Neon lights flickered across the wet streets of Shinjuku, but something was wrong.
Arjun stepped out of the taxi, gripping his jacket tighter as a sharp chill ran through the air. Tokyo was never this quiet—not even past midnight. The usual hum of distant chatter, blaring horns, and music from the bars was gone.
Emi stepped beside him, her eyes scanning the empty streets. “Something’s coming.”
Arjun felt it too. The same suffocating pressure from when the first Oni attacked him in Shibuya. But this was stronger. Much stronger.
The streetlights above them flickered—then died.
A deep, guttural growl echoed between the buildings.
Then, the shadows moved.
Dark figures emerged from the alleys, climbing the buildings, slithering from the rooftops. Oni. But these were not like the one Arjun had fought before.
Some had crimson skin, jagged horns, and bulging muscles covered in black markings. Others had no eyes, their faces twisted into grinning masks, glowing with unholy fire. Their claws scraped against the pavement, hungry for blood.
Arjun slowly reached for his bow.
The largest of them stepped forward—towering, at least nine feet tall, its breath thick with smoke. Its voice was a deep, distorted growl.
“The Archer of Two Worlds… you cannot run.”
The Oni’s clawed hand reached out—and the entire street shook.
Glass shattered. The pavement cracked beneath its feet. The air rippled with dark energy, as if reality itself was warping around the creature’s power.
Arjun acted.
The Chakra Dhanush materialized in his hands, glowing golden against the darkness. The Oni’s eyes narrowed.
Then—all of them attacked.
Arjun fired. The Agni Astra ignited mid-air, streaking toward the first Oni.
The fire arrow slammed into its chest, exploding into divine flames. The Oni howled—but another leaped from behind.
Too fast.
Emi shouted something—but before Arjun could react, the Oni’s clawed hand smashed into him.
Pain.
He hit the asphalt hard, rolling until he slammed against a street pole. His vision blurred.
Too many. Too strong.
The Oni leader loomed over him, its jagged teeth bared in a twisted grin.
“You are not ready for war, little warrior.”
It raised its massive claw—aimed for Arjun’s throat.
Then—thunder cracked.
A blinding blue light struck the Oni’s arm, searing through its flesh. It roared in pain, staggering back.
Arjun blinked. A second arrow.
Not his.
He turned—and saw him.
A figure stood on the rooftop above, dressed in a dark samurai gi, holding a black longbow. His eyes—sharp, cold, and filled with purpose.
The Oni growled, clutching its burned arm. “You.”
The stranger’s voice was calm. “You’re making too much noise in my city.”
Arjun’s breath steadied. He knew that face.
Takeshi Oda.
His rival.
But right now?
His only chance at survival.
Takeshi Oda stood atop the ruined rooftop, his silhouette framed by the neon lights of the Shinjuku skyline. His black longbow gleamed under the moonlight, a weapon unlike any Arjun had seen.
Arjun pushed himself to his feet, pain flaring through his ribs. The Oni’s strike had nearly broken him.
But now, the tables had turned.
The lead Oni hissed, its molten eyes locked on Takeshi. “You should not interfere, Samurai.”
Takeshi exhaled, drawing his bow with a single fluid motion. His stance was flawless, effortless. But what caught Arjun’s attention wasn’t the form—it was the arrow.
It wasn’t normal.
The moment Takeshi pulled the string back, the air crackled with static. Blue sparks danced along the arrow’s shaft, and Arjun felt the sudden shift in pressure. Something primal. Something divine.
Takeshi released.
The arrow vanished—only to reappear in front of the Oni, moving faster than the eye could track.
Lightning struck.
The moment the arrow hit, a massive explosion of blue energy engulfed the demon’s arm. The Oni howled as its entire limb turned to ash, disintegrating under the power of the strike.
Arjun’s breath caught. What the hell was that?
The Oni leader staggered back, clutching the charred remains of its arm. Its followers hesitated, sensing a shift in the battle.
Takeshi didn’t move. His bow lowered only slightly, his expression unreadable. “Leave,” he commanded, voice sharp as a blade. “Now.”
The Oni growled, its molten eyes narrowing. “This is not over, Archer.”
Then, like smoke in the wind, they vanished.
Arjun released a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. The air was still thick with energy, the faint scent of ozone lingering from Takeshi’s attack.
The rooftop warrior turned to Arjun at last.
“You were reckless,” Takeshi said, his tone neither insult nor praise. “You should be dead.”
Arjun scoffed, rolling his shoulders. “Good to see you too.”
Takeshi leapt down from the rooftop, landing effortlessly. He studied Arjun with sharp, unreadable eyes.
“That bow.” He nodded toward the Chakra Dhanush still glowing faintly in Arjun’s grip. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Arjun raised an eyebrow. “And what was that lightning arrow? Kyūdō doesn’t teach that.”
Takeshi exhaled. “No. It doesn’t.”
For a moment, the two warriors just stood there, their weapons still humming with divine energy.
Then Takeshi turned. “Come with me.”
Arjun hesitated. He didn’t trust Takeshi. They had faced each other in the tournament, not as enemies—but not as allies, either.
But tonight?
Takeshi had saved his life.
And something told him that the secrets behind Takeshi’s power were tied to his own.
He sighed. “Fine. Lead the way.”
As they disappeared into the neon-lit city, the battle for Tokyo was only just beginning.
The abandoned dojo smelled of aged wood and steel. The dim lanterns hanging from the beams cast flickering shadows over the polished tatami mats.
Takeshi stood at the far end, his arms crossed over his chest, his bow resting against the wall. His expression was unreadable, his dark eyes sharp as a blade.
Arjun cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders. “Are we going to talk, or are we going to fight?”
Takeshi raised an eyebrow. “You think you’re ready?”
Arjun smirked. “You think I’m not?”
Takeshi exhaled. “Draw.”
Arjun didn’t hesitate. The Chakra Dhanush flared into existence in his hands, golden energy rippling from its form.
Takeshi moved in a blur. Before Arjun could even nock an arrow, Takeshi had already drawn his own bow. The blue glow of his lightning-infused arrow hummed with power.
Arjun dodged left—just in time.
The arrow struck where he had been standing, sending a crackling wave of electricity through the floor. The wooden planks beneath him burned, leaving deep scorch marks.
Fast. Too fast.
Arjun’s breath steadied. He had trained against still targets his entire life—but this was different. Takeshi was a predator. Precise. Cold. Deadly.
He had to move.
Arjun rolled forward, twisting mid-motion as he released an arrow. The golden projectile streaked through the air—but Takeshi tilted his head slightly, letting it pass just inches from his cheek.
What?
Before Arjun could react, Takeshi had already loosed another shot. This one wasn’t meant to kill—it was meant to end the fight.
The arrow struck the ground at Arjun’s feet.
A surge of blue lightning exploded outward, sending a shockwave through his body. Pain shot through his limbs. His vision blurred for half a second—but that half-second was enough.
Takeshi closed the distance.
In an instant, his bow vanished—replaced by a short wakizashi, a traditional samurai short sword.
Arjun barely had time to register the attack before the blade was at his throat.
Silence.
Takeshi held his ground, his breathing controlled. Not a single drop of sweat on his brow.
Arjun clenched his jaw, his entire body tense. He had lost.
Takeshi exhaled. “You fight with power, but no discipline.”
Arjun’s fingers twitched around his bow, frustration burning in his chest. He had trained for years. He wasn’t weak.
Takeshi stepped back, sheathing his blade.
“If you want to survive what’s coming, you need more than raw strength.” His eyes met Arjun’s. “You need control.”
Arjun exhaled sharply, his pride bruised but his mind sharp. Takeshi wasn’t wrong.
And if he was going to master his Astra, if he was going to stop Ravana’s return—
He needed to learn.
Arjun lowered his bow. “Then teach me.”
Takeshi smirked, finally satisfied. “Good.”
The real training was about to begin.
The night air was thick with mist as Arjun followed Takeshi through the dojo’s side exit. Outside, the courtyard stretched into a bamboo forest, the tall stalks swaying gently in the wind.
Takeshi stopped near a stone lantern, his back turned. “Your power is dangerous.”
Arjun scoffed. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Takeshi turned slightly, his eyes unreadable. “You don’t understand. The divine astras were not meant for mortals. They were forged in the battles of gods.”
Arjun frowned. “Then why do I have one?”
Takeshi didn’t answer.
Instead, he gestured toward a shrine nestled within the trees. “There’s someone you need to meet.”
Arjun’s steps slowed. A shadowed figure stood at the shrine’s steps.
As they approached, the lantern light revealed a man dressed in traditional Kyūdō robes—Takeda Ryo.
Arjun’s breath caught. His old teacher. His mentor.
Takeda Ryo’s gaze was calm, his hands folded behind his back. “You’ve improved.”
Arjun clenched his fists. “You knew.”
Takeda nodded. “I suspected. But now, I see it with my own eyes.” His gaze flickered to the Chakra Dhanush still in Arjun’s hands. “You have awakened something… dangerous.”
Arjun exhaled sharply. “You sound like Takeshi.”
Takeda’s eyes darkened. “Because he is right.”
Arjun felt a chill. Something was wrong.
Takeshi’s expression was unreadable, but his stance had shifted—tense. Guarded.
Then Takeda spoke again.
“Give me the bow, Arjun.”
Silence.
The air between them turned ice-cold.
Arjun took a step back. “What?”
Takeda’s voice remained calm. “The power of an Astra is not meant for you. Hand over the Gandharva Astra, and I will ensure it never falls into the wrong hands.”
Arjun’s jaw tightened. “Whose hands, exactly?”
Takeda exhaled, his shoulders lowering. “You don’t understand the forces at play. If you keep using that weapon, you will tip the balance.”
Arjun’s heart pounded. His own teacher—his mentor—wanted to take the bow from him?
Then it hit him.
This wasn’t about protecting the world. This was about fear.
Takeda wasn’t just a Kyūdō master. He was something else—a man with knowledge of the old ways.
And he feared what Arjun had become.
Takeshi finally spoke. “You knew about the prophecy.”
Takeda’s gaze flickered toward him but remained unreadable. “I knew what would happen if a mortal gained divine power.”
Arjun’s hands tightened around the bow. “I trusted you.”
Takeda sighed. “Then trust me one last time. Hand over the bow.”
Arjun took a step back.
And Takeda moved.
Fast.
One moment he was still—the next, he was drawing his bow, loosing an arrow straight at Arjun’s chest.
Arjun barely managed to raise his own bow in time—the divine energy of the Gandharva Astra clashing against Takeda’s arrow.
The impact sent shockwaves through the courtyard. The stone lanterns shattered, the wind howled through the bamboo.
Takeda exhaled, his face finally showing emotion—regret.
“Then I have no choice.”
He loosed another arrow.
Arjun fired back.
The battle had begun.
Takeda Ryo moved like a phantom, his feet barely touching the earth as he loosed another arrow.
Arjun barely had time to counter.
His fire arrow clashed mid-air with Takeda’s shot—but something was wrong.
Takeda’s arrows were different. They weren’t just arrows. They hummed with suppressed power, wrapped in faint blue seals of energy.
The moment their arrows collided—Arjun felt a force pull at his Astra.
A shockwave exploded outward, sending Arjun skidding back across the shrine courtyard. His back slammed against a wooden pillar, the old structure splintering under the force.
Takeshi blurred past him, drawing his own bow. A lightning arrow streaked toward Takeda.
But Takeda simply twisted—and caught it mid-air.
Arjun’s breath hitched. What?
Takeda exhaled, crushing the crackling energy between his fingers. The remnants of the arrow dissipated into the wind.
Takeshi’s eyes narrowed. “He’s using sealing techniques.”
Arjun pushed himself to his feet. “What the hell does that mean?”
Takeda flicked his wrist—a scroll unfurling between his fingers, inked with kanji and Devanagari script. The air around him pulsed.
Emi gasped. “He’s trying to bind the Gandharva Astra.”
Arjun’s stomach dropped.
Takeda raised his bow once more. “I won’t let another war consume this world.”
He fired—but this time, it wasn’t just an arrow.
The entire shrine rumbled as golden chains erupted from the ground, racing toward Arjun.
He barely leapt aside in time, rolling to avoid the bindings. The chains snapped shut where he had just been standing, cracking the stone beneath them.
He was trying to seal him.
Arjun gritted his teeth. No. Not like this.
The Chakra Dhanush burned in his hands, the fire in his chest rising.
He pivoted, drawing back the bowstring. This time, he didn’t just call on Agni Astra.
He called on Vayu Astra.
A gust of divine wind exploded outward, breaking the chains before they could reach him. The arrow screamed through the air, moving faster than any before.
Takeda’s eyes widened.
The arrow struck.
A blinding explosion ripped through the shrine.
For a moment, all was silent.
Then, through the smoke—Takeda emerged.
His robes were torn, his left sleeve burned away—but his bow was still intact.
But something had changed.
The shrine walls had collapsed. The protective barriers around this sacred place had been shattered.
And from the broken gate—the Oni came.
Massive, hulking creatures, their horns glinting under the fractured moonlight.
Takeda turned, his jaw tightening. He had wanted to stop Arjun. But now, he had let something far worse inside.
The battle for the shrine had begun.