Ryu sat beside Kaze, their cloaks loosened in the low light of the teahouse. The new katana at Ryu's hip rested like a sleeping weight, silent but full of promise. Across the table, the mercenaries and ronin lounged in flickering firelight—faces scarred, eyes tired. The air smelled of sake and tension, thick with the unspoken truth: they would face death together.
Kaze drank quietly, his flinty gaze shifting from man to man. Ryu held his own cup, but didn't sip. His amber eyes flicked to the fire, to the scars, to the steel. The training in the woods had honed his body, but tonight felt different. This was no drill. This was war.
Goro, the burly mercenary with the missing ear, raised his cup with a crooked grin. "To gold and glory," he said. "Or, at the very least, surviving the damn yokai."
Laughter rippled through the group—rough, hollow. Ryu leaned forward, his voice low, steady. "Tell us about this Kage-Oni. What are we walking into?"
The grin dropped from Goro's face like a mask. "You ever see rot take hold of a man's soul?" he said, eyes dark. "That's a yokai. Born from pain, rage, despair. But a Kage-Oni? That's worse. Shadow demon with a hunger for the strong. This one's a Lion-Hybrid. Rare. Mean. Tore through a village—nothing left but bones and broken prayers."
Kaze set down his cup with a quiet clink. "Lion-Hybrid," he said. "Flesh and spirit. Moves like mist, hits like thunder. Mane like fire, claws that shear steel, and its eyes—red as blood, sharp as guilt. Worse, it breaks the mind before it touches the body. If your will falters, you'll be dead before your sword clears the sheath."
Ryu's spine stiffened. "What kind of powers?"
A lean ronin with a jagged scar across his lip—Soma—answered. "It roars," he said. "Not just loud. Deep. Cuts into your soul, dredges up every doubt you've ever buried. Then come the shadows—claws from the dark, striking angles you don't see. Last hunter we sent after one? Came back hollow-eyed, clawed to the bone. No blood left. Just whispers."
Across from him, a wiry woman with braided hair and a tanto tucked at her side leaned forward. Mira. Her gaze pierced Ryu like a drawn blade. "Yokai feed on what's broken inside us," she said. "A Lion-Hybrid gorges on fear and anger. If you lose your focus—if your will wavers—it will crush you before you even raise your sword."
Ryu turned to Kaze, swallowing hard. Sword Aura was will made real—he knew that much. Kaze had drilled it into him, swing after swing. But he hadn't sparked it yet. He felt its ember, faint, but not enough. Not yet.
Goro's voice lowered. "And there's more. Word is, yokai attacks aren't random. Clans whisper about temples burning. Villages disappearing. Some say the Shogun's grip is slipping. Others say something darker's stirring. Old cults. Blood rituals. People waking things that should've stayed buried."
Soma nodded slowly. "I met a merchant in Kyo. Spoke of a shadow council—priests, warlords, yakuza. Said they're calling on yokai for power. No proof, just fear. But this Lion-Hybrid? Might be no accident."
Ryu's chest tightened. The Ox's red aura flashed through his mind—his monstrous presence, the slaughter in the slums. Was he part of this? Was there something deeper behind his cruelty?
Kaze's jaw tensed, but he said nothing. Just sipped his sake, his silence a warning.
The tension snapped as Mira slammed her cup onto the table. "Enough talk. We ride at dawn. Sleep light, or sleep forever."
The group broke apart, the firelight trailing after them like ghosts. Ryu and Kaze stepped into Yamato's quiet streets, cloaks drawn. Ryu's thoughts churned—Kage-Oni, shadow councils, Taro's blue aura. "You think it's true?" he asked. "All of it—the council, the yokai being used like weapons?"
Kaze's voice was dry and grim. "There's always someone pulling strings. But right now? Focus on the monster in front of you. Leave the puppeteers for later."
At dawn, they gathered at the city gates. Seven fighters and one scout. Mira strung her bow. Soma checked his edge. Goro gave orders like breath. Even the horses seemed tense, ears twitching as if they sensed the blood ahead.
Goro tossed Kaze the reins of a brown mare. "Got her from an old favor. Don't make me regret it."
Kaze swung into the saddle and pulled Ryu up behind him. Ryu's katana rode snug across his back, its steel humming against his shoulder. He scanned the group, committing every scar and glance to memory.
Goro rode at the front, a massive nodachi strapped to his back. Soma sat low in his saddle, eyes always scanning, katana worn but ready. Mira moved like smoke, her tanto gleaming. They weren't just mercenaries. They were survivors.
"Names," Goro called back. "I'm Goro. Soma's the blade. Mira's the eyes. You two?"
"Kaze," came the calm reply. "This is Ryu. We came to learn. Not to die."
Soma snorted. "Learning's fine. Living's better."
Mira's gaze flicked to Ryu. "The kid's got fire. Let's see if it burns or fades."
The road north wound through rice paddies, then low hills, the air growing cooler as they climbed. Cherry blossoms drifted on the breeze—soft, brief, beautiful. Ryu held onto Kaze, feeling the rhythm of the mare's gait, letting it anchor his nerves.
He thought of Hana's laughter, Yumi's fear, Taro's last stand. They were behind him—but also ahead, in everything he now fought for.
Kaze's voice was low. "The roar's the worst. Gets in your head. Digs up what you hide. Taro faced one once—survived, barely. You feel it? Focus on your spark. You've got no Aura yet, but your will's enough to stand. Just don't let it crack."
Ryu gripped the pommel of his sword. "Why would it attack a village? Just hunger?"
Kaze's expression darkened. "It's pride twisted into cruelty. A Lion-Hybrid hunts strength. If the village had defenders, it killed them first. Then it feasted. If it's tied to this council… then someone pointed it."
The road sharpened, the terrain growing rough. Trees grew thicker. The light dimmed. Silence settled like a breath before a blade.
Ryu thought of the lore. Kage-Oni were born from places soaked in anguish—warfields, betrayals, massacres. A Lion-Hybrid was strength consumed by ego, a beast that sought dominance over the strong. Its roar shattered minds. Its shadows struck from nowhere. Only will—Aura—could cut through it
Steel wounded. Aura destroyed. And the Sun-Harness… Ryu wasn't there yet.
At dusk, they camped beneath the darkening hills. The fire flickered low. The mare grazed nearby. Soma passed dried fish around the circle. "Last one I fought laughed at me," he said. "Sounded like a man. Cut deep. Hope you're ready, kid."
Ryu stared into the flames, his hand on the scabbard. "I will be."
Mira sharpened her blade, eyes flicking toward him. "Bold. Just don't flinch when it looks you in the eyes."
Goro returned from scouting, dust on his cloak. "Found tracks. Deep. Clawed. Village is close. We move at first light."
Ryu lay beside the fire, the warmth brushing his skin, his katana beside him like a silent vow. Kaze sat nearby, ever watchful. His silver Aura—unseen now—lingered in Ryu's memory, a goal to reach.
The Lion-Hybrid waited.
So did the truth behind the yokai. The conspiracies. The Ox.
Ryu would face the beast. Not just for strength, not just for pride—but to keep his promise. To protect the ones he loved.
Above him, the cherry blossoms drifted down in the night wind—quiet, pale, eternal.