Cocoon

Yatsuho sat in front of the cocoon, his gaze fixed on it, as if waiting for answers that would never come. A heavy sigh escaped his lips.

He was reminded of a moment from his childhood—when he had brought home a sparrow that was about to be eaten by a cat.

"Mom, look! I saved it," his younger self had said, holding the tiny bird in his hands. His mother's faint smile lingered in his mind as she replied, "You shouldn't have done that."

He remembered how her words had left him confused. "But I saved its life! It was going to die."

His mother had knelt beside him, her gentle eyes meeting his. "Yatsuho, life and death come for us all. We take lives to survive. The fish you caught last week, the vegetables we grow—they sustain us. Just like the cat needs to eat to live."

Yatsuho frowned at the memory of his younger self, questioning her with innocent eyes. "So I shouldn't help anyone in trouble?"

His mother had been silent for a moment, then spoke softly, as if weighing her words. "It's not about turning away from suffering. It's about understanding that suffering and survival are intertwined. Just like the sparrow eats the worm to live, and the cat hunts to survive. We can't stop the cycle. But you must decide when it is right to intervene."

Her words had echoed in his mind ever since. Was it justifiable? Could he decide who deserved to live and die?

The scene faded, and Yatsuho blinked, snapping back to the present.

"Enketsu," Yatsuho muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "They deserved to die, right? I didn't do anything wrong by killing them… did I?"

Now that he was alone, the weight of his actions pressed down on him like a suffocating fog. Could he truly justify ending lives because he deemed them evil? Could he claim the right to kill, even in the name of justice—or revenge?

Enketsu, lying near him in his materialized form, lazily lifted his head. "I don't know what you consider justice."

Yatsuho let out a soft, bitter laugh. "Yeah… I guess you wouldn't." He tilted his head back to look at the sky, watching the clouds drift by, free of the burdens that clung to him.

"Do you really need to think of it in terms of good and evil, justice or wrong?" Enketsu's voice was as detached as ever, devoid of any moral compass. "The weak die. The strong live. That's the law of nature. If you're weak, you become prey. If you're strong, you survive. They came for you when you were weak, and they won. Now, you're stronger, and you came out on top."

Enketsu motioned toward the cocoon where Goro lay, dormant but alive. "He was given the same chance you were. He'll grow stronger, just like you did. The only question now is whether your hatred or his savagery will win in the end. Fairness doesn't matter anymore. The truth is simple: as long as you have the strength, you can do whatever you want."

Yatsuho's throat tightened at Enketsu's words. The beast's cold, detached morality was so distant from the humanity he clung to, yet it echoed somewhere deep inside him. Was this how the world worked? Was his soul slowly bending under Enketsu's influence, or had he been this way all along?

He clenched his fists, feeling the raw power coursing through him. He had chosen this path. There was no turning back now.

Killing Goro was the only way. The only way to break the needles that pierced his heart. The only way to deliver justice for his mother—the mother whose teachings of balance and restraint had once been his guide. Now, they felt so distant.

But if that were true, why did doing the "right" thing feel so wrong?

His heart thudded in his chest, louder than the silence that surrounded him. The faces of those he had killed flashed in his mind—twisted in pain, frozen in fear. He had justified it all by calling it justice, but somewhere deep inside, a part of him was still screaming that it wasn't.

"I thought killing them would make it easier…" Yatsuho whispered, almost to himself. "But the more I kill, the heavier it gets."

Enketsu didn't respond, merely watching Yatsuho with those flaming, indifferent eyes.

Yatsuho's mind was a storm, his thoughts spinning wildly. Was he a hero, or had he simply become a monster? His mother's teachings, his quest for justice—it all blurred together now, indistinguishable from the blood on his hands. Was this the "balance" she had spoken of? Was this the world she had wanted him to live in?

He looked down at his hands. They trembled, though with rage, sorrow, or guilt, he couldn't tell anymore.

"I thought I was doing the right thing," Yatsuho muttered. "But why does it feel like I'm losing myself?"

There was no answer, not from Enketsu, not from the world around him. Only silence. But amidst this quiet, one truth remained: it was too late to turn back. Yatsuho had to finish Goro to end the cycle of suffering and to become the avenger he needed to be.

Time passed uneventfully for the first few hours. Yatsuho kept a vigilant watch over the cocoon, not turning away even for a moment. But as hours turned into days, fatigue began to set in. His stomach growled with hunger, a stark reminder of his decision to let the women take all the rations. It was too late for regrets now; he couldn't leave to hunt in case Goro emerged in his absence. All he could do was wait.

"You should take care of yourself and eat something before you die of starvation," Enketsu's voice broke through the silence, coming closer to Yatsuho.

"I need to stay here. What if he comes out while I'm gone?" Yatsuho's voice was heavy with exhaustion.

"And what if he comes out while you're weak and hungry? You need to be in top condition. It looks like he's not coming out any time soon," Enketsu urged.

Yatsuho hesitated, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. "I guess you're right. But I still need to know when he comes out, and you can't stay separated from me."

"It doesn't matter if you want to sacrifice yourself after coming so far. Even if he escapes, he will seek you out. Taking care of yourself won't change that," Enketsu's voice was pragmatic.

Reluctantly, Yatsuho agreed to Enketsu's advice. He set up simple traps as his father had taught him and ventured further into the forest in search of game. After a while, he spotted a deer grazing. It bolted as he approached, but Yatsuho's speed was unmatched. With a powerful leap, he tackled the deer and held its neck in a choke hold.

"May your death benefit all beings," Yatsuho whispered softly into the deer's ear as its life ebbed away.

Yatsuho carried the deer back to a trap he had set earlier and found a rabbit caught within. With equal efficiency, he killed the rabbit, murmuring the same words, "May your death benefit all beings." He then skinned both animals with practiced precision.

From the camp, Yatsuho had managed to gather some seasonings and herbs left behind by the women when they took the remaining rations of food and water. He had salvaged a few packets of salt and wild garlic, which he now used to enhance his meal.

He set up a fire and began roasting the rabbit meat over the flames. The smell of cooking meat filled him with a warmth that momentarily lifted his spirits. The sight of the rabbit's meat sizzling on the fire's coals made his appetite surge. After finishing the rabbit, he turned his attention to the deer.

Yatsuho skinned the deer meticulously, removing all the sinew and connective tissue. He cut the meat into chunks, seasoning them lightly with the salt and wild garlic he had salvaged. He then skewered the meat onto bamboo sticks, which he held over the fire, rotating them occasionally to ensure even cooking. The meat browned nicely, becoming slightly crispy on the outside while remaining juicy and tender inside.

As he savored each bite, Yatsuho felt a momentary respite from his weariness. The nourishment replenished his strength, preparing him for whatever was to come. The deer's meat provided a richer flavor and a more satisfying meal, a stark contrast to the simple rabbit. It filled him with a sense of purpose and readiness, essential for the trials ahead.

With a full stomach and renewed vigor, Yatsuho returned to his vigil by the cocoon, his resolve hardened. The cycle of suffering would end, and he would be ready for whatever Goro's emergence might bring.

Feeling satisfied, Yatsuho continued to watch the cocoon. Time passed uneventfully. The cocoon was unlike anything he had ever seen, and he had no way to compare it with anything else. As he sat, he pondered what had made this phenomenon possible. Between his and Goro's situation, the only common point was that it had happened when they were near death, with overwhelming emotions toward the other. But if that was the reason, why hadn't anyone else transformed? He lacked any reference for how long this process took—it could have been a week or a month. He had no way of knowing.

Days passed. It had now been six days since Goro became dormant. Like always, Yatsuho hunted and returned with a rabbit. He left it on the ground to prepare the fire, but when he turned back, the carcass had disappeared.

Instead of confusion, his face twisted with anger. The cocoon had broken apart while his back was turned.

A chill crept up Yatsuho's spine. Almost instinctively, he ducked. A large rock flew over his head, crashing into the trees behind him. He shot his gaze toward the source. Goro stood there—completely changed.

The only thing that Yatsuho could recognize was the scar on his angular and sharp face wearing an feral and intense expression on it with canine like white teeth shining under, now he stood a good 3 inches taller than Yatsuho, he wore no clothes his muscles had become bigger and lean which seemed animalistic. His hair were long untamed and black, his eyes were slit with an amber glow to them.

Goro didn't wear clothes—his body was bare, revealing his enlarged and sinewy form. Yatsuho watched in horror and fascination as Goro bent down and devoured the rabbit whole, leaving nothing, not even bones behind. Then, white fur began to grow out from his body, intertwining and weaving itself into robes.

His lips parted into a twisted smile. "Ready for round two, brat of the heavenly bitch?"

Yatsuho's body tensed, his muscles coiling as fury flooded his mind. Without missing a beat, he charged toward Goro, screaming his name. Goro's howling laugh echoed through the trees.

"Burn, Enketsu!" Yatsuho roared. Chains ignited and appeared around his four arms.

"Howl, Kibaou!" Goro growled in response, his body warping further into a wolf-human hybrid. His already massive frame grew even larger. With a monstrous snarl, Goro kicked off the ground, meeting Yatsuho's chains with his claws.

Suddenly, Yatsuho's vision was flooded with memories that weren't his own.

Flash.

A young, bloodied Goro stood over the carcass of a massive wolf, far larger than any normal animal. Its body was grotesque and terrifying, but there was a strange resemblance between the beast and the form Goro had taken now.

The scene shifted. Goro knelt beside the wolf's body, his breaths ragged. His lips twisted into a low, bitter laugh. "So now I'm the one you favor, huh? Where was it when I needed it most?" His words dripped with venom, his voice heavy with years of pain and betrayal. He screamed toward the sky, as if demanding an answer from the gods.

No reply came.

Flash.

Now Yatsuho saw Goro devouring the wolf. Blood covered his face, his hands tearing into the meat with a ravenous hunger. He consumed it for hours, biting and grinding until nothing remained but bones. And even then, he did not stop. He crushed the bones with his bare hands and ate them too, gnashing them between his teeth. The only piece he left untouched was a large canine, which he kept close.

Flash.

The scene shifted again. Goro was in a city now, kowtowing before a nobleman. His back was bent low, his hands pressed against the stone street. Before Yatsuho could make sense of it, a sharp voice pulled him back to reality.

"Focus, Yatsuho!" Enketsu's voice thundered in his mind, yanking him out of the memory.

In what felt like minutes, only a fleeting moment had passed in reality. Yatsuho's chains burned hot, radiating heat that scorched Goro's hand. His teeth clenched in anger.

"So that's how your ability works." Goro's mocking tone was sharp, his gaze piercing into Yatsuho's soul. He too had seen the thoughts that had just passed through Yatsuho's mind.

But the shock of their shared memories still lingered in Yatsuho's chest. The revelation of Goro's past gnawed at him, the pain and rage of his former companion crashing into his own emotions like a wave. Even as they clashed, the question echoed in Yatsuho's mind—How did someone become this…this beast?

Yet there was no time for sympathy. Not now.

Goro's feral grin widened as he bore down on Yatsuho, and the chains tightened in response. The battle was only just beginning.

Blows were exchanged between Yatsuho and Goro, their movements fast and calculated. Yatsuho was meticulous in his onslaught—each swing of his chains aimed with precision, the hooks barely missing Goro's skin by a hair's width. The air crackled with tension as Goro, animalistic in his reflexes, avoided the chains with a feral grace. But when the chains did graze him, even for a second, both fighters felt the flood of memories, as if their minds were being forcefully pried open.

Every time Yatsuho's chains touched Goro, images assaulted his mind. He saw flashes of Goro's past—his father beaten and killed by debt collectors when Goro was too young to stop it, the boy's fists clenched in helpless rage. At the same time, Goro saw fragments of Yatsuho's life—sun-dappled afternoons spent training with his father, the warmth of summer days that Goro had never known. The contrast between the two lives ignited something deeper in Goro's chest, a long-held resentment burning hotter with every strike.

Yatsuho felt the weight of Goro's anger toward the world, the suffocating greed that had consumed him, and the empty void left behind when nothing could fill it. But as the fight raged on, Yatsuho's sympathy began to fade. At first, he could understand Goro's pain, the bitterness that had shaped him, but as the battle dragged on, his mind grew numb to those feelings. Goro had made his choices. He had killed countless people, ravaged towns, and scarred Yatsuho's life beyond repair. Yatsuho couldn't forgive him—not after everything. His chains moved with more intent now, sharper and deadlier with each strike, as if reflecting his own resolve.

"I will kill you, Goro," Yatsuho thought, feeling the finality of it settle deep in his bones. "I have to make this right."

But Goro's fury only grew as the battle continued. The happy memories that flashed through his mind—Yatsuho's laughter, his bond with his family, the carefree days—fueled his rage like oil thrown on fire. Each fragment of Yatsuho's past felt like a mockery, a life Goro was never allowed to live. He bared his sharp teeth, the animalistic transformation taking over more of him. His muscles bulged, his fur bristled, and his amber eyes glowed with murderous intent.

"Damn you!" Goro roared, his voice guttural and filled with venom. "You don't deserve this! You don't deserve to live! I'll tear it all away from you!"

His claws met Yatsuho's chains again, but now Goro's strength had become monstrous, almost uncontrollable. He slammed Yatsuho back, and the earth beneath their feet cracked under the impact. The air was thick with the smell of blood and sweat, and the clash of their abilities seemed to warp the very space around them.

As Yatsuho dodged another swipe from Goro's claws, he felt a surge of clarity. He knew now that Goro wouldn't stop—not until one of them was dead. His chains, which had felt hot and heavy, suddenly burned even brighter, the fire of Enketsu's power surging through him. Yatsuho's eyes narrowed. He had no more words for Goro. No more empathy. Just the cold, unshakable certainty that this had to end.

Goro's twisted laughter echoed in the space between them, his body trembling with the force of his own wrath. "You think killing me will make you whole again, brat? You think you're any different from me?!" His voice dripped with scorn, but Yatsuho could see it now—beneath the anger, Goro's desperation was laid bare.

Yatsuho didn't respond. He didn't need to. The chains around his arms tightened, glowing white-hot as they clashed with Goro's claws again, both fighters gritting their teeth as their powers collided.

Yatsuho's chains swirled, reflecting his growing resolve as Goro adapted, learning the rhythm of the chains' movements. Yatsuho could read Goro's mind like an open book, but Goro, in turn, was beginning to read him. Their battle became a blur of inhuman reflexes, a mix of martial arts and instinctive movements, perfectly suited to their transformed bodies.

This was the first true duel either had fought since they had changed.

Goro's transformations increased in frequency—one moment, a fearsome wolf lunging to attack; the next, a rabbit with a white pelt, nimbly dodging. Yatsuho quickly deduced the nature of Goro's ability: the "Predator's Transformation." Goro could fully transform into the animals he had consumed. Yatsuho used this knowledge to try and predict his movements, reading Goro's mind to catch him in moments of vulnerability.

But Goro was doing the same, reading Yatsuho's thoughts through the chains, predicting his every move. Their attacks began to mirror each other, the fight becoming a seamless, deadly dance. At some point, it became impossible to tell whose mind was being read—every blow missed its mark as if they had synchronized their every move.

Then, something shifted.

When Goro touched the chains again to pry further into Yatsuho's mind, he saw nothing but his own face staring back at him. It was then he realized: Yatsuho's eyes had changed. They were blank, devoid of thought. In the time they had fought, Yatsuho had learned to control his conscious mind, revealing only what he wanted Goro to see. Meanwhile, his subconscious was guiding his attacks, purely driven by instinct.

Goro hesitated, unable to adapt quickly enough. In that brief moment, Yatsuho struck. The blunt end of his chain smashed into Goro's head, and the hooks followed, piercing through his stomach.

As Goro staggered, Yatsuho saw one final flash of memories: a young boy standing over the carcass of a massive wolf, his hands drenched in blood, with the shadow of a smiling man behind him. Goro had fought his entire life—not for power, not for revenge—but to fill an emptiness inside him that could never be satisfied.

Yatsuho absorbed it all, but the numbness in his heart had settled too deeply. There was no room for pity or hesitation.

This was the end—or so Yatsuho thought. But Goro wasn't finished. His body grew even more monstrous, his muscles bulging grotesquely as a primal roar tore from his throat. He went into a frenzy, his claws slashing wildly, striking anything within reach. Trees splintered, the ground was torn apart, and the very air seemed to vibrate with the force of his rampage.

At that moment, Yatsuho remembered his father's words: "An animal is never more dangerous when it's hungry, but when it's cornered." Goro, now driven beyond reason, was exactly that—an animal pushed to the brink. His movements were erratic, driven by raw instinct and blind rage. Every strike he delivered had the force to shatter stone, the power to rip through earth.

Goro fought like a maddened beast, obliterating everything in his path. It was no longer a battle but a storm of chaos. Yatsuho dodged and weaved, narrowly avoiding each brutal blow. Dust filled the air, the scent of crushed earth and splintered wood choking his lungs as Goro's berserk state left destruction in his wake.

Yet, amidst the chaos, Yatsuho felt an eerie calm settle within him. He had fought hard to get to this moment. His body was bruised, his chains glowing faintly with the heat of Enketsu's power, but there was certainty in his heart—he was going to win. He could feel it, the inevitability of his victory.

But it seemed the gods that Goro hated so fiercely weren't ready to let him rest. Not today.

Suddenly, hands of blinding light grabbed both Goro and Yatsuho, halting their clash mid-strike. A towering figure emerged behind Yatsuho, dressed in navy-blue garbs that marked him unmistakably as one of the holy warriors from Indra Province. His long white beard flowed over his chest, a stark contrast to the scar that cut through both milky-white eyes. Though a bit shorter than Goro, his presence dwarfed them both—like an adult standing over toddlers.

"That will be enough," the man's voice boomed with authority, reverberating across the battlefield, smothering every other sound. Without warning, the hands of light slammed Yatsuho and Goro into the ground, the force rattling their bones then lifting them up again.

Yatsuho gasped, pain searing through his body, but it wasn't the pain that overtook him—it was fear, raw and overwhelming horror. His heart raced in his chest, cold sweat prickling his skin. This man… he wasn't human. He was something far more dangerous.

"He's dangerous," Enketsu's voice trembled within Yatsuho's mind, the tone of terror—the kind that a mouse feels in the presence of a cat.

Yatsuho dared to glance at Goro, the once-rampaging beast now reduced to a trembling shadow of himself, cowering before the overwhelming presence.

"I need you to come with me," the man said, his voice calm but commanding, as if leaving no room for defiance. "Someone needs to have a word with you."

Effortlessly, the hands of light lowered them both to the ground. Yatsuho, despite all his strength, all his resolve, knew instinctively that this man was far beyond anything he could hope to challenge. This wasn't just power; it was like standing before a mountain—immovable, untouchable. No matter how strong he had become, this man's presence crushed any notion of resistance.

Although the presence before Yatsuho felt divine, it did not hold animosity toward him. It was calm, composed—yet overwhelming in its sheer power.

As Yatsuho stared, awestruck, he realized that the blinding hands around his body had vanished. The man, garbed in deep blue reminiscent of the holy warriors of Indra Province, eyed him with suspicion.

"You can leave," the man's voice boomed, steady but commanding. "I only need him."

With effortless grace, he lifted Goro's limp form over his shoulder as if the massive warrior weighed nothing. He turned to walk away.

"Wait!" Yatsuho's voice rang out before he could stop himself. There was a frantic energy behind it, as if some deep instinct refused to let the man take Goro.

The man paused but didn't turn. Yatsuho could barely hear his own thoughts over the pounding in his chest. "You can't take him," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "I still have a debt to pay to him."

Slowly, the man turned. The air around him shifted, and for a brief moment, Yatsuho thought he could stand his ground. But then the pressure came, like a wave crashing against his body. Light radiated from the man, so intense that it felt like the very air had become heavier. Yatsuho coughed violently, blood spraying from his mouth as the crushing weight of the man's presence bore down on him.

"I said," the man spoke again, his voice louder, more forceful, "I don't need you."

The weight intensified, as if the world itself was pressing down on Yatsuho's shoulders. He dropped to his knees, choking on the sheer force of the man's power. His vision blurred, his body screaming in pain. It was like facing a god.

"Why do you want to die so much?" Enketsu's panicked voice echoed in his mind, the beast's usual confidence shattered in the face of such overwhelming might.

Yatsuho's hands trembled, but he pushed through the pain. His voice, though strained, still held determination. "I… I heard the Sikhs fight for righteousness and punish evil." He struggled to keep his gaze on the man. "He is evil. So let me punish him."

For a brief second, the man's eyes—those pale, milky white eyes—wavered. The weight lifted, just slightly. Yatsuho could breathe again. It was only for a heartbeat, but he could feel the man's resolve falter, if only for a moment.

But then, as quickly as it had come, the man's composure returned. "What my faith's teachings are do not concern you," he said, his voice cold, distant. "If you continue to defy me, I will be forced to subdue you. If you understand that, leave."

The man turned again, his grip on Goro unwavering as he began walking away. Yatsuho's mind raced—there had to be something he could do. He couldn't let Goro be taken, not like this. Without thinking, he shouted the command, "Burn, Enketsu!"

The chains of fire lashed out toward the man, aiming for his back, but they never reached him. In one swift motion, the man turned and caught the chains effortlessly in his hands, the blinding light around him flaring even brighter.

Yatsuho's heart sank. He didn't even flinch.

This wasn't like fighting Goro, who was as new to his powers as Yatsuho was . The man standing before him was a seasoned warrior, someone who had fought for years after his awakening. Yatsuho was a fledgling, and this man was a mountain—immovable, unshakable.

As Yatsuho tried to pull his chains back, he felt something tug at his mind, a sharp, overwhelming force. He was pulled into a mental realm before he even realized what was happening.

Inside the mental space, Enketsu lay wounded, growling weakly. Before them stood a massive lion, its eight legs spread wide as it radiated with the same blinding light that surrounded the man in the physical world.

"Reel in your master, young pup," the lion growled, its voice deep and powerful, shaking the very air around them. Its golden eyes burned with intensity, and as it let out a thunderous roar, the entire realm shook.

The sound of the roar ripped through Yatsuho's mind, pulling him back into reality. His body collapsed, unconscious, as blood trickled from his nose and mouth. His body was no match for the power of the lion—of the man.

When he came to, the man was gone. Goro had been taken. Yatsuho lay on the ground, his body trembling from the aftershocks of the encounter. That man… he thought, barely able to focus. He's on another level.

But it wasn't just fear Yatsuho felt. It was a burning need—to grow stronger, to be able to stand up to men like that. Because he knew… next time, there would be no mercy.