Run.
The word throbbed in Kaito's mind like a drumbeat, drowning out the burning in his lungs and the pain in his torn side.
His legs moved on instinct alone now, crashing through underbrush slick with dew, sliding down moss-slick embankments, scrambling over the tangled roots of ancient trees.
Behind him came the hunters.
Raijin-ke.
Lightning-bonded scouts bred for speed and endurance, trained to track prey across any terrain. He could hear them now, the footfalls light as whispers, blades humming faintly with restrained power.
Kami, he thought. They won't stop until they've found me.
It had been hours since he'd fled the site of the ambush. Hours of blind panic, of adrenaline-fueled survival. He'd eaten nothing. He'd barely drunk.
But still, he ran.
Because to stop was death.
And then suddenly his body betrayed him again.
Without warning, a surge of blistering heat tore through his veins, pooling beneath his skin like molten lead. His breath hitched.
He staggered against a tree, palms pressed to the rough bark.
Steam hissed from his mouth with every gasp.
No… not now!
The ember within him burned hotter with each heartbeat. No matter how he tried to force it down, it swelled, wild and unbound.
Kaito clenched his teeth.
Control it. You have to—
But the heat cared nothing for reason or will.
It wanted out.
With a strangled cry, he exhaled and with it came a dense, swirling wave of steam. Thick tendrils of white vapor burst from his skin, shrouding the surrounding forest.
For a moment, the world vanished.
Mist. Heat. A veil drawn from the depths of his own body.
The Raijin-ke halted.
He heard one scout curse sharply in the distance.
"Too much mist!" another hissed. "Can't see a damn thing!"
Kaito blinked, realization piercing the fog of his panic.
The mist… I made this.
Through the wall of steam, his pursuers' shapes blurred into shadows.
They could no longer track him by sight.
A plan was already half-formed, desperately it took shape in his mind.
If I can't outrun them… I'll vanish.
Breath ragged, he inhaled slowly gradually feeding the ember within.
Another exhale. More steam.
The mist thickened around him until the forest floor vanished beneath swirling white.
Kaito crouched low, body trembling, and moved through the veil he'd conjured—each step light, deliberate.
Mist Veil.
A crude, instinct-born technique. But it would have to be enough.
Minutes passed like hours.
He heard their frustrated voices, their stumbling movements.
But slowly, they drifted away.
And when at last their presence faded, Kaito collapsed beside a fallen log, chest heaving.
The ember still pulsed within him—hotter now.
But the hunters were gone.
For the moment.
How long he lay there, he didn't know.
At some point, the fog thinned, and with it, his awareness returned.
You're alive, he told himself. Barely.
But he knew the next encounter would not be so kind. The Raijin-ke were dangerous, yes—but others would come.
Others who would adapt.
And so, after another agonizing breath, he rose once more.
His body ached with every movement. His side burned. But his legs obeyed.
Kami, he thought. I can't do this alone.
And then fate answered.
A figure waited beneath the shadows of a weathered torii gate, half-hidden by creeping mist.
Tall. Lean. Clad in simple, dark traveling robes.
A single blue cord marked his sleeve—Suijin-ke.
The clan of the Water Blade.
And his presence… was not that of a simple wanderer.
Kaito froze, heart hammering.
But the man spoke before he could flee.
"You leave a trail of boiling blood, boy."
Kaito swallowed, sweat slick on his brow.
"I—" he began, voice hoarse.
But the man turned fully, revealing sharp, weathered features and cold, discerning eyes.
"Ishida Ren," he said simply. "You carry something which Japan has not seen in a thousand years."
Kaito stiffened.
"I didn't ask for this."
"I know." Ren's voice was calm, but edged with iron. "And yet, here you stand. Alive. Dangerous."
A pause.
"You are no longer wholly human."
The words struck deeper than any blade.
Kaito looked away, shame and fear twisting in his gut.
"I—" he choked. "I didn't mean to…"
Ren's gaze softened. "The stone chose you as much as you chose it. But understand this—without control, it will devour you."
Another pause.
"And they will find you. Again."
Kaito met his eyes, voice raw.
"Then what should I do?"
A faint smile touched Ren's lips.
"Survive. Learn. Become more than a weapon."
He extended a hand.
"Come. I will teach you."
Kaito hesitated.
But something—perhaps instinct—told him this was no trick.
And so, trembling, he reached out—and took the swordsman's hand.