The tension in the air was palpable as Hikaru faced Izuru once more, the conflict between them reaching its boiling point. Without hesitation, Hikaru nocked another arrow, his hands steady but his mind racing. In a split-second decision, he released, sending the projectile hurtling through the dimly lit hallway.
Izuru, his sharp blue hair catching the faint light, moved like lightning. The arrow whizzed past him, missing its target entirely as he darted forward. With deadly precision, Izuru closed the distance, his gaze locked onto Hikaru.
Hikaru leaped backward, attempting to gain distance, but Izuru was faster. Grabbing Hikaru by the collar with a firm grip, Izuru slammed his forehead into Hikaru's skull with bone-cracking force. The impact sent Hikaru flying backward, his body tumbling across the ground. He groaned in pain as his momentum finally stopped, leaving him bruised and battered, his clothes torn and dirtied.
Izuru stood tall, his laughter echoing ominously through the hallway. The menacing sound was a mix of amusement and cruelty, feeding his twisted sense of dominance. As Hikaru struggled to his feet, his breaths ragged, Izuru casually approached a rusted wall and yanked a metal pipe free with a sharp pull.
Twisting the pipe in his hands with an almost playful motion, Izuru crouched low. He pressed the cold steel against his cheek, running his other hand along its length, imitating the stance of Hina with unnerving perfection. His every movement oozed confidence, mocking Hikaru silently before he lunged forward with explosive speed.
The pipe came crashing down, aiming squarely for Hikaru's ribs. The archer barely had time to react as the weapon connected with a sickening crack, forcing a pained roar from his lips. Hikaru staggered, clutching his side, but Izuru gave him no time to recover. Blow after blow rained down, the relentless assault pushing Hikaru to his limits.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA! IS THAT ALL YOU'VE GOT, HIKARU?" Izuru bellowed, his voice filled with devilish glee. He followed up with a brutal kick to Hikaru's face, the impact sending him sprawling down the hallway.
Hikaru hit the ground hard, his vision blurring from the sheer force of the attack. Blood trickled from a fresh cut above his brow, and his body ached from the unrelenting beating. Yet, somewhere deep inside him, a fire still burned—a resolve that refused to be extinguished.
As Izuru loomed closer, twirling the metal rod once again, The metallic clang of the rod twirling in Izuru's hand echoed through the corridor as he smirked, exuding confidence. Hikaru, however, stood firm, his eyes narrowing in irritation as the situation spiraled further out of control. The bruises on his body throbbed with pain, but he pushed it aside, focusing on the battle.
With a sharp inhale, Hikaru grabbed another arrow from his quiver. Without hesitation, he notched it and fired, but this time, something unusual happened. As the single arrow soared through the air, it split mid-flight, multiplying into 30 gleaming projectiles.
Izuru's smug expression faltered as confusion flickered across his face. "What the hell—?" he muttered, instinctively raising his metal rod to deflect the incoming swarm. The pipe swung with precision, knocking several arrows away, but not all. The remaining arrows grazed his arms and legs, drawing thin red lines of blood.
Just as Izuru regained his balance, the arrows he had deflected reversed course, whizzing back toward him like homing missiles. One grazed his back, tearing through his shirt and leaving a fresh gash. He staggered forward, biting back a curse as his stern gaze shifted to Hikaru.
"How the hell did he do that?" Izuru muttered to himself, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth.
Hikaru, breathing heavily, stumbled forward but caught himself before collapsing. He stared at Izuru weakly, gripping his metal bow tightly. A flicker of doubt crossed his mind—he didn't fully understand how he had done that either. This strange ability of his had surfaced in moments of desperation before, but never with such precision or power. It felt instinctive, like an extension of his will.
Hikaru's gaze shifted upward, noticing for the first time the towering height of the ceiling—nearly 50 feet above them. A plan began to form in his mind. Slowly, he raised his bow, his fingers trembling as they gripped another arrow.
Izuru, noticing the motion, smirked and began walking toward him. "You think you're going to pull that trick off again?" he taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Look at you—you're about to drop dead. You don't have anything left." His laugh echoed coldly through the hallway.
But his amusement abruptly stopped when Hikaru notched not one, but two arrows. With a sharp pull of the string, Hikaru shot both into the air. The arrows soared high, seeming to vanish into the shadows above.
Izuru's smirk twisted into a scowl as he stopped in his tracks. "What now?" he muttered, his instincts screaming that something was wrong.
A second later, the arrows split mid-air, multiplying into a storm of 100 shimmering projectiles. The arrows hung in the air for a brief moment, as if suspended by an invisible force, before plummeting downward in a deadly rain of steel.
Izuru let out a sharp "Tch!" as he scrambled to deflect the onslaught, swinging his metal rod in a blur of motion. Sparks flew as the pipe collided with arrows, but there were too many. The arrows seemed alive, moving with precision as they swarmed around him, nicking his arms, legs, and back.
"Damn it!" Izuru roared, his frustration mounting. But before he could mount a counterattack, the arrows froze mid-air once again, hovering ominously just above him.
Hikaru, his breathing ragged, raised his free hand. With a single motion, he guided the floating arrows upward, gathering them into a single mass. Izuru's eyes widened in horror as Hikaru, with a flick of his hand, directed the swarm straight downward.
The arrows descended with terrifying speed, slamming into Izuru in a relentless barrage. He dropped his metal pipe and staggered under the assault, his body covered in scratches and small cuts. Unable to withstand the onslaught, he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
As silence filled the corridor, Hikaru lowered his hand, his legs trembling. The battle had drained him completely. He glanced down at the metal pipe, now rolling slowly across the floor toward him. With a weak sigh, he kicked it away and collapsed onto his back, utterly spent.
"Try… to copy that…" Hikaru muttered, his voice barely audible as his vision darkened. He passed out moments later, his body finally succumbing to exhaustion.
Outside the School
The night was heavy with tension as Shoto stood outside the school building, his eyes wide with fear. Across from him, Tetsuya loomed like a shadow, his scarred face illuminated by the dim streetlights. Tetsuya's expression was calm, but his eyes held a cold, unyielding determination.
With a slow, deliberate motion, Tetsuya waved his hand, beckoning Shoto forward. "Come on," he said, his voice low but commanding. "Let's finish what we started."
Shoto hesitated, his breath quickening as adrenaline coursed through his veins. But before he could step forward, a sharp pain shot through his back.
Neko, perched on the school rooftop, loosed an arrow that struck Shoto cleanly between the shoulder blades. The impact sent him lurching forward.
The last of his adrenaline-fueled ego started to get boosted up to his max as his greenish eyes began to dull. His muscles tensed, beginning to growl like he is a wild animal in the woods.
'Tetsuya' watched the scene with a stern expression, unfazed. Slowly, he shrugged off his school uniform jacket, revealing the lean, toned frame of a fighter who had been through countless battles.
The fight was about to begin.