The wind screamed in Yuki's ears.
Fifty thousand feet. Maybe more. He'd lost track. All he knew was the ground rushing up—a wall of green growing larger by the second, trees that rose like skyscrapers, their canopies blurring into an endless emerald sea.
He couldn't balance.
Every time he tried to orient himself, the wind slammed him sideways, twisting his body like a ragdoll in a hurricane. His arms flailed. His legs kicked uselessly. The bag with the dagger had slipped from his shoulder and now hung by one strap, whipping against his side.
I'm going to die.
I'm actually going to die.
He caught a glimpse of Lord Genji and Tetsu falling above him—silhouettes against the pale blue sky, calm as stones dropped into water.
Tetsu's skin had already turned grey.
Stone skin. Of course. He could survive a meteor impact.
Genji's arms were slightly outstretched, his fingers moving almost imperceptibly, like a conductor guiding an invisible orchestra.
What's he doing?
Yuki didn't have time to wonder.
The trees were right there.
He threw his arms up, crossing them over his face like a shield, bracing for impact. His heart slammed against his ribs. His eyes squeezed shut.
This is it.
This is how it ends.
Thrown out of a plane by a stone man over the Amazon—
CRACK—
The trees gave way.
Not from his impact. They parted, like curtains drawn aside, revealing a narrow gap of open air between the canopy and the forest floor. Vines lashed out from every direction—thick as pythons, green and pulsing with life.
They caught him.
Wrapped around his torso. His arms. His legs. Jerked him to a halt so abruptly his teeth clacked together and his vision went white.
What—
He hung there, suspended, swaying gently, like a fly in a spider's web.
Slowly, he opened his eyes.
The ground was ten feet below. Grassy. Rocky. Very, very solid.
He was alive.
He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.
To his left, Lord Genji descended gracefully, vines lowering him like an elevator. He landed without a sound, hands still clasped behind his back, expression utterly unbothered.
The vines holding Yuki released him without warning.
He dropped face-first into the dirt.
"Oof—"
He pushed himself up immediately, spitting out grass, patting his body to make sure everything was still attached. Arms? Yes. Legs? Yes. Heart? Beating so fast it might explode, but beating.
"I thought I was dead," he said, looking up at Genji. "That was—was that your Kizo? The same as Seri's?"
Lord Genji nodded once.
"Obviously. She's my daughter. Most Kizo are inherited."
Yuki looked around. "Where's Tetsu?"
As if on cue, a thunderous crash echoed through the forest.
Tetsu plummeted through the canopy, through the trees—branches snapping, trunks splintering, whole limbs torn from their moorings. He hit the ground like a meteor, the impact creating a shockwave that sent dirt and debris flying in every direction.
BOOM.
Yuki raised an arm to shield his face.
When the dust settled, Tetsu stood in the center of a crater—easily fifteen feet wide, the ground cracked and splintered around him. His stone skin was scuffed but intact. He stepped out of the hole, shook off the debris, and his skin faded back to normal.
Yuki stared at him.
He fell fifty thousand feet. Hit the ground. Made a crater.
And he's fine.
Tetsu caught his gaze and shrugged. "Stone skin helps."
"Stone skin," Yuki repeated weakly. "Right."
Only now did Yuki truly look at his surroundings.
The Amazon was alive.
Not in the metaphorical sense—literally alive. The air hummed with ki so dense it felt like breathing warm honey. Trees rose toward the sky like ancient pillars, their trunks wider than cars, their canopies blocking out everything but scattered patches of blue. Vines hung like curtains. Flowers bloomed in impossible colors—deep purple, electric blue, blood red.
And the sounds—
Birds he'd never heard before. Insects chittering. Somewhere in the distance, a deep, guttural roar that could only belong to something big.
He turned to Lord Genji.
"Why the Amazon? I thought we were going to the ancestral mountains."
Genji studied him for a long moment.
"Any ordinary student," he said finally, "I would take to the mountains. But you are not ordinary."
Yuki waited.
"You are a Kinatarou. Living legends. Warriors descended from beasts that once ruled this world." Genji's voice was flat, matter-of-fact. "Your training must be worthy of that bloodline. The mountains would be too easy. Too safe."
He gestured to the forest around them.
"This place will try to kill you every second of every day. And if you survive—when you survive—you will emerge stronger than any mountain could make you."
Yuki absorbed this.
Then he asked, "So why are you training me? You could've said no."
Genji's eyes flickered—just barely.
"Two reasons. First, because you are a Kinatarou. Training a member of your bloodline brings honor to my family. Second..."
He paused.
"My daughter has taken a liking to you."
Yuki's face went red.
Genji smiled—a small, knowing smile that made Yuki's blush deepen.
"If you perform well in this training," Genji continued, "I will personally ensure Seri is in your bed when we return."
Yuki's brain short-circuited.
"I—that's—you can't just—SERI WOULD KILL ME—"
Genji had already turned and started walking.
Tetsu followed.
Yuki stood there, face burning, mouth opening and closing like a fish.
Then he shook his head and ran after them.
The forest was thick. Walking was hard.
Roots twisted across the ground like hidden traps. Vines snagged at clothing. The air was so humid it felt like breathing underwater.
Yuki noticed that Genji moved effortlessly—plants seemed to lean away from him, clearing a path without him breaking stride. Tetsu walked with heavy, deliberate steps, his skin faintly greyed, thorns and barbs scraping harmlessly against him.
Yuki had neither of those advantages.
His arm brushed against a flower.
He barely felt it—just a tiny prick, like a needle. He didn't even look down.
They walked another ten seconds.
Then the world tilted.
Yuki stopped walking.
His vision blurred. His head felt like it was filled with cotton.
"Lord Genji...?" His voice came out wrong. Slurred. Distant.
Both men turned.
Tetsu's eyes narrowed. "Looks like he already got pricked."
Yuki touched his face. His fingers came away wet.
Blood.
His nose was bleeding. His eyes were watering—no, bleeding, thin red streams running down his cheeks. His ears rang. The forest sounds faded into a muffled roar.
He couldn't smell anything.
Couldn't hear anything.
Couldn't—
His knees buckled.
The ground rushed up to meet him.
Again?
Darkness swallowed him before he hit the dirt.
Lord Genji looked down at the unconscious boy.
Vines had already begun to creep toward him—drawn by the scent of blood, perhaps. Genji's Kizo pulsed faintly, and the vines retreated, curling back into the undergrowth.
Weak.
That was the word that came to mind.
Not weak in the way Yuki feared—not weak in ki or strength or will. Weak in ignorance. He didn't know the forest. Didn't know how to move through it, how to avoid its dangers, how to recognize a poison bloom before it pricked him.
Genji had been using his Kizo the entire time—pushing plants aside, neutralizing toxins, making the forest safe for himself.
Tetsu had hardened his skin, just enough to turn aside thorns and barbs.
Yuki had walked into the Amazon like it was a city park.
Foolish, Genji thought. But not surprising. He's never been anywhere like this.
Tetsu crouched beside Yuki, two fingers pressed to the boy's neck. After a moment, he looked up.
"He's alive. Pulse is steady. The toxin isn't lethal—just paralytic. He'll wake in a few hours."
Genji nodded.
"Leave him."
Tetsu's brow furrowed. "Sir?"
"Leave him here. We will not help him. He will survive on his own, or he will die." Genji's voice was cold, final. "That is the training."
Tetsu looked at the unconscious boy—the boy who had come back day after day to face him in the garden, broken and bleeding, refusing to stay down. The boy who had grinned through broken ribs and called it "fun."
He liked Yuki.
Not many people Tetsu liked.
"Sir... the jungle—"
"Will teach him more than we ever could." Genji turned and began walking in the opposite direction. "He will find us. Or he won't."
Tetsu hesitated.
Then he stood and followed his master.
Neither looked back.
Nagoya, Japan — Kinatarou Machiya
The afternoon sun slanted through the paper screens, casting warm geometric patterns across the tatami.
Yukari sat on the floor, legs crossed, arms folded, watching Luna stand at attention before her.
The girl was timid. A crybaby, still, even after everything—the docks, the warehouse, Giyu's cruelty. She flinched at sudden noises. She clung to Yuki's sleeve like a lifeline.
Yuki spoiled her too much.
Yukari understood why. Luna had been through hell. She needed softness. Needed to feel safe.
But softness didn't keep you alive.
"Luna."
"Yes, onee-chan!" Luna snapped to attention like a soldier—Yukari had taught her that last week, and she'd taken it very seriously.
"Yuki won't be back for a while," Yukari said. "He's on a training vacation, as he calls it. He's getting stronger."
Luna nodded solemnly.
"He's a Kinatarou," Yukari continued. "Every Kinatarou must be strong. That includes you."
Luna's eyes widened.
"Yuki and I weren't sure if you had a Kizo," Yukari said. "But recently, the amount of ki I've been sensing from you is... massive. You definitely have one. We just don't know what it is yet."
She uncrossed her arms and leaned forward.
"I'm going to teach you how to fight. Train you. Make you stronger." Her blue eyes locked onto Luna's. "We're warriors, Luna. We're Kinatarou. There will be no weak blood in this family."
Luna swallowed. "What... what kind of training?"
"When Yuki gets back, both of you will participate in Ikinokori Gēmu."
Luna tilted her head. "Ikinokori... Gēmu?"
"The Survival Game," Yukari said. "It's a ritual in the Kinatarou family. A coming-of-age ceremony. When every Kinatarou turns ten, fifty skilled assassins are hired to kill them. The Kinatarou wins when they've defeated all fifty."
Luna tensed.
Yukari noticed. She didn't soften her voice.
"Yuki couldn't do it when he turned ten. Giyu had him locked up. And you're already ten." She paused. "Satoshi informed me that you'll both do the ritual at the same time. Together."
"Together?" Luna whispered.
"A hundred skilled assassins," Yukari said. "Fifty for you. Fifty for Yuki. You'll both have to survive."
The room was very quiet.
"But don't worry." Yukari reached out and ruffled Luna's hair—gentler than her voice. "I'll teach you to fight. With that much ki, your Kizo is bound to be amazing. You're not weak, Luna. You just don't know how strong you are yet."
Luna's hands, which had been trembling, slowly steadied.
"Okay," she said. "Teach me."
Ding-dong.
The doorbell chimed.
Yukari groaned and pushed herself up. She padded to the entrance and slid the door open.
A girl stood on the threshold.
She was beautiful in the way old money was beautiful—refined, elegant, untouchable. Black hair fell past her shoulders, a single golden lock curving beside her face. Golden eyes behind thin-rimmed glasses. A white dress that probably cost more than the entire machiya.
Her presence screamed royalty.
Yukari didn't flinch. Her own presence screamed louder.
"Sophia Uzushi," Yukari said flatly.
Sophia bowed slightly—respectful, measured.
"I came to see Yuki. Is he home?"
"He left. Training. Won't be back for months."
Sophia's expression didn't change.
But her eyes watered.
Just a little.
"I see," she said, her voice still steady. "I didn't even get to thank him."
Yukari studied her for a moment. The stiffness in her shoulders. The way her hands clasped too tightly in front of her.
She's holding it together.
Yukari sighed.
"Come inside. I'll cook you something."
Sophia looked up, surprised.
Yukari's expression read: I don't care if you want to eat or not.
But beneath the haughty mask, there was kindness. The same kindness that made her stay up all night when Yuki had nightmares. The same kindness that made her adopt a strange, silent girl she'd never met.
Sophia smiled—small, genuine—and stepped inside.
Not ten minutes later, another knock.
Yukari groaned louder this time and yanked the door open.
Hana stood there, arms crossed, brown eyes sharp.
"Where's Yuki?"
"Not here. Left for training. He's an idiot who didn't tell anyone." Yukari leaned against the doorframe. "Anything else?"
Hana's eye twitched. "I'm going to kill him."
"That's fair."
From inside, Luna's voice rang out: "HANA!"
The little girl sprinted past Yukari and crashed into Hana's legs, wrapping her arms around her waist. Hana's glare melted instantly. She hugged Luna back, then looked up at Yukari.
"Can I come in?"
Yukari stepped aside.
As Hana entered, she saw Sophia sitting at the low table, a cup of tea in her hands. Their eyes met.
Neither spoke.
But they didn't need to.
They were both here because of the same idiot.
Lunch was quiet.
Not uncomfortable—just quiet.
Yukari had made a simple rice bowl with grilled fish and vegetables. She ate properly, chopsticks precise, posture perfect. Hana ate like someone who'd forgotten to have breakfast. Sophia picked at her food, every movement elegant. Luna sat between Hana and Sophia, happily eating everything in sight.
Four girls.
Four different worlds.
Brought together by one boy who was currently unconscious in one of the most dangerous forests on earth.
None of them knew.
Yukari glanced at Sophia. "So. Why did you need to thank him?" She asked even though she already had an idea of what happened.
Sophia set down her chopsticks.
"He saved me," she said simply. "From an arranged marriage. From a man who would have... hurt me." Her golden eyes drifted to the window. "He didn't have to. We weren't close. But he did it anyway."
Hana stopped eating.
She thought about the money he gave her. The restaurant she and her aunt had started.
He does that, she thought. He just... saves people. Like it's nothing.
Luna looked up at Sophia. "Yuki-nii is a hero."
Sophia smiled—a sad, soft smile.
"Yes," she said. "He is."
Yukari said nothing.
She just ate her rice and thought about the boy who had been locked in a stone room for ten years and had somehow come out still willing to save everyone except himself.
He's not a hero, she thought.
He's a fool who doesn't know how to stop.
But she loved him anyway.
Outside the window, the afternoon sun began its slow descent toward the horizon.
In Nagoya, four girls sat around a table, bound by threads they didn't fully understand.
In the Amazon, a boy lay unconscious in the dirt, blood drying on his face, alone in the green darkness.
The forest watched him.
And waited.