I told myself this was stupid.
A pointless duel.
A waste of breath.
But logic doesn't matter when it's Renji.
No one escapes him.
Not even me.
He didn't speak.
Didn't nod.
Didn't show even the smallest twitch of amusement.
His eyes glowed with a completly soft pinkish crimson. The mark of Fifth Flame—Stage One.
The same stage I was holding now.
My katana swept down;
Renji parried with a swift upward cut, sparks snapping between us.
I followed with a heavier slash—
the kind meant to break guards, not test them.
He angled his blade, letting the weight slide off instead of stopping it head-on.
But I saw his movements.
So this is what it feels like…
to reach the Fifth Flame.
But Renji is smart.
Annoying.
Always lighter on his feet than I am.
He darted in, his blade slicing toward my ribs.
I met him with a blow that sent tremors up his arm.
My blade crashed down again—
Renji slid five steps aside,
almost weightless,
my strike carving empty air.
Before I could recover, his voice reached my ear:
"You think you're fighting me…
You're fighting yourself."
He moved his foot, and the snow obeyed him.
A soft kick, and the white dust spiraled at my face like shattered glass.
For a moment, he saw an opening in my guard—
and he pounced like a starving wolf.
The snow thinned just enough for me to see the glint of his blade—
already inches from my skin.
Instinct overtook thought.
The world widened, slowed.
I leaned aside.
Effortless.
Only when my boots dug in did I realize what happened.
The flame inside me shifted, deeper, steadier.
Stage Two.
No pain followed.
Only a strange calm,
as if the power had stopped fighting me.
He reacted faster than I expected.
A single step back, a quiet inhale—
and his flame eyes rose to meet mine.
Light crimson to light crimson.
A fair duel… at least by his standards.
Renji wouldn't count a snow feint as a trick.
His idea of fairness is... weird.
Renji spoke:
"At your age, your shoulders move before your blade.
Against anyone else, you'd get away with it.
Against me?
It's suicide.
Stop now, boy. They're waiting for you."
I wanted to answer him.
Tell him I wasn't fighting to win.
Tell him I was fighting because I didn't know what else to do anymore.
But words don't come easy
So I cut the distance instead.
The flame rose without my permission.
My vision darkened at the edges.
My muscles tightened with a power that wasn't there a moment ago.
Stage Three.
Our eyes turned crimson.
Renji moved in to match my rhythm—
but I had no rhythm anymore.
His katana cut across my arm, unrestrained.
Blood hit the snow in a warm splash.
Renji flinched—not from guilt,
but from realizing I had become something harder to predict.
Renji's voice slipped through the cold like a thin blade.
"You're losing control. The winner's already decided. Don't force yourself."
My breath hissed out between my teeth.
I pressed my hand to the cut on my arm—
and felt nothing but heat.
The flame hardened my body in ways I didn't recognize.
Losing control?
He has no idea.
I lunged forward with a violent step,
I struck harder—harder than I meant to.
Our blades collided, screamed—
and both katanas tore free from our hands.
Metal spun through the air.
Snow burst under our feet.
Renji closed distance instantly.
Of course he did.
His fist cut toward my jaw;
I met it with my elbow.
Bone hit bone—jolting through my arm—
and we both slid back only a step.
I lunged, knee rising toward his ribs.
He twisted, catching it with his forearm,
and answered with a sharp elbow to my shoulder.
Close range.
No blades.
Just instinct.
A knee shot toward my stomach.
I caught it with both palms
and slammed my elbow toward his temple.
He staggered a little.
Then exhaled.
"Too aggressive," he muttered—
and drove his elbow toward my neck.
He angled his wrist like he always did
before flicking a dagger.
My guard rose by habit—
a mistake he had trained me into making.
But there was no steel.
Just his fist.
His punch slammed into my cheekbone
with the force of someone who had waited
for exactly this mistake.
My vision blurred for a moment.
I stepped back, instinctively searching for him, but Renji was already gone from where he'd been.
My pulse spiked.
Too loud. Too fast.
Each beat thudded against my skull like a drum.
A heaviness dragged at my eyelids,
and a sharp ringing clawed through my ears.
Why did that punch hit so hard?
No…
It wasn't the punch.
Pressure... It's pushing again.
Suddenly he was on my right side.
He came at me with another punch.
Clean, strong strike to my weak spot.
But it was slow for me.
And my body just… moved.
My fingers wrapped around his wrist mid-arc,
stopping the blow cold.
Renji froze.
"Hayato," he whispered,
"dark crimson…
Fifth Flame. Stage Five."