Ash stepped forward, his presence shifting like a storm building on the horizon. The air crackled around him, charged with something unseen but undeniable.
"You've always wielded the shadow dragon, bent it to your will," he said, voice calm, yet resonant with power. "But what if you didn't just wield it?"
He extended a hand. Black lightning sparked across his knuckles, wild and uncontained. Tendrils of dark electricity arced from his fingertips, merging with the shadows at his feet—no longer just shadow or storm, but something primal, something alive.
Kuro stood frozen, eyes locked on the spectacle before him. Ash's energy twisted and surged in a dance between chaos and calm—lightning's fury intertwined with the silence of the abyss. Ash raised his other hand, and the black thunder slithered like a living thing, curling through his fingers before sinking into his own shadow. The ground beneath him pulsed, humming with dark resonance.
"The key isn't in controlling them," Ash continued. "Lightning is motion. Destruction. Shadows are stillness. Patience. You don't command one with the other. But together…" His words trailed off as his body flickered, caught between realms, cloaked in a swirling haze of shadow and storm.
Kuro's breath caught. The presence before him wasn't angelic or demonic—it was something entirely new.
Ash's eyes burned as he stepped closer. "Your dragon is bound by shadow," he said, voice heavy with meaning. "But if you let it drink from the storm… it will ascend."
Kuro hesitated. The shadow-forged dragon coiled around him, wary and silent. It was more than a weapon—it was a part of him, an extension of his soul. Could he push it further?
Drawing a steady breath, he extended his hand.
The dragon tensed. Lightning surged from Kuro's fingers—not as a weapon, but as an offering. The clash was immediate. Thunder met shadow, sparking chaos. The dojo trembled. The dragon thrashed in resistance, arcs of black lightning lashing its form.
Kuro gritted his teeth, eyes shut tight, forcing himself to feel rather than command. Slowly, the storm calmed. The shadows accepted. And in that fragile balance, the dragon began to change—its scales laced with glowing veins of lightning, its form pulsing with newfound might.
A low, echoing rumble filled the dojo.
Kuro opened his eyes. He felt it—Kage Oni-Rai. Not a technique. A transformation. Shadow and storm in perfect balance.
A grin tugged at his lips as he met Ash's gaze. "You may have created it," he said, flexing his fingers as the power surged through him, "but let's see if I can perfect it."
The air crackled. The dojo shimmered with flickering shadows and arcs of black lightning. Kuro stood centered, breath steady, mind sharp. Ash watched in silence, arms crossed, the look of a mentor—and a father.
Kuro summoned his dragon again. It circled him, violet eyes locked to his. He reached for the storm.
The backlash was immediate.
Power detonated. Kuro was hurled back, his dragon recoiling. Shadows frayed. Lightning flickered and died. He landed hard, frustration burning in his veins.
Ash stepped forward. "You're forcing it," he said simply. "Trying to control them as separate forces. That's not how Kage Oni-Rai works."
"I don't need a lecture," Kuro growled.
Ash didn't flinch. "Then take it as a warning. This isn't just power—it's a state of being. You don't master it. You become it."
Kuro rose, jaw clenched. He had spent years perfecting shadow. Precision. Control. But lightning—lightning was defiance incarnate.
He lifted his hand again. Reached. Called.
Chaos answered.
Another clash. Another failure. The dojo shook with the force of rejection. Kuro staggered back, breath ragged. Was he too rigid? Too late to adapt?
Ash's voice cut through the tension. "You're trying to perfect something you haven't even accepted."
"I don't have the time you did."
"Then you'll have to learn faster," Ash said. "Because Kage Oni-Rai won't wait. You either grow into it—or it breaks you."
Kuro's fists trembled. He hated feeling like a novice. But war had taught him this much: force couldn't solve every battle.
He inhaled slowly. Exhaled. This time, he didn't command. He invited.
The storm came—tentative, probing. The shadow answered. And where they met, something shifted.
The dragon reformed, lightning threading through its being. Not forced. Not conquered. Fused.
Kuro opened his eyes, body ringed with swirling power. It wasn't perfect. Not yet. But it was real.
Ash smirked. "Took you long enough."