Echoes of the Past

Haruki could barely keep his breath steady. Every part of his body screamed in protest, but he forced himself to ignore it. Kain was too strong—too fast—but that didn’t mean he was invincible. There had to be a way to take him down.

Kain, however, looked almost amused. He flexed his fingers, the wound on his arm from Haruki’s knife already closing as if it had never existed. The eerie glow of his crimson eyes never left Haruki’s, filled with something between curiosity and condescension.

"You’re still standing," Kain mused, tilting his head slightly. "Most people would’ve given up by now."

Haruki wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. "Most people aren’t me."

Kain chuckled. "That’s true." His expression darkened slightly, the amusement fading just a little. "But that’s also why you’re going to suffer more than the others."

Haruki barely had time to register the words before Kain moved again.

A blur. A gust of displaced air. Then—

Pain.

A fist crashed into Haruki’s ribs, sending him skidding backward, his feet barely managing to keep him upright. The force was unlike anything he had ever felt—like getting hit by a car at full speed. He coughed, tasting iron in his mouth, but refused to fall.

Kain didn’t stop.

In an instant, he was behind Haruki, grabbing his collar and yanking him backward before slamming him into the ground with brutal efficiency. The impact sent cracks through the pavement beneath them.

Haruki groaned, his head swimming.

"Your resilience is impressive," Kain admitted, standing over him. "But you’re going to break eventually."

Haruki glared up at him, his breathing ragged but his defiance burning hotter than ever. "Shut up and fight."

Kain smirked. "As you wish."

He lifted his foot, aiming for Haruki’s ribs—

But Haruki was ready this time.

He twisted his body at the last second, sweeping Kain’s legs out from under him. Kain staggered slightly, just enough for Haruki to roll away and get back on his feet.

Haruki lunged, slashing with his knife.

Kain caught his wrist.

For a brief moment, their eyes locked—Haruki’s filled with unwavering determination, Kain’s with something unreadable.

Then, suddenly—

A flicker of something in Kain’s gaze.

A hesitation.

And with it—

A memory.

The scent of fresh rain. The soft hum of laughter. A girl’s voice, light and teasing.

"Kain, you’re always so serious."

He turned, frowning slightly. She was sitting on the old wooden fence, her dark hair swaying in the breeze, her legs swinging carelessly. The fields stretched out behind her, endless and golden under the evening sun.

He crossed his arms. "I’m not serious. I’m focused."

She giggled. "That’s just another way of saying serious."

He sighed, shaking his head. "You wouldn’t understand."

She tilted her head, a small smile on her lips. "Maybe not. But I know you, Kain. And I know that deep down, you don’t want to be like this forever."

He stared at her, something tightening in his chest. "Like what?"

She leaned forward, her voice softer now. "Alone."

The memory shattered as quickly as it came.

Kain’s grip on Haruki’s wrist faltered for a fraction of a second.

And Haruki took advantage of it.

He yanked his arm free and drove his knee into Kain’s stomach. The impact forced Kain back a step, his expression unreadable.

Haruki didn’t stop—he pressed forward, slashing with his knife again and again, forcing Kain to block each strike. The hesitation in Kain’s movements didn’t last long, but it was there. And Haruki was determined to exploit it.

"You hesitated," Haruki growled between attacks. "Why?"

Kain didn’t answer. His eyes flickered slightly, as if something was lingering just beyond his reach.

Haruki narrowed his eyes. "Who was she?"

Kain’s expression darkened instantly.

And in the next breath, his hesitation vanished.

With a sudden burst of speed, he caught Haruki’s arm and twisted it, forcing him to drop the knife.

"You don’t know what you’re talking about," Kain said coldly.

Haruki winced but didn’t back down. "I think I do."

Kain’s grip tightened.

And then, without another word, he flung Haruki backward.

The fight wasn’t over.

Not yet.