, at this moment even equal in size. They were both experienced fighters, creatures born to do battle, creatures made up of fighting in their very blood. Yet in all their training, all their fighting, all their battles, they had never fought anyone just like themselves. They had crossed blades with swordsmen aplenty, but never against one whose soul and nature were so similar, never against another like themselves, whose true power and skill was entirely instinct.

But now, here they were, mirror images of each other, copies in power, in skill, in instinct. They had found, as it were, equals, soul mates, kin that had been lost since ages past. And yet despite this similarity, this kinship, the ignorant audience could not even imagine that they were related, father and son. The idea that a father and son could fight in this way, devoid of any emotion or sentiment except for the joy of pure fighting, was impossible for most of the people there to even conceive.

A wound here, a cut there—for the most part, very little damage was inflicted by the two warriors in the initial stages of the battle. The brilliance of their swordplay and their rhythm with each other prevented it. Eventually, however, they broke off…and then, without a word, without any sign, they both changed. Kenjirô's hair exploded white and long and rigid, Kôtarô's own white hair took on a similar appearance, and both had an intense bright red hue overcome their skin. Then, again in eerie synchrony, they leapt into battle once more. The intensity was redoubled, increased fourfold, more. Each clash of the blades was like a thunderclap, each swing swirling a storm around the ring. Two demons at the height of their powers….

But a few eyes, experienced with Kenjirô and the limits of his fighting, knew that the battle was becoming less and less equal by the moment.

"He can't keep that up," murmured Momo. "His still-mortal body has grown, but it isn't capable of controlling that level of yôki for extended periods. Kenjirô-kun can't win like this…."

"He isn't fighting to win," observed Shinji. "That's his problem."

Indeed, finally in one exchange Kenjirô faltered slightly, just for an instant, and Kôtarô acted without hesitation. He reached out, grabbing Kenjirô by the face, and with one hand threw him savagely to the ground. Kenjirô's face bounced off the tiled floor, and almost immediately he stepped away, looking up keenly despite the blood running down his face…but Kôtarô was already on him. Kenjirô barely parried two swift strikes and then was defenseless as Kôtarô's swift sidekick sent him flying again. Before he could recover the older demon stepped behind him, caught him, and looped his sword around to poise it by Kenjirô's throat. "Is that really all?" Kôtarô murmured. "I thought you could go farther."

Growling, Kenjirô brought his sword back expertly to latch onto his father's blade and pushed off. Kôtarô immediately followed up by releasing a blast of sword pressure at his son. Kenjirô caught the attack, but it shoved him roughly to the edge of the arena. Kenjirô finally stopped and fell to one knee, panting. The surge of energy around him was noticeably smaller than it was before, quite mild compared to the storm Kôtarô still emanated.

"You did well, boy," Kôtarô said. "But your mortal form has reached its limit. This was a truly grand fight, the likes of which I've never experienced before, but the fight is over. At this point, it will simply be a slaughter. You should surrender."

The words numbed Kenjirô. Nothing had been on his mind but the battle—everything else had fled, but now, with this declaration, Kôtarô brought Kenjirô's humanity flooding back to him. Painful memories of his last great failure avalanched into his mind. Then he shoved them aside, walling them behind his rage and intensity as he lurched to his feet and charged towards his foe.

Kôtarô waited for several seconds, then suddenly dashed in. With a step he slipped right past Kenjirô's guard and slashed him across his chest. Then he ducked under the blood spray that gushed out and walked calmly past the man as he fell, letting the tip of his sword dip towards the ground casually. Kenjirô fell, slowly, to his knees, then his face, the color draining from (or in some cases to) his skin and hair. He lay still on the ground.

"A-and it seems that Hanatabi Kôtarô has defeated his foe! That shot looked pretty final, so I will immediately begin the count! He has until fifteen to rise! One! Two!"

Kenjirô's friends looked on in horror and dismay. "Kenjirô-kun…" murmured Kazumi.

"No…Kenjirô…" whispered Yukari.

"K-Kenjirô-kun!" demanded Hinagiku.

"Kenji…" sighed Kajirô.

"Is that it, Kenjirô?" growled Kain.

8-8-8

["Kaze no Kizu!" declared Inuyasha, sending his Wind Scar screaming towards Kenjirô.

The young yôkai leapt over the attack, but then Momo stepped up to him. "Snap, Tobiume!" she declared.

Kenjirô blocked the fireball, but the then the snake-sword came lashing out towards him. "Howl, Zabimaru!" roared Renji.

Kenjirô was sent flying into one of the rock pillars in the landscape. "Wooo," murmured Kisuke from his seat nearby, behind his fan.

Kenjirô kicked a rock aside and hopped down from the site of his impact, seemingly none the worse for wear. He spat out a spot of blood and turned back to his opponents. "All right," he said. "Let's go again."

"Are you sure about this, Kenjirô-kun?" Momo asked carefully. "You already had your match today…should you really be pushing yourself so hard, against three of us…?"

"I have to," Kenjirô snapped back curtly. "It's my last chance. Tomorrow, I go up against my first real opponent…the road thus far was easy by comparison. Tomorrow is the first real chance that I'll lose…hell, I could even die. It's not much, not much time, but I have to push as hard as I can. Don't worry about hurting me. Kagome-san is here…she can heal me up as much as I need."

"If that's the way you want it," Inuyasha grunted, raising his massive sword.

"I-is it really that bad, Kenjirô-kun?" asked Kazumi suddenly. "I mean…is your chance of winning…against your father…so low…?"

Kenjirô was silent for a moment. "Well, you could say there's a reason he's the 6th seed and I'm the 11th," he remarked finally. "But you saw Aiden's movie, right? He was a man who could severely injure even Kalan Lockeheart, Kain's father. Well, of course he got messed up pretty bad in return…now he's probably only a shell of his former self. But he's still beyond me. I can't beat him as I am now."

"I-is that really that bad?" Kazumi repeated. "You don't…have to push yourself so hard. I know you want to save Yukari-chan and the others, but…you don't have to take the burden yourself. You and Kain-sensei are both working so hard…as long as one of you makes it…can't you just leave it to him?"

Renji gave a grunt. He began to open his mouth, but Kenjirô held up a hand to forestall him. "It's all right, Abarai-san. You're right, Kazumi -san. Kain is reliable. He's stronger than I am…I can believe in him. But that's not enough for me. I have to do everything I can. I'm not going to give up this time. I'm not going to stop. I'm going out there to win…I'm going as far as I can." He turned back to his three opponents. "Let's keep going. I'm far from finished."

"He's got a long road ahead of him," Lina noted to Kain as they watched from far back, next to Kisuke. "He's only a hanyô…and he's not like Inuyasha. The dog-boy inherited a similar amount of power he couldn't hold, but his body also developed a couple outs, such as the moments of mortality he gets at the new moon. Most importantly, his father made that magnificent sword for him. Kenjirô can embrace all the power inside him and rise to a near-full yôkai in power, but his mortal body just can't handle it…."

"Even if that's so, there's nothing we gain by worrying," Kain replied quietly. "But Kenjirô's grown ridiculously strong himself over the past couple months, engaging in those constant full-strength battles by himself. He's grown…and if he fights the way he can…he should have a good chance….

"Besides…he made me a promise…a promise he can't break twice."

8-8-8

It was somewhat anticlimactic, really…while groups of the crowd were shouting Kôtarô's name in victory, Kenjirô's friends murmured his name, his real, rather secret name, only quietly…but their intensity was real.

"Stand up, Kenjirô," Kain said quietly. "You aren't done yet. You played around, but you haven't even started."

"Eight! Nine!"

"You promised me you'd move on. You aren't going to give up now, are you, without even showing your full potential?"

"Eleven! Twel…!"

Kenjirô twitched. He started to push himself up, slowly, painfully, then, with a sudden burst of energy that began to flare around him, he came to his knees and then his feet. He still carried his sword in his right hand, and in his left, he held a tiny rectangle…his contract card.

"Ah! Tanabi Kôjirô has made it to his feet! The match continues! So, I better back off again…."

Koto slipped off the arena floor and ducked down to use the raised platform (two feet above the grassy field surrounding the tiled slab) as a shield as she observed. Kôtarô slowly turned around to stare at Kenjirô as he stood there. His wound was still there, but the blood flow had stopped. The man-boy was also still in his human form, black-haired and fair-skinned. He began to raise his card. "Unsheathe," he said quietly, and his second sword appeared in his hand, crackling with electricity.

"You still want to go?" Kôtarô asked him. "I admire your willpower and tenacity. But even if that power you inherited from that contract saved you from that wound, you're still too injured to use your full power anymore. Can you really beat me like that?"

"It's not my full power," Kenjirô replied. "It's not even my power. It's yours, what I got from you, but which I'm not made for. This is my power…this sword, and the power of my contract with him…my best friend. Before, I was fighting just to fight…I was caught up in the fact that I was here with you. But I'm not a full Blade Yôkai. The fight isn't everything to me…not this time. For Yukari-san…for Kain…and for myself…I'm not here to fight. I'm not going to break just because I had a good fight. I'm going to win. I can't lose here. I have to win!"

Kenjirô charged in. Kôtarô suddenly manifested a second, smaller sword to match his son's twin blades. Again there was a clash…but this time there was no synchrony in the strikes. There was a harmony in the duel, but Kenjirô's style was completely different this time. He was no longer the ghost of his father, inherited instincts…he became the sum of his experiences and previous battles. Kôtarô Hanatabi, the Blade Yôkai, had no need of training or learning with the sword—he had known fighting and how to fight from his youth up, his very nature making him a deadly fighter who never stopped learning and growing powerful. But while Kenjirô had inherited some of that nature, half of him was human—and he was a human among humans, a man who had been working and training with Kain, Kajirô, Hikaru, and others. His fighting style was not his father's…it was his own. He did not have the yôkai's full power, but he had the power of the contract and his own artifact to boost him.

He began to push Kôtarô back. A swing of his left-hand sword brought a blast of electricity out, and Kôtarô was forced to dodge into the air. Kenjirô stepped behind him and swung both swords. The older man turned in time to parry both. Then Kenjirô shoved his father away and gathered his energy. Crossing his swords, he delivered his attack. "Yôtôjutsu Kenjiryû Ôgi: Tenrô Raiga [Demon-Blade Style, Kenji-School Ultimate Technique: Heaven-Descending Thunder Fang]!" Kenjirô dropped like a bolt of lightning upon the falling yôkai, driving him down and into the ground, blasting him with violent energy.

Kenjirô bounced back immediately and readied himself. Kôtarô lay there, however, unmoving.

Koto waited a moment, but as it appeared to be safe, she climbed back onto the stage. "W-what a reversal! After it seemed that the older Blade demon had completely dominated his kohai, Kôjirô underwent an amazing recovery, completely changed his fighting style—rather, returning to that style we're more familiar with—and seems to have turned everything around! Kôtarô is not moving, so we'll begin his count! One! Two!"

Kenjirô walked slowly over and stared down at the unmoving man. He considered him carefully as the count continued.

8-8-8

('What is the origin of yôkai? They are mysteries. Of course, every race has legends of their origin, religious or scientific, but yôkai are different than most of those. They are intensely magical, but with a magic that is different from that normally found in the atmosphere of the magical world and used commonly by all the other races. They have a wide variety of appearances, powers, and natures, and yet are connected by the power that they contain, the unique yôki that is neither normal magic, nor the demonic energies of the mazoku or Infernals.

('Although their powers are unique, the origins of the yôkai are not so mysterious. Animal yôkai arose from living creatures that came too close to sources of magic, to supernatural phenomena, who embraced and lapped up and consumed strange magics, evolving them. Through various means—reproduction with similar creatures, evolution through magic, cursed wounds inflicted upon humans—these original creatures eventually became the yôkai races that populated Arcanus Myrror.

('Blade Yôkai are similar, but rarer. The first Blade demon arose from a human weapon. It was not, at first, magical, it was not constructed with any spell or magic save that possessed by all who knew the secret of iron and steel. But it was a fine blade, coveted by many in the ancient world where the sword was the only law. It passed from hand to hand—almost never without violence—until it was bathed in the blood of some creature of dark power, whether yôkai or mazoku is still unknown, and unimportant. From this history, the feelings of those who wielded it, their actions, the blood they spilled, and finally from its final victim, a soul awoke in that blade…and so the first came to be. It is hard to say what a 'true' Blade demon is, however, as these humanoid forms that came to life originally from fashioned steel would eventually continue their line through the normal means of humanoids—and as there were not too many of their kind to begin with, they would bear offspring with humans, different yôkai, other races besides. Their progeny continued to wield the power of the sword, however, and in time evolved into beings not very dissimilar from those yôkai that were born from the animal origins.

('And so by my father's time they were a true race, rare, but a race nonetheless, and my father was the greatest among them. And then, through twists of fate, I was born, from him and the human woman who finally wooed him after so much time. I inherited all the power of the yôki but the frailties of the human form, and was born into a world of humans—those around were my lesser kin, not my greater.

('And because of that I was despised. Humanity was a dark, ugly, twisted creature that despised me because I was different, and then despised me more because I was partly the same. So I turned my back on it. I didn't come to hate humanity, or seek revenge for how I was treated—I did not really become mistrustful or jaded. I simply turned off that part of me and embraced the demon side, the song of the blade in my heart, the call to fight, and fight, and live by fulfilling what we instinctively know is our ultimate purpose. Not killing—although swords were made for war, for battle, for killing humans, true swords, those from which we ultimately are formed, were forged and honed with love and dedication. The true swordsmiths always honored their blades, and the true swordsmen always respected their skills, and few delighted in outright bloodshed (the rule, true, to which there are exceptions, but the rule nonetheless).

('And so that became my purpose—to fight, and grow stronger, not for any goal, not for demons, humans, my father, myself, or anything, but simply because that's what I was. I didn't care if I lived a dozen years or a hundred, if I served the Obsidian Star or the Magic Council…I longed to fight, particularly strong and worthy and notable opponents. And so fate led me to Kain.

('And Akari. And Yukari, Kazumi, and Matake. To Hinagiku, Kajirô, Hikaru, Momo, and all the rest. To humans. Even now I'm still a creature fighting to decide if I am one thing or another. But now…after all this time…in this place…having found those who are, racially, my kin, and emotionally, my family…I feel that being human isn't so bad after all….')

8-8-8

"Twelve! Thirteen!"

Kôtarô's eyes had been open all the time, but vacant, unseeing. Finally light seemed to return to them, and he sat up as the count limit approached…but he did not rise, and the count finished. Both swords lay broken, one on either side of him. "Marvelous," he said. "You have fulfilled your goal, young swordsman. Was defeating me so very important to you?"

"Don't be so arrogant," Kenjirô replied. He helped Kôtarô to his feet and began to guide him back to the fighters' tunnel as Koto proclaimed him the victor. "You don't matter at all. With the same fervor would I fight anyone as strong as you, or stronger, or nearly as strong, if they were in my way. I have a friend to save and a friend to meet…and you were in the way of both. That's all. There was no revenge, or anything for me.

"I never hated you, never blamed you…I always felt that the sword within me understood you, and so I never dreamed or feared finding you. It was just what is."

Kenjirô laughed suddenly. "Although that wasn't true for a bit there during the fight. That first battle, before you cut me down…that was all about you, just for that moment."

Kôtarô smiled. "That is enough, all on its own…that brings a surprising amount of peace. After I left, when I heard about you and realized I had left her a son, I did think of you. But I could never really be a father to you."

"No. That's not how you're made. But all the same, I've now come to not just accept you…I can be grateful to you. Grateful that I was born, and I have you to thank for that. I'm grateful for my power I've inherited…and so very grateful, now, for the human I've inherited. I have a life…and it isn't so bad."

Kôtarô chuckled and forced the younger man to release him. "That is gratifying. You have ended up in a good world, one that is perfect for you, that I could never give you. That is all any father needs." He walked under his own power past Kain and the other gathering fighters and away, swiftly disappearing from sight.

Kain glanced back after the man, then turned to Kenjirô almost quizzically. "We've said all we needed to say. You're the one who wanted it, but I'm the one who got it…all that I needed, and more. My other fondest wish is about to be granted." He clapped Kain on the shoulder. "I think this will be the last time, and it will be enough for me. From then on, I'll just live."

Kain's quizzical expression didn't fade. "If you say so," he replied, with only an inkling of understanding. "But, from myself, and Yukari-san…thank you for keeping your promise."

F I N

Author's Note: Kenjirô's Ascension

Again, this was a plan I've had stirring for a very, very long time…something I did especially for this character. Kôtarô, the original wolf-demon rival of Negi, had no parentage at all, and it was of no significance. My original Kenjirô—who was initially fashioned from the worlds of Inuyasha and YuYu Hakusho—took great stock of his heritage. He was weighed down (in a different way than Inuyasha) by the fact that he was a half-demon. So even with him evolving due to the original character, Kôtarô, his parentage becomes an important part of him…thus the whole 'Kalan vs. Kôtarô,' and now, Kenjirô meeting—and fighting—his father.

Thus his evolution comes full circle. Initially, I expressed concern that the Kenjirô I invented was a little overwritten by the Kôtarô I was replacing. Now, however, Kenjirô has truly become Kenjirô. He's not the same I originally fashioned, but he is now his own person.

Well, onward we go! Time to wrap up the 3rd day of the tournament!