When they finally stopped, the thunderclouds above slowly faded, dissolving into the quiet sky. The battle had ended—but not the fire between them. A fierce competition still lingered, one that hadn't been settled by fists or blades. It was in their eyes—sharp, focused, and unyielding. The kind of rivalry that runs deeper than victory.
In mere milliseconds, Tanjiro vanished, leaving behind only the echo of his presence. And just as quickly, Ichigo disappeared too—like the wind had taken them both.
Later that night, Ichigo lay in bed, silent, eyes heavy with thought. The weight of the day clung to him. Moments later, Mr. Kael returned home.
Ichigo, barely lifting his head, spoke softly:"You were right… there's still so much I need to learn. So many things I didn't even realize I was missing."
And with that, his eyes closed, and sleep took him instantly.
Mr. Kael stood beside him, gazing down with quiet humility. His expression softened. In that still moment, he saw a reflection of himself—raw, driven, searching.
He smiled gently and whispered,"You're a fascinating one... I was just like you at your age."
As Ichigo's eyes fluttered shut again, the world around him slowly dissolved.
This time, the dream didn't wait.
He found himself standing in a temple—old, abandoned, half-swallowed by nature. Vines curled around shattered pillars, and a warm golden light filtered in from cracks in the ceiling. The air smelled of rain and old memories.
In the center of the temple stood a sword, plunged deep into stone. Ancient markings shimmered faintly along the blade. As he approached it, each step echoed louder than the last.
Whispers began—soft at first, like wind through leaves. Then words.
"He walks the same path... will he make the same mistakes?"
"The past watches him."
Ichigo's hand reached out on its own, drawn to the sword. Just before his fingers touched the hilt, a voice boomed through the temple.
"Not yet."
He turned sharply. At the far end of the hall stood a younger version of Mr. Kael—battle-worn, eyes fierce but tired, cloak torn from war.
Ichigo stared. "You…"
Kael's younger self stepped forward, slow and steady, like a shadow returning to its source.
"This place… it's not just memory," Kael said, voice echoing with both age and youth. "It's a crossroad."
Ichigo looked back at the sword. "What is this? What do you mean?"
Kael's image faded into mist, but his words lingered—faint, almost woven into the stone itself.
"Before power… must come purpose. And before purpose… pain."
Back in the real world, Ichigo stirred. His hand twitched beneath the blanket, fingers curling slightly, as if he could still feel the sword's hilt.
Mr. Kael watched from the doorway, silent, one hand resting on the doorframe.
He didn't smile this time.
He simply whispered to himself, "The temple… he saw it."
And in that moment, the past, the present, and the future all quietly turned their gaze toward Ichigo.
Years Ago — The Temple
The wind howled through the canyon like a wounded beast. Sand whipped through the air, biting at skin and eyes. A younger Kael stood at the edge of a cliff, his cloak torn, boots cracked from the long journey. His eyes—sharp, proud, desperate—were fixed on the ancient structure below.
The temple.
He descended in silence, heart pounding. Not from fear, but from hunger—the need to prove himself, to rise above the shadow of those who came before him.
The doors creaked open at his touch, ancient hinges groaning like they remembered every soul who had ever entered... and every one who never came back.
Inside, it was dark, but not dead. Candles burned in places untouched by time. The air was thick with something unseen—pressure, maybe. Memory.
He walked toward the center, where the sword stood—buried in stone, waiting.
He didn't hesitate.
Fingers curled around the hilt.
And then—voices.
Cold. Distant. Endless.
"You are not ready.""You seek power, but power is not what you need.""You will fall."
Kael gritted his teeth and pulled.
The sword resisted.
He pulled harder. Shadows writhed on the walls, forming shapes—visions of people he had lost. Friends. Mentors. Enemies. Himself.
He screamed and yanked again, this time with rage. The stone cracked. The ground trembled. The sword came free—but not cleanly. A shockwave exploded outward, slamming Kael back against the temple wall.
He lay there, bleeding, eyes wide.
The sword now pulsed in his hand—but it was different. Cold. Heavy. As if it had taken something from him in return.
From the shadows, an older voice spoke:
"You took it... but you didn't earn it."
Kael turned his head and saw no one—but he knew. That voice would haunt him for years.
Present Day
Kael sat alone in the dimly lit room, staring at the same sword now sealed away behind glass.
He could still feel it—how it had changed him.
Then came footsteps. Ichigo appeared at the door, holding a small notebook, hesitant but determined.
"I want to train," he said.
Kael looked up slowly, then gave a small nod.
"Then let's begin. But not to seek power… not this time."
Ichigo nodded, eyes clear.
"To seek purpose."
And so, it began again—but this time, Kael would not let the past repeat.
The courtyard was silent, bathed in the soft orange glow of dawn. Ichigo stood barefoot on the stone, eyes closed, breathing slow—trying to quiet the noise inside him. But the dream still clung to his skin. The sword. The voice. The temple.
Mr. Kael stood across from him, arms crossed, gaze unreadable. "Today, you don't train to fight," he said. "You train to feel."
Ichigo opened his eyes. "Feel what?"
Kael didn't answer. Instead, he flicked his fingers—and the world around them shifted.
The courtyard cracked like glass.
In an instant, Ichigo found himself standing in the middle of a battlefield. Burning skies. Shadows moving like smoke. A memory? A vision? He couldn't tell.
Something was coming. Fast.
He turned to Kael—only he wasn't there anymore.
The air grew colder. The shadows began to speak.
"You're not him."
"You're weaker."
"You'll break like he did."
Ichigo's fists clenched. His breath hitched. This wasn't training. This was a test—and the battlefield wasn't around him.
It was inside.
And somewhere in that chaos… the sword was waiting.
To be continued........