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Ren shot forward as much a clean advance as he could from his previously relaxed posture, the speed itself slightly startled Kamo, so the following feint jerked Kamo's guard up entirely too early. Forcing Kamo's hands up toward his face, Ren planted mid-step and drove a hook into Kamo's side. Kamo's breath hitched. Kamo knew better than to drop his elbow and block a completed movement, Ren twisted at the waist and drove his shin towards Kamo's opposite ribcage. 

Kamo tracked and deflected the kick, but that froze his already lacking momentum. 

So when Ren jerked his upper body, his heel whipping around to catch Kamo across the jaw. Kamo's hand was too slow—his fingers caught the impact, but not enough to absorb it.

Kamo stumbled but didn't fall. He planted his foot awkwardly. Ren replied again with that awkward slicing hook. 

The hits slowed Kamo briefly, and Ren pressed, moving quickly to follow up. Kamo threw a powerful cross aimed at Ren's jaw. Ren pivoted sideways smoothly, redirecting the blow by guiding Kamo's wrist across his own body.

In the same fluid movement, Ren stepped into Kamo's space, placing himself between Kamo and his forward momentum. Ren's arm hooked around Kamo's neck as he turned his hip sharply inward.

He pulled Kamo over his hip and threw him to the ground.

Kamo hit the earth hard on his back, breath exploding from his lungs in a rush. He stared straight up, unmoving.

Ren straightened, looking down for a brief moment.

"You lose," Ren said curtly.

Kamo lay flat on his back, the pressure of the toss left a sharp pain surrounding his spine. He didn't leave himself much time to pass the event. Almost immediately he forced his brain to fire on the route of what he could possibly take from that fight, that'd ended entirely too soon.

Tch. I can't see myself as strong if I'm getting embarrassed like this. How can I let myself stand beneath one of my own pawns?

Kamo reflected intently on the awkward punch Ren kept using.

For all intents and purposes, he was trying new things on me—impractical, inefficient, borderline useless attacks that any competent fighter should've easily countered. But it took me four swings to even do that. He even landed another at the end.

Unacceptable. I truly am pathetic. But that is changeable. The fault would be in me remaining this way. I'll grow. I'll surpass him.

Kamo began to let his emotions carry his thoughts, opposite of his usual logical approach. I'll grow stronger, in a short time. Screw Ren. Always so proud of himself, glorifying fighting as a sport. A battle is to defeat, and grant death. And soon enough, I will show him that fact.

[You really are evil all the way to your soul, aren't you. Even standing before a man who respects you, admires you, and supports your goals—no matter how horrible your methods. Still, your desires are so narrow and selfish that you only see him as a stepping stone. Something to kill just to test yourself.]

Who…? He knew. But the reflex was to push back. No. That would be foolish to ask. Why do you care now? Why the opinion all of a sudden?

[I've watched you justify every bruise, every corpse, every scar you've left in just these last months. The way you think—moving through people like they're scenery—it actually makes me shudder. How do you live so focused on yourself? Do you even notice anyone else exists? You talk about purpose and necessity, but what's the difference between you and a wild animal? Or a weapon in someone else's hand?]

I don't owe you explanations. But "blind" is the wrong word. I'm aware—vividly. I keep track of everyone and everything. But every person needs a role. No one's so important that their life outweighs the greater goal. In that sense, yes—anyone could be a stepping stone.

I know what needs to be done. You never did.

[That's just how you excuse it to yourself, isn't it? That all this is for something greater, that nobody's life really matters except as a piece of your mission. You're like a dog trained to bite—so eager to please your master, never questioning who that master is or what they really want from you. I understand how you got this way, Kamo. I do. But understanding is not the same as permission.]

I'll remember that when I come to seek your permission. But last I checked, you are my slave—not the other way around. I serve one man. I'm eager to fulfill his will, yes. But I am no mutt. I know exactly who I am.

[You can call yourself anything you want. It doesn't change what you are.

You're not above anyone just because you chose your master. At the end of the day, you're still living on someone else's command—snapping at whoever they point at. You can dress it up as pride, call it loyalty, but it's still a leash.]

Don't pretend to know me. I saw through your optimism that day we met, it was you trying to play hero on the street, right? And now look. That optimism got you nowhere then and it won't favor you now. Know this—my priorities have always been clear. Purpose above emotion, long before Fūre, even before I met you.

You're not my strategic aide. If you have a problem with my methods, solve my issues yourself—on the battlefield. As commanded.

But somehow, you've found a way around even that. So do me a favor: be as silent in my mind as you are in real life.

Silence lingered and Kamo's heart pounded. Hikari's voice faded, but his judgment didn't. It hung in the air.

Kamo felt a weird shift in his mind. One that said the conversation had ended. And Kamo couldn't find a way back into that exchange. Even though he'd silenced the co-resident voice in his mind intentionally, he wasn't actually prepared to end the back and forth.

But he knew that ship had sailed—at least until Hikari decided to open it back up. Kamo left a final thought in the air, spoken aloud to make sure there was no chance of Hikari missing it.

"Still, I want you to fight."