Chapter One
Yunara City — 1318
The afternoon sun hung low above the towering gates of Yunara City as a lone figure stepped through them without hesitation.
He was twenty-one years old.
Handsome — but not gentle. His face carried a rough sharpness shaped by hardship rather than youth. His eyes were cold, distant, untouched by warmth. Long black hair fell past his shoulders, loosely clipped behind him, though messy strands drifted across his face, covering one side. He wore a dark traditional samurai attire, simple and unmarked.
At his side rested a katana.
His name was Raikaro.
He walked slowly into the city.
The streets were crowded. Merchants shouted from wooden stalls. Women bargained loudly over scraps of food. Children ran barefoot through the dust. Workers carried goods with exhaustion carved deep into their faces.
But Yunara was not a wealthy city.
The buildings were cracked and worn. Mud mixed with stone along the uneven roads. Open drains released a foul smell that clung heavily to the air. The people were thin. Their clothes were faded and torn. Poverty was not hidden here — it lived in plain sight.
As Raikaro passed, people stared.
A stranger did not go unnoticed in Yunara.
Before he could move further, a small hand grabbed his.
He stopped.
A thin boy, no older than ten, looked up at him with trembling eyes. His clothes were stained with ash and dirt.
"Please… eat from us today," the boy begged. "We haven't sold anything. If we don't give them money tonight… they'll kill my mother."
Raikaro said nothing.
He followed.
The boy led him to a small wooden cart beside a broken wall. Smoke rose weakly from a rusted grill where a few pieces of meat were skewered over fading flames. Behind the cart stood the boy's mother, fear resting quietly in her eyes.
Raikaro ordered food.
He took a bite.
The meat was simple. Slightly overcooked. Lightly salted.
But after walking through a vast forest for two full days without food, it felt like a feast.
Warmth slowly returned to his body.
Then—
Heavy footsteps approached.
Three soldiers.
Armor covered their bodies. Katanas rested at their sides. Their presence alone silenced nearby voices.
They began speaking to the woman in low, demanding tones.
Raikaro continued eating.
He did not look at them.
But he noticed the boy's face.
Fear.
The soldiers' voices grew louder. One of them suddenly grabbed the woman by the wrist and dragged her into the dirt beside the stall.
The skewers fell. Ash scattered.
The boy ran toward her.
A soldier kicked him hard in the chest.
"Go away," he spat.
The child fell, crying.
Raikaro remained still.
The boy, shaking, picked up a small rock and threw it at the soldier. It struck the armor and dropped uselessly to the ground.
The soldier slowly turned.
Anger twisted his expression.
Around them, the people watched.
But no one moved.
Fear lived in all of them.
The soldiers drew their katanas.
Steel whispered as it left its sheath.
One stepped toward the boy.
"I'm going to kill you, small fry."
The child froze.
Then—
A violent gust of wind tore through the street.
Dust exploded into the air. Wooden stalls rattled. Smoke spiraled upward.
In the same instant—
The soldier's head separated from his body.
It flew through the air before crashing into the dirt with a dull roll.
Silence.
The headless body stood for half a second—
Then collapsed.
Blood darkened the street.
Shock gripped the crowd.
At the center of the swirling dust stood Raikaro.
His katana rested calmly at his side.
The wind pushed his long black hair backward, revealing his full face for the first time.
And there—
On his forehead—
A dark mark.
Sharp.
Unfamiliar to some.
Recognized by others.
The remaining soldiers staggered back.
Fear replaced their anger.
Raikaro's eyes were colder than ever.
And Yunara City would never be the same again.
⸻
Author Note:
This is the beginning of Raikaro's journey. The truth behind the mark will be revealed in the next chapter.