Chapter 1

The morning light crept through the window, casting a golden hue over the room. A young man lay in bed, his breathing steady but shallow, his mind caught between dreams and reality. His eyelids twitched before slowly fluttering open, revealing striking purple eyes that gleamed like amethysts in the dim light. He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his black, tousled hair.

That dream again...

It had been haunting him for as long as he could remember-fleeting images, whispers of memories just beyond his reach. Each time he awoke, he felt as if something was slipping through his fingers, a truth he couldn't quite grasp.

With a quiet sigh, he pushed the thoughts aside, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. The cold floor met his bare feet, grounding him in the present. He rose to his feet, stretching out the stiffness in his limbs before heading to the washroom.

After a quick rinse, he threw on his usual attire-a black T-shirt, a black jacket left unzipped, and a pair of well-fitted black jeans. His shoes were simple but sleek, black with a subtle design. He gave himself one last glance in the mirror, not out of vanity, but habit. The face staring back at him was familiar, yet sometimes, he felt like he was looking at a stranger.

Stepping out of his room, he was immediately greeted by a soft, familiar voice.

"Good morning, Riku."

Turning to the side, he found himself looking at Midori. She stood just outside her door, her piercing blue eyes meeting his with an easy warmth. Her black hair framed her face, slightly messy from just waking up, but still beautiful in its own way. She wore a black jacket zipped up with a subtle blue outline along the seams, a black undershirt peeking from beneath. Her jeans were fitted, her black sneakers worn but well-kept.

Riku gave a small smile. "Morning, Midori."

"Did you sleep well?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

"As well as I can, I guess," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Still having those dreams?"

He hesitated for a second before nodding.

Midori studied him for a moment, as if contemplating whether to press further, but before she could say anything, a new voice cut through the air.

"What are you two whispering about?"

Riku turned to see another familiar face approaching-a boy with slightly darker skin, his hair just as black but his red eyes sharp and alert. He wore a red T-shirt beneath a black jacket, similar in style to Riku's but carrying a slightly rougher edge. His black pants and sneakers completed the look, his presence exuding confidence.

"Good morning Hiroshi," Riku acknowledged with a nod.

Hiroshi smirked. "You know Ronin's gonna be pissed, right?"

Riku blinked, then paled slightly. "Shit, I almost forgot!"

Without wasting another second, they bolted down the hallway, skipping unnecessary chatter as they hurried to the dining area. They threw together a quick breakfast, barely taking time to enjoy the meal before rushing outside.

The courtyard was already filled with students, all engaged in their own morning routines. Some were stretching, others sparring, while a few simply loitered, enjoying the brief peace before training began. As Riku and his group passed, they exchanged greetings, though Riku couldn't help but notice the way some of the students averted their eyes when they saw him.

It had always been like that. Ever since that day.

It had been eight years ago now, but the memory was as clear as if it had happened yesterday.

A boy lay sprawled on the ground, his face bruised, his lip split. Towering over him was another child-no older than six-with black hair and glowing purple eyes. His sleeveless shirt exposed his lean but growing muscles, and his small black shorts allowed for complete freedom of movement.

Lightning crackled around his body, an untamed, raw force that pulsed with his rage. The air around him hummed with energy, charged and dangerous.

"If you ever lay a finger on her again," he had said, his voice cold and sharp like a blade, "I'll make sure you regret it twice as much next time."

The boy on the ground trembled, his breath hitching as he scrambled backward. His eyes darted to his friends-the ones who had been just as beaten and bruised. None of them could stand, all of them left broken by the same storm they had foolishly provoked.

And then, as if sensing the gravity of the situation, they ran.

Riku could still hear the name echoing in his mind, the name that had defined that moment, the name that had followed him ever since.

The day he unlocked his powers.

The year everything changed.

And the the time they first arrived.

The sterile white walls of the medical facility stretched endlessly under flickering fluorescent lights. The steady hum of monitors filled the air, accompanied by the occasional beeping from nearby machines. On two separate beds, two boys stirred, groaning softly as they blinked against the harsh overhead light. Their bodies ached with soreness they couldn't place, and their minds felt like fractured mirrors, reflecting broken fragments of memory.

One boy sat up slowly, clutching his pounding head. His eyes, an intense shade of purple, darted around the room as if searching for answers. Beside him, the other boy shifted beneath the stiff sheets. His red eyes flicked open, narrowing in confusion as he surveyed their strange surroundings.

Neither spoke, the weight of their disorientation suffocating any attempt at conversation. They couldn't remember how they got there, nor where they were now. Their minds grasped at shadows, but only one certainty remained firm-they knew their own names, though even that felt distant and hollow.

The door to the room slid open with a soft hiss, breaking the heavy silence. A young man stepped inside, his presence filling the space with quiet authority. His long brown hair hung loosely over his shoulders, framing a face hardened beyond his years. Despite his youthful appearance-barely older than twenty-he carried himself with the confidence of someone accustomed to command. A katana hung at his hips, its handle worn from use and polished to perfection.

The man's sharp eyes assessed them coolly before speaking. "Good. You're awake," he said, voice steady but devoid of warmth. "You both made a good recovery."

Neither boy responded. Suspicion lingered in their gazes as they sized up the stranger. The man didn't seem surprised by their silence.

"My name is Ronin," he introduced himself, stepping closer. "I know things are unclear right now. But there's no need to remember the past. What matters is what happens next."

The boys exchanged wary glances, neither trusting the cryptic reassurance.

Ronin's expression remained unreadable as he gestured toward the door. "Come with me. I'll explain everything soon."

Despite their unease, the boys rose from the beds, their bare feet making soft thuds against the cold floor. Ronin led them down a long, dimly lit corridor that twisted and turned before finally opening into the cool, crisp air of the outside world.

The sight before them was both strange and unsettling-a sprawling compound nestled deep within a dense forest, hidden from prying eyes. Several buildings surrounded a large courtyard where other children and teenagers trained under the watchful eyes of stern masters. Swords clashed, wooden dummies splintered beneath powerful strikes, and grunts of exertion filled the clearing.

"This is your new home," Ronin said flatly. "You'll live here and train to become strong."

Their steps faltered as they took in the daunting sight. Everything about this place radiated discipline and cold efficiency. There was no laughter, no lighthearted chatter-only grim determination etched into every face.

Ronin gestured toward a small house tucked away near the edge of the compound, separated from the main training grounds by a narrow stone path. "That's where you'll stay," he informed them. "It's yours now. Make use of it."

The boys hesitated as they took in the building's austere appearance-simple, functional, and devoid of any comfort or warmth.

Ronin paused, turning to face them directly. "You have a lot to learn," he said. "But you'll be trained to fight, to survive. The Legion demands strength, and you'll either meet that demand-or be left behind."

Neither boy flinched at his harsh words, though a flicker of something defiant lingered in their expressions.

"What are your names?" Ronin asked abruptly, eyes narrowing slightly as he waited.

The boy with purple eyes spoke first, his voice steady despite the weight of the situation. "Riku."

The other followed, his red eyes gleaming with quiet resolve. "Hiroshi."

Ronin nodded once, seemingly satisfied. "Riku and Hiroshi," he repeated. "You'll both do well here, if you remember one thing: Hesitation is weakness. There's no place for it."

With that, he turned and strode away, his katana glinting briefly in the fading light.

Riku and Hiroshi stood in silence for a moment before making their way to the small house. The interior was sparse, containing little more than two simple beds, a low table, and a training rack for weapons they had yet to receive. The windows were small and high up, offering only narrow glimpses of the sky beyond.

They sat on their respective beds, the weight of their circumstances settling over them like a heavy cloak. Despite the cold detachment of their surroundings, an unspoken resolve connected them.

"We'll figure this out," Riku said quietly, more to himself than to Hiroshi.

His brother nodded solemnly. "Yeah. We have to."

As the sun dipped below the horizon and darkness crept over the compound, the sound of training continued unabated outside. Blades struck against blades, and the grunts of effort echoed into the night.

For now, they will stay. They will learn. But deep in their hearts, they knew that whatever this place wanted to make of them, they would not be broken.

That night, Riku lay awake, his mind clouded with uncertainty. The infirmary around him was silent, save for the faint hum of distant machinery. The sterile scent in the air only made the weight in his chest feel heavier. No matter how hard he tried, his thoughts kept circling back to the same unanswerable questions.

Why couldn't he remember anything?

Why was he here?

His body felt foreign, like it belonged to someone else. His name-Riku-was the only thing he was sure of. Everything else was an empty void, as if someone had stolen pieces of him and left him with nothing but fragments.

He turned his head slightly, his gaze falling on the boy lying beside him. Hiroshi. He knew that name. He felt it in his bones. A part of him was certain they were brothers, but certainty meant nothing when his own memories refused to confirm it.

His throat was dry, his voice barely above a whisper. "H-Hiroshi... are you awake?"

There was silence. A long, heavy pause that made Riku wonder if he was alone in this, too.

Then, finally, Hiroshi spoke. "Yeah... What's wrong?"

Riku hesitated before rolling onto his side, staring at the ceiling. "I... I'm scared." He swallowed hard, his fingers gripping the thin blanket draped over him. "We don't remember anything... Not who we are. Not where we came from. And now, we're stuck here, being forced to train, to fight. But for what? What's the purpose? Why us?"

His voice cracked, and before he knew it, his vision blurred with tears. He clenched his jaw, trying to keep himself together, but the fear inside him was suffocating.

Hiroshi didn't respond right away. Riku wasn't sure if he was thinking or if, maybe, he didn't have an answer. But then, Hiroshi exhaled, his voice quiet but steady.

"Fear is natural," he murmured. "It reminds us that we're alive."

Riku blinked, caught off guard by the words.

"But you know what fear also does?" Hiroshi continued. "It makes us question. It makes us doubt. And when we let it take over, it controls us. Right now, we don't have our memories. We don't know why we're here or what's going to happen next. But does that mean we stop moving forward?"

Riku swallowed, not sure how to respond.

Hiroshi sighed, his voice softer now. "Maybe our past was taken from us. Maybe we were never meant to remember. But that doesn't mean we don't exist. It doesn't mean we don't have a purpose. And if we don't have one... then we make one."

Riku turned his head slightly, looking at Hiroshi through the dim light. There was something in his voice-something steady, unshaken.

"Our place in this world isn't decided by them," Hiroshi said, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "It's decided by us. And I choose to be here... with you."

Riku's breath caught in his throat.

"We're brothers, Riku. No matter what happens, we'll face it together. No matter how lost we feel, we'll keep moving forward. And as long as we have each other, we'll always have a reason to fight."

Silence stretched between them, but it wasn't empty this time. It was filled with something unspoken-something that felt real in a way memories didn't.

Riku let out a shaky breath. The fear was still there, lingering in the back of his mind, but it no longer felt like it was drowning him.

He gave a small, tired smile. "Yeah... You're right."

Hiroshi let out a quiet chuckle. "Get some sleep, Riku."

Riku nodded, his eyelids growing heavier. "Okay... Thank you, Hiroshi."

"Anytime," Hiroshi murmured.

As sleep slowly pulled him under, Riku held onto those words. Maybe the past was gone. Maybe the future was uncertain.

But at least, in this moment, he wasn't alone.

The next morning came far earlier than Riku or Hiroshi would have liked. A sharp knock echoed through their small, dimly lit house, jolting them awake. Before they could even sit up, Ronin's voice cut through the door.

"Out. Now."

Bleary-eyed and groaning, the boys shuffled to the door, where Ronin stood waiting, his long brown hair slightly tousled, but his sharp gaze as piercing as ever. The cool predawn air bit at their skin as they stepped outside, still rubbing sleep from their eyes.

The compound was alive with activity despite the early hour. Other students were already gathered in the courtyard, standing in neat lines, their movements precise as they practiced their drills under the watchful eyes of their instructors. The boys hesitated, feeling out of place among the regimented group.

Ronin thrust two wooden bokken-training swords-into their hands. "These are yours now," he said flatly. "Don't lose them."

Riku held the wooden blade awkwardly, unsure how to position it. Hiroshi frowned, trying to mimic the stance of the other students, but it felt foreign and clumsy.

"First lesson," Ronin began, stepping into the courtyard and drawing his katana in one fluid motion. The blade gleamed in the faint light of dawn, its edge catching the pale glow of the rising sun. "The way of the blade is not about strength. It's about precision, control, and intention. Every swing must have purpose. If you hesitate-" He moved faster than either of them could follow, striking a wooden dummy with a single, clean slice. The top half of the dummy toppled to the ground with a loud thud. "-you die."

The boys exchanged nervous glances.

Ronin didn't give them a chance to process his words. "Now, come at me," he ordered, stepping back and motioning them forward.

Riku and Hiroshi hesitated, unsure how to even hold their bokken properly.

"Come on!" Ronin barked, his voice sharp and commanding. "Attack me like your lives depend on it, because one day, they will."

Riku moved first, awkwardly swinging his bokken. Ronin sidestepped easily, swatting the wooden blade aside with the flat of his katana. Hiroshi followed, his movements equally unrefined, and Ronin disarmed him with a swift, calculated strike that sent the bokken flying from his hands.

"Pathetic," Ronin growled, his gaze cold. "Again."

This routine continued for days. Each morning, Ronin dragged them out into the courtyard, pushing them through relentless drills and sparring sessions. Every mistake was met with harsh criticism, every failure an opportunity for Ronin to remind them how weak they were.

At first, Riku and Hiroshi bore the brunt of his discipline in silence, but the strain began to wear on them. Their muscles ached, their hands blistered from gripping the bokken, and their spirits grew heavy under the weight of Ronin's unyielding expectations.

Late one evening, after another grueling day of training, Hiroshi slammed his bokken against the wall of their small house in frustration. "I can't do this anymore," he muttered, pacing back and forth.

Riku, sitting on the edge of his bed, looked up at his brother with concern. "What do you mean?"

"This place," Hiroshi said, gesturing toward the window where the faint glow of the compound's torches flickered. "It's a prison. Ronin doesn't care about us-he just wants to break us."

Riku hesitated, his grip tightening on his bokken. "But... where would we go? What if he catches us?"

Hiroshi knelt in front of his brother, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "We'll figure it out. We can't stay here, Riku. We're not like them."

After a moment of silence, Riku nodded.

That night, as the compound fell silent and the torches burned low, the two boys crept out of their house. They moved cautiously, sticking to the shadows as they made their way toward the perimeter fence.

The forest beyond the compound was dense and dark, its towering trees casting long, eerie shadows under the faint light of the crescent moon. The air was cool and damp, carrying the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl.

Riku hesitated as they reached the fence. "Are you sure about this?" he whispered.

Hiroshi nodded, already climbing the rough wooden planks. "We'll be fine. Just stay close."

Once over the fence, they began walking deeper into the forest. The further they went, the quieter the world seemed to become, the faint sounds of the compound fading behind them.

For a while, the only noise was the crunch of leaves beneath their feet. But then, a low, guttural growl broke the silence.

Riku froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He turned slowly, his eyes widening as he saw a pair of glowing yellow eyes staring back at him from the shadows.

"Hiroshi," he whispered, his voice trembling.

Hiroshi turned just as the wolf lunged.

The creature moved with terrifying speed, its claws slashing at Hiroshi's arm before he could react. He stumbled back with a cry of pain, clutching the bleeding wound.

Riku swung his bokken wildly, trying to fend off the wolf, but the wooden blade was no match for the animal's ferocity. The wolf snarled, its claws raking across Riku's arm. Pain exploded through him as blood gushed from the deep wound. He fell to his knees, gasping for breath, certain that this was the end.

But then, something within him shifted.

He remembered their talk from a few weeks before.

"Fear is natural," Hiroshi had murmured. "It reminds us that we're alive."

"But you know what fear also does?" Hiroshi had continued. "It makes us question. It makes us doubt. And when we let it take over, it controls us. Right now, we don't have our memories. We don't know why we're here or what's going to happen next. But does that mean we stop moving forward?"

"Maybe our past was taken from us. Maybe we were never meant to remember. But that doesn't mean we don't exist. It doesn't mean we don't have a purpose. And if we don't have one... then we make one."

"Our place in this world isn't decided by them," Hiroshi had said, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "It's decided by us. And I choose to be here... with you."

"We're brothers, Riku. No matter what happens, we'll face it together. No matter how lost we feel, we'll keep moving forward. And as long as we have each other, we'll always have a reason to fight."

Then, something inside him awoke.

A surge of energy coursed through his body, and the air around him crackled with electricity. Lightning danced across his skin, illuminating the dark forest in brief, brilliant flashes.

" GET THE HELL AWAY FROM MY BROTHER!"

With a roar, Riku lunged at the wolf, the electricity coiling around his bokken like a living thing. The wooden blade struck the wolf with a blinding flash, and the creature collapsed, lifeless, at his feet.

For a brief moment, Riku stared at the wolf's body in stunned silence, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. But his relief was short-lived.

More growls echoed through the forest as the rest of the pack emerged from the shadows.

Riku and Hiroshi stood back-to-back, their breaths coming in ragged gasps as the wolves closed in.

Before the pack could strike, a blur of motion tore through the clearing. The wolves fell one by one, their bodies hitting the ground in rapid succession.

When the chaos subsided, Ronin stood before them, his katana glinting with fresh blood.

His usually cold demeanor cracked as he rushed to the boys, pulling them into a tight embrace. "You idiots," he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. "What were you thinking?"

Neither boy could muster a response.

Ronin carried them back to the compound, where they were treated for their injuries. As they lay in their beds that night, exhausted and bandaged, they couldn't shake the memory of Ronin's tears.

For the first time since arriving at the compound, they began to wonder if there was more to their mentor than they had realized.

That night, Riku lay in bed, unable to stop thinking about what had happened. His mind kept flashing back to the moment lightning crackled around him, surging through his body as if it had always been there, waiting to be awakened.

What was that power? he thought to himself.

Just then, Hiroshi's voice broke through the silence.

"Hey, Riku... you awake?"

Riku turned his head, staring at the ceiling for a moment before replying, "Yeah."

Hiroshi grinned, sitting up on his bed. "I gotta be honest, that was badass-the way you made lightning travel up your bokken. That was awesome! Why didn't you tell me you had such a cool power?"

Riku looked over at him, his expression unreadable. "I didn't even know I had it."

Hiroshi fell silent for a moment, lost in thought. Then, almost hesitantly, he spoke again.

"Hey... we're brothers, right?"

Riku turned his head, giving him a look that said "Do you even have to ask?"

Hiroshi let out a small chuckle before his expression turned curious. "Do you think I have powers too?"

Riku sighed, still trying to wrap his head around his own abilities. "I'm not sure, Hiroshi."

Hiroshi's face lit up with excitement. "Man, I hope I do! Imagine how cool I'd look on the battlefield, slaying my enemies with lightning or something."

Riku smirked but then glanced at his brother's arm. "Speaking of battles... how's your arm?"

Hiroshi stopped mid-fantasy, blinking as if he had almost forgotten. He unwrapped the bandage, expecting to see at least a scar-something to remind him of the pain. But instead, both brothers stared in shock.

It was completely healed.

Not a mark. Not even a faint line where the wound had been.

Riku quickly removed his own bandage, and sure enough, his injury was gone as well.

Hiroshi exhaled in disbelief. "That's... interesting."

Riku nodded slowly. "Yeah... no wound, no scar. It's like it never happened."

Hiroshi sat back, deep in thought, staring at his hand as if willing it to reveal some kind of answer. But the more he thought about it, the more questions it raised.

After a long pause, he finally shook his head. "It's late. We should probably get some sleep."

He reached over and switched off the lamp.

"Good night, Riku."

"Good night, Hiroshi."

And with that, they both drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The crisp night air carried the distant rustling of leaves as Riku, Hiroshi, and Midori moved swiftly through the compound's dimly lit pathways. Their breathing was steady but their footsteps light, honed by years of relentless training. Each of them could feel it-an unspoken urgency pressing against their chests, urging them forward.

Just as they rounded a corner, a voice, smooth yet teasing, cut through the quiet.

"You three seem to be in a hurry."

Riku's body tensed. His violet eyes flickered toward the source of the voice.

A girl leaned casually against a wooden post, arms crossed. Her short, fiery red hair framed sharp, confident eyes that glowed under the moonlight. She wore a black sleeveless hoodie, zipped halfway, with shorts over black tights that hugged her toned legs. Fingerless gloves extended up her forearms, and her stance radiated an effortless sense of control.

She smirked. "Got a moment to chat?"