The duel isn't over yet.
Ogura's small square, usually a playground for running children, had now become a circle of steel and blood. Dust flew with every stomping step. The scent of iron, sweat, and cracking wood filled the air.
Akira and the Kamakura troop leader stood facing each other, both breathing heavily.
"You're still standing," the leader muttered with a thin grin.
"I'm not finished," Akira replied.
Their swords clashed again.
The leader's strikes were sharp and calculated, not just brute force. He read Akira's footwork, baited openings, forcing him back step by step. Akira countered with speed and agility, redirecting attacks, probing weak points in the enemy's armor.
Across the square, Ryuma was slowing.
His movements remained precise, but his breathing was now audible. Sweat soaked his temples. Two soldiers attacked him at once; he parried one, spun to dodge the other, then slashed back with a short stroke.
Yuna appeared at his side before the third soldier could close in.
"I've got the right one!" she shouted.
Ryuma glanced at her, almost smiling amid the chaos. "Don't die yet."
"Not planning to."
Yuna's two swords moved fast. She wasn't as strong as Ryuma, but her motions were fluid and unpredictable. One low slash, one sudden thrust. The soldier she faced hadn't expected such quick resistance.
But the sound of galloping horses returned.
More of them.
All heads turned for a moment.
Another group of Kamakura troops entered the village from the east. They paused briefly, shocked by the chaos and the bodies already fallen.
"Help the captain!" one of them yelled.
Without warning, they charged.
Some headed for the square, others spread toward the houses.
Villagers' screams erupted.
Flames ignited from a wooden warehouse on the west side. No one knew who started it, but within seconds the blaze spread rapidly, devouring the dry walls.
"No!" Genta's voice rang out amid the panic.
A soldier shoved him down.
Akira saw it from the corner of his eye, and that was his mistake.
The troop leader wasted no opening, however small. His sword shot forward, piercing Akira's defense and slicing his side.
Akira staggered.
Heat spread, then cold. He forced himself upright, gritting his teeth.
"Focus," his opponent taunted softly.
They clashed again.
On the other side, Yuna held off a barrage from two new soldiers. Ryuma tried to close in, but three men blocked him at once.
"Back to the center!" Ryuma shouted.
Before Yuna could answer, a slash from the side grazed her left shoulder. Blood sprayed lightly. She flinched, nearly losing balance.
"Yuna!" Akira called, but his voice was swallowed by clanging steel.
The fire now licked at rooftops. Smoke thickened, stinging eyes and weighing down breaths.
Villagers ran, some trying to extinguish the flames, others dragged or beaten back.
Ryuma raged.
Seeing Yuna wounded and Akira pressed, something in his face changed. He broke through the encirclement, parrying one sword so hard the man flew back, then slashing another without hesitation.
"Come on!" he roared, voice hoarse yet full of fury.
But their numbers were too many.
One slash slipped past his guard, cutting deep into his thigh. He stumbled but stayed on his feet.
Akira pressed his leader with his remaining strength. He attacked swiftly, forcing several steps back.
"You'd burn a small village just for taxes?" he snapped.
"This is a lesson," the man replied coldly. "For the other villages."
The next attack came with two soldiers aiding from the sides. Akira blocked one, but the other slammed the hilt into his back. His body lurched.
Yuna tried to close in to help, but a thrust struck her already wounded shoulder. She cried out softly, her left sword slipping from her hand.
"Akira..."
Another slash caught Akira's side.
The world spun.
He still tried to stand, to lift his sword, but his knees weakened. Blood poured, soaking his clothes.
Yuna fell not far from him.
Smoke grew thicker. Flames roared.
Ryuma saw both collapse.
"AKIRA!"
The voice was no longer that of a calm old man. It was a howl.
He charged like a storm, no longer caring for defense. Every sword swing was brutal, fueled by his last gathered strength. Two soldiers fell. The third retreated, face pale.
He stood between the fallen Akira and Yuna.
"Who's next?" he challenged, panting.
The troop leader approached slowly. "You're no ordinary ronin."
Ryuma didn't answer. He attacked first.
Their duel was fierce and relentless. Swords rang heavily. Ryuma was still fast, still sharp, but his wounds spoke. His movements slowed slightly, his breath ragged.
One slash hit his shoulder. He grimaced but pressed on.
More reinforcements arrived, encircling from behind.
Someone slashed from his blind side.
Ryuma tried to turn, but another sword struck his wounded shoulder. His grip weakened.
His sword slipped.
It fell to the ground with a heavy metallic thud.
He staggered, one knee touching the dirt.
Several soldiers immediately leveled swords at his neck.
The troop leader raised a hand. "Don't kill him."
Ryuma looked up, blood streaming from his temple.
"I know your face," the leader continued softly. "You once stood on the main battlefield. You're no mere wanderer."
Ryuma laughed shortly, bitterly. "Many have stood on the battlefield."
"Exactly." The man signaled. "Bind him."
Ropes were wrapped roughly around Ryuma's wrists. He no longer resisted. He only turned toward the motionless Akira.
Ogura village was now a sea of fire.
Roofs collapsed one by one. Screams turned to sobs and coughs from the smoke. The patiently forged wood now burned mercilessly.
Amid the billowing smoke and red glow, Akira opened his eyes slightly.
Vision blurred.
Sounds came from afar, like from the bottom of a well.
He saw Ryuma's silhouette, bound, dragged by two soldiers toward the horses.
He tried to move.
His body didn't respond.
His fingers couldn't even grip the ground.
Ryuma glanced back.
Their eyes met for a fraction of a second.
No words.
Only a message that needed no voice.
Survive.
Then the world around Akira darkened.
The fire still burned.
And Ogura fell to ash.
"Uncle Ryuma..."