Chapter 21

Kenji was scared; when was the last time he had felt such fear? He had his phone in his hand, sitting on one of the desks in his class. His feet on the chair beneath tapped quickly. He stared into space, his head imagining what would happen to him now. Riku was no better; he paced anxiously. The students in the class watched them like they had gone crazy.

"Shit, we are so, so screwed," Riku repeated, grabbing his hair.

"Shut up," Kenji said in a menacing voice. He was the one who took those photos. If she found out, the collar on his neck would go off like crazy.

Bzzt.

Riku's phone buzzed, and he picked it up, looking at a simple text from her. "Upstairs." His head snapped up at Kenji, who could guess by the terror in his eyes who had texted. He took a deep breath and left the classroom, hands in pockets.

Amaya was waiting for them, her back to the door as she stared down from the rooftop. The wind tugged at her hair, making her silhouette seem even more imposing against the cityscape. She played with the phone in her hand, a forget-me-not charm she had bought recently clinking against the metal body of the phone.

"What's this about?" Kenji asked, trying to mask his unease.

Without turning around, Amaya spoke, her voice cold and measured. "Kenji, I've been thinking about something."

"W-What?" He didn't mean to stutter, but her calm was terrifying. Did she know or not?

She did not turn away from her view of the city and eventually the sea up to the horizon. "It was you, wasn't it?"

Kenji's face paled, and he took a step back. Denying it would be an insult to both of them.

Amaya turned to face them. "So you don't deny it?"

Before Kenji could react, the shock collar around his neck activated. He crumpled to the ground, writhing in pain. He was on one knee, using his hand to stabilize himself. A part of him wanted to resist; he refused to let his second knee hit the ground.

"Trying to rebel?" As the words left her lips, another shockwave stormed through his body, electrifying every cell, every hair. He held back a scream, his teeth biting his lips and drawing blood as he finally fell to the other knee.

He could not apologize. What use was an apology in this situation? The damage was done, and truly he didn't think he did anything wrong. She was never this confident or powerful; if this was the old Amaya, she wouldn't have been able to do anything.

It's a shame, the old Amaya is dead.

"Stop! Please, stop!" Kenji pleaded, his voice hoarse. "It was Chiyo." He explained, hiding anything now would make things worse. "She had them and wanted to humiliate you. I just followed orders."

Amaya paused. These pictures were at least a year old. "Why would Chiyo request something like that?" Could it be she knew about her this entire time?

"I don't know. I asked her, but she did not give me a reason."

Amaya's hatred deepened by another level. This world was testing her patience over and over again. She released Kenji. She did not feel hatred for him as she did with that woman. She planned to beat the shit out of him later. But for now, she still needed him. As long as the war was upcoming, she could not deal with him yet.

Amaya's gaze shifted to Riku, who stood frozen in place. "Notifications."

Riku swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper. "It's time for another meeting."

"Where?" Amaya asked, her tone leaving no room for hesitation.

"The abandoned factory by the river," Riku replied quickly, fearing to upset her.

"Time?"

"8 p.m."

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That night, the abandoned factory was filled with a tense energy. The usual crowd had gathered, their eyes sharp and watchful. Hiroshi and Scarface stood near the centre, casually talking about the crazy chick with the gun and wondering if she would come with Lucas tonight.

Scarface grinned, his scarred face lighting up with amusement. "Think she'll come with Lucas?"

Hiroshi sighed, his expression weary. "I hope not. We don't need more chaos."

Their conversation was interrupted by Amaya's presence. She walked in coolly, her eyes scanning the room with petrifying gaze. The air seemed to thicken with her arrival.

"Where's Lucas?" Scarface asked, his grin widening.

Amaya's expression was unreadable. "He won't be coming. I am now the strongest of Haruki. The meeting can start."

The room fell silent, all eyes on Amaya. Hiroshi's expression darkened, clearly not pleased. Scarface, on the other hand, looked ecstatic.

Another man, Jean's successor, stood up. He was a thin burly figure with a stern expression, his eyes narrowing as he took in Amaya's presence. He adjusted his glasses. "So, you're the new face of Haruki? What's your plan with the mess you've made?"

Amaya's eyes met his, her gaze unwavering. "We're expecting a full onslaught from Mamuchi. None of us are safe. So I need to ask, who will be joining us in this fight?"

Scarface was the first to speak, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "Count me in. I've been itching for a real fight."

Hiroshi crossed his arms, a scowl on his face. "And if we don't?"

"You'll be forced to choose soon enough," Amaya replied, her voice steely. "By my hand or by theirs. Decide now how you want to join this battle."

Hiroshi's anger flared. "You dare threaten me?"

Amaya stepped closer, her eyes boring into his. "It's not a threat. It's reality. Make your choice."

The room tensed, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. Jean's successor looked thoughtful; his expression serious. "I'll think about it. My school's in disarray since Jean's not coming back."

Hiroshi's curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"

Jean's successor sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Jean's family withdrew him from school. He's leaving the country."

Hiroshi's expression shifted to one of understanding. "The stabbing."

Amaya's gaze didn't waver. "Hiroshi, you have a choice. Join us now or be swept away by what's coming."

Hiroshi's eyes flashed with anger, but he didn't respond. The tension between them was palpable, a silent battle of wills. Finally, he said, "It's going to have to be over my dead body."

"Suit yourself." Amaya replied coldly. She took off her outer school uniform, throwing it to Kenji behind her, leaving only her tiny pink shirt with a bright star in the centre. She tied up her blonde hair in a ponytail and readied herself. "Let's get this over with." She wasn't here to play around anymore.

Hiroshi frowned. "You're really going to fight me? Here? Now?"

"Can I not?" she said, taking a stance. "Fight or surrender, I don't care either way."

"Do not think just because you are now a phoenix you can actually fight me." Hiroshi laughed. She who had just grown wings thought she was strong enough to go against him? Scarface clapped in delight; this was what he wanted to see!

"Fight or surrender," Amaya said, her voice unwavering.

Hiroshi ran his hands through his dark hair, sighing. "Ah, this fucking bitch."

Hiroshi made the first move, a quick jab aimed at Amaya's face. She dodged, her reflexes sharp, and countered with a swift kick to his midsection. Hiroshi grunted, stepping back to regain his footing.

"You've got some fight in you," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "But it won't be enough."

Amaya didn't respond, her focus entirely on the fight. She closed the distance between them, launching a few methodical punches near his pretty face. Hiroshi blocked most of them, but a few landed, each blow adding to his growing frustration.

Hiroshi retaliated with a powerful roundhouse kick that Amaya barely managed to block, the force sending her staggering backward. Pain radiated through her arm, but she ignored it, pushing forward. She spun on her heel, aiming a kick at his head. Hiroshi ducked, sweeping her legs out from under her. Amaya hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of her.

"Stay down," Hiroshi said, looking down at her with a smirk.

Amaya's eyes remained fixed on him. She rolled to her feet, launching herself at him with a ferocity that caught him off guard. Her fists and feet moved in a blur. Hiroshi struggled to keep up, his defenses faltering under her relentless assault. A punch to his jaw staggered him, and Amaya seized the opening, driving her knee into his stomach. Hiroshi doubled over, gasping for breath.

"Fuck!" he wheezed, he wasn't ready to let this bitch win.

He surged forward, grabbing Amaya by the shoulders and slamming her into the ground. Pain exploded in her back, but she refused to give in. She twisted, breaking his grip, and lashed out with a kick to his knee. Hiroshi stumbled, and Amaya took advantage, delivering punches to his ribs.

Hiroshi roared in anger, his patience wearing thin. He grabbed Amaya's arm, twisting it painfully behind her back. She cried out, the pain almost unbearable. But she wouldn't surrender. Not now, not ever.

With a surge of strength, she wrenched her arm free and headbutted Hiroshi. He staggered back, stunned, and Amaya followed up with a powerful kick to his chest. Hiroshi hit the ground, gasping for air. Amaya stood over him, her chest heaving with exertion.

"It's over," she said, though trembling with every pant.

Hiroshi looked up at her, his expression a mixture of anger and grudging respect. "Fine. You win. This time."

Amaya's gaze didn't waver. "So we fight Mamuchi." She turned to Jean's successor. "What the fuck is your name anyway? You have no say in this; we all have to stand up to those pricks. I don't care about your school squabbles, sort it out."

Jean's successor, a tall and wiry teenager with a scar running down his cheek, stepped forward. His dark eyes flashed with a mix of defiance and uncertainty. "The name's Kaito," he said, his voice steady despite the tension in the room. "And you're right. We need to unite against Mamuchi. But it's not that simple."

"Make it simple," Amaya snapped. "If we don't stand together, we'll all fall. Mamuchi won't stop until they've crushed each of us. Don't assume they will be satisfied taking just me."

Scarface, who had been watching the exchange with a smirk, finally spoke up. "I like this chick man. I'm in. Mamuchi's been a thorn in my side for too long."

Amaya nodded, grateful for his support. She turned to Hiroshi, who was still struggling to his feet. "You lost to me so stop bitching about ok?"

Hiroshi wiped the blood from his mouth and glared at her. "I'll fight," he said grudgingly. "But don't think for a second that this makes us allies. I'm doing this because it's necessary, not because I trust you."

"Fair enough," Amaya replied, she didn't care about his grudge, it's not her fault his fiancé was a cheating skank.

She turned back to Kaito. "Sort out whatever issues you have at your school. We can't afford any weaknesses. Meet me tomorrow with a plan."

Kaito nodded, his expression serious. "Understood. I'll make sure my school is ready."

Amaya looked around the room, her gaze hard. "We have one chance to get this right. If we fail, Mamuchi will pick us off one by one. So, let's just not." They all understood the stakes. The fight against Mamuchi was going to be brutal, but it was a fight they couldn't afford to lose. But winning right now seemed impossible. They weren't aware of the ace up Amaya's sleeve, an ace who was still in training. 

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"Shit shit shit shit!" Arthur screamed as he pushed himself off the mud. He rolled to the side just in time as a slash came piercing through the spot he had been, splitting the mud cleanly for six feet. What the fuck was this kind of power?

"Hohohoho!" His sword instructor laughed, lunging at him with a speed and precision that forced Arthur to scramble for his sword. He barely managed to pick it up in time to defend himself from another powerful strike.

"Is this all you've got?" The instructor taunted, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "If you can't handle this, how do you expect to protect anyone?"

Arthur gritted his teeth, his arms trembling from the force of the impact. He pushed back, trying to create some distance between them. His mind raced, trying to recall the techniques he had been taught. He needed to find an opening, a way to turn the tide.

The instructor didn't give him a moment's respite. He pressed the attack, his movements a blur as he slashed and stabbed with relentless precision. Arthur's was barely holding up, each strike driving him further back. He felt his strength waning, his grip on the sword slipping.

"Focus, Arthur!" the instructor barked. "Stop thinking and start feeling. The Peerless Sword is not just about strength. It's about intent."

Arthur took a deep breath, trying to steady his mind. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, letting go of his fear and doubt. When he opened them, his gaze was sharper, more determined. He shifted his stance, feeling the ground beneath his feet, the weight of the sword in his hands. He could do this.

He deflected the next strike with a calculated movement, his blade meeting the instructor's with a resonating clash. He didn't retreat this time; instead, he stepped forward, launching a counterattack. His movements were more fluid, his strikes more precise. He was still far from perfect, but there was a noticeable improvement.

The instructor's eyes gleamed with approval. "That's more like it. Show me what you've got!"

Arthur pushed forward, his confidence growing with each successful strike. He could feel the energy of the Peerless Sword technique flowing through him, guiding his movements. He matched the instructor's speed, his blade cutting through the air with a newfound grace. He was still getting his ass handed to him, but he was learning.

But the instructor was still a step ahead. With a swift motion, he disarmed Arthur, sending the sword flying from his grasp. Arthur stumbled back, falling to the ground once again. He looked up at the instructor, panting heavily, but there was a spark of determination in his eyes.

The instructor sheathed his sword, a satisfied smile on his face. "You've improved, but you still have a long way to go. Remember, it's not just about the sword. It's about your will. Your resolve. You must be willing to cut through anything that stands in your way."

Arthur nodded, his chest heaving with exertion. He knew he had a lot to learn, but he was ready. For her, he would become stronger. No matter what it took.

Such is the duty of a Shadow Knight.