Night had fallen over the training grounds, leaving the area bathed in a pale silver light from the moon. The wind whispered through the sparse trees, and the faint hum of energy from the Diamond surrounded Kijotsu like a tense heartbeat.

He stood in the middle of the clearing, white hair damp with sweat, long jacket flaring with each movement, black clothing clinging to his body from exertion. His scar caught the moonlight, a stark reminder of past battles. His hands glowed faintly blue as arcs of energy spiraled around him, the Diamond hovering above his palms, pulsing with chaotic intensity.

“I… I can do this,” Kijotsu muttered through gritted teeth. He launched forward, channeling energy, summoning sparks that danced across the clearing. He moved through the motions again and again, practicing techniques he barely understood. Each strike of energy left him drained, each burst leaving the air around him crackling.

After hours of relentless practice, his knees buckled. The Diamond flared violently, arcs of electricity skittering across the ground as Kijotsu fell face-first into the dirt. Blood seeped from his lips and cuts along his arms and legs. He groaned, dragging himself to his feet, sweat and blood mixing with the grime of the ground. Still, he forced himself to continue.

By midnight, exhaustion overtook him. Kijotsu collapsed, bloodied, trembling, energy still flickering from his Diamond. Darkness pressed against the edges of his vision, and the last thing he felt before losing consciousness was the pulsing hum of his own heartbeat.

---

“Uhuuuuuu… Kijo!”

The voice broke through the night. Leenka’s figure appeared at the edge of the clearing — tall and muscular, blonde hair tied back, white tunic with gold trim, massive sword slung across his back. Concern and authority marked his expression.

“I’ve already told you not to practice that hard,” he scolded softly, kneeling beside him. His hands glowed faintly as he stabilized Kijotsu’s Diamond energy, lifting him gently.

The world shifted in a blur of motion, and before Kijotsu could react, he found himself lying on the bed in Kinata’s house. Warmth replaced the cold night, soft candlelight illuminating the familiar room.

---

Morning came slowly, the sun peeking through the curtains. Kijotsu’s eyelids fluttered open. He blinked against the soft light, white hair falling messily across his scarred face, long jacket still draped over black clothing, sleeves slightly rolled up from sleep.

In the kitchen, Kinata moved gracefully, humming softly, flipping food in a pan. The aroma of breakfast filled the room.

“Good morning, Kijotsu,” Kinata said, smiling as she turned to him.

“Morning,” he replied, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. A small smile tugged at his lips. They talked softly, shared a quiet meal, and for a brief moment, the weight of yesterday’s training seemed distant.

After finishing breakfast, Kijotsu stepped outside, the cool morning air brushing against his face. He needed space, needed to think about his powers, his low energy, and the techniques he was struggling to master.

---

As he wandered, he noticed a woman huddled near a crumbling wall. Her clothes were ragged, face worn by hardship. He approached slowly.

“Do you need help?” Kijotsu asked, voice calm, almost tentative.

The woman shook her head faintly. “No… but… thank you anyways.”

“All right, whatever. Take care,” he said, offering a small, encouraging nod before turning away.

Suddenly, a shadow twisted behind him. A sharp, bone-chilling sound echoed. Kijotsu froze. In the blink of an eye, a monstrous creature’s shadow plunged knives into the woman’s body, her scream swallowed by darkness.

He spun around, eyes wide, white hair falling over his scarred face, heart pounding violently. The image of Maksuki, of past trauma, surged in his mind like a flash of lightning. Kijotsu collapsed to the ground, trembling, his chest tight, every breath a struggle. Time slowed; the world around him stilled. Two long minutes passed, each second stretching into eternity.

Finally, nothing remained. The street was empty. The woman was gone. His body shook, sweat mixing with residual blood from training, but slowly he forced himself upright.

Shakily, he returned home. The sun hung high now, warm light filtering through the trees. The events of the street felt unreal, like a nightmare fading at dawn. Yet in his chest, the weight of failure, of fear, and of power lingered — a reminder that he had to grow stronger, faster, and smarter.

End of Chapter 13.