Betrayal and Shadows

Niran's breath was still heavy as he moved through the empty streets of the city. The echo of his footsteps bounced off the concrete walls, and the blood pulsed in his temples. The shadow he had seen, the familiar silhouette that had pulled him back into the past moved with unsettling fluidity, always a step ahead, as if guiding him.

His heart pounded with anger and frustration. He knew who it was. He had known the moment he saw that posture, that controlled and calculated stride. The pain from his fight with Yoru was already forgotten, drowned out by something far more searing: the memory of betrayal.

Jirapat.

The man he once called a brother. The man who had betrayed their master, leaving him to die.

The city stretched silent around him, the pale neon of a flickering sign casting broken shadows across the walls. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of impending rain and something darker.

Finally, the shadow stopped.

Niran slowed, his heart hammering in his chest. He found himself in a dead-end alley, a single streetlamp above them casting light onto the figure waiting for him.

Jirapat stood there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. Half of his face was hidden in the shadows, but a faint smirk curled on his lips.

"Took you long enough," he said in a calm, almost amused voice. "You've gotten soft, Niran."

Niran's blood boiled.

"You..." His voice came out low, sharp. "Why are you here?"

Jirapat tilted his head, studying him with dark, unreadable eyes. "I heard you were doing well. Thought I'd see it for myself."

Niran clenched his fists. The sting in his knuckles anchored him to reality, stopped him from lunging immediately.

"You wanted to see if I was still alive?" he growled. "After you killed our master?"

For a moment, Jirapat's smirk widened. Then, he shook his head.

"Oh no, I didn't kill him." His voice was soft, as if he were telling a story of no importance. "I just… opened the right door."

Niran stepped forward.

"What do you mean?"

Jirapat pushed off the wall, stepping closer without a hint of fear. The way he moved was the same as always fluid, calculated, lethal.

"You thought our master was pure? That he was the symbol of justice and strength?"

Niran felt his chest tighten. "What the hell are you saying?"

Jirapat smiled again, but this time, there was something cold in his eyes. "Not everything is as it seems, Niran. You only saw what they wanted you to see."

For a brief moment, doubt crept into Niran's heart. Just for a moment.

Then he moved.

He didn't need more words, more lies. Jirapat had betrayed their master. Had left him to die. And now, he would pay.

His fist shot forward, fast and precise.

But Jirapat barely shifted, moving with unnatural grace. A single sidestep, and Niran's punch hit nothing but air.

Before he could react, he felt a light touch on his shoulder. Then, the world tilted.

For a split second, as his vision blurred, a memory surged forward, the smell of burning wood, the echo of dying breaths, the weight of his master's body collapsing in front of him.

Jirapat had been standing there, just like now. Calm, composed, eyes devoid of hesitation.

"Why?" Niran had asked that day, his voice breaking.

Jirapat had only given him a glance before walking away, leaving him kneeling in the bloodied remains of their past.

And now, it was happening again.

The strike came without warning.

A sharp impact at the base of his neck. Precise, brutal. Niran's breath caught, his vision darkened for an instant. His legs gave out, and the ground rushed up to meet him too fast.

He dropped to his knees, hands desperately reaching for something to hold on to. His body wouldn't respond.

Jirapat crouched beside him, watching with detached eyes.

"You're not ready yet," he whispered. "But you will be soon."

Niran tried to lift an arm, but his muscles refused to obey.

His body… no longer felt like his own.

"Rest, Niran."

Jirapat's voice was distant now, muffled.

"We'll meet again soon."

Then, darkness swallowed him whole.

A dull pain dragged him back from the void.

The taste of blood filled his mouth as his breath slowly steadied. He opened his eyes. The alley was empty.

Jirapat was gone.

Niran pushed himself up with difficulty, every fiber of his body protesting, but the pain served a purpose: it reminded him that he was still alive.

Then, he felt something cold in his fingers.

He looked down.

A black steel ring.

Simple, yet heavy. Too familiar.

Niran gritted his teeth. Why had Jirapat left this?

A new wave of anger surged through him, but this time, it was mixed with something else. Confusion.

What was he trying to say?

Clutching the ring tightly, Niran stood up. His steps were slow, his breath still unsteady.

But as he left the alley, a certainty settled within him.

This wasn't over.