He's back where he's supposed to be. Motions practiced for twenty years play out. Hitoshi jumps to his feet, tossing out his Kingambit on one side and Kleavor on the other. With blade in hand, he surveys the surroundings, looking for the Sword of Ruin. It is nowhere in sight. Much as he suspected when ruminating in an illusory dojo, it inspected them and left. Cursing, he recalls his Pokemon. There's no point to being here. Under a weeping sky, he has only one desire.[break]As much as his heart resonates with Cillian Quinn 's order, the dog leaves. He does not join in any hunt. He does not try to further antagonize the League, even if that is his job. All he does is rush to Slateport. Hitoshi has his place, and it is not here.

He is almost taken from behind by a monster. Mere moments before a hand swipes him up, he is pushed out of his way. A blonde-haired man smiles at Hitoshi as he takes the blow in his sensei's place.[break]
"The hell d'you think you're doin?!" Hitoshi screams, both at this nameless blonde and at Jubei, who has fallen far ahead on the battlefield. "Dontcha wanna go back to Circhester?"[break]
"Yeah." The man says, smiling in the midst of all the chaos. Blood drools out of the corner of his lips. "I do. But after hearing you not shut up about that girl for going on fifteen years...just doesn't seem right for you to die here before you can see her again."[break]
Grabbing the man, yanking him free, Hitoshi starts hacking a path back towards the friendly lines. Someone there can heal him. This dog can only destroy. He can't kill. He can't soothe. Such things are not for swords.[break]
"Save yer breath. Medic! MEDIC!" He bellows like metal under a blacksmith's hammer.[break]
"You're a good guy, sensei. Say hey to her for me." His candle flickers out. Hitoshi hates himself for not remembering the man's name. They'd known each other for so long, but that knowledge leaves him feeling empty. Laying the man on the ground, Hitoshi closes his eyes.[break]
"Sorry." His voice is gloomy as he picks up his sword, pulling out a ball and recalling Jubei's corpse into storage. Hitoshi can only pray that he'll be alright once they're out of here.[break]
All there is to do now is make a choice. Two monsters fight in the skies above. The dog senses what he sensed so long ago: these creatures are threats. He doesn't know how, but he knows neither can be allowed to live.[break]
Best to pick one and start from there. It is utterly random which one is struck. The blade is indiscriminate. When his burning blade and his Kingambit's kowtow cleave strike Necrozma, it is arbitrary. He will try to strike the other one soon enough.

These twenty years pass, as all things do. The call for war is sounded. People rally behind their kings, they follow their leaders. All of them are together once more, standing on a desolate battlefield. When this creature was a boy, he dreamed about being born in an era where battles such as this one transpired. That is a world better suited for him.[break]
We do not get to choose our world, nor the circumstances of our birth. Few are blessed even to choose the circumstances of their deaths. Life, as this black wolf has learned, is about finding something to keep you going through the dark times. He found his flame long ago. That flame has kept him going day after day. All these years have is a training ground while he finds his way back to that flame.[break]
She waits for him across this battlefield. She waits for him in the dawn beyond this day. People say their goodbyes, they treat this battle as if might be their final battle.[break]
Hitoshi has no intention of dying here. He simply will not die. He made someone a promise. Hitoshi is many things, but he is no oathbreaker.[break]
In the center of his sword is affixed a band pulsing with dynamax energy. Jubei explodes with power and grows to tower over the battlefield. The dark knight and the black wolf charge. They charge right down the middle. His blade is a red wind, never staying in one place for very long. Amber eyes fall upon things that will soon be dead. His bitter blade seeps life from them with every hit, healing him. Some might say he is surrounded. All that surrounds him are dead things.[break]
Every foot gained is a foot that brings him closer to her. He is bitten by some monster. Gripping it with his free hand, he pierces its brain with his sword, feeling the strength flee its body. Kicking it aside, he moves on to the next creature.[break]
A downward thrust. A forward kick. Sway from side to side. Move. Advance. Fight. Fight. FIGHT. 戦い 戦い 戦い.[break]
Jubei knows his master's heart. With his own blade, he will carve a path for Hitoshi forward, through the Rillaboom guarding the way. Drawing in air, he launches a blade of heated fire across the battlefield at his foe.

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Expressive as this creature is under most circumstances, he's quiet as he listens. Like a dog sitting on its hind before a master, tail wagging behind him, he takes in this enlightened human's wisdom. Where others might show disgust at the cut that ended that rat's life, the dog dissects the blow with a clinical air. Conclusions about the anatomy of these creatures are drawn based on the way they die from that cut.[break]
"Huh." Hitoshi mimics the way the other man holds his blade, switching his posture to match. It's a perfect replica. The benefit of having no style of your own is an incredible ability to adapt.[break]
One of the rats, angered by the death of their fellows, jumps at Hitoshi. It's quicker than the eye can see. Raw speed is matched by technique. Imitating his superior's cut, he cleaves where he thinks the throat will be. It falls in the midst of its charge, twitching on the floor.[break]
"Right on!" Raising his sword in a cheer, he walks on, wondering when the one with a special coat, the boss, will show itself.[break]
"Western swords are pretty interesting, I'll say that. Feels like they can double as a spear almost." The dog points at the double-edged sword, leading up to its tip in the middle. "It's way harder to thrust with a curved sword like this one." Demonstrating his point, he jabs the blade at a nearby rat corpse.[break]
"Clumsy. Dumb. Hmm, maybe I should try out that broadsword Pokemon."

When you're good at something, people want to follow you. When the first kid asks to be Hitoshi's pupil, he doesn't understand what's being asked of him. With a shrug, he says "Sure, I guess."[break]
By the end of the eleventh year in this false Hoenn, he has a whole cabal. People from Circhester that remember his performance on the first day come to him for training. People who were kids them flock to him. Hitoshi barely notices when orphans decide to live their and work in the dojo full-time.[break]
Every year is met with the same determination as the last. Within the repetition, he finds focus. These people adore him. On some level, he enjoys their company. A dog can only have one master, and his is far away, waiting for him. It is not Rocket who holds his leash, nor the kings and queens of this kingdom. It is her. He fights for her every day. Some of his students, mostly the women, ask about her. He smiles, thinking about her smile. Stern as he's grown in the past decade, he still smiles like a boy when he talks about his time in Goldenrod.[break]
"She's a lucky girl." Some of his students say. He doesn't catch their meaning.[break]
Eventually, he gets his hands on one of the new bands. Riding into battle on top of a giant Ceruledge for the first time is quite the experience. That he smiles and howls with delight when he joins the battle makes for many a tavern song.[break]
The people of the town come to call him the black wolf. Hitoshi doesn't respond to this name any more than he does sensei or master. In his own world view, he is simply Hitoshi. Such is the name his mother gave him, her only gift to him. As scarred as she left his heart, he wears that name with pride.[break]
There are no incidents in the ten years. All of the other people from Hoenn are ultimately meaningless to him. He respects a few, works for some. They'll be back to their old lives, fighting on different sides. He understands that truth. This place is temporary, but a dream.[break]
A dream that can't end soon enough.[break]
By the time twenty years have passed, he's muscled like a bull. His dark hair is unkempt. He's even managed to grow a scruffy beard. He looks the part of a wildman more than a swordmaster.[break]
"Sounds like things are gettin' serious, Yumi." He says to a woman who isn't there under a prophetic sky. "I'll be home soon."

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This whole stretch of road stinks. Hitoshi doesn't know who he's working for. Details like those are not afforded to grunts. Someone, somewhere, is doing something important in these warehouses - or at least acting on the whim of someone with authority. Sitting on the roof, passing the time, he surveys the road.[break]
They're using a bunch of Weezing as cover. The stinky things are blowing their gas everywhere. It's worked. The vagrants, transients, and kids who've taken too many wrong turns stay away. It's a boring night. At least he gets to kill the night, let the hours pass. Plus, he's in Slateport. Not too far from Yumi. Maybe, once the execs say he's done, he'll go surprise Yumi and Mei with pizza. People like pizza, right?[break]
His mind is on pizza when he hears the sound of someone venturing down this forsaken path. Showtime. Getting into character, he dons a wide-brimmed straw hat, looks down, and calls out.[break]
"Yo! If you know what's good for ya, you'll turn right around and leave!" Unsheathing his sword in a clean motion, he stands on the edge of the roof. It's just one story. He's made jumps like this before.[break]
"I'll cutcha uuuuu-" His dramatic leap down is interrupted as he steps on the hem of his robe. This grunt goes for a dramatic ronin flare. It makes him stumble, sending him careening into a pile of garbage cans and trash backs down below.[break]
"Ow, fuck." Cursing, he stumbles up and finds his sword is missing. Instead, he points at the trespasser.[break]
"Just go away!"

He's caught by the trap. It is a poor fact of modern swordsmanship that a swordsman is rarely afforded an opponent that will help them grow. Most people are simply overwhelmed by aggression. Fight or flight kicks in. They're dead before the swordsman can grow.[break]
Not so here. Here, he would be dead. A taller foe, with a calm heart, tackles him into a wall. The shock sends his bokken flying. This vicious dog is reduced to nothing more than a flailing child. Pinned against the wall, at his opponent's mercy, there's a thousand ways for him to react.[break]
This creature understands a simple truth: were this a real fight, he would be dead already. With all those muscles, his spine would be shattered. With no nerves firing signals to his arms, he'd either be consigned to a slow death in a wheelchair or a merciful blade through the heart. Either way, it's already decided.[break]
"Man," Hitoshi says with all the cheer of a dog wagging his tail, "you're good, Master!" This is said through the pain of the blow, pinned to a wall. At least his spirits remain high.

He doesn't know what the point of this mission was supposed to be. Swords don't ask those sorts of questions. They simply swing. All he knows is that they are beset on all sides by a thousand foes.[break]
What peculiar things they are, too. Each of them is only a tad bigger than his hand, but they pack an immense punch. The swarm cuts through the bamboo like it's not even there. Trees screech and fall. Monsters sense intruders. They're coming for them. All of them.[break]
The blade anticipates the cut. Until given further orders, he will do what he is meant to do: cut. Jubei, his Ceruledge, emerges from his pokeball. Neither trainer nor Pokemon particularly care for one another, but their hearts beat as one. Pointing off towards one of the main swarms, Jubei charges.[break]
Jubei is afforded an overwhelming advantage. His bitter blade scorches these creatures. They are sent flying back, shrieking in anger. His two blades seem less blades at all and more a pair of drumsticks. One advances. One retreats. Repetition.[break]
The black swordsman sways, deflecting blows that are coming from all sides. Even with his flames, he will still be overwhelmed given time. There are simply too many of these monsters.[break]
"What's the call?" Hitoshi asks Rocket's sword, shield, and fist. "I ain't so keen on dyin' here when I made a promise to stay alive."

From the day he was taken in by the Hasegawa, Hitoshi has been a sword. Swords do not think. They are uncaring tools, cold steel to be wielded by whoever has the conviction to carry the blade. To further that woman's ambitions, the blade has been given to Rocket. It turns towards whatever threats they see fit. It strikes where it is directed.[break]
He is falling. The earth gives way under his feet. Everything has been leading up to this moment. Every sacrifice was to place Tokugawa, the blade wielded by a blade, exactly where he needed to be. Hitoshi closes his eyes. He trusts in himself. He trusts in this creature's capacity to murder. Tokugawa is but an extension of himself.[break]
Groudon is wreathed in flames. Roaring, it little understands why these puny creatures continue to resist. It is confounded by their leader's tactics. Its power slams time and time against the shield raised by the left hand.[break]
It is time for the blade to strike.[break]
Tokugawa sees the hole made in this seemingly invincible armor. The lava churning within him and the rock scabbed over it are the same primordial ground as the plates that move nations. It is the height of human folly to imagine that a blade could pierce such a creature.[break]
Falling into a kneeling position, the blade on his head is raised towards that hole. Beneath it lies the creature's heart. He's sure of that.[break]
"Go! Fight! Fight! Fiiiiiiiiight!" Hitoshi bellows at his teammates and the sword itself. Tokugawa rushes forward, moving so quick that he seems to disappear in a flash of light. His blade is a flash of steel, piercing through that invincible armor. The road to this single piercing strike was paved with bodies. Almost all of their Pokemon have been killed within the simulation to deliver them here.[break]
And, in the end, it was worth the sacrifice. Tokugawa comes clear out the other side of the creature, its heart pierced on his blade. It is piping hot. There is no time to celebrate this triumph. It seeps lava onto the Pokemon. Were this not a simulation, the Pokemon would be dead before he hit the wall of the volcano.[break]
A god dies.

HE'S A TEN

but he'll never love you as much as he loves Yumi Hasegawa.