The fires in Tsu had barely gone out when the smoke of another threat began to rise — far in the North, in the blood-soaked snows of Aizu.
There, atop a frozen plateau of jagged black stone, stood a fortress of iron and prayer flags — crimson banners flapping in the icy wind like torn skin. Beneath them stood Hayate Kurigawa, the Captain of Aizu's elite war unit, the Crimson Fan Battalion.
His face was carved in ice. Narrowed eyes like sharpened obsidian. His long coat of wolf-fur brushed the floor, and the iron fan he held — lacquered with lacquer and bone — gleamed with dark inscriptions.
He watched men die below.
A dozen prisoners — rebels, deserters, one child no older than twelve — were forced to kneel as Hayate gave a nod.
Vice-Captain Nomura Jin stepped forward. Twin flintlocks rested at his hips, his long ponytail swaying like a pendulum of death. His lips curved into a cruel smile.
"Captain, shall I test the new powder?" he asked casually, loading his weapons with a ritualistic grace.
Hayate gave the faintest nod.
The prisoners were screaming before the shots even rang out. And when they did, they weren't loud. Jin had mastered the art of silence — the sound was like a whisper, a kiss of steel.
One by one, heads snapped back. Blood froze before it touched the ground.
The child looked up, eyes wide. "Please... my father was innocent—"
Jin placed one pistol against the boy's temple.
"Then go find him," he whispered, and fired.
Snow drank the blood.
Hayate didn't flinch. "We cleanse the weak to honor the strong," he said coldly. "And now, I desire the strongest sword. One forged not by man — but by will."
Jin holstered his pistols. "Then it's time?"
Hayate walked toward a bloodstained map mounted on the wall of ice.
"Yoshinobu the Hunchback. They say he forges steel from thunder and sky-fire. His blades don't break. They choose their wielders."
Jin raised an eyebrow. "That old bastard still lives?"
"He does. And he's the one who crafted Kurayami. The one wielded by Ishikawa Jimonji."
At the mention of the name, Jin's smirk faded. "The Twin Blade Wolf."
Hayate tapped his fan against the map. "Go south. Find the hunchback. Take the sword. Kill whoever stands in your way. I want his forge turned to ash, his hands severed, and his secrets buried beneath our flag."
Jin cracked his neck. "With pleasure."
---
Three Days Later – Outskirts of the Forgewood Mountains
Yoshinobu's forge sat nestled in the mountain's shadow, a crooked little hut wrapped in smoke and memory. The hammer rang like a heartbeat as the old hunchback worked shirtless, muscles carved from decades of pain. His forge blazed red, brighter than the sun.
Inside the hut, Ishikawa Jimonji, Yumi, and Asaki rested, sharing bitter tea and even bitterer silence.
Asaki still hadn't forgiven him.
Yumi, ever the peacekeeper, cracked another joke. "At least none of us caught lice from the shamisen girl…"
Asaki didn't even blink.
Ishikawa chewed on a rice cracker, eyes distant. His bandaged back still burned from Sumirei's strike.
Yoshinobu looked up from the forge. "Sword's almost done. I reforged Kurayami. Sharpened her teeth. She bites better now."
Ishikawa gave a faint nod. "And Kurasa?"
The old man grinned. "I dipped her in stormwater from Mount Yari. She's singing again."
Then, they heard it.
The whinny of a horse.
The crack of hooves.
The stench of gunpowder.
Yoshinobu's eyes narrowed. "That ain't thunder."
A bullet ripped through the forge's wooden door.
Yumi screamed.
Ishikawa flipped the table and dove for his swords. Asaki unsheathed her blade in a blink, standing over Yumi.
Then came the second shot — right through Yoshinobu's shoulder. The old man dropped to one knee, blood sizzling against the iron floor.
"Old man," a voice drawled from outside. "You got one minute to open the door and kneel… or I burn the whole mountain down."
Ishikawa's eyes narrowed. "That's not a ronin."
Yoshinobu spat blood. "No. That's a vulture. Vice-Captain of Aizu."
The door shattered.
Nomura Jin walked in, wiping soot from his coat. Twin flintlocks gleamed at his hips, and a necklace of ears swung from his neck.
He saw Ishikawa.
"Well damn," Jin grinned. "Two birds with one shot."
Asaki stepped forward. "You want a fight?"
Jin spun both pistols and aimed. "No. I want a slaughter."
He fired.
Ishikawa deflected the shot with Kurayami, sparks flying.
Asaki charged, blade slicing.
Jin vanished in a blink, reappearing on the rafters.
"Fast," he said. "But I'm faster."
He fired again. This time, the bullet ricocheted off a forge pipe and slammed into Ishikawa's thigh.
Ishikawa staggered, biting down a roar.
Yumi pulled Yoshinobu into the shadows, pressing herbs to his wound.
Jin leapt down, kicking Asaki across the room. Her back hit the anvil. She coughed blood but rose again.
"You like being the wolf?" Jin taunted Ishikawa. "Good. I like killing wolves."
Ishikawa wiped blood from his lip. "You're just another butcher."
"No," Jin said, reloading with lightning speed. "I'm artistry."
He fired at Asaki.
Ishikawa stepped in the way.
The bullet grazed his shoulder.
Asaki's eyes widened.
"You're bleeding again," she muttered.
Ishikawa smirked. "Better me than you."
She grabbed his hand. "Don't die now."
Jin holstered one pistol and drew a hidden blade from his boot. "Let's end this."
He lunged.
Ishikawa met him mid-dash — blade to blade, fang to fang. The room erupted into sparks and blood.
Jin slashed Ishikawa's ribs.
Asaki stabbed at his spine — Jin spun and parried, kicking her away again.
"You're weak together," Jin laughed.
Ishikawa's eyes flashed.
Shikkiri.
The world slowed.
He saw it — Jin's foot pivoting, the angle of the next shot.
He dodged.
Drove Kurasa upward — slicing Jin's gun hand open.
Jin screamed. "My art—!"
Ishikawa's blade cut again, this time across Jin's face.
Asaki pounced, sword slashing deep into Jin's shoulder.
Yumi screamed from the corner. "Behind you!"
Too late.
Jin's last pistol fired.
Yoshinobu leapt in front.
The bullet tore through his chest.
He collapsed.
"Old fool!" Jin roared.
Yoshinobu grinned through blood. "Thunder... is louder than you."
He pressed a small box into Ishikawa's hand. "The final blade. For Kyoto."
Then he died.
Ishikawa roared.
Kurayami and Kurasa screamed with him.
He cut Jin's remaining pistol in half, kicked him into the fire pit, and slashed down.
But Jin was gone.
The flames curled.
Only silence remained.
---
Back in Aizu, Hayate sipped tea while watching the snow fall.
A crow landed on his shoulder.
Dead. Its throat slit.
Attached was a note.
"Your wolf bites hard. I'll bring his pelt next time." — Nomura Jin.
Hayate didn't smile.
But his fan opened.
And war began to breathe again.
---
To be continued