Akira rolled his injured shoulder absentmindedly, eyes flicking to the faint hum of Raikou resting beside him.

  He finally had enough energy again to give Raikou a form around the clock like he always did. But he could still feel the lingering ache of battle, the way his body still hadn’t fully recovered.

  The st few months.

  Shigure. The fight where he first let loose—where he first heard Raikou’s voice guiding him toward something greater.

  The Chūkan. Learning what it meant to truly release his power, to not just control lightning, but to become it.

  Tenzan. The moment he realized that even with all of that, he still wasn’t strong enough.

  And now?

  He was sitting here, waiting for the next war to begin.

  His fingers curled into a fist.

  “If I had just been a little stronger back then… would it have been different?”

  He shook the thought away.

  No point in asking that now.

  Next time, he wouldn’t hold back.