"Strength is strength."
Nathan's cold black eyes remained fixed on Morosuke as he said it, his voice quiet and flat, carrying none of the heat of victory. He stood over the fallen man with Kyomei poised at his throat, the black blade still wet with blood, its edge pressed close enough to draw a thin red line across the skin.
Morosuke glared back at him from the bottom of the crater.
He had just lost a hand. Blood still poured from the ragged stump, soaking the dirt beneath him, and yet there was nothing broken in his expression. Pain was there, yes, burning through the tightness in his face and the strain in his breathing, but behind it lived something fiercer. A savage refusal to bend.
"Kill me, ronin," he said through clenched teeth. "You'd better kill me."
Nathan looked down at him in silence.
