I sprinted through the forest, every sense pushed to its limit. My eyes scanned constantly, flicking from shadow to shadow, while my ears strained for even the slightest disturbance from the east, west, north, or south. Nothing slipped past me.
A red mark came into view, painted across the rough bark of a nearby trunk. I lunged toward it, arm outstretched, right before my fingers could tap it, a rock tore through the air at mach-fuck speed, aimed straight for my head.
My body reacted before my mind could catch up.
I halted mid-step and dropped low, the projectile slicing past where my skull had been a split second ago. Gravel crunched beneath my shoes as I pivoted, adjusting my footing just in time to weave through another volley. One rock. Two. Five. A barrage.
Then, silence.
I exhaled sharply.
"Yeah, I'm really gonna have to bust my ass to survive this shit."
As insane as it was, this kind of activity had sharpened me more than anything else. It kept me alive, kept me fast, aware, and adaptable even without the suit. And honestly, I liked it.
But Isadora's idea of training had a nasty habit of crossing the line into attempted murder.
Last time, she threw kitchen knives for fun, and before that, I nearly face-planted into a pit full of horse shit she rigged up like some kind of medieval prank. Compared to those, today's setup felt almost merciful.
For now, at least.
I tapped the red mark and immediately moved on, grabbing hold of a nearby trunk and hauling myself upward. My muscles coiled and released as I leapt from branch to branch, swinging forward like some off-brand Tarzan.
The wind rushed past my ears.
I landed on a thick-looking branch.
But it snapped instantly beneath my weight.
"Tch. Rigged."
I twisted mid-air, reaching out just in time to catch another branch before gravity could drag me down. My fingers bit into the bark as my body swung, momentum threatening to rip my grip loose, but I held.
Pulling myself up, I glanced around, recalibrating.
So she's playing that game now.
Fine.
I climbed higher and continued forward, movements sharper and more deliberate. Every branch was suspect. Every step was calculated. The forest was no longer a terrain. It was a minefield.
After pushing through a series of those booby-trapped branches, I spotted another red mark ahead.
My lips curled into a grin.
"Got you."
I surged forward, reaching out, and something snapped at my hand.
I jerked back at the last possible second, shoes skidding as I leapt away from the branch. Landing on a safer perch, I narrowed my eyes.
A low, aggressive hiss cut through the air.
Not one.
Multiple.
Coiled along the branch and wrapped around the trunk were several snakes, their bodies tense, their eyes locked onto me with cold precision.
I was not a reptile expert, but even I knew what I was looking at.
Those are definitely vipers.
Their tongues flicked, tasting the air.
I let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh and ran a hand through my hair before glaring into the surrounding trees.
"Isadora, you dumb bitch, are you actually trying to kill me!!" I shouted, my voice echoing through the forest.
I steadied my breathing, forcing the tension out of my shoulders as I stared at the coiled vipers guarding the mark. Their bodies overlapped along the branch like living barbed wire, scales glinting.
Thinking about my next move is important right now.
Charging straight in was suicide. Too many of them, too close together. Even if I was fast enough to dodge one strike, the others would follow. Their range was short, but in a cluster like that, it didn't matter. The moment I entered that space, I would be swarmed.
I clicked my tongue, eyes scanning the surroundings.
Branches above, below, behind. Distance, angles, weight distribution. My mind mapped it all out in seconds.
The branch they were on was stable. Of course it was. Isadora wouldn't make it easy by rigging the one I actually needed.
A slow grin crept onto my face.
I shifted my footing slightly, testing the branch beneath me. Solid. Good. Then I looked just above the vipers, spotting a thinner branch extending over them at a slight angle. It looked weak. Not completely rigged, but just fragile enough.
Perfect.
"If I can't go through…" I muttered under my breath, lowering my stance, "then I go from above."
I took a step back along my branch. My eyes locked onto the trajectory. Jump to the upper branch, use the drop to build momentum, force an opening, then reach in.
Simple.
In theory.
Timing's gonna be a bitch.
The vipers hissed again, one of them lifting its head higher, sensing movement. Their attention sharpened. Good. Let them focus here.
I inhaled deeply.
Then I moved.
A sharp push off the branch sent me upward, my body cutting through the air as I caught the thinner branch above. It bent dangerously under my weight, creaking in protest.
Then I dropped.
The branch snapped behind me as I fell straight toward the cluster of snakes. The sudden movement triggered them instantly. Heads snapped up, bodies coiling tighter, fangs bared as they struck toward the falling target.
That was exactly what I wanted.
Mid-drop, I twisted my body, just enough to throw off their aim. Fangs sliced through empty air as I passed between their strikes, my hand shooting forward toward the red mark.
Too far.
Not yet.
My feet barely brushed the branch, using it for a split-second push. The vipers recoiled for another strike.
I lunged.
My fingers slammed against the red mark just as I felt something whip past my wrist, close enough that I could feel the air shift.
"Got it!"
I didn't wait.
Using the momentum, I kicked off hard, launching myself away from the branch as multiple strikes snapped at where I had been a heartbeat ago. I twisted mid-air and caught a nearby trunk, sliding down a bit before stabilizing myself.
For a moment, everything went still.
Then I let out a breath and laughed under it.
========
========
After enduring a relentless turmoil in the forest, charging wild boars, swarms of venomous redback spiders, and even an unexpected, brutal clash with a maddened brown bear that I ultimately brought down with my bare hands, I still had to push forward.
As if that was not enough, a series of lethal traps littered the terrain. Spiked pits yawned beneath careless steps, and massive boulders came crashing down from above as if the sky itself wanted me dead.
And yet, I made it through.
Barely scratched, with only a few shallow cuts and bruises to show.
"Ouch, ouch, ouch! Stop that, you moron!" Isadora yelped as I slammed her to the ground without warning, pinning her beneath me. "Time out, time out!" She tapped frantically against my arm like a fighter surrendering in the ring.
"What the hell were you thinking, you bitch?" I snarled, tightening my hold just enough to keep her from slipping away.
I take back what I said before. This time, these obstacles, this is the most dangerous shit you have ever thrown at me.
Letting go of Isadora, she brushed the dirt from her clothes with casual indifference, as if being knocked around moments ago had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
"Looks like you're ready to go at it again, Hideo," she said, lightly tapping my bicep.
"Yeah. Thanks to the hell you put me through," I replied, rolling my shoulders before cracking my neck, feeling the stiffness finally give way.
She wasn't wrong, though. I could feel it now, my body responding better, sharper, more alive. The fatigue from that last beating, combined with the strain of forcing out that combo, had kept me sidelined longer than I liked.
But now I could feel it. That familiar pull dragging me back. Back to Mato, back to the hell hole I knew too well.
After taking a step back to recover, it was time to return to my usual Rider work.
The Thunder Gods had started to make their move.
That Halk-Shuuki I encountered before.
Everything Isadora warned me back then was about to begin.
The calm before the storm was over. Which meant I'd be spending more time there than anywhere else.
That decision came with consequences, of course.
I was already in the process of leaving my job at the company. There just wasn't any way to balance both anymore. Part of me felt a quiet reluctance about it, I'd grown used to the place, and there were senpais I genuinely respected. Walking away like this, without much explanation, didn't sit entirely right with me.
But sentiment didn't have a place here.
Not when those things were starting to surface more frequently.
My income would take a hit, obviously. Still, before that concern could fully settle in, Isadora had already solved the problem in her own way.
She'd started taking on art commissions.
With the help of the landlord's daughter handling the social media side of things, she turned it into a steady stream of work faster than I expected. Requests came in constantly, and somehow, she handled all of them without complaint.
To my quiet, bruised pride. She was making more than I ever did at my job.
I couldn't even argue with the results.
I guess that's what happens when you don't hesitate, when you take on whatever clients throw your way and deliver it in absurdly high quality without flinching.
Even the more questionable ones.
Furry requests.
Fetish stuff.
Things I'd rather not think too hard about.
…..
...
I noticed something else, too. My body felt different. It felt stronger, even if only by a fraction.
That last combo had taken a toll on me, no doubt about it, but it felt like I'd gained something in return. Like my body had been forced past its limits and came back slightly improved, the way steel hardens after being hammered and reheated.
But that wasn't all.
Lately, I've been having dreams.
Strange ones.
I clicked my tongue softly and shook my head, forcing the thoughts away before they could settle any deeper.
"Before we head back, how about a spar?" she asked, her tone light but carrying a challenge.
I raised a brow, studying her for a moment. "With who?"
She rolled her eyes, already looking amused. "Seriously? Who else, genius? It's just you and me out here."
I pointed at her, then at myself, making sure I heard that right. "You mean me fighting you?" A dry laugh slipped out before I could stop it. "If that's a joke, it's not landing."
"Oh, I'm very serious, you dimwit." A smirk curved across her lips, confident and annoyingly calm. "I could teach you a move or two, so don't go underestimating me."
I scoffed, crossing my arms. "You can actually fight?"
"Don't judge a book by its cover." She puffed out her chest, pride practically radiating off her. "I've memorized the techniques and movements of countless martial artists throughout history. I know exactly what I'm doing."
There it was, that smug look. Something about it got under my skin in a way I could not quite explain. Irritating. Provoking. Almost like she wanted a reaction out of me, and she was getting it.
Fine. If that was how she wanted to play it.
What was the worst that could happen?
"Alright," I said at last, flexing my fingers as I loosened up. "I'll take you up on that spar. But don't expect me to go easy on you."
Her grin widened, sharp and eager. "Good. I would be disappointed if you did. Give it your best, Hideo, or you might end up being the one walking away in tears." She tilted her head slightly, wiggling her brows in a teasing, almost taunting way. "I will make you regret ever looking down on me."
We stepped closer and clasped hands, our grip firm, almost forceful, as if neither of us was willing to yield even an inch. There was a spark in that moment, something electric passing between us, our gazes locked with matching intensity. Both of us were smiling, but not out of friendliness.
This was no longer just a spar for me.
It was a challenge.
And honestly, it felt like exactly what I needed.
========
========
Finding a conveniently empty field, the two of us began warming up, preparing our bodies for the spar. I stretched and cracked the right joints, drawing in as much air as I could before exhaling slowly, tensing my muscles and then letting them relax.
She wore shorts and a sports bra, moving through side stretches and lunges while barefoot. Her pale skin caught the light, her stomach and legs fully exposed as she moved with ease and confidence.
"Ready whenever you are." I bounced lightly on my feet, sharpening my senses.
After finishing her stretches, Isadora cracked her knuckles and looked at me with a confident smile.
She picked up a long, thick stick and inspected it briefly before suddenly throwing it toward me like a javelin.
I caught it cleanly. For a moment, neither of us spoke. We simply locked eyes as she grabbed another stick of identical length and weight.
At the same time, we raised our weapons to chest level. Isadora struck the ground with hers, while I pushed mine forward and twirled it to my side and back, settling into a firm stance.
We pointed our sticks at each other.
The wind stirred, rustling the leaves of the surrounding trees. Time itself seemed to slow as neither of us made the first move.
A single dead leaf drifted upward.
Then it began to fall, slowly descending between us.
The moment it touched the ground, I moved.
Stepping forward, I lunged, thrusting the wooden staff straight toward Isadora's face.
"Not bad for an opening, but not enough," she said, sliding to the side. Her stick met mine with precision, guiding it past her without effort.
I had not expected that first strike to land. Without hesitation, I shifted tactics, redirecting my attacks toward her torso and legs. Strike after strike followed, each one fast and deliberate.
None of them connected.
She blocked everything.
It looked effortless, as if she barely needed to think. She remained on the defensive, reading every move I made, while I pressed forward relentlessly, leaving no openings for a counterattack even as I maintained the offensive.
My momentum was cut short when my footing slipped as I swung downward. It was only a slight mistake, but it was enough. Seeing the opening, my partner reacted instantly, raising her wooden stick and bringing it down toward me. I managed to block just in time, the impact sending a sharp jolt through my arms.
From that moment on, the roles reversed.
I was forced onto the defensive as she pressed forward, her attacks coming fast and aggressive, leaving me little room to breathe.
I had to admit it.
She was good. No, more than that. She was terrifyingly good.
She had not been bluffing when she said she could hold her own in a fight. I could not even blame myself for underestimating her. I had never seen her fight like this before. I was only seeing it now, in the worst possible moment.
It almost felt like cheating.
She learned just by observing, picking up movements as if they were second nature. Meanwhile, I had built my skills the hard way, getting beaten down over and over by my instructor, enduring countless hours of brutal training back at the dojo.
Yet here we were.
Stepping swiftly to the side to avoid her strikes, I matched her style. Our wooden sticks clashed again and again, the sharp cracks echoing through the open field. It started to feel less like a fight and more like a dance, each movement flowing into the next with precision and intent.
When Isadora thrust her weapon forward, I leaned to my right, narrowly avoiding the strike. In the same motion, I spun my staff around, aiming to catch her from the opposite side.
But she was already moving.
She slipped out of range just in time, her footwork light, her timing exact, leaving my counter to cut through nothing but air.
Creating distance between us, we both stepped back, moving in reverse while keeping our sticks held close to our chests. Our eyes never left each other, our grips firm, neither willing to loosen even slightly.
Then, almost at the same time, we surged forward again.
The exchange resumed, blunt strikes meeting head-on as we repeated the same rhythm, each of us waiting for the other to slip, to make even the smallest mistake.
"Drop dead, you moron!"
"Go back to the kitchen, woman!"
We shouted over the clash, our swings carrying more force than before. When our sticks collided again, the strain was too much. With a sharp crack, both weapons split apart, breaking without warning.
Silence followed.
"…"
"…"
We both froze, staring at the broken pieces in our hands.
Then our gazes met again.
Without a word, we reached the same conclusion. The sticks were useless now.
At the same time, we tossed them aside.
Isadora lowered her stance, bending her knees slightly as she raised both hands, palms open, her posture shifting into something more grounded, more serious.
"So we're settling this the old-fashioned way." A chuckle escaped me as I rolled my shoulders.
"Come on," she said, motioning me forward. "Don't chicken out now, Hideo."
Fists and kicks.
Simple. Direct. Honest.
That kind of language, I understood perfectly.
I squared up, adjusting my footing as I mirrored her stance, matching her posture as closely as I could.
To close the distance, I began to inch forward, sliding my feet carefully across the ground, testing the space between us while she held her position, watching, waiting.
Our backhands brushed.
A brief contact.
And in that instant, everything felt like it could explode.
A smirk crept across Isadora's face. In an instant, her open palm clenched into a fist as she lunged forward, aiming straight for my neck. I reacted just in time, parrying the strike and bracing my defense. She followed up immediately with a left hook, then a right, and drove a powerful straight punch toward my chest.
As it slipped past my guard, her hand suddenly opened, fingers spreading as she shot forward, aiming for my eyes. I caught it just in time, turning my head to the left, narrowly avoiding the strike.
"That was dirty," I said, though a grin tugged at my lips.
She let out a short snort.
"It's a spar, but we're treating it like a real fight now. Of course I'm going to play dirty."
She came at me again, her fist snapping toward my cheek. This time, she made a mistake.
I blocked the punch cleanly, then pivoted on my foot, letting the momentum carry me through. In one smooth motion, I spun and drove my elbow toward her face, putting all that built-up force behind the counter.
Isadora took the elbow head-on. She barely reacted, only shaking her head before diving right back in. In the next instant, she paid me back, snapping forward and biting down on my chin.
"Damn it," I hissed under my breath.
Fine. If that was how she wanted to play it.
I surged forward, taking the initiative this time. My fists flew, aiming to overwhelm her, but instead of defending, she met me head-on. She struck back just as fast, our hands colliding in a blur of motion.
Kicks.
Elbows.
Punches.
Chops.
The longer the spar went on, the more varied and relentless our attacks became, neither of us willing to slow down.
I swept low and kicked at her heel, trying to throw off her balance. Instead of falling, she spun midair, adjusting her body just enough to recover. She landed cleanly, steadying herself in an instant.
I pressed forward again, attempting another kick, but this time I miscalculated. Her leg snapped out faster than mine, intercepting the strike and knocking it off course.
Using that momentum, Isadora twisted her body and drove a kick into my stomach. I flinched, forced a step back as the impact knocked the air from my lungs. Before I could fully recover, her leg rose again, higher this time, slamming into my chest.
I caught her foot midair, gripping it tightly.
"Nice try, sucker," I said, a grin breaking through despite the sting.
"Oh yeah?" she shot back, eyes gleaming. "You're dead wrong if you think you've won."
I felt it was too late.
Using the leg I was holding as a pivot, she pushed off, lifting herself into the air. Her body twisted with precision as she launched a devastating kick straight toward my face.
I jerked my head back just in time, the strike slicing through the air inches from me. Instinctively, I released her foot, stepping away as the force of her attack passed by.
We found ourselves at a standstill once more, facing each other in silence. The tension lingered for a moment, but this time, neither of us moved.
Deciding that it had gone on long enough, I raised my hand in surrender.
"Alright. You win this time," I said, lowering it with a small sigh.
Isadora smirked, her guard dropping as she relaxed. "Now you understand my prowess. Go on, praise me." She puffed out her chest and gave a playful wink.
I let out a breath before dropping to one knee in exaggerated fashion. "Oh great Isadora, your loyal subject has disgraced himself by defying you," I declared dramatically. "Please spare me, oh great empress."
"..."
She stared at me for a second before her face twisted in secondhand embarrassment. "Okay, I regret saying that. Please do not ever do that again." She shook her head, visibly cringing. "Anyway, now that we have had our fun, let's go find a place to eat. I am starving."
With that, the spar officially came to an end.
We left the quiet clearing behind, making our way out of the deep wilderness where we had spent the day messing around. The tension from earlier had long since faded, replaced with an easy sense of satisfaction as we walked.
Neither of us had any idea what kind of shitstorm was waiting ahead.
The days to come were about to turn into something either of us could have predicted.