Dawn, forest camp
The morning calm is shattered by a sharp screech and several thudding noises.
—“DON’T TALK ABOUT MY MOM, YOU SPOILED PARROT!!” —Shiro yells from the clearing.
Kaien jumps out of his sleeping bag, sword in hand.
—What the hell?! Are we under attack?
Akari peeks out, hair a mess, eyes half-closed.
—…Shiro again?
A few meters away, Shiro is throwing branches at a talking parrot that's insulting him from a high branch.
—“Your mom is a gross old hag!” —the parrot squawks, flapping its wings.
—I don’t remember her, but I’m sure she was a saint! —Shiro retorts, brandishing a stick like a sword.
Kaien rubs his eyes.
—Nothing like starting the day with a battle between two sages.
Akari sighs, amused.
—We should train before Shiro ends up fighting every animal in the forest.

Improvised Training Field

The team gets ready. Weapons out, breathing steady.
Kaien and Akari lock eyes and nod.
Kaien activates his aura. His katana pulses with burning light.

—[Rising Fang] (Kiba Noboru) —a sweeping arc slices a rock clean in half.
—[Trail of Fury] (Rekkon) —a flaming thrust leaves a searing trail, charring the air.
—[Echo Blade] (Kyojin) —seems harmless at first… until the rock splits seconds later.

Akari, unfazed, opens her grimoire:
—[Moon Petal] (Gekkabana) —razor-sharp petals swirl around her like dancing blades.
—[Lesser Seal] (Fuin Komon) —a blue light roots into the earth, freezing a log in place.
—[Constricting Thorn] (Shiman-kō) —a magical thorn erupts, pierces a rock, and twists as if alive.

Kaien watches her, lightly sweating.
—Your spells... they don’t feel like spells anymore. They feel… alive.
Akari nods, eyes still on her target.
—And yours... they’re no longer desperate strikes. They're choices.

They’ve improved. But still, they lack coordination.
—Again. This time, as a team, —Kaien says.

They take turns attacking. Akari slows enemies with runes, Kaien strikes the openings. When he swings a wide arc, Akari launches her petals through the gap, hitting the center. They understand each other without words.

—Now, after the seal! —Akari shouts.
Kaien spins, Ryusatsuga drenched in petals.
—Dual Style: [Rising Petal]!
A burst of light slices through the trees without harming them. The air smells of burnt lilies.

Shiro claps with his mouth full of apple.
—I think if I scream really loud… I GET STRONGER!!
He screams.
The parrot, still watching them, falls from the tree unconscious.
Silence.
Shiro: —…Confirmed.

Moment of Calm

Kaien cleans his katana. Akari closes her grimoire.
—We’re missing just one ingredient, —she says.
—Yeah. And if we find it, we might save your mother… and maybe find out who I was. Shiro too, —Kaien answers, more at peace.
Akari looks at him gently.
—Whoever you were… you're better now.
Kaien smiles. Kumo jumps into his lap and purrs. Shiro sleeps face-down with a flower tucked behind his ear.

Hanzo’s Garden

Hanzo waters his plants. He kneels, caring for a small bonsai with tenderness. The children play with a rope nearby.
Laughter. Butterflies. Peace.

Until… a shadow.

A dark figure appears at the edge of the garden.
It has empty eyes, a cursed spear, and a hatred that slithers along the ground like a snake.
—Hanzo… I’ve come for you.
The old samurai doesn’t flinch. He simply trims a dead leaf from his bonsai.
—You’ve come for revenge?
—For power! I want to be stronger than you!
Hanzo rises, brushing off his hands.
—Power that rises above peace… is not worth holding.

The attacker roars, charging at full speed.
—Hanzo… your name… your shadow… your sword… I want it all…
The voice is doubled, as if someone else is speaking through him. A dark rune pulses on his arm, like a closed eye.
—That’s Raiko’s control rune. He’s stolen your will.

There’s no visible movement. Only a strong gust, a subtle flash… and silence.
The enemy falls to his knees… not knowing he’s already been cut.
His spear breaks. His body disintegrates into black dust that floats gently skyward.

The children run to Hanzo.
—We heard thunder!
Hanzo smiles at them.
—Thunder? How strange… I didn’t hear a thing.
Behind him, the enemy’s dust drifts peacefully in the breeze.

| Author's Note |

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