SOLE SURVIVOR

*Chapter 2: The Sole Survivor*
The smell of herbs and blood woke him up.
Hikaru’s eyes snapped open to wooden rafters. Bandages wrapped his ribs, his arms, his face. His whole body felt like one giant bruise. A katana leaned against the wall beside his futon — his father’s. Mamoru’s katana.
“Awake?”
Kurogane sat by the door, sharpening a blade. He didn’t look up. 
Hikaru tried to sit. Pain ripped through his side. “Where’s Mom? Where’s Mr. Daichi? The other students—”
“Dead.” Kurogane said it flat, like reading weather. “You’re the only one who made it out.”
The words didn’t make sense. “No. You were there. You could’ve—”
“I got there late.” Kurogane finally looked at him. His eyes were dead calm. “Barriers take time to break. I only had time for one.”
Hikaru’s throat closed. “Why me? Why didn’t you save them too?”
Kurogane stood and tossed a wooden bokken onto Hikaru’s futon. It thudded against his legs. “You want to blame me? Get strong enough to say it to my face.”
He walked out. No comfort. No apology. 
*One week later.*
“You can leave the barrier,” Kurogane explained while Hikaru struggled to stand. “Demons can’t. That’s the rule. Your village was sealed for 24 hours. Kage used that time to kill everyone.”
Hikaru gripped the bokken. His hands shook. “Kage…”
“Will be free in days. Weeks, maybe. Barriers don’t hold high-tier demons forever.” Kurogane smacked Hikaru’s stance correct with a bamboo stick. “Your dad was a Shadow Blade. One of the best. He died because he looked away for one second.”
Hikaru swung. Missed. Fell to his knees. “I can’t even lift Dad’s katana.”
“Then get strong enough to.” Kurogane’s voice was iron. “Speed. Precision. No wasted movement. That’s all that matters.”
*Year 1, Age 14: Broken.*
Blisters. Blood. Face in the dirt every single day. Nightmares of Kisaragi every night — Kage’s grin, his mom’s scream. 
Kurogane worked him until he puked. “Again.” Sparring. Katas. Running until his lungs burned. “Again.” “Your dad died because he looked away. You don’t get to look away.”
Hikaru couldn’t lift Mamoru’s katana. Couldn’t even draw it without his arms shaking. 
*Year 2, Age 15: Awakening.*
Kurogane sent him on his first training mission. Lesser demons in an abandoned district.
The first one lunged. It had red eyes. Like Kage.
Hikaru froze. The demon’s claws raked his arm. Blood.
Kurogane’s hand cracked across his face. “That’s not him. Cut what’s in front of you.”
Something snapped in Hikaru. He moved. One clean draw. The demon’s head hit the ground before it knew it was dead.
When he got back to the dojo, other students were there. Older. Stronger. They sneered at the new kid.
Hikaru beat every single one. 
That night, for the first time, he drew Mamoru’s katana halfway. His arms shook, but he held it. 
*Year 3, Age 16: Finished.*
He cut falling leaves. Then falling rain. Then nothing — just air, but the training stand behind him split in two. 
His iaijutsu was clean. No wasted movement. 
Kurogane stopped holding back in spars. They fought to draws now. To stalemates. 
On his last mission, Hikaru hunted three lesser demons alone. Came back covered in blood. His eyes were calm. He didn’t scream anymore. He didn’t shake.
Dawn.
Hikaru packed light. Plain clothes. Mamoru’s katana at his hip, wrapped in new black cloth. One scar cut through his eyebrow. Sixteen years old, lean like coiled wire, with eyes that had seen too much. 
Kurogane stood at the dojo gate, arms crossed. 
“Hikaru.”
Hikaru stopped. Didn’t turn. 
Kurogane was quiet for a long time. Then: “Your dad would be pissed if you died chasing his ghost.”
Hikaru’s hand tightened on the katana’s wrap. He didn’t answer. He just walked.
The sun rose over the mountains. A 16-year-old boy with a Toji build headed for the city gates.
To register as a demon hunter.
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*Author Note:* Next: THE DEAL