The guards shoved me into a stone cell. I didn't resist.
Didn't need to.
They barked. Spat. Shouted words I didn't understand. Didn't care.
All I saw was that iron crest on their armor. All I heard was their trembling breath. All I tasted was prey.
One step closer.
One step closer to Kusanagi.
I grinned.
They slammed the iron bars shut behind us, three locks clicking like broken bones. One guard stepped close, stared into my eyes. His breath stank of rice wine and fear.
I didn't blink.
He stepped back. Good. He'd live a little longer.
They left us in the dark.
Yumi sat with her back against the wall, still and silent. Her arms hugged her legs, her face shadowed. I paced like a caged beast.
"Sleep," she muttered eventually. "You'll need your strength."
I didn't reply. I wasn't tired. I was burning. Every breath was fire. Every heartbeat was a countdown. I could feel Kusanagi already. Somewhere in this land, on a throne of steel, sitting fat on power.
He didn't know I existed.
But he would.
Soon.
That night, in the silence between the guard's footsteps, she stirred.
"What's the plan?" she whispered.
I sat beside her. Our voices didn't echo. This room swallowed everything. It reeked of mold, piss, and rot. And sweat. Our sweat.
"I kill Kusanagi."
She didn't laugh. Not anymore.
"He's not like the rest. He's an immortal. You're strong. Stronger than most. But you can't fight him straight. He commands the battlefield like a god."
"Good," I said. "Then I'll kill a god."
She shook her head.
"You need to get close first. His stronghold is a fortress. Metal and men everywhere. If we rush in, we die."
"Then we wait," I muttered. "I've waited before."
"There are others. He's soldiers, generals, and his son. All strong. Stronger than you."
I turned to her. Grinned. "More prey."
She was quiet for a long time. Then she nodded.
"I'll find a way inside. I'll find the cracks. The blind spots. The rot beneath their steel."
I grinned in the dark.
"Good."
"But first," she said, "we need to get out of here."
I turned to the wall.
It was thick. Old. Carved from mountain stone. Maybe ten bricks thick. I ran my fingers across it, digging into the cracks. The stone cut my skin open. Blood trickled. My knuckles popped.
Good.
That meant it could break.
I pressed harder. Fingernails scraped stone. Bones bent. I gritted my teeth. Felt the muscle flex and tear. I pushed through the pain. Always through.
One brick moved. A breath. A tremble. I kept going. Slowly, brick by brick, I tore it down. Quiet. Patient. Like I'd torn through the flesh of the sea god.
Blood dripped onto the stone.
Flesh peeled off my fingers.
Didn't matter.
When I had made the hole wide enough to weaken the wall, I stepped back.
"Get ready," I said.
She stood.
I wrapped a cloth over my hand. Took a breath. Focused. Pictured Kusanagi's face. Pictured my fist going through it.
Then I punched.
Thud.
The wall cracked, groaned, and buckled in silence.
A hole gaped open, just wide enough for us to crawl through.
We slipped out like ghosts into the night.
The wind outside hit us like a blessing.
The air was clean. Crisp. The moon hung low, watching. The town was quiet. Fishermen asleep. Guards slumped in towers. Smoke rose from fires left to smolder.
We slipped through alleys, moving between the bones of buildings.
No alarms. No shouts.
No eyes on us.
Eventually, on the edge of town, we found an abandoned shack half-eaten by vines and rot. The roof sagged. The walls were cracked. Inside, we found a dead cow lying stiff in the corner… flies buzzing, ribs split open.
I grinned.
Yumi laughed quietly.
She dragged it near the center of the room. We skinned it fast, blood pooling under our hands. We cut thick slices of meat and skewered them over a fire.
I watched her from the corner of my eye.
She worked in silence. Sharp. Efficient.
Her one good eye shimmered orange in the flame.
She had changed.
She wasn't soft anymore.
She wasn't a girl anymore.
She didn't cry when she cut meat. Or when she saw blood. Not even when it was hers.
She stared into the fire like it whispered to her.
And I saw it. The flicker in her gaze. That spark. That hunger.
The kill was in her now.
I bit into a slab of meat and chewed slow. Watched her lick blood off her knuckles.
"I see it," I said.
She looked at me.
"In your eyes. You want it."
She didn't deny it.
"I dream about it now," she said. "The hunt. The kill. It calls to me. It drives me."
"You'll need that," I muttered. "If we're going after Kusanagi."
Her mouth twisted into a grin.
"You think I'm not ready?"
"You're not."
She laughed. "Then make me."
"I will."
Later that night, we rested in the broken shack, stomachs full, fire crackling low.
I sharpened my blade.
She stitched a tear in her cloak.
The silence was warm. Heavy with something thick… like anticipation.
"Kusanagi," I said. "Tell me more."
She leaned back.
"They say he was born with steel in his veins. That when he cried as a baby, nails would fall from his eyes."
I raised a brow.
"Lies?"
"Maybe," she said. "But who cares? What matters is what he is now. The Iron Tsunami. The man who commands a thousand swords with a thought. He can crush armies under waves of metal."
"Good," I muttered.
"You keep saying that."
"Because it means he's worthy."
She stared at me. Then nodded.
"Well, now you're closer than ever. You're in his land. You've stepped into his domain. The Iron Clan is small, but every soldier is armed with weapons stronger than bone, stronger than fire. Their blacksmiths are gods in their own right."
"I'll kill them too."
She chuckled.
"You'll try."
"Trying is for prey," I snapped. "I kill."
She curled up near the fire. Her eye fluttered shut.
I sat awake, blade in hand.
I watched the coals die.
And I smiled.
The Iron Tsunami was out there, sitting high on his throne, thinking he ruled.
But the tide was changing.
And I was the storm.