With Hiroshi’s help, Ren awoke without any pain on the sunny morning. He started it with a deep breath, before getting up and checking the bandages. His wounds were almost healed despite only a single day passing. He had plenty of scabs on his skin, though.

Then he joined Satoru and Ayako during breakfast.

"How are you feeling?" The old man asked when Ren was sitting down across the table.

"Much better," he smiled.

"We should look into getting you that glove today. I know a blacksmith who can do it in a couple of days. We don’t have much time before the candidate tournament begins. You should focus on training while you still can, so we don’t have any time to lose," as Satoru spoke, his expression shifted from cheerful to rather serious.

"Let’s do it after breakfast. I’ll pay you back when I become a candidate," he responded.

The certainty in his voice made the old man smile again. He nodded, and then they focused on the food that already awaited them on the table.

With full bellies, they stepped outside, heading straight toward the industrial part of the Noroi clan’s district. The old man smoked along the way, while Ren was looking around, observing the people on the streets.

Eventually, they reached the district, and Satoru directed them to a humble establishment with an open forge, where a shorter but quite bulky man worked hammering a piece of red hot iron. His workshop was small, consisting of two parts: the one outside, where all the equipment and tools were located, and the inside part, which Ren couldn’t see as it was behind the closed door.

"Good morning, Kiyoshi!" The old man shouted, prompting the blacksmith to stop his work and look over his shoulder.

A smile immediately graced his lips.

"Satoru, you old snake!" He said before chuckling loudly, then he showed the metal back into the forge and put the tools away before approaching the two guests.

Both greeted each other with a hug, while Ren simply observed.

"What brings you here?" The blacksmith asked.

"This fine young man is preparing himself for the tournament of candidates," Satoru’s hand landed heavily on his adopted son’s shoulder. "He needs a little help."

"Oh, is he? How can I help you, lad?" Kiyoshi’s attention shifted to Ren.

"I need a glove… For my right hand. It should reach all the way to the elbow," he explained, showing his arm covered in scabs.

"What happened to you?" The blacksmith’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead, as he noticed the unusual injury.

"It’s his Maken… It’s acting out," Satoru whispered to his friend’s ear.

This took the blacksmith by surprise. He clearly thought it was a joke at first, but since nobody was laughing, a snort left his mouth. "Well, I'll be damned… A Maken in the hands of a warrior I've never seen before? Where has this old snake kept you hidden?" Another chuckle escaped his mouth as his eyes returned to Ren.

"It’s… It’s a long story," he responded awkwardly.

"I see… Well… Maybe some other time you will tell me," Kiyoshi said before grabbing a piece of wood from among his tools lying atop the nearby table. It was a large ruler of sorts. "Show me your arm."

Ren pulled the sleeve of his kimono and showed the whole thing, up to the elbow. The strange, spiraling marks surprised the blacksmith, who even stole a glance at Satoru before he began working. He quickly took a few measurements, writing everything with a nail he grabbed, straight on the surface of the table.

It was clearly a common move by him, as there were other marks gracing every part of that piece of furniture.

"I’ll start immediately… Come back in a few days," he informed.

"Thank you," Satoru nodded, before patting his friend on the shoulder, then he and Ren left to return to the house.

This started a period of time where Ren was bored out of his mind. At the back of his head were his soon-to-be wife and Reiko, who recently began showing signs of affection. He had this fantasy where he was living with the two in a nice house, and having lots of fun.

The same daydream would return over and over again as he lay on the futon, staring at the ceiling. Tsukiko was nowhere to be found, so he couldn’t even engage in conversations with her.

Fortunately, not too much later it all came to an end when during one afternoon Satoru slid open the door to his room, holding a peculiar piece of equipment in his hand – a long glove made out of metal and leather.

It was simple. Two large pieces of bent sheet metal were covering the forearm, with two belts to fasten them together. Then there was a leather glove, connected to that piece. It had several plates, small and big on the outer side, while the inner side remained without any additional protection. The tips of the fingers were removed, so his fingertips would stick out.

Overall it was simple but also was done in a very short amount of time.

"He made it," the old man announced, entering Ren’s room, and prompting the young warrior to get up.

They met in the middle, and the glove moved from one hand to the other.

"Try it on," Satoru encouraged. "If it fits well we should resume training tomorrow. There is not much time until the tournament starts… Oh, and I applied for you, so you don’t have to worry about that either."

"Thank you," Ren responded, peeling his eyes off the piece of armor and focusing briefly on the old man before he began working on putting the glove on.

The whole piece fit well, probably because the construction was so primitive, but he actually didn’t need anything beyond that. As long as his own arm would be protected from the razor wire, everything seemed good.

He even pulled out his Maken. Just like before, the wire whipped out, entangling itself around his arm, but this time it didn’t dig into the flesh. Instead, it scraped against the metal until it finally stopped moving.

This prompted an unusual reaction from the weapon. It began shaking in Ren’s hand, and a sound came out as well. Something like a pipe that was about to burst.

‘Huuuuunger,’ he heard a whisper in his mind, which caused him to take a step back.

"What is it?" Satoru asked, concern visible on his face.

"I… The sword… It spoke to me."

"What did it say?" The old man’s eyes went wide.

"It said it’s hungry."

"Hungry? Do you think… Do you think it's possible it was feasting on your blood with those strange wires? The Hearteater was known for eating the hearts of his enemies," Satoru pointed out.

"I don’t know… I didn’t feel any different while using it compared to how i feel now," Ren observed. "I don’t think there was any influence… At least none that I know of. Maybe it just wanted to inflict pain on me?"

"Maybe..." The old man agreed with a shrug. "For now, put that away. We will try to figure it out tomorrow, during the training. Oh, and… I don’t want to train in the dojo… You are going to shred it to pieces with that blade," a smirk briefly danced on his lips, "so it’s better to go outside of the city. In the woods, nobody should disturb us. As much as the training is important, keeping your cards hidden for the tournament is also crucial. So far, almost nobody knows about your Maken, and that’s good."

"Won't they know as soon as they see it by my belt?" Ren asked.

"Maybe… It does look different, but the Jujun blades come in different shapes and forms, so they won’t be certain… Although as soon as it whips those wires out, I’m sure they won't have no doubt about what it is, but at least you will surprise the first person who goes against you."

The young warrior nodded, acknowledging the reasoning.

"Now rest… There soon will be no time for that," Satoru added before leaving the room.

Ren stayed, watching him slide the door closed before he looked at the weapon in his hand. It was obviously incredibly powerful, but he couldn’t help himself and wondered if that would be even enough.

‘My wife depends on this, so I have to do my best,’ the thought went through his head, before he put the weapon away, and took the glove off.

Then he went to lie down some more.

All this laziness disappeared the next day. It was busy from the beginning. When he joined Satoru and Ayako during breakfast, it seemed as if he and the old man were racing to finish the meal first. Then they immediately left, heading out of the city.

On the outskirts of Hikarimura, where nobody would watch them, somewhere in the woods, they stopped. The rays of the sun made it past the canopy, casting shadows of dancing leaves on them as they stood there. Ren didn’t pay much attention, as he was busy putting the glove on. He fastened the belts, then pulled the blade, which immediately whipped out those annoying razor wires, wrapping them tightly around his arm, and scraping against the metal glove.

‘Huuuuungeeeer,’ he heard the same whisper in his mind, but this time he ignored it.

"Try striking at the trees, just as we practiced. Go through all the forms, as you normally would. You should first get used to your new weapon," Satoru instructed, observing him with keen eyes.

Ren nodded in response, then swung the weapon at the closest tree. It was nowhere in range of the katana to actually strike it, but the swift cut had this shockwave following it, slamming right into the trunk, spraying bits and pieces of timber around.

They both expected something like that, so they were ready to react, avoiding getting crushed by what was left of the massive plant. The tree crown fell down making a lot of ruckus. Watching it, the old man couldn’t help himself and chuckled loudly. "That’s some power," he pointed out.

"Yes..." Ren agreed.

"Now you just need to tame it. Make it yours. Let’s go… Time to train," Satoru said as if he was reading the worries straight from the young warrior’s mind. Witnessing this strength again, Ren wasn’t sure if he would be able to use his Maken properly. After all, this destructive power seemed too much to handle, but the resolve on the old man’s face was reassuring enough to keep trying.

This began the days of practice, where he would strike, at first at the air or the ground, avoiding any other objects, to find the feeling and learn more about his new weapon.

The days began zooming by like speeding cars on a highway. There was so much work, and it was so engaging, that Ren forgot about the world surrounding him. But the day of the tournament was approaching inevitably.

Normally, there would be a sense of worry accompanying the approaching date, but he was too busy for that. He only realized that when one day, as he was in the bathhouse, washing the sweat after practice, Satoru said, "Tomorrow we rest. Hiroshi is coming to talk with you about the tournament… It starts in two days."

Ren’s eyes widened, and he responded with a simple nod, crushed by worries that suddenly fell on his back.

From that point on, it was all he could think of. The nerves got the best of him, and he couldn’t even sleep properly, worrying about the future. He wished Tsukiko was there, to taunt him, provoke him, or give a reassuring word, but she was nowhere to be seen, which didn’t help.

For the first time in a while, Ren felt alone, hoping that there would be somebody in his bed to embrace him and provide the comfort of just being by his side. He couldn't fall asleep, so he ended up going out for a short walk to get some fresh air, hoping that it would help. He didn't get too far before suddenly a large man wearing a black kimono with red accents appeared on his path. The lower part of his face was covered with a scarf, and he had a large straw hat that practically obscured his head entirely.

Ren was surprised but reacted by attempting to go around the stranger, only for the man's hand to shoot out, preventing him from doing so. Ren immediately grabbed the handle of his weapon and took a single step back, preparing himself to fight.

"I come in peace," said the stranger.

His voice was deep. Strangely powerful.

"What do you want from me?" Ren asked, not beating around the bush.

"You are planning to take part in the candidate tournament... I came to warn you. There is a web of lies you've fallen into. Don't let them deceive you."

"What are you talking about?"

"The gods are not what they profess to be, and their realm holds no treasure. It's a trap. A trap that might cost you even your life. Think about this... Every year the greatest warriors venture there, and yet nobody ever comes back. They will tell you this nonsense about visions of the adventures of those who went there, but it's all a lie."

"It's not a lie!" Ren protested. The words of Tsukiko streamed through his mind. 'She wouldn't lie to me, would she?' But doubt found its way nevertheless. 'No, she wouldn't!'

"The choice is yours. I only came to warn you, but my warning doesn't end here. There will be outsiders present at the tournament. The Divine Sovereign invited them. They have a secret mission, to fuel the hatred between the cities and ignite the competition. They are here to make you, the young warriors, eager to sacrifice yourselves in the Realm of Gods. You might not believe me now, but you will find my words true eventually," the stranger concluded before turning on his heel to leave.

Ren watched him for a moment until he vanished. Then, with a head full of thoughts, he continued his walk. The doubt had been planted, and it would take root in his mind, whether he wanted it to or not.