Makoto Stands His Ground

The Next Day.

Hōkai brought Sakutarō outside for training. As he had been doing the day before, he was to constantly strike trees until he could decapitate them in one slash.

His hands were blistered, but Hōkai did not care. He wanted to see Sakutarō's resolve and level of determination.

Having been informed by Kotoba when he arrived the evening before, Hōkai allowed him to have further rest this morning. He knew how hard it is to lose a mother, especially having to see them pass away before your very eyes.

This was Sakutarō's second day striking the trees, yet the pump in his back left his muscles forcing their way through his skin. His talent for fighting was clear, but Hōkai knew that perfecting his technique and increasing his strength would turn him into a fighter more fearsome than Daisuke.

"That's it, Sakutarō. Keep striking. Focus. Focus on the technique. It isn't just power. That tree is your past. It contains every hardship and pain you've endured. Cut through it. No matter how long it takes you, destroy it."

Sakutarō couldn't even think about his father or brother. Just Raidon's face. Revenge ran through his veins like a virus.

As the striking continued, Sakutarō realised it was becoming impossible to hold onto the Katana. His hands were brutalised.

"Fine. Enough." Hōkai stated.

In frustration, Sakutarō through his sword at the tree and started to punch at it wildly.

"Fuck you! Fuck you!" Sakutarō cried out as his sent his fists flying into the tree.

"Enough!" Hōkai shouted. However, Sakutarō continued as the tree was being painted by the blood from his wrists.

"You idiot!" Hōkai grabbed Sakutarō from behind and spun him around. In panic, Sakutarō tried to fight him off.

"Stop, Sakutarō. It's fine. It's fine. Relax." Hōkai whispered into his ear, attempting to calm him down.

As Sakutarō's struggle fizzled out, his body became limp as he started to cry.

"I need to get stronger." Sakutarō whimpered.

"I know. That's what I am helping you to do. Trust me, Sakutarō. I won't allow you to fail. There's no such thing as a bad student, just a bad teacher."

"I'm nowhere near Daisuke."

"Of course not. Daisuke has gotten where he is from years of practice. I'm trying to get you to that level in a fraction of the time. You need to control your anger. There's no anger without fear. You need to become fearless."

"But fear can make you stronger."

"If you know how to channel it."

From among Hōkai's house appeared Kotoba.

"Ah! Kotoba. Don't tell me you're shy ready. Come on out." Hōkai said cheerily.

Kotoba walked over, and the shock in his face was unmasked as he saw Sakutarō's bloodly blistered hands.

"Kotoba, take Sakutarō inside and attend to his wounds. We need him fully functioning again as soon as possible."

Kotoba nodded, and placed his arm around Sakutarō's shoulder as he ushered him inside.

From afar, Hōkai could see Makoto making his way to the house. In wait, Hōkai sat down on a boulder.

"How's Kotoba getting on?" Makoto asked.

"I gave him some time to himself this morning. He found out quite a lot yesterday."

"How's he feeling?"

"How do you think, Makoto? His saw his mother's dead body and he probably thinks you are his father."

"Yes, but I'm not."

"He doesn't know that. He and Daisuke are brothers, so of course he would assume they have the same father. You're really in the shit this time, Makoto. I don't envy you."

"It's quite sad to see to be honest." A voice claimed from the trees above. Hōkai and Makoto looked up.

"An old Samurai has-been having relationship issues." Fuka stated sarcastically.

"Who are you?" Makoto demanded to know.

"Oh, I apologise. Let me put it like this. Raidon was responsible for Tōsō, and I was responsible for Genji." Fuka started to laugh hysterically, falling backwards out the tree onto the ground. As he landed on his back, it increased his laughter even more.

"You son of a bitch!" Makoto drew his sword and launched at Fuka, he remained flat on the ground.

As Makoto struck downwards, Fuka shifted his zweihänder infront of his body, blocking the strike.

"Come on, old man. Don't make me laugh even more. I think I'll die."

Fuka kicked upwards, causing Makoto to jump back in caution.

"I won't even need to use my Tokihanatsu," Fuka stated, "I want this kill all to myself."

"Hōkai, go inside and make sure they don't come out." Makoto commanded.

Hōkai nodded and rushed inside.

Under the early morning glow, Makoto stood in a defensive stance, his Katana poised to strike. Across from him, Fuka loomed like a dark shadow, wielding his massive zweihänder with ease. The air between them crackled with tension as they prepared to clash.

Makoto moved with the precision of a silent breeze, his movements swift and graceful. He darted in and out, striking with lightning speed, aiming to exploit any opening in Fuka's defense. But Fuka was a force to be reckoned with, wielding his zweihänder with raw power and brute force. Each swing was like a thunderous clap, threatening to shatter Makoto's defenses.

Their swords clashed with a resounding clang, the energy from their swords sending the surrounding branches wild. Makoto danced around Fuka, his movements calculated, while Fuka's attacks were heavy and relentless. The clash of steel filled the air, each strike sending sparks flying.

Despite Makoto's agility and skill, Fuka's sheer strength began to wear him down. Blow after blow rained down upon him, each one pushing him further and further back. Sweat beaded on Makoto's face as he fought to hold his ground, his muscles straining against the onslaught.

But just as it seemed that Fuka would overpower him, Makoto launched a surprise counterattack. With a sudden burst of speed, he ducked under Fuka's blade and delivered a powerful strike to his opponent's side. Fuka staggered back, momentarily stunned by the unexpected blow.

Seizing the opportunity, Makoto pressed his advantage. He darted forward, his Katana slicing through the air like a streak of silver. But Fuka recovered quickly, swinging his zweihänder with all his might. The force of the blow sent Makoto stumbling back, his Katana slipping from his grasp and clattering to the ground.

As Fuka raised his zweihänder for the finishing blow, a sudden blur of movement caught his eye. Before he could react, another sword intercepted his strike