A Brother's Shadow
The Aura Blade was a sword so weightless it might as well have had none at all. More precisely, everything beyond the grip in your hand weighed nothing.
If Aura Masters weren't masters of highly refined martial arts, handling that blade would have been a nightmare. Weightless, yet it sliced through anything it touched. For an ordinary person, it would have been the perfect weapon to hack off their own limbs with a careless swing.
Still, its power was nothing short of awe-inspiring, and that was why Aura Masters stubbornly clung to their purity even in an age of guns and missiles.
Of course, that very devastating cutting power led some to dismiss Aura Masters' martial prowess. "What need is there for technique or swordsmanship when anything it touches just gets cut?" they'd say.
In truth, modern Aura Masters actively exploited the blade's cutting edge against high-tech weaponry, felling foes with broad, simple strokes. There were no intricate, mystical sword techniques to behold.
But that was simply the most efficient way to use it. To face supersonic bullets pouring from a trigger pull or chrome implants made of advanced materials with nothing but an unmodified human body left no room for fancy footwork.
Technique be damned—Aura Masters were still flesh and blood. A bullet to the body meant death. To survive this era, they too had to chase peak efficiency.
So what happened when Aura Masters with the same blades clashed?
High in an abandoned skyscraper overlooking Midland's glittering nightscape, three swordsmen with blades of different hues provided the answer.
"Both of you, stop this!"
At the first instant, Hayato shouted and moved. His blue Aura Blade slipped between Roque and Ryuhei just as their blades were about to collide. Three beams of light met at one point, bursting in a flare.
Unlike their earlier retreat to shed the repulsion, this time all three lightly twisted their wrists to redirect the force, flowing seamlessly into the next swing of their Aura Blades.
The next moment, a sparkling pinpoint fizzled into existence at the triangle's vertices—pipit—like stars twinkling inside the ruined building. It was the brief flash from the blades' clash. The weightlessness allowed wrist flicks alone to trace astonishingly swift, varied arcs.
Ryuhei's red beam katana followed, targeting Roque's vitals with ferocious speed and intensity, as if intent on cleaving him in two.
Roque mirrored the crimson hostility with calm precision. He parried Ryuhei's strike and slid his gray Aura Blade into the gap like liquid silk. Ryuhei couldn't react to the fluid connection.
Hayato's blue blade intercepted the gray from the side. He smoothly deflected Roque's redirected assault and tried to block Ryuhei's strike at Roque mid-swing.
Ryuhei didn't evade Hayato's blade. As if it were invisible, he pressed his attack on Roque alone. Hayato's sword flinched and spun. His blue Aura Blade barely grazed Ryuhei's head.
Ryuhei aimed for Roque, who counterattacked. Hayato tried to block both assaults.
Roque defended against Ryuhei effortlessly, pressing a chilling riposte. When Hayato intervened, he swung at him fairly too. Hayato blocked Roque's strikes Ryuhei couldn't handle, then reacted to the chaining counters.
Hayato's movements were mostly devoted to parrying Roque, but he occasionally checked Ryuhei's beam katana. Ryuhei ignored it once or twice at first, but as it persisted, he irritably swung at Hayato.
The three swordsmen's light blades traced dazzling spirals through the abandoned building. Clashes sparked light and shockwaves, which their wielders used to unleash even faster strikes.
They didn't stand still. Dodging, parrying, and countering with near-prescient senses, they shifted positions amid the frenzy. Reddened melt marks scarred the concrete pillars, floors, and even ceilings along their paths.
But as time passed, their triangular formation crumbled sharply. The reason was simple: the balance among the three was off.
Ryuhei's attacks were undeniably threatening. Incredibly fast, his red-glowing beam katana didn't extinguish on contact with an Aura Blade. One solid hit would leave Roque grievously wounded.
But it never reached him. The skill gap was too vast. Even Ryuhei's mechanical body couldn't keep pace, nor could his six camera sensors capture and his half-digitized brain predict Roque's next move.
In the end, Hayato had to block most attacks aimed at Ryuhei. His strikes at Ryuhei dwindled naturally. Ryuhei had never targeted Hayato anyway, so the trio's dynamic shifted from three-way skirmish to two-on-one.
Hayato sensed it. He shouted urgently.
"Ryuhei! Enough now! Roque-senior, stop too!"
Ryuhei didn't answer. Roque spun, batting away Ryuhei's beam katana and Hayato's Aura Blade, then chuckled.
"Tell your friend to stand down first."
"What's so funny about this! Someone's going to get hurt!"
Their movements and the killing intent swirling between grew fiercer. Ryuhei felt this momentum would soon become unstoppable.
Whether he fretted or not, Roque's smile deepened. In this moment of nothing but light blades and their warriors, the world's nagging complexities—past regrets, loneliness, sorrow—faded before the raw struggle. Only trails of light slashing the darkness shone.
Eventually, the contest clarified: Roque versus the Tanaka brothers.
From then on, Hayato and Ryuhei scrambled to defend. Hayato especially gritted his teeth to track Roque, blocking strikes Ryuhei couldn't.
Amid the chaos, Ryuhei's six camera sensors captured Hayato's efforts.
Their clash swept the floor end to end, leaving a storm of heat-ray scars. Like a tempest of ten light beams had ravaged it—probably best to scrap the upper levels if reusing the building.
Mid-press on the Tanakas, Roque sensed something.
Hayato, fully focused, missed it. Only Roque, senses expanded from cyber-diving, detected the stealthy approach.
His delighted smile faded. Reality yanked him back. The thrill of a real fight after years cooled. Come to think of it, the swordsman's era had ended long ago.
Roque positioned his Aura Blade before him and held his breath. Drawn by his stance, Hayato and Ryuhei froze in the split-second lull.
Then Roque's gray flash grazed Ryuhei.
"Urk!"
Ryuhei's mind went white. His beam katana was sheared in half. He couldn't process how a plasma-heat beam blade—fixed energy in his understanding—had been cut like solid matter.
Simultaneously, Roque's left hand thrust at Hayato. Seeing the palm, Hayato felt an invisible force slam him. He could have resisted, but seeking a pause in the fight, he let it hurl him back.
The echoes of clashing light blades fell silent in the building.
Ryuhei clutched his severed, sparking, now-extinguished beam katana in daze. Hayato, flung far, flipped midair and landed steadily. Roque shook off his Aura Blade casually, eyeing them impassively.
"You've thought better of it, Roque-senior. This fight was meaningless..."
Hayato rose slowly, relieved, but trailed off. Now he sensed it too. He snapped his gaze to the ceiling. Something hovered above the abandoned building.
"What?"
Black silhouettes swung in on wires from all sides, landing lithely through the gaping walls.
They wore sleek black armor suits and six whirring camera sensors like Ryuhei—dozens of cyborg ninjas.
Hayato gaped.
"Ryuhei, looks like you've made a lot of friends..."
Ryuhei scanned them in shock. One cyborg ninja's hand moved to his back. A heavy pistol emerged, aimed at Ryuhei.
"Ryuhei!"
Hayato's startled cry synced with the gunshot. It signaled the swarm: cyborg ninjas drew pistols, shuriken, or ultravibration heat katanas from their backs and charged.
Dodging bullets and assaults amid concrete pillars, Hayato checked on Ryuhei.
Ryuhei had twisted his head, evading a direct hit. His helmet was shattered on one side, revealing a red left eye. The wildly tracking pupil showed his panic.
Then an unseen force shoved him. Shuriken thunked into the pillar behind where he'd stood.
Shoved clear, Ryuhei whirled. Roque stood with left hand extended.
Roque met the exposed eye silently, then turned. Cyborg ninjas rushed him too.
The three swordsmen, foes moments ago, now faced dozens of black ninjas.
Unlike Ryuhei—minus his beam katana—these cyborgs fired pistols boldly, hurled shuriken occasionally, and slashed with ultravibration katanas up close.
"Ryuhei! These really aren't your friends?!"
Hayato beheaded two ninjas and their katanas mid-dodge, shouting. Ryuhei dispatched similar foes with twin daggers from his belt, silent.
Roque spun his Aura Blade to swat bullets, decapitating a closing ninja, and noticed something.
These cyborgs' movements were leagues below Ryuhei's. Compared to Roque and Hayato, sure, but Ryuhei's cyborg ninja prowess neared Aura Master level—superior raw strength and stamina, being cybernetic.
These knockoffs were decent but gang-thug tier at best. Hence ultravibration heat katanas over Ryuhei's beam ones—threatening, but too slow for Aura Blades.
The dramatic entrance fizzled; the ninjas were carved up gleefully.
Roque and Hayato feared no pistols; Ryuhei matched their agility. Soon, most lay felled, cross-sections red-hot and melting.
The last cyborg flopped down. The trio's gazes met. Roque and Hayato's Aura Blades still glowed; Ryuhei gripped a scavenged ultravibration katana.
Hayato broke the standoff slowly.
"Now, both of you, really stop..."
Floodlights blazed from the building's side—beams from above. Their eyes turned. A silent mid-size aerodyne hovered, its black Vulcan cannon trained on them.
"Ryuhei! Get down!"
Hayato's voice sparked it like the ninjas' pistols. The Vulcan roared, spewing hundreds of rounds per second, shredding the interior.
Pillars, floors, cyborg corpses shredded and scattered amid blood, dust, chrome shards.
Roque bolted right, evading as his left hand seized the aerodyne telekinetically, shaking it. Its balance crumbled; the cannon's stream veered skyward.
As the bullet rain ceased, Roque curved toward it. From the railless edge, he leaped aboard. By the time it stabilized, he was on top.
His eyes fixed on the cockpit: no pilot, just boxy machines. His Aura Blade pierced the window unhindered.
Gripping it, he ran the length of its spine—like filleting fish—slicing from nose to tailfin. The aerodyne spun wildly again.
Before full crash, Roque vaulted back inside lightly. Flames whooshed below as it smashed lower floors.
Sheathing his blade and dusting his collar, Roque paused. Hayato knelt, before a pillar shredded by Aura Blade and Vulcan. Ryuhei slumped against it.
Approaching, Roque saw they'd failed to dodge the Vulcan. Ryuhei matched the pillar's ruin: lower body mangled, torso holed.
Ryuhei looked up effortfully.
"...I... lost. Roque. Good... fight..."
Ridiculous words, but Roque nodded without comment.
"Yeah. It was fun."
At the flat reply, Ryuhei dropped his head, muttering fair enough, chuckling wetly. Black fluid oozed from his ragdoll torso. Hayato gripped his shoulder.
"Enough. Calm down. You need rest."
Ryuhei lifted his gaze to Hayato. Shattered helmet bared their eyes.
Staring at Hayato's tense face, Ryuhei said,
"...Do you really... think I'm... your brother?"
Hayato nodded.
"From the moment I first saw you, you called me brother. Only one person in this world calls me that, Ryuhei."
Ryuhei looked dazed. He whispered,
"...In my head... Ryuhei's brain is... less than forty percent... So his memories... aren't whole..."
Dark blue liquid gushed from his mouth. Hayato supported him hastily.
"Enough. Don't talk. We need a doctor—"
"I know... what defines a person... is their memories. So I may be... part of Tanaka Ryuhei... but not him. I'm not... your brother... Your brother... is dead..."
Hayato seized Ryuhei's nape, lifting his face. His hand slicked with viscous fluid, but he ignored it.
"Then who are you, alive before me, meeting my eyes? Who are you to tell me my brother's dead?"
"I'm... Tanaka Ryuhei's... shadow..."
"Ryuhei, shadow or not, it doesn't matter. That's enough. How many live as complete selves? How many die unknowing their true faces? Your body is chrome and steel, yet you define yourself as Ryuhei. That's enough. To affirm yourself and live—that's plenty..."
Ryuhei smiled faintly at Hayato's words.
"You... yeah. You never... gave up on me... Even when I did... Just now too..."
Hayato smiled thinly back.
"Yeah, you think I didn't notice you borrowing Roque-senior's hand to bow out? I'm no Aura Master if I can't sense that much clashing blades. Didn't expect convincing him to be easy, though."
Roque shrugged at Hayato's glance, scratching his jaw. Ryuhei had staked his life; Roque accepted. For swordsmen, that sufficed sometimes.
Hayato turned back, smile vanishing. Ryuhei had stilled.
"Ryuhei?"
Hayato's eyes widened. Ryuhei's face was motionless save his red electronic eye slowly adjusting its pupil.
Hayato's reflection filled it—as if etching his brother's face at life's end would preserve him forever.
"...Ryuhei."
No reply. The sluggish pupil halted.
Hayato's face twisted. His vision blurred. He bowed his head. Hot droplets pattered onto the wrecked cyborg.
Roque turned from the brothers' end. Eastward, Dragonland's horizon glowed deep blue. Westward, Midland's core blazed undimmed.
One side dawned faintly; the other burned with ceaseless city light.
Hayato spoke.
"...Senior said it. Where you draw the line for 'alive' is personal."
"Yeah."
"I think I understand why now."
Roque eyed the pale dawn.
"Do you."
"Ryuhei..."
Hayato choked, head low, words stuck. Then he lifted his face firmly.
"I won't return to Japan."
"That Elder will be waiting."
"I regret it, but going back now... I couldn't live."
Roque turned.
"Why?"
"My heart would die."
Their deep black eyes met—kindred now, unlike before.
Hayato said,
"I'll find who made Ryuhei this way, who sent tanks and assassins to erase him. And make them pay."
He knelt, fists and forehead to the floor.
"Thank you for aiding this lost soul before, and joining my quest for my brother today. If you ever need my help, Senior, I'll drop everything."
"That formal thanks is a bit much."
Undeterred, Hayato repeated,
"Truly, thank you, Roque-senior."
He rose, cradling his brother's mangled corpse. Roque watched him go amid distant sirens—police or fire, unclear.
"Examine the body closely. Look for erased markings. Probably the culprits' corporate logo."
Hayato paused, nodded lightly, and vanished.
Roque sensed it: soon, rumors in the city's alleys. Of a black ninja with blue Aura Blade unearthing his brother's death.
Turning to the edge, Roque peered out. Aerodyne smoke billowed nearby; fire trucks flashed afar, mistaking it for a blaze.
"Guess I should head out too."
His gaze caught the scene below: the walker-tank he and Hayato scrapped earlier, and a black-haired girl fiddling there.
"...What's she doing down there now?"