Raiden Estate: 6:29 am
The first sign of trouble was the knocking.
A slow, measured rhythm against the door, just loud enough to be heard but not enough to be urgent. Mei Raiden, buried deep under the warmth of her blankets, instinctively ignored it. She knew this pattern well. It was a trap.
The second sign was the silence that followed.
Akito never knocked just once. If she didn't answer, he'd usually knock again, more insistent. But the lack of follow-up meant something worse—he was giving her a chance to wake upon her own.
Which meant the bucket was coming.
Her eyes shot open.
Too late.
The door creaked open, and Mei barely had time to register the approaching presence before she was met with theshockingly coldsensation of water being unceremoniously dumped onto her.
"Akito!" she shrieked, jolting upright and kicking off the soaked blanket, hair clinging to her face.
Her tormentor, standing beside her bed, held an empty bucket in one hand and looked entirely unbothered. "Good morning, Mei."
She glared daggers at him, murderous intent fully activated."I swear to everything sacred—"
"You weren't waking up," Akito cut in smoothly, setting the bucket down. "We both know this is the fastest way."
Mei clenched her fists, taking slow breaths. 'This is fine. This is okay. I am calm.'
Then she exhaled sharply, shaking water from her hands, and turned away. If she let herself get caught up in another one of their morning arguments, she'd lose focus. And today, she needed to be focused.
Because today was the day she would finally defeat him.
Her grip tightened briefly before she had a plan.
Weeks and months of observation, trial, and error had brought her here. Akito had trained her and Kiana hard, but he had also unknowingly given them all the information they needed.
She had studied his movements, his timing, the way he reacted to their attacks. He hadrhythm.A pattern. A level of expectation that he had settled into over time. And that expectation was going to be his downfall.
'I just need to execute everything perfectly.'
She stood up, running a hand through her damp hair as she finally faced him. Akito, ever perceptive, narrowed his eyes slightly. "...You're thinking something."
Mei schooled her features into cool neutrality. "I'm thinking about how much I hate you."
Akito grinned. "Awww. You say the sweetest things."
Mei rolled her eyes, walking toward her wardrobe. "Give me five minutes."
"You have three."
"Two if you want me to show up with a sword through your gut."
"...Take away my fun, why don't you."
Akito stepped back, leaning against the doorframe as she prepared. She had to suppress a smirk. 'Let him think this is just another training session.'
Because today, for the first time ever—she was going to win.
Mei grabbed a towel, running it through her damp hair as she moved with practiced efficiency. She had no time to be annoyed—Akito always rushed her in the mornings, and she had long since adapted to moving quickly.
Her training uniform was already prepared, neatly folded on the nearby chair. She pulled it on without hesitation, her mind already shifting to what mattered.
'Today.'
Today, she wasn't just going through the motions.
Sliding on her wrist wraps, she flexed her fingers, feeling the tension in her muscles. Her body was stronger now—faster, sharper—thanks to weeks of relentless training. She had pushed herself, dissecting every movement Akito made, learning him.
She had long since accepted she couldn't beat him in raw skill or reaction time. His ability to read attacks, to shift before the danger even fully registered, was almost unnatural. No matter how fast she struck, he always knew.
But that was exactly why she had been working on her solution.
She pulled her katana from its stand, running her fingers along the sheath before securing it at her.
A technique built on explosive speed and precision. It wasn't about swinging the blade—it was about making sure the first movement was the last.
Akito's biggest strength was his ability to preemptively counter—adjust before the attack even came. But no one can react to something faster than their own expectation.
That was the core of her plan.
Her thumb rested against the tsuba, poised to draw in an instant. 'A quick draw. The fastest, cleanest strike possible.'
She had tested it over and over in the dojo, perfecting the timing. The speed of the draw, the precise downward thrust to follow if Akito dodged—everything had been refined. She had worked her body into the technique until it became second nature.
'It will work.'
She wasn't stupid—she knew one attack wouldn't be enough to finish Akito. But she didn't need to finish him in one move. She just needed to force him into a position where she had control.
Mei exhaled slowly, rolling her shoulders.
She had run through the steps a hundred times in her mind. Now all that was left was execution.
Adjusting her stance, she turned toward the door, where Akito was still waiting, arms crossed in that lazy, confident way of his.
He had no idea what was coming.
"Alright," she said, stepping forward. "Let's go."
Akito tilted his head, giving her a once-over before smirking. "You're suspiciously eager today."
Mei only smiled. "I just feel good about this morning."
And she did.
Because for the first time, she wasn't just trying to keep up.
She was going to win.
-o-
The dojo was quiet, save for the rhythmic sounds of movement. The soft scuff of bare feet against polished wood. The sharp inhale and exhale of controlled breathing. The familiar crack of joints loosened as they worked through their warmups.
Mei moved through her stretches with practiced ease, her muscles already accustomed to the breeds was something Akito always drilled into them—if your body knows what comes next, it will follow before you even think.
She pulled her arms across her chest, rolling her shoulders.
'But that works both ways, doesn't it?'
Akito was used to them following a rhythm. He had trained her and Kiana long enough to recognize their habits, their movements, their thought processes. That was what made him so frustrating to fight. He expected things before they happened.
So today, she wouldn't let him expect.
Today, she was going to break that rhythm.
She tightened her grip around her sheathed katana, feeling the weight of it against her is built around one thing— was no hesitation in a quick draw, no room for doubt.
It was a strike made with the absolute certainty that it would land.
Mei exhaled slowly, lowering into a stance as she prepared for the next set of exercises. She needed to—
"Alright. That's enough."
Mei barely had time to register the words before Akito's voice cut through the air again.
"Sparring begins now."
Her head snapped up just in time to see him standing in the center of the dojo, arms crossed, a smirk pulling at his lips.
"What?" she asked, blinking.
"You heard me." Akito tilted his head, looking far too entertained. "No more warmups. We start now."
Mei's fingers twitched at her sides. 'Dammit.'
She should have seen this coming. Akito was many things, but predictable in ways that mattered? No.
He had been watching her—he the full extent of her plan, of course. If he did, he wouldn't be nearly as relaxed. But something had tipped him off.
Something in the way she moved. The way she carried herself.
He had noticed.
And now, he was throwing off rhythm before she could do the same to him.
Mei inhaled sharply, forcing her heartbeat to steady.
'It doesn't matter.'
This was just an earlier start. Nothing else changed. The plan was still in motion.
She exhaled.
And then she stepped forward.
-o-
Mei slid into her stance, steadying her breath as she faced Akito. His expression was unreadable, as always, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes—the kind that said he already knew how this would go.
She gritted her teeth.
'Not this time.'
Akito made the first move.
A simple step forward, slow and deliberate, his hands still relaxed at his sides. Mei didn't fall for it. She had fought him too many times to be baited into attacking first out of impatience. Instead, she adjusted her grip on her bokken, keeping her center of gravity low.
Wait.
His foot barely touched the ground—
And then he was there.
His bokken cut through the air in a sharp diagonal strike, aimed directly at her shoulder. Mei's arms moved before she could think, her own weapon snapping up to intercept. The impact sent a sharp vibration up her arms, but she held firm, stepping back just as Akito's weight shifted.
A feint.
The moment she disengaged, his weapon dipped low, twisting in a rising arc meant to catch her ribs. Mei barely had time to adjust, deflecting it to the side with a sharp pivot of her wrists.
'He's testing my reactions.'
Mei's muscles tensed as she pushed back. Akito was methodical in his approach—never fully committing to an attack until he had what he wanted. If she was too defensive, he would keep prodding until she overcompensated. If she was too aggressive, he would punish her for it.
Which meant she had to be perfectly balanced.
Easier said than done.
Akito shifted his stance, his bokken coming in fast from below in a sudden upward swing. Mei parried, but—
Too late.
The force behind it was just enough to break her footing. She stumbled back, and in that instant, he pressed forward, twisting his body as he brought his weapon down from above.
Mei gritted her teeth, her muscles screaming as she forced her bokken up to block.
'Heavy.'
Even though it was training, Akito didn't hold back. Every strike carried weight, testing not just her skill but her endurance.
The moment their weapons met, she moved.
Instead of absorbing the full impact, she let it slide off, redirecting the force rather than resisting it head-on. Akito's brow raised slightly as she twisted her body, using his own momentum to reposition herself at his flank.
'Now!'
Her counterattack came swift and sharp, a clean thrust aimed straight at his midsection—
'Nothing.'
Akito wasn't there.
The second her blade cut forward, he was already gone, his body twisting just out of reach, as if he had known exactly when she would strike.
Mei's heart pounded.
'This is why he's so damn frustrating to fight.'
Akito's fighting style was active, but that didn't mean passive. He didn't just wait for an opening—he made them. Even when he was on the defensive, he was leading the fight, shifting the tempo, setting traps she could barely see until it was too late.
And now, he had switched.
His footwork changed, his weight shifting forward—aggressive now, not defensive.
Mei's body tensed.
The real fight was starting.
Mei barely had time to reset her stance before Akito was on her again.
No warning. No pause.
His bokken came down in a brutal overhead strike—fast. Too fast for her to block properly.
She twisted her body, stepping to the side as the wooden blade whistled past her shoulder, just barely avoiding getting slammed into the floor. The air itself seemed to split apart under the sheer force of the swing.
'Damn it—'
Mei retaliated immediately, whipping her bokken in a sharp counter-slash toward his ribs. But—
Nothing.
Once again, he wasn't there.
Akitoflowedout of her range, his body moving in a way that didn't even seem human like he already knew exactly where she'd strike before she did.
Mei grit her teeth as she adjusted, pulling back before he could punish her overextension.
'He's picking up speed.'
Akito's pressure increased, his attacks becoming sharper, faster, heavier. A diagonal cut—parried. A quick thrust—redirected. A sudden sweep at her legs—jump.
She was holding her ground, but just barely.
Every time she managed to counter, he adapted, shifting seamlessly into the next movement before she could get her bearings.
This was the problem.
Akito's rhythm was suffocating.
It wasn't just that he dodged everything—it was that he always made her feel like she was half a second too slow.
Even when she blocked, it never felt like she was in control.
Like now.
His bokken came from below, slicing upward toward her jaw. Meibarelymanaged to tilt her head back, the wooden blade skimming past her chin so close she could feel the displaced air against her skin.
Her counterattack—slashing toward his exposed side—was already met with his blade, redirecting hers off-course with a simple flick of his wrist.
A second later, he shifted again, already behind her.
'Crap!'
Mei spun, her weapon swinging in a desperate arc—only to have it meet nothing but air.
Too late.
She barely registered the pressure on the back of her knee before Akito's foot hooked around her leg, yanking her balance out from under her.
The world tilted.
Mei hit the floor hard, her bokken nearly slipping from her grip as the impact rattled through her bones.
She looked up—
'There he was.'
Standing over her, weapon resting lazily against his shoulder, lips curled into a knowing smirk.
"Again?" Akito teased, tilting his head.
Mei huffed out a sharp breath, more frustrated than winded.
She clenched her jaw, gripping her weapon tighter as she pushed herself back up.
'Not yet. Not yet.'
This wasn't over.
She wasn't going to use her real plan just yet.
But soon.
Very soon.
Mei barely had time to catch her breath before Akito casually rested his bokken against his shoulder, his smirk widening just slightly.
"Point."
The single word was enough to make Mei's grip on her weapon tighten.
She exhaled sharply, keeping her expression neutral as she adjusted her stance, rolling her shoulders to loosen the tension building there.
She had expected this.
She had expected him to win the first exchange.
Still…
Her eyes flickered toward Akito, watching as he idly tapped his bokken against his shoulder, his stance loose and unorthodox—nothing like the precise, structured movements of Kendo.
That's because he's not actually good at it.
Mei knew that much.
Oh, he understood Kendo. He knew just enough to stay within the rules, just enough to weaponise it against her. But Kendo wasn't his expertise. It was just another tool in his arsenal.
Hisrealspecialty was close-quarters combat.
She had seen it firsthand in his spars against Kiana. The way he flowed in and out of attacks, seamlessly adjusting his positioning, manipulating distance as if it were second nature. He wasn't just reacting—he was anticipating, controlling the fight's tempo in ways that made traditional styles struggle against him.
Mei knew she was a better Kendo practitioner than Akito. She had trained for years, had drilled every movement, refined every technique.
But it didn't matter.
Because in the end, he was still winning.
And worse—
'He's fighting me with a handicap.'
That realization made something bitter settle in her stomach, frustration and something sharper twisting in her chest.
He wasn't even using his full skill set.
She was fighting someone who wasn't even playing to their strengths, and yet she still hadn't won once.
She hated it.
She hated that it felt like he wasn't even trying—no, that wasn't quite right. She knew Akito wasn't the type to deliberately hold back. But the simple fact remained: he didn't need to go all out against her.
That thought alone sent a spike of renewed determination through her.
No.
Not this time.
This time, she would win.
This time, she would make him fight seriously.
Mei tightened her grip on her bokken, squaring her stance as she met Akito's gaze.
He raised an eyebrow, then smirked.
"Round two," he said, lowering his weapon.
"Begin."
Mei surged forward.
Mei barely had a second to react before Akito was on her.
Unlike before—unlike every other match they had fought—he didn't start with his usual measured strikes. He didn't test the waters, didn't play the waiting game to bait out a mistake.
No.
This time, he just swung.
A sharp, downward strike came first, forcing Mei's arms up to block. Her bokken rattled in her grip, the impact sending a jolt of pain through her wrists, but she gritted her teeth and held firm.
Then the next strike came.
And the next.
And the next.
Akito wasn't defending. He wasn't waiting. He was attacking, pressing forward with relentless, crushing force, battering at her defences without giving her even a second to breathe.
Mei's body moved on instinct, her bokken snapping up, down, and to the sides to intercept each blow. But every impact sent a fresh shock through her arms, her muscles aching from the sheer force of it.
Her eye twitched.
'Of course he'd do this today.'
Akito would sometimes do this—abandoning his usual reactive style and just whaling on her. He did it unpredictably, never at the same time or in the same way, but there was a method to his madness.
One, it forced her reaction speed to sharpen. She had to process now, not later. Hesitation would cost her.
Two, it pushed her agility to its limits. She couldn't just block—if she wanted to avoid being crushed outright, she had to move. She had to twist, weave, adapt.
Three, and perhaps most importantly, it tested her decision-making.
Akito wasn't just swinging at full strength.
He was alternating his force.
Some strikes were bone-rattlingly heavy, meant to overpower her and break her stance. Others were lighter, faster, almost feints in comparison. But the inconsistency was deliberate—it forced her to judge, to decide in an instant whether she should block, redirect, or evade entirely.
A single miscalculation—a single wrong read—would send her to the floor.
And even knowing all of this, even expecting it, Mei still struggled.
Because no matter how much she improved—
No matter how much she trained—
Akito was still physically stronger than her.
And every single impact hurt.
She gritted her teeth, her arms burning from the relentless defence. The weight of his strikes, the sheer pressure he exuded—it was overwhelming.
But Mei refused to break.
Not today.
Not this time.
She twisted, shifting her footing, letting another strike glance off her bokken as she slipped just outside his reach. Her breath was sharp and measured, her grip tightening.
He was trying to drown her in the tempo.
Fine.
She'd use it against him.
Mei moved.
Her feet glided across the dojo floor, barely touching down before shifting again, dodging and weaving as Akito's strikes came down like a relentless storm.
It was still brutal—his attacks were still fast, heavy, and unpredictable. Some clipped her, sending fresh jolts of pain through her arms, but none were direct enough to stagger her.
She was keeping up.
No.
She was pushing through.
Her breaths were short and controlled, her grip tight but flexible. The wooden bokken in her hands trembled slightly—not from fear, but from the sheer force of every deflected blow.
But despite the pain, despite the pressure, she felt something else burning in her chest.
Satisfaction.
Because she could see it now.
She could read him.
Not perfectly—never perfectly. Akito's ability to read, predict, and react was on an entirely different level, something that felt almost unnatural. It wasn't just experience, it was something else—something ingrained in him that she still couldn't fully grasp.
And yet—
'I'm still reading him.'
The thought sent a thrill through her.
Because before?
Before, when she faced this brutal onslaught, she had been helpless.
The tide had swallowed her, and battered her down until she either lost her grip or Akito landed a clean, crushing hit that sent her sprawling.
But now—
Now she could weave through the chaos.
Now she could track the flow of his attacks, pick out the pattern of the storm.
She still wasn't as fast. Her reflexes still weren't as sharp.
But she had grown.
And that meant something.
Akito shifted, stepping forward to press his offense harder. Mei twisted to the side, letting a strike graze past her shoulder. It hurt—but it wasn't enough to stop her.
Another attack—this one heavier. She barely redirected it in time, her arms screaming in protest.
She didn't falter.
Not this time.
Not when she was this close.
This match wasn't about winning.
Not yet.
This match was about proving herself.
And for the first time—
She was keeping up.
Inevitably, something had to go wrong.
Mei miscalculated.
The moment it happened, she knew—she had misread his intent.
Akito's strike came down, far heavier than she had expected. Her arms, already aching from deflecting his blows, screamed as the force crashed against her bokken. The impact rattled her grip, nearly wrenching the weapon from her hands.
Then, she realized the deeper mistake.
'I fell for it again…'
Damage over time.
Possibly Akito's favorite strategy.
He didn't just fight with power or speed—he wore people didn't matter what fighting style you had, what kind of opponent you were—if you were taking hits, you were accumulating damage.
Some people, like Kiana, could push through it on sheer willpower and bullheadedness. They'd keep fighting even when their bodies were screaming at them to stop, forcing their way through the pain.
But Mei—
Mei still hesitated.
Her will was strong. But hesitation was still there, creeping at the edges of her thoughts, making her second-guess in moments where she couldn't afford it.
And Akito had seen it.
Of course he had.
He had been watching her, waiting for that one misstep.
And now, he followed through.
Before she could fully regain control, before she could adjust, he pressed forward—seizing the moment without hesitation.
His bokken came in low, targeting her stance. Mei barely moved to block it, but it was already too late—her position was compromised, her footing unsteady. Akito took full advantage, shifting seamlessly into another strike, then another, each one forcing her further and further off balance.
Mei gritted her teeth, trying to recover—trying to push back against the relentless pressure.
But the trap had already been sprung.
And Akito wasn't letting her go.
Mei's arms burned. Each strike Akito delivered chipped away at her defense, the weight behind his blows growing heavier and heavier. She struggled to keep up, her movements sharp but just a fraction too slow, a fraction too late.
And Akito was relentless.
His attacks had a pattern—one she was starting to recognize—but the realization came too late. By the time she adjusted to one sequence, he had already moved to the next, switching from heavy downward slashes to sharp, precise thrusts that forced her back, each impact sending painful jolts through her wrists.
Her stance wasbreaking.
Her grip tightened as she bit back frustration, trying to push past the throbbing ache crawling through her muscles. This was the problem with his fighting style—he never needed to overpower her in a single hit. He simply ground her down.
'He's testing me…'
No.
'He's dismantling me.'
Mei grit her teeth, adjusting her hold on the bokken. She had to do something.
Another swing. She pivoted, just barely avoiding it. Another step, shifting her weight—this time, instead of defending, she countered.
A sharp strike aimed at Akito's midsection.
It should've landed.
It didn't.
Before her attack could connect, Akito moved—just enough. Not a full dodge, not an outright block—just a minor shift, barely an inch, but enough that her bokken grazed harmlessly past him.
And then he punished her.
She felt it before she fully saw it—a sharp, overwhelming force colliding against her exposed side. His strike crashed against her ribs, not enough to cause serious harm, but enough that her body locked up on instinct, her breath escaping in a sharp gasp.
The fight was already over.
Before she could recover, he was already moving.
His bokken swept her legs out from under her.
Mei barely registered the moment she hit the floor, blinking up at the ceiling as her lungs fought to pull in air. The wooden dojo floor felt cool against her overheated skin, her chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths.
Then—
A familiar voice, too casual, too amused.
"Second point. That makes two for me."
Akito stood above her, resting the tip of his bokken against his shoulder, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes sharp—he knew she had tried to turn things around, he had seen it.
And yet—he had still beaten her.
Mei clenched her teeth, her fingers tightening into fists against the wooden floor.
This wasn't over.
Not yet.
Notuntil she won.
-o-
Mei sat up, pressing a hand against her aching ribs as Akito strode toward the east side of the dojo, casually picking up a water bottle. He twisted off the cap and took a slow sip, completely at ease—as if the last two matches had been nothing more than routine for him.
Her fingers curled tightly around her bokken.
'It won't be routine much longer...'
She exhaled softly, rolling her shoulders to shake off the lingering tension in her muscles. As she stretched her neck, letting her gaze wander briefly, something caught her eye—just past the dojo entrance.
A familiar arm was sticking out, barely visible.
'There you are.'
A small smile tugged at Mei's lips.
Kiana was here.
Which meant phasetwo was about to begin.
She quickly glanced back toward Akito, suppressing the spark of anticipation bubbling in her chest. His back was still turned, the bottle still in his hand, and for the first time today, Mei felt like she had control.
'Just a little longer…'
She adjusted her grip on her bokken, taking a deep breath. The soreness in her body, the dull ache radiating from her arms—it didn't matter.
Because this time, she wasn't going to just endure.
This time, she was going to win.
Mei took another deep breath, her fingers tightening around her bokken. The soreness in her muscles was persistent, but she ignored it—this was what she had been waiting for.
She exhaled slowly, calming her nerves as her thoughts ran through the plan one last time.
'Akito has fallen into a rhythm.'
It was something she had noticed over their countless sparring sessions. He expected her to lose. Heanticipatedher every move, and because of that, he had settled into astasis—a state where he didn't have to think too hard. He simply reacted. His body moved like clockwork, relying on instinct rather than strategy.
That was where their chance lay.
If she could keep him in that rhythm, keep him from thinking too much, then he wouldn't realise what was happening. It didn't matter how good his awareness was—if his mind was trapped in that flow, they had a chance to break it.
She tipped her head back, taking a long gulp from her water bottle.
'Stay the course. Don't change too much. Keep him locked in the same expectations as always.'
Wiping her mouth, she placed the empty bottle aside and reached for her bokken. Her grip was firm as she stepped back onto the battlefield.
It was time.
-o-
Mei exhaled slowly, centering herself as she stepped onto the mat once more. Across from her, Akito rolled his shoulders, his usual grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He gave his bokken a lazy spin before resting it against his shoulder, his stance relaxed but deceptive.
"Ready?" he asked, though they both knew the answer.
Mei nodded.
Without further warning, Akito moved.
His blade shot forward—not an attack, but a feint. Mei had seen this countless times before, and she reacted accordingly, shifting her weight to avoid committing to a block too soon.
Another step. Another small, probing strike. Akito wasn't pressing the offensive like last time; he was watching, testing her defences with quick, precise movements.
This was his usual fighting style—reactive, patient, a hunter waiting for its prey to stumble.
Mei kept her movements controlled, parrying where necessary and dodging when she could. But the problem with fighting Akito like this was that mistakes—no matter how small—were punished immediately.
Her foot slid an inch too far? He adjusted, stepping in closer to cut off her escape routes.
Her bokken was angled just slightly off? His strike pressed against her guard, forcing her to reposition or risk losing control.
He was watching, waiting, waiting…
And then—
'There!'
Mei saw the opening just as she made the mistake. Her bokken had deflected a strike too forcefully, throwing off her balance for a split second. She moved to correct it, but it was already too late—
Akito's blade whipped around, tapping against her wrist with just enough force to throw off her grip. Mei barely managed to recover before the next strike came, forcing her back another step.
"You're hesitating," Akito noted casually, not letting up in the slightest. His movements were smooth, relentless, unshakable.
Mei grit her teeth, frustration simmering. She couldn't let him dictate the pace—not this time.
She exhaled sharply, readjusting her stance. She couldn't afford any more mistakes.
Mei was constantly being punished.
Every slip-up, every moment of hesitation—Akito was there. It wasn't a barrage like before, but he didn't need to overwhelm her to gain control. He simply waited, striking when her guard was weakest, forcing her back, forcing her to second-guess.
A tap against her wrist. A flick at her shoulder. A swipe just close enough to graze her side.
Mei bit the inside of her cheek, frustration welling in her chest. She needed to commit—needed to act instead of thinking too much. Akito had trained her well, but that didn't mean she had to play his game forever.
She steeled herself.
'Now.'
Mei stepped forward, twisting her body as she drove her bokken down in a sharp, decisive strike.
"KAI!"
Her weapon clashed against Akito's blade with a resounding impact, her force pressing against his guard. His eyes flicked up to meet hers, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.
"Good," he praised, his grip steady against her attack. "You're learning."
Mei smirked back.
And for the briefest moment, Akito hesitated—not from weakness, but from confusion.
It was a subtle thing, a fraction of a second, but Mei saw it.
Checkmate.
A blur of motion entered his peripheral vision—too close, too fast.
Akito turned on instinct, body reacting before his mind could fully process—his arm snapped up just in time to catch Kiana's right leg before it crashed into his ribs.
The grin she wore was downright feral.
"Surprise~!" Kiana chirped.
...
Akito blinked once.
Twice.
Then his expression twisted into something between exasperation and amusement.
"Oh, you little—"
THUD.
Kiana's fists slammed into his chest before he could finish, forcing him to shift his stance to absorb the impact. She grinned up at him, not giving him even a second to recover as she kept up the pressure.
Mei exhaled, shaking out her arms as she finally had a moment to breathe.
She glanced at Kiana, weaving through Akito's counters with an almost reckless energy, keeping him busy.
Their plan had worked so far.
It wasn't enough to beat Akito—he would always see through an obvious ambush. They needed to force him into the rhythm they had set, make him react in predictable ways, and most importantly…
They needed a signal.
Something that wouldn't immediately tip him off.
"KAI."
The sharp shout meant to accompany a fully committed strike—the sound that signaled a decisive blow in kendo.
Mei had used it in the heat of the fight, just as she had in every spar before. Nothing out of the ordinary. No sudden change in pattern.
But this time, Kiana had heard it.
And that was all they needed.
Mei rolled her shoulders, taking a final steadying breath as a slow, satisfied smile curled on her lips.
'Time to start Phase Three.'
-o-o-
Mei knew the moment Kiana jumped in, this was the most dangerous part of their plan.
Akito didn't hesitate.
The instant Kiana entered the fray, he tossed his bokken aside—discarding it without a second thought.
'That infuriating handicap.'
And then he grinned.
Not his usual smirk. Not the amused, exasperated expression he often wore when dealing with their antics. (While denying it with every other breath).
No—this was something different.
A sharp, almost predatory grin stretched across his face as he charged straight at Kiana.
"Oh, so that's how it is?"
Gone was the restraint of measured strikes, the controlled deflections—Akito wasn't playing anymore.
Because close-quarters combat was where he excelled.
And unfortunately, for both of them…
He knew exactly how to counter them.
In the beginning... if Mei was being honest with herself, her synergy with Kiana sucked.
Kiana was wild. Mei was controlled.
If Mei was lightning—calm, precise, and devastating—Kiana was the storm—unpredictable, chaotic, and free.
Fighting together had been a mess at first. Kiana would overextend, forcing Mei to cover for her reckless attacks, while Mei's calculated movements would be thrown off by Kiana's impulsive, split-second decisions.
But eventually, they figured it out.
Mei would cover Kiana's blind spots. Kiana would break through defences.
Kiana was the powerhouse, throwing herself into the fight with reckless abandon.
Mei was the anchor, controlling the flow and creating openings.
-o-o-
Together, they learned how to fight as one.
The first time they had finally figured out their synergy…
Mei could honestly say that was their closest attempt to date at landing a hit on Akito.
It was exhilarating. For once, it felt like they had an actual chance.
Kiana had gone in, wild and relentless, while Mei orchestrated the rhythm of their attacks, cutting off Akito's escape routes and punishing his movements. It was fast. It was fluid. It was working.
But the moment they got too excited—the moment they thought they could finally overwhelm the immovable wall that was Akito Hoshizora—
He paid them back in blood.
-o-o-
Mei's grip tightened on her bokken, even as she watched Kiana throw a blinding flurry of punches and kicks at Akito, trying to break through his defenses.
Akito wasn't even using a weapon anymore.
His bokken had been tossed aside, forgotten, as he met Kiana's relentless assault with calm precision.
A weave, a sidestep, a sharp deflection with his forearm—Kiana's strikes were landing, but not cleanly. Every time she thought she had him, Akito would shift just enough to absorb the impact, his movements sharp and calculated.
Then, in a heartbeat—his counterattack.
Kiana lunged forward with a spinning kick and he caught her ankle in mid-air.
Before she could even react, his knee slammed into her gut, forcing a sharp gasp from her lips.
But Kiana being Kiana, she grinned through the pain, twisted her body, and threw a wild haymaker at his face with her free arm.
Akito let go of her ankle.
Instead of dodging, he leaned into the blow—absorbing it just enough to roll with it before he slammed an elbow into Kiana's shoulder, throwing her balance off.
Mei saw Kiana's teeth grit in frustration. She hated when he did that.
And as much as Mei wanted to jump in right now—
She couldn't. Not yet. She had to wait.
It was almost time for Phase Three.
-o-o-
The biggest issue that both Mei and Kiana could agree on is Akito's dodging.
Or more specifically—how he dodged.
It wasn't just evasion. It wasn't just reflexes. It was an art.
Mei had watched him, studied him, analyzed every movement—trying to understand how he made it look so effortless.
Sometimes, Akito would simply not be there when an attack came, slipping out of range like he had always known it was coming. Other times, he wouldn't even bother with a full dodge—he would let the strike come, and at the last possible moment, adjust his body so the attack would barely—just barely—slide right past him.
It was frustrating in a way that made Mei's blood boil.
It was beautifulin a way that made her breath catch.
Like a leaf caught in the wind, always drifting just beyond reach—no matter how many times they tried to cut it down.
And Kiana?
She hated it.
Which is why, right now, she was doubling down on brute force, trying to corner him with sheer pressure, leaving him no space to dodge—
But Akito, ever the nightmare opponent, had already shifted his strategy.
Instead of backing away—he pressed forward.
The moment Kiana's fist came barreling toward his head—he stepped in, closing the gap before she could adjust.
His arm shot up—redirecting her punch off-course.
Kiana snarled and snapped out a low kick—only for Akito to catch it against his shin and twist, forcing her to stumble just slightly.
And that was all he needed.
His retaliation was swift—a sharp flick of his wrist, his knuckles raking against the inside of Kiana's arm.
Not enough to hurt.
Enough to shock the nerves.
Kiana gritted her teeth.
He did it again—this time to her other arm, forcing a twitch out of her muscles.
Again. A precise strike to the forearm.
Again.A palm against her wrist.
Mei's eyes narrowed.
She knew what he was doing. She had seen this before.
He wasn't trying to knock Kiana down.
He was attacking her arms. Wearing her down—little by little—so by the time Kiana noticed, her punches wouldn't have the same power.
It was a slow, methodical disarmament.
A style that was uniquely Akito.
-o-o-
A sharp yelp tore through the dojo.
Mei winced.
The second worst thing about Akito—right after his nightmare-inducing dodging—was that he was absolutely unafraid to play dirty.
And it was naturally all Kiana's fault.
It had been during one of their earlier attempts to finally land a solid win against him. Kiana, in a moment of desperation and sheer bullheadedness, had decided that if she couldn't outfight him, she'd outcheap him.
So she did the unthinkable.
She struck between the legs.
Mei could still remember the exact way Akito's body had reacted.
A violent twitch. His hands immediately clenching into fists as he stumbled back.
He didn't crumple. He didn't double over in agony. He didn't let out a sound.
He just stood there, staring at Kiana.
Dead. In. The. Eyes.
"Oh, okay," he had said, voice eerily calm, "so we're playing by those rules now."
That should have been Kiana's first warning.
It was Mei's.
But Kiana, being Kiana, had grinned, cracking her knuckles like she had just won something.
Few words could describe what happened next. Feral was one of them.
He went insane.
Everysingledirty trick Mei knew he used.
And then some.
A well-placed tampon Kiana's foot just as she was about to move.
A sudden feint that turned into a backhand to the ribs.
A perfectly timed slap to the back of the headright when she wasn't expecting it.
At some point, he had flicked her forehead so hard she physically recoiled.
Then, just as Kiana was stumbling, wheezing, and on the verge of collapse—
Heran into her personal space.
And then—
Mei shuddered at the memory.
He had rammed his foot right in the middle of her legs.
Kiana had let out a sound that wasn't quite human before crumpling to the floor.
It was instant karma.
And from that moment on, a new rule was added to their sparring sessions.
Rule #1: Unless you want your opponent to also engage in dirty tactics, do not use them.
The worst part?
When Akito wrote that rule down, he was staring at Mei the entire time.
-o-o-
Mei shook herself out of those memories.
Kiana's yelp had come from—
Mei blinked. Once. Twice.
Akito had grabbed Kiana—
By the chest.
Not to cop a feel but to use her shirt as leverage.
To slam her straight into the dojo floor.
Kiana's yelp had been a mix of impact pain and alarm, especially as Akito immediately reared his leg back, preparing to stomp on her stomach.
Mei felt her breath catch.
Kiana barely managed to roll out of the way, jumping back to her feet just as Akito's foot came crashing down where she had been a second before.
Mei slapped herself—now wasn't the time to get caught up in memories.
Now was the time to focus.
She was standing directly in Akito's blindspot.
Kiana could see her—but Akito could not.
Mei swallowed nervously. Then exhaled.
This was it.
No time for hesitation.
No time for doubt.
Now was the time to strike.
Her resolve hardened, and she nodded toward Kiana.
A silent signal.
Begin Phase Three.
Kiana's eyes lit up. A wild grin spread across her face as she rushedforward into Akito's personal space once again.
Akito's stance shifted, ready to intercept.
Then—Kiana jumped.
A high, powerful downward axe kick, arcing straight toward his head.
Normally, Akito would have simply stepped aside, letting the attack whiff harmlessly past him.
But.
That was exactly what Mei and Kiana were counting on.
-o-o-
Mei charged forward.
This was it.
Do or die.
If Akito simply stepped away from Kiana's axe kick, their entire plan would collapse.
She swore time slowed down as she watched Akito make his decision.
Then—
'YES! YES!'
Mei almost smiled as she saw his arms rise, forming a crossblock.
That was it!
From the subtle side-eye glance, she knew he had noticed her approaching from behind—but instead of dodging, he had adjusted.
He was planning to catch Kiana's leg and use the momentum to throw her at Mei.
That would have worked—
If that wasn't exactly what they wanted.
Kiana, recognizing the cue, grinned wildly and let out the kind of battle cry only an anime protagonist could pull off.
"NEKO-CHARRRMMM!"
SLAM!
Her leg crashed into Akito's cross-block, the impact reverberating through the dojo.
-o-o-
Mei had to give credit where it was due—Akito was a master at deflecting blows.
It was almost uncanny, the way he could calculate exactly how much force was needed to redirect an attack's momentum, letting most of the strength flow away rather than absorbing it himself.
Even now, as Kiana'saxe kick connected, Akito didn't simply take the hit.
Instead, he let the force travel through him, smoothly guiding it away as if he had rehearsed this a thousand times before.
Before gravity could pull Kiana back down, Akito's hands snapped forward, grabbing Kiana's outstretched leg in midair.
Then—pivot.
With one sharp twist, he used her own momentum against her and hurledher straight at Mei.
This was it.
The moment everything hinged on.
Mei dropped to her knees, her legs scraping against the dojo floor as she tilted her head just in time, letting Kiana's airborne foresail over her.
And in the same breath—
Mei sprang back up.
Straight into Akito's personal space.
-o-o-
'This was it. THIS WAS IT!'
Mei could practically see the realization dawn in Akito's eyes, like gears clicking into place.
She was too close.
And not just close—dangerously close.
This wasn't like before, where he could simply dodge, deflect, or counter as usual. His usual tricks? None of them would work in time.
Still, Mei refused to relax just yet. Akito was a slippery bastard, and she knew better than anyone that underestimating him was a mistake.
Because problem number three—the final problem they faced—was his inhuman flexibility.
Mei grimaced as she recalled that event that took place a couple of months ago during a friendly competition between her, Kiana, Haruto, and Airi.
They had been goofing off, testing how far they could bend their limb into unnatural positions.
And then Akito happened.
While the rest of them had been struggling to push past normal human limits, Akito had completely annihilated them all by...
Basically folding himself in half.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
Mei shuddered at the memory. It had been three months, but she still hadn't gotten over it.
Akito'sinhuman flexibility was a last resort that let him twist his way out of almost anything.
Almost.
But not this time.
Mei was mere centimetres away—so close she could see the minute twitch in his muscles, the flicker of his rapid calculations trying to find an escape route.
He could kick back and launch himself away? Risky. He was already slightly off-balance from tossing Kiana, and doing so would only make him fall over.
He could twist his way out—except, Mei caught the quick flick of his eyes past her shoulder.
And she smiled.
Because standing right behind her, grinning ear to ear, was Kiana.
Checkmate.
Akito's options were dwindling.
Technically? He could lift Mei up and over himself to escape.
But doing so would leave him wide open for Kiana to capitalize on.
And Akito, for all his skill, knew it.
He could simply try and retreat but Mei's monument would slam her into him regardless, chances were he couldn't even use her as a shield against Kiana.
Mei watched as the fight finally drained from his eyes.
Akito sighed, slumping slightly as his expression twisted into resigned annoyance.
"Well, fuc—"
THWACK.
Mei's bokken slammed into his chest.
For good measure—
THWACK.
She struck downward again, ensuring he felt it.
-o-o-
Mei barreled into him at full force, the momentum knocking them both to the ground.
Unfortunately for both of them—
Kiana was right behind her.
Cue the dogpile.
With an 'oomph', Akito found himself pinned underneath both of them, the weight of his two sparring partners pressing him firmly into the dojo floor.
He exhaled sharply, feeling the telltale ache of exhaustion creeping in after three grueling matches.
For a moment, silence.
Then—
Giggling.
Mei's delighted laughter spilled into the air, pure and triumphant, the weight of finally, finally landing a hit manifesting in the sheer elation on her face.
Kiana, always one to enjoy a win, let out an unrestrained cackle, slapping Mei on the back.
The giggling mess of tangled limbs lasted a few more seconds, neither girl in any hurry to move, basking in the aftermath of their hard-earned victory.
Akito, however, was struggling to breathe.
He sighed, muttering under his breath, before tapping Kiana on the thigh to get her attention.
"Alright, alright, get up. I like breathing."
Kiana snickered but obliged, rolling off to the side before dramatically sprawling out like a starfish.
Mei followed suit, pushing herself up, though her smile remained unwavering as she did.
A hand landed on her head.
She blinked.
Akito ruffled her hair.
"Good job."
His voice was calm, and genuine, with none of the usual teasing sarcasm or over-the-top banter.
It was simple. Honest.
And it made something in Mei's chest tighten with pride.
Then, just like that, he turned and walked over to the scoreboard.
They watched as he picked up a piece of chalk, twirling it between his fingers before pressing it against the board.
With a few swift marks, the results were officially recorded.
Akito: 49
Kiana: 17
Mei: 1
Mei stared at that number.
Her first point.
Her only point.
A small part of her—some deeply ingrained, competitive part—felt a tiny pang of disappointment.
After all that work, all that effort—she only had one point to show for it.
But that part of her was quickly drowned out by something far louder.
Because, for the first time, that one point meant something.
That one point was proof.
A turning point.
If she could get one… then she could get two.
Then three.
And so on.
Until eventually—
She'd close the gap.
-o-o-
Akito watched them.
Really watched them.
The sheer joy on their faces, the way they practically radiated triumph, the bouncing energy that came from finally achieving what they thought was impossible—
He frowned slightly.
They better not get cocky from this.
A victory, no matter how hard-earned, could easily lead to complacency. And that was something he wasn't about to let happen.
So he decided to test them.
Slowly, deliberately, he let a sadistic grin creep onto his face—sharp, predatory, the kind of look that promised suffering.
Then, turning to face them head-on, he delivered the final blow:
"Well… now that you've landed a hit on me, I can finally move you up to Sasha or Misako."
The reaction was instant.
Kiana and Mei froze mid-celebration, their expressions twisting from triumph to unfiltered horror in a split second.
Their victory high?
Completely gone.
Akito bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, relishing the sight of them mentally spiraling.
Sasha and Misako weren't just anyone.
Sasha was a storm in human form—aggressive, unpredictable, and absolutely relentless. She never gave opponents breathing room, always pressing forward, always forcing them onto the defensive. She had an inhuman amount of stamina and could take a hit like a damn tank. It didn't matter if you landed a clean strike—she'd eat the damage and keep coming like a horror movie monster.
Fighting Sasha was like trying to stop an avalanche with your bare hands. Kiana certainly had tried numerous times to no avail.
Misako, on the other hand, was cold, calculating, and brutally efficient. She fought with a surgical level of precision, never wasting a single movement. Every attack had a purpose, every feint led into a trap, and every mistake her opponent made was mercilessly punished.
She had an uncanny ability to read people, as if she could see three moves ahead, and if you weren't careful, she'd dismantle you piece by piece before you even realized what was happening.
She fought like a predator playing with its food. Mei honestly couldn't decide who was worse, Misako or Akito going all out, she had made the mistake of requesting for a spar from both of them with no holding back... needlessly to say, she got obliterated.
And now?
Kiana and Mei were being tossed straight into the lion's den.
Akito, still grinning, dusted himself off, stretching his arms lazily as he basked in their panic.
"You wanted to beat me, right?" he drawled, watching their growing terror with unhidden amusement. "Well, congratulations. Now you get to deal with someone even worse."
Mei looked like she regretted everything.
Kiana let out a strangled noise somewhere between a laugh and a whimper.
Mei tried to reason with him, half-laughing, half-panicking as she waved her hands in front of her. "Akito, we just got a hit on you! Shouldn't we have time to—"
"Nope."
Kiana grabbed Mei's shoulders. "Mei, I take it back. We should've just left it at thinking we could hit him. Why did we have to prove it?!"
Akito laughed. Oh, this was great.
Satisfied, he turned around, shoving his hands into his pockets as he chuckled to himself.
'Maybe I am a bit of a sadist…'
He paused for a moment, his smirk widened.
'Eh. I'll stop when it stops being funny.'