In the Shogun's fortress, perched atop the cliffs of Kyo, the air was heavy with incense and steel. Lanterns flickered against lacquered walls, casting long shadows across the audience chamber. The Shogun sat cloaked in black silk, unmoving, his face carved from granite, eyes like drawn blades.
Before him knelt a spy, trembling. "My lord… the northern mountains—gone. Shattered to rubble. A nearby village lies in ruins. Locals speak of… a silver storm. A blade that split stone."
The Shogun's grip tightened on the armrest of his throne. "A storm? No natural force does this. Who caused it?"
"A ronin crew. Led by Goro of the Iron Fang. Middle-tier warriors—ex-samurai, mercenaries. They were hunting a Kage-Oni. A Lion-Hybrid. But the destruction… it matches the style of Kaze, the Silver Blade."
Silence coiled through the chamber.
The spy's voice dropped. "He lives, my lord. Kaze. Wanted since the Red Purge."
Armor clinked softly among the retainers. All eyes turned to the corner, where a man stepped from the shadow—a warrior clad in crimson armor, twin runed blades at his back, his face a map of old scars.
"Hideo," the Shogun said. His voice held neither rage nor doubt—only certainty. "Find them. If Kaze breathes, sever his breath. Goro's crew, too. No loose blades."
Hideo bowed once. "It will be done." Then he vanished, soundless as wind through graves.
—
Dawn broke over ruin.
The hillside was carved open, rocks sundered and trees splintered. Smoke curled from the remains of a yokai's lair. The wind carried the scent of ash and pine.
Ryu stood still, one hand at his side, the other clenched around an empty scabbard. His right eye throbbed faintly, the Dragon's Eye stirring beneath his skin. His katana was lost—broken in the battle's aftermath—but the fire in his chest hadn't dimmed.
Kaze leaned on a bloodstained rock, his breath even, armor cracked but his sword still sheathed in steel. Goro paced nearby, his nodachi resting across his broad back, his missing ear a stark reminder of the cost. Soma sat with his bandaged stump resting on a knee, his face pale, sweat beading at his temple. The two surviving spearmen stood with their backs to the wind, worn but unbroken.
The silence stretched. Ryu broke it.
"We finish it today."
No one moved.
"The Lion-Hybrid's still alive," Ryu continued. "It's wounded. We end it now, before it heals."
Goro's laugh was dry, mirthless. "Plan? Like the one that got Mira killed and Soma near crippled?"
Soma didn't rise to anger. His voice was low, ragged. "That thing isn't just a beast. It's something worse. And we're just bodies to it."
Kaze's smirk flickered. "You've got something, kid. Say it."
Ryu stepped forward, the weight of his decision already bearing down. "Let me go in alone."
Silence cracked the morning like ice.
"I'm faster now. I know its rhythm. I can draw it out. Keep it focused on me while you trap it."
Goro's head snapped up, disbelief plain. "You serious? You're a kid with no blade. You'll get shredded."
Ryu didn't flinch. "I'm not asking. I know what I saw in that cave. I can kill it."
"You step into that den and die, we all die," Goro snapped. "I'm the one leading. Not you."
Something in Ryu's chest twisted. He was tired of being measured, of being told to wait, to fall back, to survive quietly. His jaw tightened.
"I've bled for this too. I watched Mira die. I've trained harder than anyone here."
Goro stepped forward, eyes hard. "You wanna throw yourself away, be my guest. But don't drag us with you."
Then it stirred—Ryu's power. Like heat cracking through his bones. His aura surged outward, golden and raw, snapping in the air like a tethered storm. Dust lifted from the ground. The spearmen staggered. Goro froze mid-step, staring as if he'd seen a ghost rise.
Soma whispered, "That… was you?"
Even Kaze straightened, his fingers brushing his sword's hilt.
Ryu's voice was calm, but it carried weight now. "I'm not the same boy who climbed the ravine."
Goro took a long breath. Then—grudgingly—he laughed. "One chance. You mess up, I gut the thing myself."
"Fair enough," Ryu said, stepping past them.
—
The yokai's den loomed like a wound in the earth—claw-marked, soaked in blood, the scent of rot heavy. The spearmen moved into position, jamming spears into narrow side tunnels. Soma stood at the rear with his sword in his left hand, shoulders squared despite the pain. Goro and Kaze took their places near the mouth, eyes watching Ryu with a mix of doubt and something else—uncertainty, maybe even fear.
Ryu stepped into the dark alone, a borrowed shortsword gripped tight. The blade was chipped but balanced. It would have to be enough.
The cave pulsed with presence.
Then the Dragon's Eye ignited.
Time stretched. Angles sharpened. Claw marks told stories. Echoes whispered. He saw the yokai's waiting lunge before it moved. Felt the way heat shifted in the cave's narrow throat. The beast was close.
The Lion-Hybrid erupted from the dark, all muscle and shadow. Black smoke curled from its mane, obsidian claws glinting, eyes red as burning coals.
Ryu didn't blink. He ducked the first swipe, cut low. Ichor spilled, and the beast screamed—but Ryu was already past it. The Eye showed him everything—its stagger, the opening at its ribs, the falter in its rear leg.
"He's—he's holding it!" Goro's voice rang behind him.
Kaze didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on Ryu, narrowed in cold calculation.
The Sun-Harness flared inside Ryu's chest. Not gold. Not silver.
Red and black.
It burned outward, a wild, spiraling aura—raw and untamed, like blood lit by fire.
Soma gasped. "That color…"
Goro lowered his nodachi, lips parted. "That's not normal…"
Kaze took a step forward, his voice low. "Red and black… they say it only appeared once before. A thousand years ago."
Ryu didn't hear them. The aura flowed through him now. He raised the shortsword. The world slowed. Breath. Step. Strike.
He moved.
The swing birthed a crescent—deep crimson and shadow black. It carved through the cave like divine judgment. The yokai tried to leap, but it was too slow. The arc tore it in two, the den collapsing in a blast of stone and ash.
Silence followed. The cave was gone. The Lion-Hybrid, dust.
Ryu stood in the ruin, his body trembling, the shortsword nearly slipping from his hand. The Dragon's Eye faded. The aura withdrew. He was just Ryu again.
Goro limped forward, his voice barely a whisper. "You… killed it."
Soma stared at the empty den. "Red and black. I've never seen it. You're not just some street rat. What are you?"
Kaze walked slowly to Ryu's side, his expression unreadable. "That power—where did it come from?"
Ryu met his eyes. "I trained," he said simply. "I wanted it dead."
It wasn't a lie. Just not the whole truth.
Goro slapped his back, the sound loud. "You're a damn storm in a boy's body. Songs'll be sung, kid. Count on it."
Soma smiled faintly. "Mira would've liked you. Fierce and full of fire."
Kaze didn't smile. But he nodded once. "We'll talk. Later."
Ryu nodded back, but his thoughts were already drifting. To Zorath's oath. To the Ox. To the Spirit Realm. The Lion-Hybrid was just the beginning.
Behind him, the wind stirred the cherry trees. Petals drifted down, soft and pale, falling across blood and ash.
Ryu didn't notice.
He was already thinking of the next fight.