《Kokutenma》
Prologue — Kokutenma
Spring, Harima Province, 1598.
"Tch. What a waste of time."
Musashi exhaled sharply and sat down, tossing his blade onto the dirt beside him.
Training had gone well. His strikes were clean. His stance was solid. But something about tonight felt off. The old lady hadnt corrected him once.
Not a single complaint. Not a single insult.
That wasnt normal.
He leaned back, stretching his toned, conditioned body, the firelight catching the sharp angles of his face. His long, unkempt black hair stuck to his forehead, damp with sweat from the nights training. He wiped it away, exhaling in amusement.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
"What, no wisdom today, Old Lady? Or did I finally become perfect?"
Silence.
Across from him, the old woman sat by the fire, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the flames. Her white hair, loosely tied, hung over one shoulder, the dim glow casting shadows over her sharp, noble features. A face once suited for courts and battlefieldsnow worn by time.
Still nothing.
Musashi clicked his tongue. "You''re awfully quiet. Makes me feel like I did something wrong."
Then, without thinking, he grabbed a half-full sake jug from her side, took a swig, and made a face. "Gah. This is terrible."
That was when she looked at him.
Not a glare. Not the usual annoyance. Something else.
For a moment, she didnt see him.
Not him.
Her fingers twitched, like she had reached for something she forgot wasnt there. Then, after a long pause, she pulled a book from her belongings.
She didnt look at him as she handed it over.
"Take it."
Musashi frowned but took it anyway. The cover was worn, the leather aged, but the ink of its title remained bold.
"Kokutenma."
He turned it in his hands. "Huh. Fancy name. What is it?"
"Read it."
That was all she said.
Musashi rolled his eyes. Dramatic as always. But when his fingers tightened around the book, something else tightened in his chest.
Like standing at the threshold of something that should have been long forgottenbut wasnt.
He opened it.
And the past returned.
[ CHAPTER 1 ] – 「A Sword Drawn in Blood」/ 血刃 (Ketsujin – Blood Blade)
Summer, Abandoned Temple, Harima Province C 1598
The cicadas had gone silent.
Miyamoto Musashi sat beneath the weathered eaves of an abandoned temple, the air thick with summer humidity. The pinewood beneath his fingers was rough, splintered by time. In his hands, the book lay still. Kokutenma.
Old Lady Gin had given it to him without a word.
He had heard the name beforeTaira Ryma... A ghost of the past, whispered among warriors. Some said he had died. Others said he had vanished, swallowed by the wars through which he carved his legend.
Musashi flipped the cover open. The ink was faded, but the words were still sharp, cutting across the page with the weight of a blade.
The past reached for himand he fell into it.
Spring, Amabara-mura, Northern Higo Province C 1551
I couldn''t breathe.
The stink of sweat, blood, and burning thatch filled my lungs, thick as mud, choking me as I held Koharu tighter against my chest. The night had been torn apart by screamssome distant, some so close they rattled inside my skull.
The fire made everything worse. It crept across the rooftops, crackling as the village we had knownthe only world we had ever seen, began to collapse into embers.
"Don''t look," I whispered, my voice so raw it barely left my throat.
But I was looking.
Through the broken slats of the rice storehouse, I saw her.
My motherTaira Misaki was on her hands and knees in the dirt, her kimono torn open from the waist down.
A man loomed over her, his face carved from cruelty, his mouth twisted into a sneer of satisfaction. He wore red-lacquered armor, the chest plate polished and smooth, reflecting the hungry glow of the fires. A samurai of the tomo clan. His jaw was sharp, his beard neatly trimmed, but his eyeshis eyes were the color of iron.
Cold and unfeeling.
He had already taken what he wanted. And he wasnt finished.
Misakis fingers dug into the mud, her long hair falling over her face, sweat and tears streaking down her dirt-stained cheeks. But she didnt scream. She didnt beg.
Even in that momenteven as he forced himself into hershe looked up and met my eyes.
She knew I was watching.
She smiled.
A mothers smile.
Not soft. Not warm. It was tired. Resigned. But it told me one thing.
You have to live.
The samurai grunted, gripping her hair, dragging her back onto him.
I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.
Koharu trembled in my arms. But she wasnt crying.
Her little handstoo small, too fragile for this worldpressed against my chest, against my hammering heart.
"Ryma," she whispered, barely more than a breath.
"Do something."
My fingers clenched around the wooden handle of the hunting knife I had found under the grain sacks.
Dull, but sharp enough to kill.
I stood.
The world narrowed to a single pointthen I ran.
He barely heard me coming. The knife plunged into his side, straight through the soft gap beneath his ribs.
The samurai sucked in a sharp breath, his back arching as his head snapped toward menot in pain, not in fear, but in surprise.
I saw his eyes up close now.
They werent iron.
They were empty.
His mouth opened, the start of a curse forming on his lips
I twisted the knife.
The blade carved through flesh, through the thick meat of his insides, scraping against something hard.
He choked on the blood that rose to his lips in thick, bubbling gurgles.
In the moment he faltered, my mother lunged, her nails raking across his face, clawing at his throat, her body thrashing to break free.
It was too fast.
The samurais hand snapped to his katana, and in a single, fluid motion
One stroke. Practiced. Effortless.
He cut her open.
I saw it all.
Her body jerked, the steel slicing through her from hip to shoulder, so clean that she didnt even fall at first.
Her violet eyes locked onto mineand then she crumpled.
I didn''t move.
I couldn''t move.
The samurai staggered, clutching his side, blood spilling through his fingers. His breath hitched, but he was still standing. He turned to me, teeth bared in a snarl, knees threatening to buckle.
"Little bastard..." he coughed, spitting crimson.
His fingers wrapped around the handle of his katana.
"You shouldve"
I moved.
There was no thought, no hesitationonly instinct.
My grip tightened. The knife tore free from his ribs. And this time, I didnt stop.
I drove it into his throat.
His eyes bulged, his lips stretching wide in a soundless scream.
His blood was everywhere.
Hot, wet, it sprayed over my face, into my mouth, into my eyes, into my hair.
He grabbed at my arms, his fingers digging into me so hard I thought my bones would break.
But he was already dying.
His grip weakened. His legs collapsed.
I was still stabbing him when he hit the ground.
His body twitched beneath me, his mouth opening and closingtrying to say something, trying to hold onto life, trying to curse me.
I stabbed him again.
And again.
And again.
The knife broke off inside his throat.
I don''t remember stopping.
I don''t remember when I started screaming.
I only remember Koharus small hands pulling at me, her voice calling my name, over and over and over again.
"Ryma..."
"Nii-sama!"
"We have to run!!!"
I looked up and saw the fires had spread.
The village was collapsing, nothing left but flames and corpses and the stench of blood.
I turned back to my mother.
Her body lay in the dirt, her hair tangled in the mud, her blood soaking into the earth.
She wasnt smiling anymore.
She wasnt anything anymore.
I swallowed the bile rising in my throat.
Then I grabbed Koharus hand.
And we ran.
The fire was behind us, but the stench of burning flesh still choked my lungs.
My breath came ragged, every step a searing achebut I couldn''t stop. I pulled Koharu with me, her small hand gripping mine as if her life depended on it.
We ran south, deeper into the wooded hills, our bare feet slamming against damp earth and hidden thorns. The mountains loomed ahead.
We had to reach them.
I knew that. Even at nine years old, I understood war. The tomo of Bungo had been expanding their control in Higo for over a year. They came from the northeast, tearing through land that once belonged to the Kikuchi. If we went north, we would be found and slaughtered.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
If we went southmaybe, just maybewe could disappear.
But it wasnt enough to just know where to run. I had to outrun what was behind me.
The memory of my knife sinking into flesh burned through my mind.
I could still feel it. The warmth. The way the samurai had choked on his own blood, the way his body had spasmed beneath my grip.
My mothers eyes.
Her smile.
I glanced down as I ran, the flickering moonlight revealing the dark stains smeared across my fingers. Not just his bloodHer blood was on my hands too...
I stumbled.
A sound wrenched from my throathalf a sob, half something else.
Don''t stop, I told myself. Keep running.
But then Koharus small body swayed against my pull.
She barely made a sound when she collapsed.
Her fingers slipped from mine.
I turned just in time to see her collapse, face-first into the dirt.
For a moment, I only stood there, breathing hard, the world tilting around me. My pulse slammed against my skull, my stomach twisting
Then bile rose in my throat.
I lurched forward, retching. The taste burned, scorching my throat as my body convulsed. My legs shook, my skin clammy with sweat. The stench of death clung to me, thick and inescapable.
I wiped my mouth, panting, tears blurring my vision as I looked down at Koharu. She was on her knees, her small body still, her eyes lifted toward the dark sky.
She spoke.
"Mother is gone."
I stared at her noticing that her voice was not sad. Not afraid.
Justcertain.
My stomach twisted again, but this time, it wasnt from nausea.
The way she sat there, her hands resting limply on her lap, the dull glow of the moon reflecting in her wide brown eyesit wasnt the look of a six-year-old.
It was something older. Deeper. Knowing.
It unsettled me.
I wanted to tell her she was wrong, but we both knew she wasnt.
I swallowed. Forced myself to kneel beside her, pulling her against me. I held her tight, letting my body shake, letting the tears fall.
"Im sorry," I whispered. "I couldnt save her."
I waited for Koharu to cry. She didnt.
She just let me hold her, her small hands clutching my tattered kimono.
Something felt different in me.
Like my body was changing.
My senses were sharpening. The ache in my limbsit shouldve been worse. The way I movedit was smoother, lighter. The images in my headhorrific, unbearable, yet I processed them too clearly.
What is this?
I didnt understand it. But something was happening inside me.
And then
"Hey, you!!" A voice, demanding and too close.
Koharu tensed.
Her small hand curled around my sleeve, her lips barely moving. "Were not alone."
I turned my head so fast my vision blurred.
A man was running toward us.
His silhouette was sharp against the moonlighthis armor dark, tattered, his stance wide and ready. A samurai.
Not tomo.
I saw a crest unknown to me stitched into his chest plate.
I didnt think, I just grabbed Koharus hand and ran.
The samurai shouted, but I didnt stop.
The trees blurred past us, my heart hammering against my ribs. I ran like I was still running from the fire, from the screams, from the blood.
But as I moved, something felt off.
The samurai wasnt following.
I didnt slow down. Not until my feet splashed into cold water.
Water!
The breath was ripped from my lungs as I collapsed onto the riverbank, Koharu falling beside me. My arms were trembling. My chest was heaving.
I pressed my forehead into the damp ground, panting, too exhausted to move.
Koharu barely made a sound.
We couldnt keep running like this.
We had nothing. No food. No weapons. No place to go.
Her expression didnt change, but her gaze drifted upstream, toward the smoke curling into the first hints of dawn.
Then, softly, she spoke:
"We''re not the only ones running."
I followed her gaze. A campfire flickered in the distance, just beyond the trees, hidden in the hills.
My fingers curled into the dirt. If there were people, there was a chancefood, shelter, a path forward.
Or a quick death.
I had no weapon. No way to fight.
I should have been afraid. But I wasnt.
I was angry.
My mother was dead. My village, gone. The blade I used to killleft behind, buried in a samurais throat.
I had nothing. Nothing but Koharu.
I wouldnt lose her too.
Gritting my teeth, I pushed myself up and reached for her hand. "Well go slow. Stay low. If theyre dangerous, we"
A soundtoo close. A single footstep in the silence.
Koharus head turned, her brown eyes lifting toward the trees.
Again, we werent alone.
I pivoted, my body moving before my mind could keep up. My breath caught in my throat.
A samuraithe one from before.
And he wasnt alone.
Standing beside him, half-hidden in the fading shadows, was a boy.
He looked about my agemaybe a year or two olderbut there was no hesitation in his stance, no fear in his expression. His eyes, steel-gray and sharp, met mine without wavering.
"Youre not one of us," he said finally, his voice unreadable.
The samurai stepped forward, his battle-worn armor shifting with the movement. He was older, maybe in his forties, his face lined with exhaustion, yet his stance remained strong. The way he carried himselfsteady, practiced, ready for anythingtold me he had seen too many battles to flinch at the sight of a blood-soaked child.
But his eyes softened just slightly when they settled on me.
"You''re from that village"
His voice was rough, but not harsh.
I swallowed, my throat raw. I didnt answer. Koharu didnt either.
The samurai exhaled slowly, then turned his gaze toward the east, toward the faint glow of dawn creeping over the treetops.
"Amabara-mura is gone," he said at last.
I felt the words sink into me like a knife. As if I hadnt already known. As if the fire still burning behind my ribs needed someone else to confirm it.
"We tried to reach it before the tomo forces arrived," the samurai continued. "My men and I rode through the night, but by the time we saw the smoke"
He didnt finish. He didnt have to.
"We saw you," he added after a pause. "Running. I called out, but you didnt stop. You are both very fortunate to be alive."
I wasnt sure if it was a statement or a warning.
The samurai studied me for another long moment before inclining his head slightly.
"I am Kikuchi Masanari," he said. "Retainer of the Kikuchi Clan."
The name hit me like a cold wind.
Kikuchi.
I had heard it before, from travelers and merchants, from whispers at the village shrine. A fallen clan. A shattered name. They had ruled Higo once, long before the tomo had divided it like scavengers.
And yet the Kikuchithe remnants that the tomo ransacked my village looking for stood before me.
My hands curled into fists.
Masanari turned slightly, gesturing to the boy beside himthe one who had been watching me in silence all this time.
"This is Kikuchi Harutora-sama," he said. "He is our rightful lord."
Lord of the Kikuchi? What this kid?!
I stiffened slightly, my eyes locking with his once again.
He didn''t look at me with pity. Only recognition.
"You ran south," Lord Harutora said finally.
I swallowed, my throat raw. "Yes."
He studied me for a moment, unreadable. Then, with a slow nod"You made the right choice."
It wasnt praise. It wasnt approval.
It was just a fact.
Kikuchi Masanari shifted his stance slightly, his gaze dropping to my clothes. The blood had dried, crusted dark against my sleeves and hands. I could still feel it beneath my nails.
"You''re covered in blood," Masanari said, his voice quieter this time. "Are you injured?"
For the first time, there was a hint of concern in his voice. Not as a warrior, but as a man who had seen too many die.
I didnt answer right away. I forced myself to glance down again, to check.
My body still ached, my muscles screamed with exhaustionbut I wasnt hurt.
"Its not mine," I muttered.
Masanari hesitated. I saw the moment doubt flickered across his face.
Koharu didnt hesitate. She tilted her head slightly, her voice barely more than a whisper, yet unnervingly certain.
"It wasnt a fair fight," she said, her fingers tightening around my sleeve. "The samurai didnt even see him coming."
The night air pressed heavy around us.
Lord Harutoras expression didnt shift. His gaze remained locked onto mine. "You?"
I met his gaze and let the silence stretch. I could have lied. I could have said nothing.
But I didnt.
"Yeah," I said, my voice steady. "I killed the samurai that defiled and killed my mother right in front of me. I put my knife in his throat but he deserved worse."
Masanari inhaled through his nose, his brow creasing slightly.
Lord Harutora exhaled, slow and measured.
Then, finally"Hmph. Took you long enough to answer."
I shifted my stance, just slightly. Not enough to be aggressive. Just enough to feel the ground firm beneath me.
Something about this kid pisses me off.
Masanari sighed. "You should know better than to taunt a boy covered in blood, my lord."
"If he flinches at words, he wont last against steel," Harutora said simply. Then, with a slow exhale"Hah... You must be exhausted."
I swallowed hard, jaw clenching. I didnt want to show weakness. But the truth was, my legs ached, my breath still ragged from running. The weight of everythingblood, death, firesat heavy on my shoulders.
Still, I didnt let my knees buckle.
Not in front of him.
"Rest first. Well talk later."
I didnt move right away. I didnt know if I could trust them.
But KoharuKoharu was already moving.
She reached for my wristnot pulling, just holding. A small, steady warmth against my skin.
I exhaled"Tch." I clicked my tongue, rolling my shoulders. "Alright, alright. But if theres no food, you owe me."
Koharu blinked up at me, tilting her head slightly. "I dont have anything to owe you with."
I let out a slow breath, rubbing the dried blood on my sleeve. "Then you better find something."
Her grip didnt loosen. I turned, pulling her forward.
Toward the firelight. Toward the Kikuchi. Toward whatever came next.
The weight of blood still clung to me, the scent of smoke thick in my lungs. My body ached, my mind screamed at me to stop, to sleep, to grieve
Dawn stretched ahead, endless and uncertain. The past was still burning behind me.
And the path forward had only just begun.
Summer, Abandoned Temple, Harima Province C 1598
Musashis thumb hovered over the next page, but he didnt turn it.
The night air was thick, the weight of the past pressing against his shoulders.
He exhaled slow, "This is how it started?"
The cicadas had gone silent again.
[ CHAPTER 2 ] –「A Wolf Among Stray Dogs」/ 狼と野良犬 (ōkami to Norainu – Wolf and Stray Dogs)
Spring, Kikuchi Encampment, Central Higo Province C 1551
The smell of rice nearly drove me mad.
I hadnt eaten in over a day. Maybe longer.
My body felt like it was running on embers, burning through the last scraps of energy I had left. The scent of cooked rice, dried fish, and roasted barley thickened the night air, twisting my stomach into painful knots. Every breath carried the weight of hunger, sharp and unrelenting.
The Kikuchi encampment was built for survival, not display. Tucked deep within the forest like a wounded beast seeking refuge, it bore no banners or grand insignias, only the bare essentials of war.
Men moved with quiet purpose, sharpening swords, checking arrows, and tightening armor straps. No one spoke needlessly, and there was no laughter, only the heavy silence of warriors who understood that tomorrow might be their last.
No one spared us more than a passing glance.
A soldier adjusting his chest plate flicked his eyes toward me, then quickly looked away.
A young warrior near a cart saw Koharu, his gaze lingering only a moment before he shook his head and resumed his task.
There was no hostility. No warmth either. Only wariness.
I barely noticed my eyes had already locked onto the bowls in their hands.
I swallowed against the dryness in my throat. Just one bite. One bowl. One handful.
I opened my mouth, my voice hoarse from exhaustion.
"Where do we eat?"
Masanari led us to the bank but didnt stay. He set down a bundle of clothes, fresh, clean, and simple, then spoke.
"Bathe. When youre done, my men will take you to eat."
Then, without another word, he turned and left.
I didnt argue or hesitate, that was all I needed to hear.
Beside me Koharu exhaled softly, like she had been holding her breath since we entered the camp.
Two warriors remained behind, standing a short distance away. Their hands rested on their sword hilts, watchful but not hostile.
I barely paid them any attention.
I stepped forward and walked straight into the water.
The cold hit like a blade, shocking the breath from my lungs. But I didnt stop. I plunged my arms into the river, scrubbing hard. The dried blood, his blood, my mothers blood, clung to me like a second skin.
I dug my nails into my arms, scraping, erasing, burying.
My fingers trembled slightly.
A few feet away, Koharu knelt at the rivers edge, cupping water in her small hands and rinsing her face. Her movements were slow and deliberate, as if she were washing away more than just dirt, as if the weight of the night clung to her skin.
Neither of us spoke.
There was nothing left to say.
War Tent, Kikuchi Encampment, Central Higo Province
The tent was cramped, the air thick with the scent of damp cloth and old parchment. A wooden table scarred from years of use stood at the center, a map of Kyushu spread across its surface, dark lines marking roads and rivers, red ink bleeding across its edges.
A single lantern flickered, casting sharp shadows along the fabric walls.
Inside, the future of the Kikuchi Clan was being decided.
Kikuchi Hidemitsu, a hardened warrior in his forties, slammed his fist against the table.
"We must move now!" His voice was sharp, cutting through the low murmurs of the other men. "The tomo butchered Amabara-mura! If we stay, we die!"
Masanari listened, arms crossed, face unreadable.
A younger retainer nodded. "Our numbers are too few. We wont last a skirmish."
Hidemitsus patience snapped. He turned sharply to Masanari, eyes narrowing.
"And you...bringing in useless strays?" His voice was cold. "You act as if we have the strength to shelter every wandering beggar!"
Masanari didnt flinch. "Those children lost their home. If we leave them, they will die."
Hidemitsu scoffed, his voice dropped lower. "Then let them die."
The silence that followed was deep and cutting.
Hidemitsus gaze darkened, his voice was quieter now, "That boy has seen death. He has survived it. And if he has survived it" he exhaled, "then he knows how to kill."
A retainer frowned. "If thats true he is dangerous."
Hidemitsus expression hardened. "You want to drag a child who has blood on his hands with us? A stray beast that has tasted flesh? How long until he turns on us?"
Masanaris fingers twitched against his sleeve. "He fought to protect his sister."
Hidemitsu''s gaze darkened. "And what happens when he fights to protect himself?"
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Then, slowly, Hidemitsu exhaled. His next words were quiet.
"We should kill them now. Quickly. Painlessly."
Masanaris hands curled into fists beneath his sleeves.
"They have no way of surviving alone." Hidemitsus voice remained cold. "What we would be doing is mercy."
Masanari''s lips parted slightly, the only hint of a reaction slipping through his otherwise composed demeanor.
"The Kikuchi do not kill innocents!"
Harutoras voice broke the silence.
The boy who had barely spoken now stood firm, his gaze locked onto his uncle.
Hidemitsu turned slowly, his features hard as stone, the firelight casting sharp shadows across his face."
Then, after a long pause, he smirked. "Truly, my lord listens to reason." His voice was laced with mockery. "You will listen to your uncle, for you are still just a child."
Harutoras fingers curled into fists beneath the table.
"Ojiue." His voice remained steady. "When I took leadership of this clan, I was afraid and lacked experience. I will always appreciate your counsel...truthfully, I am still afraid."
A pause.
"But I will NOT bring shame to the Kikuchi Clan by resorting to such barbaric means."
Masanari tilted his head slightly. A small smile flickered across his face.
"Well said, my lord."
Hidemitsu sneered. "Then your father would be ashamed of you."
A heavy silence followed.
Harutora didnt flinch.
Hidemitsu exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Foolish sentiment. But do as you wish."
He turned and left without another word.
Harutora straightened.
"Break camp. We move south immediately."
The retainers bowed and began filtering out.
Harutoras hands were still clenched.
He did not let himself tremble.
Masanari lingered for a moment, his presence steady but unobtrusive. At last, Harutora spoke, his voice quiet yet firm.
"Keep a close eye on Ryma."
Masanari bowed slightly. "Yes, my lord."
The lantern flickered, casting shadows that stretched like silent specters along the tent walls.
By dawn, the Kikuchi would no longer be here.
Kikuchi Encampment, Central Higo Province
The first bite of rice nearly broke me.
The warmth spread through my body like fire, chasing away the hollow ache in my gut. I didnt think or breathe. I just ate.
The bowl had barely touched my hands before I was devouring its contents at a terrifying pace. Rice, miso, pickled radish, all gone in seconds. A piece of dried fish? Swallowed whole, bones and all. I drank down tea like it was life itself.
The Kikuchi retainers sitting nearby paused mid-bite, staring in a mix of disbelief and horror.
One warrior glanced at his own half-finished meal. Then at me. Then back at his bowl.
Another leaned toward his companion, whispering, Did we just bring in a starving beast?
A few chuckles, but most just stared.
Koharu, sitting beside me tilted her head slightly, eyes half-lidded as if bored. Her small hands wrapped around a warm tea cup, fingers tapping against the ceramic.
Then, as if commenting on the weather, she said, "If you stare at him, he''ll eat your food too."
The way she said it, soft and distant yet undeniably certain, sent a visible shudder through the closest soldier. Without a word, he instinctively inched his bowl away.
I barely noticed. I was already onto my third bowl.
Harutora was nowhere in sight, which meant this was my first real chance to breathe since we got here.
I stuffed another mouthful of rice into my cheeks and between hurried chews, grumbled something at the men still staring, "Mhh mnffh nhn gonna hiff tha?"
The words came out completely unintelligible, muffled behind swollen cheeks packed full of food.
There was a brief pause of silence.
One soldier blinked. Did he just threaten us?
His companion nodded gravely, "It sounded like Are you gonna eat that? but I think he meant something worse."
Another warrior looked down at his rice, Should I be afraid?
A beat passed. Then someone laughed nervously.
Another snorted.
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And just like that, the strange, tight tension in the air broke. A few warriors chuckled, shoulders loosening slightly. It wasnt warmth or camaraderie, just a fleeting moment of absurdity in a place where laughter had been scarce.
I barely noticed. I was already reaching for another bowl.
Then, suddenly.
Break camp! We move immediately!
The sharp voice of a retainer cut through the air, snapping the Kikuchi men into motion.
Metal clattered. Armor plates tightened. The tension returned in an instant.
I looked up from my now-empty bowl. Hah?
A nearby soldier yanked his pack onto his shoulder, barely sparing me a glance. tomo scouts could be close. Were leaving now.
More voices carried through the camp:
Move quickly! Take only what you need!
Burn anything we cant carryno traces left behind!
Were finally meeting up with the main group?! We can see our families soon!
I scowled. Tch. That bastard Harutora said we could rest!
Koharu sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, her expression unchanged.
She didnt blink at the commotion. Didnt even shift her posture. She only spoke after a short pause, her voice as calm as ever.
You shouldnt complain, Nii-sama.
I glanced at her, but she wasnt looking at me. Her gaze was fixed on the flames rising in the distance, the Kikuchi warriors dismantling the camp, erasing its existence.
Her fingers curled slightly around her sleeve.
We are fortunate to be here.
A lazy shrug rolled through my shoulders. "Yeah, yeah. I get it."
The crackle of flames drew my gaze upward.
Several warriors had already set parts of the camp ablaze. What they couldnt carry, they would destroy. No banners. No insignia. No signs left behind for the enemy to track.
By the time dawn reached its peak, the Kikuchi Clan would be gone.
I exhaled, pushing myself to my feet.
Koharu rose beside me, her small fingers brushing against my sleeve. A quiet touch.
A reminder that we were still moving forward.
I pulled my tattered cloak tighter around my shoulders, watching the last of the encampment collapse into the flames.
The Kikuchi were marching south.
And we were marching with them.
En Route to Kikuchi Main Forces, Higo Province
The Kikuchi forces moved in a tight, disciplined formation, weaving through the wooded hills in near silence. Harutora rode in the center, Masanari led from the front, and Hidemitsu guarded the rear. Every position was chosen with intent.
And so was the way they tried to separate me and Koharu.
It wasnt subtle.
Koharu had been placed near Harutoras personal guard, while I was pushed further up the column, closer to the marching retainers. A wedge, driven between us.
A test? A precaution?
Didnt matter.
Of course theyd be wary of me. A stray dog that had already drawn blood.
I understood, but that didnt mean I liked it.
Koharu was still riding with Harutora.
A few paces back, I caught glimpses of their conversation.
Harutora spoke softly to her, his tone lighter than it was with his retainers, though still distant and carrying the weight of formality.
Koharu, as always, just listened.
She had that effect on people.
No matter the age, status, or temperament, they always ended up talking to her.
Maybe it was her silence. Maybe it was something else.
I squinted, watching them.
Why is that bastard so kind to her, yet so cold to me?
Something else caught my attentionHarutoras posture.
His movements in the saddle were stiff, slightly awkward. His grip on the reins was firm, but there was a hesitation in his handling of the horse.
Still learning, huh?
Masanari, with his broad shoulders and relaxed stride, made for an imposing figure at the head of the formation.
His armor, while well-kept lacked ornamental excess. It was built for function over vanity. A warriors armor with no unnecessary weight.
His hair, a deep chestnut-brown, was tied in a practical topknot, strands of it swaying slightly as he walked.
His eyes however had a hawk-like amber that held calm and made it difficult to read him.
After watching him for a while, I finally spoke up.
"Hey, Ox-face."
Masanaris brow twitched, but amusement flickered across his face. "Ox-face?"
"Yeah. You look like a stubborn old ox."
Some of the retainers walking alongside him inhaled rigidly.
Masanari, however, only chuckled. "And what does that make you?"
"A hungry wolf," I said, flashing my teeth.
His smirk widened. "And what makes you so hungry, little wolf?"
"That guy." I jerked my chin toward Harutora.
Masanari followed my gaze. "Lord Harutora? What about him?"
I shrugged. "Dunno. Something about him bugs me."
A slow, measured breath left Masanaris lips. "You should go easy on him."
One eyebrow lifted. "Why?"
Masanari didnt answer immediately.
Instead, his gaze drifted forward, his brow creasing slightly, as if weighing his words.
"Some burdens are heavier than they look."
The words lingered.
A nobles burden?
What kind of burden did a pampered heir carry?
The march was long.
The silence was boring.
So when my gaze fell upon Masanaris katana, something in me stirred.
The scabbard was a deep midnight blue, the lacquered wood etched with faint silver streaks, like wind cutting through the night. At the base, near the hilt, was a simple engraving of a crescent moon.
Just enough to be elegant, a blade meant to be used, not admired.
I want to hold it.
So I said exactly that. "Let me hold it."
A retainer riding beside Masanari choked on air.
"W-What?!"
Another turned red with fury. "A samurais blade is sacred! You should never ask to hold another mans weapon!"
I shrugged. "Who cares?"
His face darkened.
"You!"
Before he could launch into some long-winded lecture, Masanari actually laughed.
"Youre an odd one, arent you?"
Then, to everyones absolute horror, Masanari unhooked the scabbard from his belt and held it out.
"Fine. You can carry it."
The retainers nearly fell off their horses.
"Masanari-dono, you cant be serious!" one of them protested. "You heard what Hidemitsu-sama said about the stray beast"
Masanari ignored them.
He tied his horses reins to another retainer before turning toward Harutora.
"With your permission, my lord, Id like to walk with our young wolf for a bit."
Harutoras gaze briefly met Masanaris.
Then, with silent approval, he nodded.
The retainers grumbled, but they didnt object further.
And just like that, I was holding Masanaris katana.
It was heavier than I expected.
Masanari smirked. "Tell you what, if you can carry that all the way to the rendezvous, Ill treat you to udon at the next inn."
A grin crept onto my face. "And if I lose?"
"You have to shut up for the rest of the journey."
A snort escaped me. "Youre on, Ox-face."
The retainers groaned loudly in exasperation.
The dirt road stretched before us.
Masanari walked beside me, watching my grip on his weapon.
Then casually, "Were you afraid?"
A blink. "Huh?"
"When you killed that man. Were you afraid?"
A grin spread across my face. "Of course not. I had to protect my family."
Masanari watched me carefully.
"That wasnt a samurai."
A frown. "What? Of course it was!"
"The tomo hire outsiders. Bandits, mercenaries. The men who attacked your village were likely just thatstrays lured in by the promise of stolen wealth."
I scoffed. "Does it matter?"
Masanari chuckled. "To you? Maybe not. But to most samurai, it would."
His brow creased. "Why does it matter?"
Amusement flickered in his eyes. "Because most samurai are trained in cultivation."
I squinted. "Cultivation?"
"You really dont know?"
"I know what swords are. Thats enough."
A booming laugh. "No, its not."
He adjusted his armor. "Cultivation is what separates warriors from mere fighters. There are three pathsBushid, Shugend, and Onmyd."
The names sank in.
Bushid. Shugend. Onmyd.
Masanari continued, his voice measured and steady.
"Every warrior follows a path, but not every path is open to them."
He glanced at me, watching carefully.
"Cultivators have something called Fated Compatibility."
I frowned slightly. "Fated Compatibility?"
Masanari nodded. "It determines what path a person can walk, how far they can go, and what limits they will face."
His words carried weight.
"Most people have an affinity for only one path," he explained. "Some rare individuals have two. And only few in a generation There are those born with all three."
My throat felt dry. I swallowed hard but said nothing.
Masanari continued.
"Bushid''The Way of the Warrior.'' Strength, precision, and the bladethis is its foundation."
I tilted my head slightly, intrigued. "So it''s for swordsmen?"
Masanari nodded. "And warriors of all kinds. It isnt just about wielding a weaponits about turning your entire body into one. Mastering control, reaction, and lethal intent. The best Bushid cultivators can cut before their opponent even realizes theyve drawn their blade."
A slow nod of understanding left me.
Masanari moved on.
"Next, Shugend''The Way of the Ascetic.'' Those who walk the mountains path become like stoneunyielding, unshaken."
My fingers curled slightly. "What does that mean?"
"It means their bodies become a fortress." Masanaris voice carried something close to respect. "Shugend cultivators train their endurance, their pain tolerance, their ability to harness natural Ki. Fire cannot burn them. Cold cannot slow them. They can walk for days without food or water and emerge stronger than before."
My head dipped slightly, absorbing every word. That sounded useful.
Masanari continued.
"And last is Onmyd''''The Way of Yin-Yang.'' Perception, balance, and the unseen forcesOnmyd shapes fate itself."
That made me pause.
"Shapes fate? That sounds like nonsense."
Masanari chuckled. "To a Bushid fighter, it mightbut Onmyji cultivate a different kind of strength. One that doesnt rely on the body, but the mind and soul. They read the flow of Ki in everything, summon spirits, manipulate elemental forces, and some can alter probability itself."
My grip on the katana tightened. "That''s insane" I muttered under my breath, eyes widening.
Masanari studied my reaction.
"Cultivation isnt just about strengthits about control." Masanaris gaze flicked to the katana in my hands. "Ki isnt just energyits the bridge between mind, body, and the world around you."
Ki.
I had heard the word before, but I had never thought about it beyond strength.
I straightened slightly. "Then teach me."
Masanari chuckled, shaking his head. "Well see."
He continued explaining that most Kikuchi followed Bushid, while a select few, like Harutora, possessed multiple affinities.
Born into a clan, raised with status, and trained from childhood, he had never needed to struggle for his place. Now, on top of it all, he was gifted with multiple affinities as well? How much more was fate planning to hand him?
Something tightened in my chest.
Harutora again.
That bastard has everything.
Before I even realized it I blurted out, "I bet I have an affinity for Bushid!"
Masanari let out a booming laugh, shaking his head. "I love the spirit, little wolf!"
The march slowed as we entered a clearing nestled between the trees. With no fires or excess noise, the camp settled into a quiet, concealed refuge.
Men moved efficiently, setting up camp with practiced discipline. Even exhausted, the Kikuchi remained wary.
Masanari tossed me a rolled-up cloak. "Get some rest. Tomorrow will be just as long."
I dropped onto the rough ground, Masanaris scabbard resting against my lap. Sleep tugged at me, but something buzzed under my skin with an excitement I couldnt quite shake.
"Ryma."
Harutora stood nearby, arms crossed, his expression unreadable in the dim moonlight. His dark blue hair, tied back in a loose but controlled topknot, shifted slightly in the night breeze, a few strands falling over his forehead.
"You think you have an affinity for Bushid?"
I smirked. "What, you doubt me?"
Harutoras gaze flicked toward Koharu.
"Both of you. Stand up."
Koharu tilted her head, then rose without hesitation.
Masanari, still lingering nearby, watched with quiet amusement.
Harutora adjusted the glove on his right hand.
"Lets find out."
The night air stilled.
And the Fated Compatibility Test was about to begin.
[ CHAPTER 3 ] –「The Silent Blade」/ 無音剣 (Muon-Ken)
Spring, Kikuchi Encampment, Central Higo Province C 1551
The Kikuchi encampment stirred with restless energy.
Men gathered in clusters, murmuring beneath the flickering torchlight. Some stood with arms crossed, faces unreadable, while others leaned on their weapons, eyes filled with interest. The air was thick with dust, kicked up by shifting feet and the cool night breeze.
At the center of it all, a thin red string stretched between two wooden posts. Hanging from it motionless was a single ofudaa talisman inscribed with sacred calligraphy.
The test was simple in appearance, yet to the warriors surrounding us, it was a ritual of weighty significance. It was not merely about striking a target. It was about revealing the unseen.
I shifted my weight, glancing around. Why the hell does this feel like a festival?
Masanari returned carrying two wooden bokken under his arm. He passed one to me and another to Koharu before stepping back.
Koharu studied the wooden sword in her hands, her small fingers barely wrapping around the hilt. She turned toward Harutora. Why is everyone watching?
Harutoras gaze remained on the ofuda, arms folded, his features composed but firm.
Tests like these dont happen every day.
She followed his words.
"For warriors," he continued, "watching raw talent emerge is like witnessing a blade take shape in the forge. The weak fade into obscurity, while the strong carve their names into history or mark themselves as threats to be cut down."
The words sat heavy between us.
I exhaled loudly, rolling my shoulders. Tch. No pressure, then.
Masanari chuckled, but the sound barely broke the tension.
Hidemitsu exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. Youre wasting time Harutora. Bushid is for warriors. This child he gestured toward me with a lazy flick of his fingers, ...is gutter filth.
I grinned. Ohhh, I get it now.
Hidemitsus eyes narrowed.
Youre just scared, old man.
The warriors nearby tensed.
I shrugged, spinning the bokken loosely in my hand. No shame in it. Id be nervous too if I was past my prime and a kid might show me up.
Hidemitsus jaw tightened.
Have your fun while you can boy, he muttered, voice low. A rat with a wooden sword is still just a rat.
I stuck out my tongue at him, crossing my eyes and making a ridiculous face. Blehhh!
For a moment, the tension cracked as several warriors let out short amused breaths.
Hidemitsus face twisted with fury, his fingers curling into fists.
Cut that brats tongue out!
The command snapped through the night air like a blade.
Masanari, ever composed, stepped forward. Take it easy, Hidemitsu. His lips curled slightly. Enjoy the show.
Hidemitsus glare could have burned a hole through steel.
Koharu and I stepped forward.
The murmurs around us hushed as we approached the red string.
Her small hands tightened around the bokken, fingers pressing lightly against the wood.
Masanari watched her carefully. Whenever youre ready.
She inhaled softly, her grip steady. Then with a quiet step forward, she lifted the wooden blade and struck in a single fluid motion.
The air barely stirred.
The ofuda remained completely still.
A whisper of confusion rippled through the crowd.
Masanari narrowed his eyes slightly. That was unusual.
A nearby warrior narrowed his brow, his gaze fixed on the ofuda. I could have sworn I felt something. The Ki shifted, but then it was just... gone.
Hidemitsu clicked his tongue, arms crossed. Tch. I knew it.
He didnt even try to hide his satisfaction.
That girls no warrior. As I said we shouldnt have wasted time on strays.
Koharu lowered the bokken.
She didnt react to Hidemitsus words.
She simply let go.
The wooden sword dropped to the ground with a dull thud.
Harutora frowned. Koharu do you want to try again?
She met his gaze. I dont think the sword likes me.
Some warriors chuckled under their breath.
Hidemitsu scoffed. A child with no fire in her blood has no place here!
I clenched my jaw, watching Koharu closely.
Masanari cleared his throat, cutting through the noise. Enough. She took the test as expected. We move on.
I stepped forward, stretching my arms above my head. Alright, lets get this over with.
The bokken felt solid in my grip. Lighter than I expected, but balanced.
I inhaled.
Exhaled.
Then swung.
The ofuda trembled.
A ripple of silence spread through the gathered warriors.
I frowned, tightening my grip. That wasnt enough.
I swung again, this time with greater force and precision, the movement more focused.
The ofuda drifted off the string slowly as if caught by an unseen current.
A single slip of paper, weightless on the wind.
The murmurs stopped.
No one moved.
Harutoras eyes widened, and Masanaris expression shifted. The amusement that usually played at the edges of his features faded, replaced by something far more serious.
Hidemitsu froze, unable to mask his astonishment.
I blinked. So does that mean I pass, or
The encampment erupted.
Dozens of voices overlapped, disbelief and awe rippling through the gathered warriors.
Impossible
That was the Silent Blade!
A Divine Bushid Affinity?!
The rarest and deadliest gift a swordsman can have.
I frowned. Divine Affinity? I didnt know what that meant, but judging from their reactions, it was important.
The warriors didnt disperse easily. Even as orders were given, they lingered, whispering amongst themselves.
With talent like that, maybe he should stay with us, one retainer murmured.
Harutora, still processing inclined his head slightly.
Hidemitsu clenched his fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms. A stray wielding divine talent? Unacceptable.
Harutora exhaled. Masanari.
Masanaris posture straightened, his usual casual demeanor fading.
Train him.
The words dropped like stones into the quiet.
Masanari studied me for a long moment. Then finally, he nodded. Yes, my lord.
Harutora turned, his gaze landing briefly on Koharu.
She was watching him, her dark brown eyes calm.
His expression remained unreadable, but there was something calculating in the way he observed her.
She simply stood there.
Why Masanari? Koharu asked.
Harutora smirked, though without humor. His gaze lingered on Koharu before drifting to the dark treetops, as if recalling something distant.
A blade like that he murmured, almost to himself. He exhaled quietly,
My brother once told meif you dont sharpen a blade properly His eyes flickered to me, his voice low and deliberate.
itll cut the wrong way.
The night loomed over the encampment. Shadows pooled beneath the torchlight, flickering like dying spirits grasping at their last embers of life.
Sleep was an ambush.
I didnt slip into it. I was dragged under, yanked into the abyss before I could even form a coherent thought. The exhaustion in my bones was absolute, a force heavier than steel, pressing me into the hard-packed dirt of the bedroll Masanari had thrown at me.
The nightmares came almost instantly.
Fire.
Screams.
The stench of burning flesh clung to the air, thick and suffocating, an inescapable brand on the senses.
I stood in the center of Amabara-mura, but something was wrong. The village loomed unnaturally, its buildings stretching skyward, their thatched roofs curling like grasping fingers. Flames licked at the heavens, devouring the sky in hungry waves. Beneath me, the ground pulsed with something dark and restless, the same weight that had pressed against my chest that night.
The night I killed him.
And there she was.
My mother knelt in the dirt, her violet eyes locked onto mine. Blood dripped from her parted lips, pooling at her knees, spreading outward like ink spilled across parchment. But she wasnt dead.
The samurai stood behind her, his blade gleaming wet with crimson. His face was nothing but shadow, but his mouth twisted into a cruel grin.
"Run," my mother whispered.
Her voice sounded wrong. Warped and layered, as if multiple voices spoke through her at the same time.
I tried to move. My feet were buried in the ground, sinking, consumed.
"Run."
The samurai raised his sword.
"Run, Ryma!!
The blade fell
I shot awake with a rushed inhale, my ribs aching.
But the pain wasnt from the nightmare.
A boot had slammed into my side.
The first thing I noticed was the cold. It seeped into my skin, clinging to the sweat still slicking my body from the nightmare. The second was Masanaris voice.
"Wake up, little wolf."
I groaned into the stiff fabric beneath me, gripping at the dirt like I could anchor myself to it. "Didnt you people tell me to rest?!"
Masanari crouched beside me, tilting his head with a confused look on his face.
Oh? I thought you wanted to learn Bushid."
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The words cut through the haze of exhaustion like a blade through cloth. My body moved before my mind could catch up, jerking upright so fast the world tilted around me.
"YES, SENSEI!"
A few Kikuchi retainers, the only ones awake at this cursed hour, snorted from their positions around the dying embers of last nights fires.
"Hes already calling him sensei?"
"Poor bastard doesnt know what he just signed up for."
Masanari only smiled. "Glad to hear it. Training starts now."
I blinked at the sky. Dark, star-strewn, not even a hint of sunrise.
"Now? The sun isnt even up yet!"
"Then move faster," Masanari said, already striding away.
I scrambled to my feet, my limbs protesting, my mind still catching up. This was my first real lesson in Bushid.
And it was going to be hell.
It started with running.
A lot of running.
Through the trees, over jagged terrain, up inclines that felt steeper than mountains. My breath tore ragged from my lungs, my heart slamming against my ribs like a war drum.
Masanari jogged beside me like we were out for a leisurely morning stroll.
"This is pathetic," he said, watching me struggle up a slope of loose gravel. "You ran for your life just days ago. Wheres that energy now?"
I gasped, sweat stinging my eyes. "That was different!"
"How so?"
"I wasnt carrying your stupid katana then!"
Masanari laughed like my suffering was the finest form of entertainment.
"Thats part of your training," he said, nodding toward the katana strapped to my waist. "A blade should feel like an extension of yourself."
"It feels like an extension of my grave!"
I wasnt sure when it happened, but we had an audience now. A few Kikuchi warriors had woken and gathered to watch.
"Think hell last?"
"Id bet a day."
"Too generous. Half a day, tops."
I gritted my teeth and forced my legs to move.
I was going to make them all eat their words.
Then the world lurched.
The moment I reached the peak of the incline, my knees buckled. my body locking up in resistance.
And then I fell.
The impact was dull, but the wet squelch beneath me was worse.
I groaned, rolling onto my side, my hands sinking into the damp earth. No, not earth.
Mud.
A puddle.
The water rippled from my fall, murky and unsettled. But when it stilled, the reflection looking back at me was not my own.
I saw myself.
For the first time in days, I truly saw myself.
Dark violet eyes, almost black in the murky reflection, stared back at me. They were wide, alert, and alive. Beneath them, the sharp lines of my face stood out against the filth smeared across my skin. My hair was a mess, strands falling into my eyes, damp from sweat. But it wasnt the exhaustion or the dirt that struck me.
It was the way my expression had changed.
This wasnt the face of the boy who had lived in Amabara-mura, who had stolen food when he was hungry and bickered with Koharu over dumb things. That boy was gone.
What looked back at me was someone else entirely.
The wolf Masanari had called me.
Something deep inside my chest tightened. It wasnt pain or grief, but something else.
A pull. A pulse.
Like a starved flame gasping for air, desperate to grow.
The same feeling had gripped me when I killed that man.
That moment. Standing over his body, his blood warm on my hands, the stench of death curling in my lungs.
Something had stirred then, rising from deep within me.
I swallowed hard.
Then I pressed my hands into the mud, pushed myself upright, and kept running.
By the time we finished, I wasnt sure if I was dead or just wished I was.
I collapsed onto the dirt, my body screaming, my breath coming in ragged bursts.
Masanari crouched beside me, his shadow blocking the barely rising sun.
He exhaled through his nose, then said evenly, "A samurais strength is not in how he draws his blade, but in how many times he has fallen and stood again."
I groaned into the dirt. "Then I should be the strongest damn samurai in the world by now."
Masanari only smirked. "That was the warm-up."
I bit back a curse, barely resisting the urge to collapse.
And yet, beneath the exhaustion something lingered.
That spark. That heat.
Like my body was reacting to something deeper than just training, something inside me was waking up.
Masanari watched me carefully, his amber eyes gleaming in the early light.
He had noticed it too.
I didnt know what it was but I knew one thing.
I was going to survive this.
Or so I thought.
The morning stretched on, the pale light of dawn creeping over the horizon. My body was wrecked, every limb ached, every muscle burned, yet Masanari wasnt done with me.
"Push-ups," he said, arms crossed. "As many as you can. Start now."
I barely made it past ten before my arms started trembling.
By twenty, my jaw ached from clenching my teeth.
At thirty, my breath came in short, uneven gasps.
"Is that it?" Masanari asked.
I glared up at him between strained exhales. "Gimme gimme a second!"
The Kikuchi warriors nearby exchanged glances, watching with mild amusement.
"He wont last much longer."
"Hes stubborn, Ill give him that."
"I should place a bet on how long before he collapses."
I ignored them. I wasnt going to quit.
I forced myself up again, only for Masanari to press his foot against my back.
The ground rushed to meet my face.
"Keep going," he said.
I sputtered, my voice muffled against the dirt. "Thats cheating!"
"Its training," he said, as if that made it better. "Strength isnt just about pushing limits. Its about holding steady under weight. Endurance is the difference between victory and death."
"The weight is your foot!"
"Lifes unfair." His tone was far too casual.
I swore vengeance.
Ki control came next.
Masanari sat cross-legged in front of me, posture relaxed, breath even. The air around us was still, filled only with the rustling of trees and the distant murmurs of soldiers breaking camp.
"Ki exists in all things," he explained. "To control it, you must first recognize it. Feel it. Guide it."
I nodded. "Alright."
"Close your eyes."
I did.
"Focus on your Harathe center of your energy."
I inhaled deeply.
And then, I felt it. The feeling of the world fading around me.
A flutter of something, barely a breath, barely a pulse, thrumming deep in my core. It wasn''t just warmth, but a movement. Like unseen currents shifting beneath my skin.
The moment I focused on it, it responded, steady and natural, like a pulse.
Masanari exhaled. "Hah. That was quick."
A nearby warrior scoffed. "Tch. Thats irritating."
I opened my eyes, frowning. "Wait. Thats it?"
Masanari studied me for a long moment, tilting his head slightly. "You connected with it, yes. But control is one thingmastery is another. Refining it, wielding it in combat thats where the real work begins."
I blinked. "I thought this was supposed to be difficult."
Koharu sitting nearby, tilted her head. "Nii-sama."
I turned to her. "What?"
She observed me for a brief moment, then closed her eyes.
The shift was immediate.
Like ripples across a still pond, the air adjusted around her, smoothing into place, carrying an unseen weight that settled with quiet precision.
Masanaris easygoing demeanor faded just slightly. His gaze sharpened as he watched her.
Koharu opened her eyes and giggled, "Its easy! It feels like breathing, doesnt it?" She bounced slightly where she sat, pleased with herself. "Its kind of fun!"
I grinned. "Right? Thats what I was thinking!"
The warriors exchanged glances.
"Two strays, and they both pick it up like nothing."
"That kind of instinct isnt normal."
"Maybe we shouldve tested them earlier."
Masanari ignored them, his attention still on me. "Youve got the foundation, but thats the easy part. Now do it a thousand more times."
I nearly screamed.
By the time morning fully arrived, my body had nothing left to give.
I lay sprawled on the ground, drenched in sweat, limbs refusing to move. Around me, the Kikuchi warriors packed up the last of the camp, breaking down tents and securing supplies.
They loomed over me, far too entertained.
"Not bad for a stray," one muttered.
"Hes going to collapse during the march."
Masanaris shadow fell over me.
"Get up," he said.
I groaned. "No."
His boot nudged my ribs.
"Come on, little wolf. Were doing this again tonight."
I cracked one eye open. "I have to survive the march first."
Masanari grinned.
For the rest of the journey, training became my new existence.
Before the sun rose, Masanari forced me through footwork drills and blade techniques until my arms felt like dead weight.
By midday, I marched alongside the Kikuchi forces, my body screaming from the mornings torment.
At night, the real hell began.
Masanari pushed me harder, weaving combat drills with relentless endurance training. My legs burned from running, my arms ached from swinging the bokken again and again. Balance, control, reactionhe knocked me off-center at every turn, forcing my body to adjust before my mind even caught up.
"Youll thank me later," he kept saying.
Koharu trained as well, but differently. While I was being run into the ground, she practiced stillness, breathing, focus, and the subtle control of Ki. I thought it was pointless at first.
Until one night, when she followed the same Ki training I did, and the air adjusted around her again.
Not dramatic. Not overwhelming. But perfectly precise, as if the world itself made space for her presence.
Masanari noticed. His expression barely shifted, but his gaze lingered longer than usual.
She was picking it up faster than I was.
She didnt gloat or tease, just smiled softly and continued.
I huffed and kept working.
By the time we reached the inn, my arms, legs, and probably my soul had stopped functioning.
Yet somewhere beneath the fatigue, something else had taken root.
A hunger.
Kisaragi Inn, Southern Higo Province
I slammed my hands down onto the counter, eyes ablaze with hunger-driven madness.
"Innkeeper!" My voice rang through the inn like a battle cry. "Bring me a bowl of udon so big it could drown a man!"
A few warriors choked on their drinks. Others burst into laughter.
The retainers leaned in, already placing bets.
"Hell only make it to 4 bowls."
"I say he makes it to six."
"Seven. The brat eats like a demon."
The inn creaked with age, its walls darkened by years of smoke and sake. Kikuchi warriors filled the space, their voices blending with the clatter of chopsticks against lacquered bowls.
Near the entrance, Harutora traced the worn carvings on a wooden pillar, his fingers pausing over an old name.
"Youve been here before, havent you?" Koharus voice was quiet but certain.
Harutora exhaled. "A long time ago, he paused without explaining further. "The main force should be camped above the cliff. From there well cross over to Satsuma province."
Koharu tilted her head. "Then well see them soon?"
Harutoras smile was faint. "Yeah. Soon."
A shamisen player had taken the stage, plucking a melody that wove through the warmth of the room. The flickering lanterns painted soft gold light across facesmen who had seen many battles, laughing over bowls of steaming broth, momentarily untouched by the weight of war.
I licked my lips, my entire soul dedicated to this meal. The first steaming bowl arrived, the scent of rich broth, fresh green onions, and thick, hand-pulled noodles hitting my nostrils like divine intervention.
I grabbed my chopsticks. The moment they touched the noodles, I moved like a starving animal.
The first bite? Heaven.
The second? Transcendence.
The third? I didnt even remember eating itI was somewhere between existence and nirvana.
Before I knew it, I was approaching my third bowl.
Masanari sitting across from me, dragged a hand down his face like he was witnessing a tragedy unfold. "I have made a grave mistake."
He turned to the nearest Kikuchi warrior, voice thick with suffering. "Do you see this? Do you see the destruction I have brought upon my own finances?" He gestured dramatically at me, his free hand clutching his chest. "This isnt a boy. This is a walking famine. A demon born from the depths of starvation itself!"
The Kikuchi warriors erupted into laughter, slapping their thighs and shaking their heads as I tore through my second, then third bowl.
Harutora who usually carried an air of careful distance exhaled sharply, the closest thing to a laugh I had ever seen from him.
Masanari wasnt done. He leaned forward, bracing both hands against the table as if he needed support to process what was happening. "Ryma. Listen to me." His voice dropped, serious. "If you eat one more bowl, I will have to sell my armor. Do you understand the weight of this situation?"
I ignored him.
A fourth bowl arrived.
Masanari let out the deepest, most dramatic sigh of his life. "Ill never financially recover from this."
Koharu, sitting beside me, took a slow sip of tea, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Nii-sama, at this rate, youll need a monk, not a meal."
The nearby warriors choked back laughter.
"Shall we hike the mountain today?" one warrior asked, loosening his armor straps. "We can see our families!"
"Soon," Harutora murmured, leaning back against the pillar. "Lets just enjoy this moment. Who knows the next time well get a meal like this?"
I was on my fourth bowl when I felt it.
Not a chill. Not a sound.
Just a shift.
Like the air had lost its weight
The door slammed open.
The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.
Lanterns flickered, casting long wavering shadows across the inns wooden floor. The shamisen player hadnt moved, her fingers frozen mid-pluck. The scent of broth, sake, and roasted fish still lingered, but the warmth had drained from the room.
A figure stood in the doorway.
His stance was unsteady, swaying slightly as if the very act of standing had become a battle.
He took a step forward then another. His breath rattled in his chest, each inhale a struggle.
The dim light finally caught his form.
A Kikuchi soldier.
No one spoke. No one moved.
I felt Koharus small fingers tighten around the sleeve of my kimono.
Harutora straightened, pushing off the pillar. "What happened?"
The soldier''s throat bobbed. His lips parted but no words came. He swayed, barely holding himself upright.
Masanari moved first, his steps quick but measured. He caught the man by the shoulder, steadying him before he collapsed. "Who did this?" His voice was firm, but beneath it, something colder lurked.
The soldier exhaled raggedly. His entire body trembled, whether from blood loss or something deeper, I couldnt tell. His fingers clenched weakly against Masanaris forearm.
"The main force is"
[ CHAPTER 4 ] –「The Hollow Flight」/ 空虚の飛翔 (Kūkyo no Hishō)
Spring, Mountain Pass, Border to Satsuma C 1551
The feast was over.
Only hours ago the Kikuchi warriors had crowded into a roadside tavern, sake cups raised, voices loud with fleeting mirth.
But the laughter and warmth had vanished with the passing hours, leaving behind a silence so thick it felt alive.
A drab sky stretched overhead, dull and sunless, hinting at rain that refused to fall.
Crows circled against this gray backdrop, their calls echoing across the winding mountain path. No breeze touched the trees, no leaves stirred.
Even the horses seemed hesitant, hooves scraping on damp earth as if they sensed the unseen dread that lay ahead.
I kept close to the rear of the column, cloak pulled tight around my shoulders.
The Kikuchi warriors marched with slow determination.
Some were on foot, knuckles white where they gripped spears or swords.
Others rode stiff in their saddles. Their eyes spoke of exhaustion and a looming fear, the kind born from too many battles lost.
Harutora took the lead, sitting tall atop a weary horse. When he spoke, his voice carried through the hush like a command and a plea all at once.
We march not to mourn... but to live. If we fail now, then they are truly lost.
A handful of men glanced around uneasily. Most stared ahead, their eyes set.
They werent just soldiers. They were fathers and brothers, driven from lands once theirs. I couldnt help the ache in my chest as I watched them.
They walk like ghosts.
Harutora cleared his throat as if gathering courage, Stay strong, he called back, forcing a thin edge of hope into his tone. Weve overcome worse odds before and well do it again.
A few soldiers nodded, though their faces remained tight.
One near the front said quietly, Yes, my lord, but it sounded more like a prayer than an answer.
I studied them in the pale daylight and felt my throat constrict.
Is this what it means to fight for a cause thats already lost?
Suddenly, one of the men stumbled.
He froze, wide-eyed, breath caught in his throat. The soldier beside him stopped too, face going rigid.
What... what is that smell?
Before anyone could answer, a shift in the air brought it crashing over usrot and decay, dark and ancient, like meat left to fester in the sun.
It clung to my tongue and made my stomach churn. I gagged, struggling to keep the bile down.
Id smelled blood before. Id spilled it. But this was different. It felt wrong, like the air itself was diseased.
Masanaris horse snorted, dancing to the side. He tightened the reins and exhaled, stare hardening.
Around us, no one spoke; they all knew what we were about to find.
We pressed on, steps quickening despite the dread that gnawed at our insides.
Fear drove us forward.
The rancid stench thickened. The crows overhead cawed louder, as if mocking our haste.
We crested the final stretch of the path. Harutora guided his horse around a bend and we followed, boots crunching on damp gravel.
My heart thudded against my ribs.
We were too late.
Below us the Kikuchi Main Camp lay in ruin.
Torn tents and broken wagons littered the ground. Bodies sprawled in ugly shapes...some men, some women, even children and elders who should never have been on a battlefield.
Blood stained the earth in dark patches.
A few scorched corpses twisted as if theyd died screaming. One body clung to a shattered spear, locked forever in a final act of defiance.
The stench made bile rise to esophagus, but I swallowed hard to force it back.
I think Im going to be sick.
A Kikuchi soldier let out a sharp gasp, eyes widening in horror as he spotted a familiar face among the dead. He dropped to his knees beside the body of a middle-aged woman, features contorted and blackened by flames.
No... Mother... no, no, no!
His voice broke into sobs that tore through the silence. He grasped her scorched hand, as though holding it might bring her back.
Another warrior stumbled to a corpse half-covered by debris. Ot-san! he cried, voice trembling with disbelief. Wake up, please! He tried to brush dirt from the mans face, only to find the eyes staring blankly at the sky. A strangled moan escaped him. Dont leave me here...
Harutora dismounted, nearly falling as his legs gave out. Tears streaked his cheeks. He took a shaky step, then another, scanning the devastation with trembling lips.
Im sorry, he whispered, voice raw. Im so sorry... I shouldve been faster.
He knelt by a fallen man who still clutched a half-burnt Kikuchi banner. Harutora bowed his head, tears dripping into the mud.
Ojiue, he gasped, turning to Hidemitsu, how... how could this happen? They... they were our people.
Hidemitsu stood behind him, fists trembling at his sides, eyes narrowed with fury. This wasnt how it was supposed to be, he muttered. A vein throbbed in his temple. We were supposed to protect them...Harutora.
Harutoras sob caught in his throat. I-I failed.
Masanari remained mounted for a long moment, scanning the scene with grim resolve.
Finally, he swung himself off the saddle, dropping onto bloodstained earth. His expression was carved from stone, but a tremor in his hands betrayed his shock.
Everywhere I looked, I saw heartbreak.
A soldier recognized his wifes body, hair singed away, features barely recognizable. He let out a wail so piercing, it cut my heart in two.
Another found a childtoo small to be on a battlefieldlying in the mud with wide, lifeless eyes. He collapsed beside the tiny form, voice fading into choked sobs.
I swallowed hard and forced myself to keep looking.
These were families. Not just warriors, but people with names and dreams.
My chest burned with anger, and my eyes stung with something close to tears.
Koharu slid her hand into my sleeve. She trembled but her voice was steady, This isnt over.
A hollow dread churned in my gut.
Who could do this?
Harutora pressed one hand against the ground, the other covering his face as he tried to stifle his sobs.
They believed in me... he murmured. I was supposed to lead them to safety, not this...
Hidemitsu shut his eyes, jaw tight. My lord, theres nothing we can do for them now. But his words quavered. Anger or grief, I couldnt tell. Maybe both.
Masanari walked among the bodies, pausing here and there, head bowed. He said nothing. In the silence, I heard men calling out namesbrothers, wives, fathersonly to be met by the stillness of the dead.
I forced my gaze across the camp. Flies buzzed in dark corners, feeding on spilled blood. Torn banners flapped weakly in the faint breeze. The crows circled lower, cawing with grim impatience.
They never stood a chance...
Some Kikuchi warriors choked on their own sorrow. Others breathed ragged curses at an enemy not present to strike.
Grief and rage mingled in the air, almost suffocating.
Harutora wept.
I sometimes forget that he is a child as well.
His shoulders shook with ragged, uneven sobs, his hands digging into the blood-soaked earth as if he could anchor himself to the past. His breath hitched, chest heaving, face contorted with raw grief.
Masanaris jaw tightened. His stare swept over the broken bodies, the shattered camp, the Kikuchi men still staggering through the wreckage like lost souls.
Then his patience snapped.
Thats enough! His voice cut through the heavy air like a drawn blade.
Harutora flinched, his tear-streaked face snapping up in shock.
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Masanari strode toward him, his boots crunching against the dirt, stopping just short of where Harutora knelt. If you want to cry, then cry later. If you want to mourn, do it after youve led the ones still breathing.
Harutoras lips parted, but no words came.
Masanaris amber eyes burned with fury. You are their leader. Youre supposed to be the one they look to for strength. But look at you. He gestured to the Kikuchi soldiers behind them, some still wailing over the fallen, some standing frozen in their grief. They need a leader. Not a boy drowning in his own sorrow.
Harutoras hands clenched into fists. I
Masanari didnt let him speak. If you cant lead them, then lay down and die with the rest. But dont waste our time with tears when there are still people who need you.
The words struck like a slap.
Harutoras breath came fast and uneven. His gaze darted across the field of corpses, to the men still alive, to those who now watched him, waiting, needing something...anything.
His sobs quieted. His throat bobbed.
Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet.
His voice trembled, but this time, it carried.
We have to move.
The Kikuchi warriors stirred. Some looked hesitant, still lost in grief. Even if it hurt, even if the weight of loss still clung to them, they understood.
Masanari exhaled, tension still tight in his frame.
Then without a word, Hidemitsu turned on his heel and strode toward the edge of the overlook.
Harutora knitted his brows, his breath still uneven. Where are you
Hidemitsu didnt stop.
His voice came low and bitter. This wasnt how it was supposed to be.
And then he was gone, descending the cliff path without another word.
Harutora swallowed hard but didnt call him back. His gaze turned back to the men before him.
Were leaving. His voice still held the waver of sorrow, but the command was there.
We left the ruins behind.
Harutora rode at the front, tears still drying on his cheeks. Masanari walked beside him, face carved from stone. The rest of the Kikuchi trudged behind, haunted by what wed seen in the camp.
I stayed near Koharu. Her hand tugged occasionally at my sleeve, reminding me she was still there.
My breath felt too loud in the silence. My chest still ached with a mix of anger and sorrow.
We shouldve come sooner. We shouldve stopped it.
A few of the soldiers glanced back, probably thinking of Hidemitsu storming off on his own. No one dared to mention him. Not yet.
We followed a narrow path that dipped between jagged cliffs. The gray sky hovered over us, heavy with unfallen rain.
Each footstep fell dull against the damp ground. Even the crows seemed quieter here, wheeling overhead in eerie loops.
Suddenly a figure caught my eye, something slumped in the grass off to one side.
At first I thought it might be another Kikuchi wed missed. But a twist in my gut told me no.
Masanari raised a hand, signaling us to stop. A few warriors stepped forward, uncertain. One nudged the body with the toe of his boot, then recoiled as if struck.
Its not one of ours, he said, voice hushed.
I moved closer, ignoring the rancid undertone of stale blood. The armor looked... different. Sleeker?
The chest plate was lacquered black, marred by a gruesome slash. A faint emblem glinted against the metal.
Look at the crest, another soldier whispered.
Masanari knelt, pressing two fingers against the dead mans neck, even though it was obvious the corpse had gone cold. He turned the body over.
The insignia on the armor caught the weak daylight: two intersecting katana in a tight circle.
He exhaled slowly, then stood. Kensai-ry.
I frowned, stepping around a warrior to get a better view. Kensai-ry? Who the hell are they?
The name hung in the air. Some of the Kikuchi looked like theyd just glimpsed a ghost.
Masanaris lips thinned into a grim line. Theyre warriors, he said softly, who exist only to test strength. In their eyes, weakness is the greatest sin.
Koharu shifted beside me, peering at the corpse with that eerie calm of hers. I could see a gaping wound at the mans side, the dried blood caked around it.
The fight mustve been brutal.
So even these Kensai-ry can die.
One of the Kikuchi swallowed hard. If they were near our camp... could they have done all that?
My stomach twisted. The memory of the charred tents and dismembered bodies flared in my mind.
"They just go around butchering people for fun? I snapped, heat rushing to my cheeks. I hated this sense of helpless fury.
Masanari glanced at me, then at the dead warriors blade.
It was still sheathed, its grip stained a deep red. For them, fun might be too simple a word, he said. The Kensai-ry test themselves by cutting down anyone they deem unworthy. Thats how they prove their strength.
My knuckles tightened. Monsters. The warrior in me understood skill, but this? It felt like cruelty for crueltys sake.
Harutoras gaze flicked to the corpse, then back to Masanari. If the Kensai-ry had a hand in what happened to our people... His voice wavered, thick with leftover sorrow and rising anger. We have more to worry about than the tomo.
A warrior near the front set his jaw. Then what do we do now, Lord Masanari?
The question lingered. We all stood there, wind pressing in on us. I heard the shuffle of boots and the uneasy snort of a horse.
Even the crows had begun to circle overhead, as if waiting for scraps.
Masanari exhaled. Move him off the path, he ordered quietly. We continue to Satsuma.
Two men stepped forward, lifting the body by the arms and ankles.
A thick dried line of blood flaked away where the corpse had lain. I looked away.
Another reminder that death can find anyone.
No one argued. But a heavy silence settled as we started moving again.
My mind whirled with questions. Were these Kensai-ry truly the cause of that massacre?
I kept my gaze straight ahead, hand resting on my wakizashi.
As we marched away, leaving the Kensai-ry warriors corpse for the crows, I couldnt shake the feeling that the path ahead was growing darker.
If even men like these are getting killed, what else is out there?
My heart thudded, and I tightened my grip on the hilt. I wont be weak, I told myself.
Not in a world where monsters carve their names in blood.
We pushed deeper into the mountain pass, the air felt thick, clinging to our skin like damp cloth.
My clothes still reeked of blood and ash, and the stench refused to fade. Each step forward brought a grim sense of purpose: we had to move on, no matter what.
The path started to narrow, cliffs looming on either side. Rocks jutted out at odd angles, forcing us into a column formation. I could hear the Kikuchi warriors around me murmuring in hushed tones.
The ground was slick beneath our feet, and the sky above hung low and gray, but I could almost taste the tension building.
A few steps ahead of me, one of the soldiers stiffened. He inhaled quickly, as though catching a scent on the wind. Horses, he whispered, barely loud enough to carry.
My pulse quickened.
I glanced at him, then looked up. Another soldier turned, eyes darting across the ridgeline.
A faint sound reached us, the soft creak of leather and the metallic shift of armor.
It was distant, yet unmistakable.
We rounded a bend. The mist clung to the slopes, and I saw them: dark silhouettes on the ridge.
They stood motionless at first, shapes carved from stone. But as my eyes adjusted, I realized they were men on horseback.
Fifteen riders blocked the road. Behind them, I counted at least forty or fifty more, possibly even more than that.
They stood in perfect silence. No mocking calls, no demands. Just waiting.
A ripple of alarm ran through the Kikuchi ranks. A man near me swallowed hard, fingers tightening on his spear.
Another soldier let out a quiet, disbelieving sound. No way.
Who are they? came a shaky whisper.
Masanari exhaled through his nose, voice flattening with intent. Hold your ground.
He didnt shout. He didnt need to. The men around him felt the authority in that simple command. They slowed, weapons gripped tighter, forming a rough defensive line.
Despite the grief that hung over them like a storm, they snapped to readiness.
Survival instincts flared, and I felt my own heartbeat hammering in my ears.
I noticed my hand had already settled on my wakizashis hilt. My body was moving on its own, fear and adrenaline blending into a cold focus.
Theyre not moving not speaking just watching.
Then one of the soldiers at the front sucked in a breath, eyes widening. T-That crest
Another soldier followed his stare. His Adams apple bobbed, voice cracking. Thats them.
Them? I tensed, straining to see what they saw. And then I spotted it.
A crest emblazoned on lacquered armor at the head of the formation...two intersecting swords in a tight circle. The same emblem wed discovered on the dead warrior.
One of the Kikuchi stumbled back, fury and sorrow twisting his features. Those bastards theyre the ones who did it.
His voice wavered between rage and dread. A charged hush clamped down on us all. I felt the tension crawl across my skin, heard the loud pounding of blood in my ears.
So these are the Kensai-ry.
But they gave no sign of recognition, sitting on their horses like statues.
Everything felt too still, like the moment before lightning strikes.
Masanaris posture shifted, sword arm loose yet ready. Harutora-sama, he murmured, just loud enough for those nearby to hear, give the order. We cant stand here forever.
Harutoras throat bobbed. His eyes looked over the mass of riders, recalling the horrors wed left behind. For a second, I thought he might freeze again.
Then he took a slow breath, fighting the tremor in his hands. Kikuchi, stay here he ordered, voice shaky but determined.
His eyes moved to the still, silent wall of Kensai-ry riders.
The Kikuchi warriors around him looked on, shoulders taut with anxiety.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then Harutora nudged his horse forward.
My lord! A Kikuchi soldiers alarm rang out, voice cracking with tension.
Another retainer half-raised a hand as if to stop him, fear evident in his eyes. Harutora-sama, please! he begged. You dont know what theyll do!
Harutora did not look back.
He simply guided his horse ahead, his posture showed neither panic nor hesitation.
Masanari broke the hush, his words edged with quiet authority. Let him go.
The others turned to him in disbelief.
One soldier began to protest, voice rising with desperation. But!
Masanari cast a single, steely glance in his direction, and the protest died instantly.
No one else dared speak.
The only sounds were the drip of moisture against stone, the distant caw of crows, and Harutoras horse moving steadily toward the waiting Kensai-ry.
I gripped my wakizashi, pulse hammering in my ears. What if they strike?
Harutora pressed on, a lone figure in the quiet gloom.
And all we could do was watch.
[ CHAPTER 5 ] –「The Great Birdcage」/ 大鳥籠 (ōtori Kago)
Spring, Mountain Pass, Border to Satsuma, 1551
Harutora rode ahead alone, leaving the rest of us behind in a tense standstill.
He had asked for silence, gesturing for his men to remain at the far side of the clearing.
I could only watch as he urged his horse forward, dust swirling around the hooves, quiet as a whisper.
The Kensai-ry blockade awaited him, the line of warriors in spattered armor, faces showing scars of past battles.
Dried blood clung to their blades. Some sat on massive warhorses, calm and grim, while others stood on foot nearby.
The scent of steel and sweat hovered like a storm cloud.
At their center, a man with black hair tied in a messy ponytail leaned forward in his saddle. Two thin scars trailed across his cheek. His eyes gleamed an unsettling red, and he wore a lopsided grin that betrayed no fear.
Behind me, the Kikuchi warriors whispered among themselves, watching their young lord ride out alone.
Why send a child? one muttered, gripping his spear tightly.
An older warrior shook his head. If anyone else went, theyd cut us down before a single word was spoken.
I stood near Koharu, swallowing back the knot in my throat. My entire body felt tight, as if bracing for a blow that hadnt yet fallen.
Harutora... youd better know what youre doing.
As Harutora drew close, the Kensai-ry leader raised a hand.
The warriors around him chuckled, some nudging each other.
Look at this, one murmured, voice thick with amusement.
Oi! the leader called, raising his voice. You must be the child-lord weve heard so much about.
He sounded amused, almost playful, as if this were a game. The scars on his face creased with his grin.
Harutora pulled his horse to a stop, forcing himself to swallow the tight knot of nerves in his throat.
He kept his voice level. We need to pass through these mountains. Let us through.
The leader brushed a stray lock of hair from his scarred face, his red eyes flickering with mischief.
Youve got nerve, boy. Word is your clans on its last legs. He tilted his head. I dont even know your name, yet you come asking for favors?
Harutora clenched his jaw, then bowed stiffly. I am Kikuchi Harutora, leader of these men. Allow us safe passage, and this doesnt have to end in bloodshed.
A low chuckle rippled through the Kensai-ry ranks.
The leaders grin widened. You say it like youre offering me a choice. But what if I want a fight?
Harutora exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to rise to the bait.
We have wounded, but we can still fight. And if we do, you will suffer casualties. His voice was even. If strength is all that matters to you, take us under your banner instead. Let us fight for you, and in exchange, give us safe passage.
The air in the canyon shifted.
The smirks of some Kensai-ry men turned into something more interested, more intrigued.
They glanced at each other, murmuring. One warrior even let out a whistle, half-impressed.
The leader let out a bark of laughter, running a gloved finger over one of his scars. So, he mused, eyes glinting. Youre offering yourselves to us?
Harutora tightened his grip on the reins. My men can still hold a blade, he said coldly. Better to become allies than waste lives on both sides.
A Kensai-ry warrior snorted. If they can fight, let them prove it. Thats our law.
The leader studied Harutora in silence for a moment, gaze flicking to the dirt-streaked armor, the exhausted horse beneath him.
Then at last his grin returned, wider this time.
You may have iron in your soul, boy-lord. He leaned back, rolling his shoulders lazily. Fine, then. Im Arashi Shigure. And I accept your offer. You all will have to prove yourselves.
The Kensai-ry around Shigure stiffened, as if reacting to a signal Harutora couldnt hear.
A few even exchanged knowing glances, and Shigures grin sharpened with sudden anticipation.
Relief flickered across Harutoras face.
His posture loosened just slightly, the tension bleeding from his shoulders. Then its settled.
He turned his horse, trotting back toward the Kikuchi formation.
From the distance, his men watched as he approached, uncertainty flickering in their eyes.
Yet, for the first time in days, a fragile but real hope began to take shape.
A half-smile ghosted across Harutoras lips. He had bluffed, and it had worked.
But as Harutora drew near, a horn blast shattered the fragile calm. Its roar echoed off the canyon walls, chilling me to the core.
Harutoras eyes widened. What?
Shigure and his warriors exploded into motion, warhorses surging forward with malicious speed, swords drawn, laughter and war-cries merging into something terrible.
No! Harutora choked, horror twisting his face as he realized the betrayal.
Every muscle in my body tensed.
A Kikuchi soldier yelled in panic, and everything unraveled in seconds.
The mounted retainers, those who had not dismounted earlier, gave in to raw fear.
They bolted down the pass, leaving the rest of us behind like discarded debris
All around me, the Kikuchi fell into disarray.
Wait! a warrior cried, reaching out to the shadows of galloping riders. Dont leave us!
But the thunder of hooves and triumphant Kensai-ry battle cries drowned him out.
Masanaris shout cracked through the canyon like a whip, snapping Harutoras reins. Move or die, boy!
In that instant, our formation broke like glass.
Harutora tore his gaze from his men on foot, anguish wild in his eyes. Theyll die he whispered, voice ragged.
I saw his shoulders tremble with guilt, but Masanari yanked him away with no mercy.
I ground my teeth, fury boiling in my chest.
Theyre leaving us?
The thought lashed me as the foot soldiers fell into disarray, trampled by charging horses.
All around me, foot soldiers cried out in despair, trampled beneath the onslaught.
Somewhere behind me, Koharu screamed my name. My mind snapped back: Protect her. Thats all that matters now.
I seized Koharus arm, pulling her close. Run! I shouted, as the world dissolved into dust and screams.
A soldier dashed by, begging for help, but a Kensai-ry rider cut him down in one swing.
Blood sprayed, painting the rocks.
My breath hitched. Focus.
The rocky walls we cant outrun them, I muttered, lungs burning with each raw inhale. Koharu, dont look back! I shouted, my voice cracking.
She held onto me, eyes huge with terror.
If we fled blindly, theyd cut us down from behind.
We swerved around a jagged boulder, pebbles skittering underfoot.
Heart pounding, I pressed Koharu into the rocks shelter. Stay low, I rasped.
Her fingers shook on my sleeve. I forced a harsh grin. I wont let them hurt you.
I couldnt help thinking it might be the last promise I ever made.
The cavalry thundered past in a blur of steel and hooves, the canyon echoing with the dying wails of Kikuchi men.
Damn you, Harutora. Masanari.
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Anger flared, hot and unforgiving.
You left us like dogs to die.
But I pushed the betrayal aside. There was no time.
My chest seized with betrayal.
Horses galloped past in a storm of dust, steel clashing in the distance.
Someone wailed for their lords again, but the echo vanished into the wider nightmare.
One Kensai-ry spotted me, eyes igniting with the thrill of easy prey.
He spurred his horse forward, blade reflecting the dusty sunlight. My teeth clenched as I raised both wakizashi.
No choice.
No ones coming to save us. I saw my mothers blood, the flames eating through our village. Never again.
All right, I hissed, breath ragged. Come and get me.
His first slash grazed my shoulder.
Pain tore through me, but I raked one blade across the horses flank. The animal screamed, bucking. The rider cursed, struggling to regain balance. You little rat!
He came at me again, sword whistling in a diagonal arc.
I crossed my blades and blocked, sparks flickering where steel met steel.
My arms trembled under the impact, but I mustered the strength to shove him back.
He scowled, forcing the horse to circle. Faster than you look, he muttered. But you wont last.
Snorting, I spat blood. Well see.
He urged his mount forward. I sidestepped, aiming a slash at his leg, but he twisted in the saddle, deflecting my blade.
Dust clouded my sight.
Another scuffle ended with me nearly losing my footing, a shallow cut stinging my side.
Suddenly, a Kikuchi soldier rushed the rider from behind with a desperate spear thrust.
The Kensai-ry cut him down in a single fluid motion, not even sparing him a second glance.
My stomach lurched. Hes unstoppable.
I heard Koharus ragged breath at my back and felt her dread.
I cant fall here.
He turned again, venom in his eyes. Any last words?
My fists trembled around the hilts. Go to
Before I could finish my curse, a slash from behind took him in the spine.
His body jerked, mouth gaping. He toppled from the horse with a strangled cry, revealing another figure standing over himArashi Shigure.
His sword dripped with fresh blood, that half-smile still playing on his lips. Youre hogging the good ones, he told the fallen warrior, flicking off the gore.
His red irises landed on me. I want to play too.
The rider hed killed twitched once, then lay still. My breath stuttered, eyes wide.
Shigure killed his own man?
He turned fully toward me, the scars on his cheek pulling as his grin deepened. Hahso youre the mongrel giving my men trouble?
My grip tightened around my wakizashi. Trouble, huh?
Shigure chuckled, pacing closer with lazy confidence. Surprised youve lasted this long, boy. Youre quick on your feet, lets see how quick.
I swallowed, adrenaline surging anew. If you want my life...then take it, I spat, my voice raw with pain. But I wont kneel.
He grinned, stepping closer. You amuse me.
I lunged in a desperate slash. He sidestepped effortlessly, his smile never fading.
Then I feinted high, pivoted low, and struck for his ribs. Sparks burst as his blade met mine, deflecting the blow with ease.
He vanished from my sight and reappeared at my flank. A flash of silver, then searing pain.
I hissed, stumbling as blood seeped from a shallow cut.
Steel clashed, ringing through the canyon.
I attacked again, faster, harder, wild slashes, rapid thrusts, anything to force an opening.
But he was untouchable, slipping through my offense like a ghost.
Another blur. Another strike. A sharp crack of metal against bone.
My body screamed, bruises blooming with every failed parry.
I grit my teeth. Move, damn it!
Shigure hardly seemed winded, almost dancing around my strikes, letting me graze him now and then just to keep the fight interesting.
Koharus soft cry pulsed in the back of my mind: Ryma
I pushed my muscles harder, ignoring the burn.
My blades whipped through the air in a flurry of slashes and thrusts, all laced with raw desperation.
Each strike carried that flicker of Ki Id been trying to refine.
The same willpower that had driven me to survive until nowbut Shigure was a storm.
He parried everything, wearing a casual grin as though we were sparring, not fighting to the death.
Youve got heart, he observed between blows, voice tinged with amusement. But youre barely more than a 5th rank peak disciple.
He caught my left wakizashi in a lock and twisted.
With a gasp, I felt the weapon fly from my grip, clattering to the ground.
I lashed out blindly with the other blade, only for him to duck under my arm.
A sharp pain exploded in my back as he rammed his elbow into me.
My knees buckled, almost caving.
No...I must stand!
I forced myself up, swinging out in a broad arc. He sidestepped, hooking his foot behind mine.
My balance faltered, and I collapsed onto my side, dust billowing around me.
He planted a boot on my wrist, pinning me.
The canyon seemed to hush around us, focusing on my rapid breathing.
You do fight like a wild mongrel, he mused, pressing enough weight to make me gasp. But how many times can you get back up?
I spat blood, glaring defiantly. Go to hell
His boot pressed harder, testing my limit.
Gkkh...! I choked, my breath shuddering.
Kill me already! I snapped, ignoring the red haze creeping at my vision.
He just laughed a rich, echoing sound that cut through the canyons chaos.
Around us, the sounds of the ongoing slaughter dulled, as though the Kensai-ry were too entertained by their leaders newest find.
Shigure shifted, placing his foot on my chest now, careful not to crush me entirely. A child with fire in his eyes, he said, almost admiringly. Hah! I like you.
My vision swam, but I clenched my teeth. Tch...! Damn it...
Then kill me, I snarled, forcing the words out. Get it over with.
His grin deepened, revealing faint lines at the corners of his eyes. I could, he said softly. But firstyour name, son.
A dark laugh escaped me, coated with bitterness. Taira Ryma, I rasped, voice trembling from pain.
He nodded as though satisfied. Lifting his sword high, he shifted his boot to my chest, bearing down until I thought my ribs might crack.
Ryma, he repeated, savoring the syllables. Hn.
Then a tremor rattled the canyon floor, sending pebbles skidding.
Horses stomped nervously, Kensai-ry glancing around with uneasy scowls.
That unnatural beat...like distant drums reverberated through the rocks.
Shigure hesitated, removing his boot from my chest, pivoting to glare in the direction of the drums.
I gasped for air, free from Shigures pressure if only for a moment.
Around us everything hushed under that omnipresent beat, echoing off the canyon walls.
My heart thudded in my ears, matching the drums pace.
The Kikuchi soldiers who had been fleeing for their lives suddenly reversed course, sprinting back toward us.
Some clutched at wounds, others simply ran, their faces twisted in wild, animal fear. Their eyes rolled in panic, as if they had glimpsed something even worse behind them.
My heart clenched.
Why are they running back?
RUN! RUN BACK! a soldier screamed, stumbling over loose gravel. His voice cracked with sheer terror, his face ashen.
I felt my blood boil with renewed anger.
They came back? After leaving us to die?
Grit and blood coated my tongue as I struggled to push myself up.
My arms trembled, my body screaming in protest, but I forced it to move.
The Kensai-ry had backed away, their initial amusement now replaced by something closer to unease.
Their formation wavered as they exchanged glances, hands hovering over their weapons.
The drums grew louder.
Shigures men glanced uneasily at one another. What in blazes is that? one muttered, tightening his grip on his reins.
Out of the corner of my eye, two horses tore through the dust, galloping hard.
A fresh wave of dust billowed in their wake. Even before I could make out their faces, I knew them.
Harutora and Masanari...
Rage and relief warred inside me.
Harutora barely managed to pull his mount to a halt. Theres no time The tomo
He choked on a breath, panic tightening his voice. Theyve flanked us from the other side with at least 200 men!
Masanari reined in, posture rigid, eyes flicking to the remaining Kikuchi. We cant escape this pass. Were trapped.
200 men?!
My lungs burned, but I forced myself to focus. Another thunderous drumbeat hammered the canyon.
Shigure stiffened. The tomo, you say? He let out a curse, wiping blood from his blade. So thats what that sound is.
His men shifted uneasily. One warrior muttered under his breath, But they said they wouldnt interfere.
Another turned his head, scanning the cliffs. Why the hell are they here?
A heavy silence fell over the Kensai-ry. Their previous amusement faded.
I swallowed, my throat dry. Something about their words stuck with me. I narrowed my eyes at the Kensai-ry warriors who had spoken.
They said the tomo wouldnt interfere So why are they here? How did they know wed be coming through this pass?
Shigures grip on his sword tightened. Hold your positions, he ordered, his usual grin thinning into something unreadable. We wait.
The realization sank into my gut. With Kensai-ry in front and the tomo behind, no one was getting out alive without a miracle.
I clenched my fists, ignoring the blood streaking my face.
Nearby, Koharu huddled against the canyon wall, eyes darting between Harutora and me, desperate for reassurance.
Harutora caught my gaze for an instant. Guilt flashed across his features, an apology he couldnt speak.
My fury still simmered, but I had no time to unleash it.
The thunder of the tomo drums grew, rattling us to the core.
Between two armies, the canyon walls offered no escape...just cold, unyielding stone. We were trapped.
Birds caged in stone, my mind echoed, flightless and doomed.
[ CHAPTER 6 ] –「A Raven’s Bargain」/ 烏の契約 (Karasu no Keiyaku)
Spring, Mountain Pass, Border to Satsuma C 1551
The canyon felt like a tomb.
Jagged cliffs loomed on either side, towering slabs of stone trapping us in a suffocating corridor. The scent of damp earth and blood clung to my nostrils.
We were caged.
Kensai-ry in front. tomo behind.
Even Shigure, who had toyed with us like a fox in a henhouse stood unnervingly still. His ever present grin faded into something unreadable. The air around him crackled with an unease I hadnt seen before.
Then the marching stopped.
A stillness spread over the canyon, thick and unnatural. The tomo ranks stood as a sea of polished armor and snapping banners.
Then they parted, like silk being drawn aside.
Their colors caught the weak sunlight, standing out against the muddy gloom of the canyon. Bright and pristine, as if war had never touched them.
Through that breach, a lone rider emerged.
His horse moved in slow graceful steps, its hooves pressing into the earth with an eerie rhythm. Each impact sent echoes rolling off the canyon walls, a hollow beat that sent a shiver crawling up my spine.
The Kikuchi warriors stirred.
Masanaris breath hitched.
Harutora stiffened so violently that his fingers locked around the reins, blood draining from his face. His chest rose and fell in uneven bursts. His lips parted and a sound barely escaped him.
No
The rider pulled his horse to a halt.
Kikuchi Hidemitsu.
The man who had once stood at Harutoras fathers side.
The man who had been a pillar of the Kikuchi.
The man who had always regarded me as nothing more than a rat with a sword.
A silence thicker than blood settled over the canyon.
Harutoras hands trembled against the leather of his reins, his voice cracked with disbelief. Ojiue tell me this isnt real.
Hidemitsu did not flinch. He did not look away. If he felt shame, if he felt regret, it was buried deep beneath the mask of cold indifference he wore.
Reality has always been cruel, my lord. His voice was calm, as if discussing the weather. The Kikuchi were already dead. I simply chose to live.
The Kikuchi warriors recoiled, some staggered backward as if struck. Others froze in place, eyes locked on the man they had once called their own.
I stepped forward, my breath unsteady, anger rising inside me like a flood.
You planned this, I muttered, fists tightening. You led us here to die.
Hidemitsu finally turned his gaze to me, his lips twitching in something close to amusement.
You misunderstand boy, his voice smooth, unshaken. There was no trap. The Kikuchi name has been rotting for years, clinging to faded glories. I simply made sure I wasnt buried along with it.
Masanaris fingers twitched near his hilt. His voice was like a blade unsheathed. You betrayed your own kin!
Hidemitsu exhaled slowly, shaking his head. Something almost like pity flickered in his expression.
Kin? he repeated, tilting his head slightly. You mistake blood for loyalty, Masanari. The Kikuchi have no future. Clinging to them is like trying to hold onto sand.
Harutoras breath came in shallow gasps. His eyes, rimmed red from grief locked onto the man who had once sworn to protect him.
We we trusted you, he rasped. You stood beside my father. My brother. You swore an oath.
Hidemitsu gave a lazy shrug. And what did that oath give me? His voice dropped colder, The tomo offered me a future. The Kikuchi offered me a grave. That is all there is to it.
A retainer at the front took a staggering step forward, eyes wide with horror.
Youyou sent us to our deaths, his voice cracked. All of us. You led us straight to the slaughter. My daughter... His breath hitched. She was with the main force. You killed her.
Hidemitsus expression remained blank. Shigemasa...Your daughter was never meant to die. The plan was simple, he admitted. I was to turn over Harutora once the tomo arrived. Nothing more.
He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly.
The hiring of the Kensai-ry...the massacre at the camp... He hesitated just for a breath.
Something flashed across his face. Displeasure, maybe.
That was never part of the original arrangement. Why Srin ordered it, I do not know. But it does not matter now.
Srin?
The Kikuchi warriors shook with barely restrained fury, few reaching for their weapons.
I claim no loyalty to the Kikuchi anymore, Hidemitsu continued. His voice rang through the canyon, From this day forward, I bear a new name.
He sat straighter in his saddle, his eyes sweeping over the remnants of the warriors he had once fought beside.
I am tomo Mitsukage.
Something inside Harutora cracked.
Then the tomo ranks parted again.
Another horseman rode forward, his presence radiating something that made my skin crawl.
The man who rode forward was younger than Hidemitsu, but the pressure he carried was suffocating.
His armor gleamed under the faint sunlight, each plate perfectly polished. The sigil of the tomo clan marked his chest, standing out in stark defiance.
His face was elegant, his features chiseled and refined, but there was something wrong about his smile. It was too controlled, too practiced. It was neither cruel nor kind, just unsettlingly.
His gaze swept over us like we were already dead.
My fingers twitched against the hilt of my wakizashi.
So this is him?
The man who had ordered the destruction of the Kikuchi camp. The man responsible for the massacre we had stumbled upon.
Mitsukage straightened in his saddle, a blink of relief in his posture. He turned toward Srin, his voice rising. Lord Srin, I have
This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
Srin simply smiled.
And in one smooth motion, he drew his sword.
Harutora barely had time to react before the blade flashed.
A sickening sound filled the canyon.
Mitsukage''s breath faltered.
His body jerked violently, red blooming across his throat.
His fingers trembled as he reached up, touching the wound as though he could hold himself together. Blood bubbled from his lips.
Srin didnt spare him a glance. He lifted his crimson streaked katana slowly, then ran his tongue along the blade, tasting the blood with a quiet almost thoughtful satisfaction.
Mitsukages lips parted. He tried to form words, but the blood drowned them.
Then he fell.
His body crumpled against the earth with a dull thud.
Silence crashed over the canyon.
The Kikuchi warriors stood frozen, horror written across their faces. Masanari remained rigid, his fingers still hovering near his hilt.
I swallowed against the dryness in my throat.
tomo Srin exhaled, sounding almost bored. As though disposing of Mitsukage had been no different than swatting a fly.
He turned his gaze toward Harutora, his faint smile returning.
A shame, he mused. For a man so eager to betray his own clan I expected him to last longer.
He flicked his sword idly. And tomo Mitsukage? His lips curled in amusement. Pathetic. Even his name was stolen.
The canyon held its breath.
Mitsukages body lay collapsed in the dirt, his essence seeping into the earth.
The tomo soldiers stood in rigid formation, silent and waiting.
The Kikuchi warriors had not moved, though I could feel their hands tightening on their weapons, their breath coming in shallowed gasps.
But the Kensai-ry...they only grinned.
Even after witnessing the ruthless execution, they remained unfazed. No fear. No hesitation. Only the eerie stillness of men who thrived in the presence of death.
Shigure was the first to break the silence.
His laughter echoed through the canyon, casual and unbothered as if we werent all standing on the edge of a slaughter.
He rolled his shoulders, resting his weapon casually against one shoulder. His red eyes gleamed with amusement.
You expect me to believe you rode all the way here just to watch us do your work? he mused.
Srins smirk widened. He flicked the blood from his blade and sheathed it with an air of casual disinterest. Oh no, he said lightly. I came to ensure it is done properly.
Then he tilted his head, scanning the gathered warriors.
Because no one is leaving here alive.
The words settled over the canyon like a death sentence.
Masanari inhaled sharply. Harutoras breath hitched.
And then the realization sank in.
This wasnt just about wiping out the Kikuchi.
The Kensai-ry had been marked for death too.
Some of the warriors exchanged glances, lips curling into knowing smirks.
One man exhaled, loosening the ties on his gauntlets. Another rolled his shoulders, muttering something under his breath.
The was no outrage, just the quiet understanding of men who had danced with death too many times to fear it now.
The tomo formation tightened, the air thickened with unspoken violence.
Masanari and Harutora exchanged a glance, a silent understanding passing between them. There was only one path forward.
Harutora swallowed hard, forcing himself to stand tall. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, but when he stepped forward, his voice was steady.
Kensai-ry. he called, his words carrying through the canyon. You are warriors who live by strength. And now, you have been betrayed by the same hand that fed you.
Now he wants to stand tall? Now he wants to lead?
A few of the Kensai-ry chuckled at that, but none interrupted.
Harutora continued. The Kikuchi have suffered the same fate. We were lured here to be erased from history. We have no reason to trust each other, but we have every reason to fight together.
Shigure stretched his arms as if waking from a pleasant nap.
Ahh, a noble alliance between traitors and madmen, he mused, grinning. I like it!
Shigure turned to me, his grin widening as if this entire slaughter was nothing more than an amusing story being told around a fire.
What say you, little mongrel? his voice laced with mockery, tilting his head. Does this alliance make your blood boil? Or are you still too busy seething at your cowardly masters?
My jaw clenched. Tch! Theyre not my masters, I spat, my voice full with contempt. I dont follow cowards.
Shigure let out a short barking laugh, "Hah! Now that''s an answer I can respect."
Harutora met his gaze, unfazed. Alone, we die. Together, we stand a chance.
Damn it all, he''s right but if we survive this, hes going to answer for it. I''ll make sure of that.
The Kensai-ry murmured amongst themselves, but Shigure didnt need their approval. He was already laughing, rolling his shoulders like a man stretching before a good fight.
Fine, fine, he said, extending a hand. Ill humor you, boy-lord. But remember, our law is clearonly those who can prove their strength are worthy of survival
Harutora hesitated for a moment before grasping Shigures hand. The last time he had placed faith in the Kensai-ry''s so-called law, they had turned on him without hesitation.
But in this particular moment, he had no other choice.
He grasped Shigure''s hand.
A new pact was forged in blood and desperation.
Behind Shigure, the Kensai-ry warriors erupted into cheers, their roars echoing against the canyon walls. Some slammed their fists against their chests while others drew their weapons with eager grins, savoring the promise of carnage.
Masanari stepped up beside Harutora, his voice low but approving. Youre learning.
Shigure turned, cracking his neck. Then his red eyes flicked to me.
He grinned as he clapped a hand against my shoulder hard enough to make me stagger. Dont die too quickly. You still owe me a real fight.
I gripped my wakizashi, ignoring the dull ache in my limbs.
Just stay out of my way I muttered.
Shigures grin only widened.
And then, the battle began.
The canyon exploded into chaos.
Seventy warriors against two hundred.
The tomo surged forward in a wave of polished steel and thundering hooves. Their war cries echoed off the cliffs, clashing against the roaring Kensai-ry warriors who met them head-on.
Swords flashed. Spears thrust. Blood splattered across the dirt.
Masanari led the charge, his blade a silver blur as he carved through the first rank of soldiers. Harutora rode beside him, his breath coming in ragged bursts as he swung desperately.
Shigure was a demon.
Laughing, grinning, his red eyes alight with bloodlust as he weaved through the enemy, cutting men down with a fluid grace that bordered on inhuman. Each strike was a dance, each kill effortless.
I fought like a cornered animal.
Blades rang out in a furious chorus. I dipped low, narrowly avoiding an oncoming spear, twisting as I drove both wakizashi deep into a soldiers ribs. His body jolted, a strangled gasp escaping him before I tore the blades free. Hot blood sprayed across my face, but I barely registered the warmth.
Because something was wrong.
Koharu...
I cant see her!
She had been behind the rock when the fighting started, crouched in the shadow and hidden. But now
I whirled, slashing wildly at an enemy that lunged too close. My breath came fast, too fast. My heartbeat pounded in my ears. The battlefield blurred...flashes of steel and bodies collapsing.
But no sign of Koharu.
My chest tightened.
Shes small. Too small for this battlefield. If shes caught in the open
I shoved the thought away, throat raw as I bellowed over the noise.
"KOHARU!"
A soldier lunged at me from the side.
I whipped around just in time, my wakizashi snapping up in a desperate cross to catch his blade.
Metal screeched as his weight crashed against mine, my arms straining under the intense force. Gritting my teeth, I twisted sharply, driving my knee into his gut. He choked out a breathless grunt, just enough of an opening.
In one fluid motion, I wrenched free and slashed my blade across his throat.
Masanaris voice rang through the chaos.
"Hold your ground!"
Harutora panting, drove his sword through a mounted enemy before tearing it free in a spray of red.
"We cant hold forever!" he shouted, voice raw.
Shigures laughter cut through the battlefield, wild and vicious. He was drenched in blood, his grin sharper than his blade. He turned mid-slash, his sword carving a deadly arc through another tomo soldiers chest.
"Who said anything about holding?!"
But I wasnt thinking about them anymore.
I had to find Koharu.
And I had to do it fast.