The Misty Forest…
Misaki sat quietly, her fingers absently tracing the faint lines on her recently healed left hand. Her voice, low and steady, carried the weight of something long held back.
"I only know fragments of the story, Sensei. What I heard begins with my mum's days here—as your disciple, studying under your guidance at the temple. A few months after the convocation ceremony, she came back to deliver her wedding invitation in person. But you were already gone—off on an important journey, they said. Master Isamu and Mistress Reina were left in your place, and they promised to pass the message along. Still, Mum was disappointed. She had so deeply hoped to see you… to receive your blessing for her new life."
Mitsuo remained silent, listening with solemn attention.
"Even after the wedding, she returned often," Misaki continued, "always asking if you had come back, waiting for news that never came. And then… I overheard something. One evening, she was weeping—quietly, but I heard her. She never spoke of it directly, but one day I listened from the hallway as she spoke with Uncle Aito and Uncle Chimon during a visit. She mentioned an attack—something that happened in the Premisses area of The Genesis, before I was born. Whatever it was… it left a wound inside her that never truly healed."
Mitsuo's jaw tightened, but still, he said nothing.
"Yet even after that, she kept coming back. And once I was born, she brought me with her. I've been coming here with her since I was four."
Her voice grew softer, taking on the warmth of memory. "My mum had a dear friend besides Uncle Aito and Uncle Chimon—Aunt Aimi. That's what I used to call her. Those days felt like a beautiful dream, the kind no one ever wants to wake from. Uncle Aito and Uncle Chimon often came home with little gifts from their travels—wooden dolls, clay crockery, jade ornaments, carved chopsticks…"
A faint smile touched her lips as she lifted her hand to reveal a pair of delicate hairpins. Her eyes shimmered with quiet emotion.
"These… my mum made them from the pieces of a broken metallic comb. She'd brush my hair, fasten them gently, then hug me and whisper, 'My sweet little Misaki is the most beautiful daughter in the world.' Aunt Aimi visited often too—always bringing gifts, laughter, and love. But after they passed—my mum, Uncle Aito, Uncle Chimon—everything changed."
She paused, the colour of her voice dimming.
"And then… Aunt Aimi became Mrs. Yajima. And with that, she became a complete stranger to me. It was as if the most beautiful dream of my life had shattered overnight."
She bowed her head, letting the silence settle between them, then whispered, "I'm sorry, Sensei. I didn't mean to lose myself in those memories."
Mitsuo gently laid a hand on her shoulder.
When Misaki lifted her head, she sensed the first trace of dawn lingering in the distance—soft, slightly murky, yet insistent. She drew a steady breath, bracing herself to finally speak the truth she had carried in silence for so long.
Memories of Past…
Seventeen Years Ago
"Misaki. Wake up, sweetie. Hurry!"
Izumi's urgent voice stirred seven-year-old Misaki from sleep. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up groggily. "Yes, Mum?"
Izumi knelt beside her, kissed her forehead, and gently lifted her into her arms. "We have to leave right away. We're going on a trip."
Still drowsy, Misaki wrapped her arms around her mum's neck. "Are we going to Lord Akimitsu's temple again?"
Izumi chuckled softly, smoothing a hand over her daughter's hair. "No, sweetheart. Today, we're going somewhere farther—to your Grandsire's house, for your uncle's wedding. We must leave now if we want to arrive by noon tomorrow."
Excitement slowly chased away the remnants of sleep.
Before dawn, they set off—journeying across quiet valleys and narrowing paths that fell more silent with every step. By nightfall, they stopped to rest within a dense forest nestled between the Bushi and Koakuma lands—a contested borderland claimed by neither clan.
As the shadows thickened and night deepened, so too did Misaki's unease. The forest felt too alive—crowded with strange, shifting sounds of a man's foot, or intense rustling of leaves by the hove of horses, followed by the sounds of blades once in a while, rustled beyond what her ears couldn't name.
"Mum," she whispered, clutching Izumi's hand tightly, "why are there so many people here? Who are they? what are these sounds...?"
"Don't be afraid," Izumi said gently, offering a warm, reassuring smile. "They're from the Bushi and Koakuma lands. Old rivalries often flare up along this border, but Uncle Aito and Uncle Chimon will join us by morning. And besides—brave girls like you don't get scared, right?"
Misaki hesitated. "But… are they fighting, Mum? Aren't Uncle Aito, Uncle Chimon, and Aunt Aimi friends?"
The question—simple, innocent, and piercing—rose from her daughter's lips and sent a quiet tremor through Izumi's heart. For a brief moment, the weight of it flickered across her face. But she quickly composed herself, gathering Misaki gently into her arms and stroking her back with a slow, steady hand.
"Yes, sweetheart," she murmured, her voice soft as the wind through trees. "They are. Now close your eyes. Try to sleep."
Then came the lullaby—familiar and tender—rising like a ribbon of warmth in the cold hush of night. It wrapped around the little girl like the memory of safety, and within its gentle rhythm, Misaki drifted peacefully into deep slumber.
But Izumi could not sleep.
Her thoughts stirred restlessly beneath the hush of leaves and murmurs in the dark.
Why are the leaders of two rival clans gathered here at the borderlands? Could it truly be coincidence—or something else entirely?
Still… if anything serious had happened, surely Aito or Chimon—or even Aimi—would've sent word.
No… perhaps I'm just overthinking.
She tried to reason with herself.
Maybe they've came to sign a temporary peace treaty. After all, nobles from across the Lotus Continent have been invited to my brother's wedding. And there's a rule—no one involved in open conflict may attend.
Yes… maybe that was it. That must be why they were here.
Despite her logic, sleep wouldn't come.
And then, all at once, a strange wave of drowsiness swept over her—heavy and unnatural. Izumi's limbs grew sluggish, her breath slow and thick. Her instincts rang in alarm—this wasn't ordinary fatigue. Something unseen had crept into the forest. Something that didn't belong.
She fought it, drawing on her inner strength, forcing herself to stay alert. But whatever power had entered the woods that night was stronger than her will.
Within moments, her body slumped beside her daughter's. The world blurred, then vanished into stillness and dark.
Present time - The Genesis…
Misaki paused pulling herself slightly out of the stream of memories, she gently reached for the bowl on the ground which still has some water in it. She gently picked it up and drank it just a bit sighing softly to herself. Mitsuo kept quite as Misaki after rooting herself just a bit continued
"After mum had fallen asleep, I stirred up for just a while, I realized that mum was asleep so I layed back down embracing her drifting back to sleep again. But the very next time I woke up, I found myself not laying but rather standing to what feels like a ...."
Mitsuo's attention deepened as he leaned just a bit closer to hear better.
Memories of Past - Bordering Forest of Koakuma and Bushi
Later that night, a haunting melody drifted through the forest—a flute's tune, beautiful and hypnotic. Drawn by its sound, Misaki wandered out of the tent and followed it, unaware of how far she strayed.
When the music stopped, she froze. Realizing she was alone, she turned to find her way back—only to hear a set of rushing footsteps followed by a scream from behind her.
Her mother's scream, followed by the sound of a heavy blow.
"M-Misaki... sweetie… run...!"
And then silence fell.
Terrified, Misaki dropped to the ground and slowly crawled towards the sound. Her hands reached a body—still, lifeless, and warm. It was her mother.
"No… no… Mum, wake up. Please…" she wept, feeling the warmth slip from Izumi's skin. Her small hand brushed by an arrow lodged deep in her mother's back—already slick with blood. Misaki started crying as loud as she can, cradling her mother's broken body.
The bandits of the Reaper's Flute surrounded her, blades drawn. But before they could strike—
The warriors of Bushi Land had already began to circle them.
Swift and precise, they encircled the scene. Trained in the tactical teachings of War God, each warrior worked in individual groups, one group used the detection spell tracking down any hidden allies of the bandits while another group's spells obstructed them to the root, neutralizing the bandits with flawless efficiency.
Warriors from Torihiki Land after seizing the bandits then rushed to their her-majesty, Yajima Izumi and their princess, Misaki; but the damage was already done.. Izumi was no more.
Among them was Kuroi Akihiro, The sovereign of Koakuma and head of the powerful Kuroi Clan. "What's going on here?" he demanded, stepping into the clearing with armed guards behind him.
Moments later, Takeda Masaru, Lord of Bushi Land, joined him. "We may be rivals," Masaru said coldly, "but even so, I demand answers."
A Tekeda general stepped forward his eyes drifting to the lifeless body of Izumi. "That woman… she's Lady Yajima Izumi, daughter of the Konohara clan and wife to Yajima Yamato. She was traveling to her family estate when she was ambushed."
Masaru's expression turned grim. "So much power gathered here, and yet—she died protecting her child. The Yajima Clan and Konohara clan won't forgive this that easily. And besides, she had a very deep relationship with both of our clans."
Laughter echoed across the clearing. The chief bandit, shackled and bloodied, mocked them. "Go ahead, explain it to her husband and her father however you want."
Masaru's patience thinned yet he gazed at the chief bandit with grim silence.
"Oh, I'm not afraid of your death stare" the bandit sneered. "No one can touch me—except my master."
"And who is your master?" Masaru demanded finally.
The bandit smirked. "That's not your concern."
"Really now?" Masaru said in a low voice
Akihiro walked forward, with a calm face rising his own voice between them interrupting both. "I believe his words are not trustworthy at the moment. Who knows he can just deceive us."
Masaru's gaze drifted towards Akihiro as Akihiro continued "So, considering all aspects, With the will and the blessings of the Sword of Justice, as the lord of a powerful clan on the lotus continent, I, Kuroi Akihiro, have come to the conclusion that, three days from now the provinces of the lotus continent will hold a joint meeting for decision of the fate of this group of Bandits and all while providing justice to the victims Mrs Yajima and her infant daughter at the court of koakuma land in front of the Greatest Attribute of Divine The Sword of Justice. Whom God himself gave into the hands of my grandfather, as a blessing from Him. So, I think my decision has a price and by that price this trial will be held in Koakuma Land, and till then this bandit group called "Reaper's Flute" will be imprisoned in our Kuroi clan's prison."
Few of Akihiro's guards by now had already tied their hands and were beginning to take them away from the scene when the chief bandit let out a mocking laugh.
Masaru stepped forward walking just a bit past Akihiro—calm, yet unyielding—his eyes narrowed with sharp clarity.
"Now, now, now—hold up, shall you, Your Majesty?" he said adding a slight undertone of mockery, raising a hand with deliberate ease. "We've barely spoken, and your men are already dragging them off? At least leave some room for discussion, won't you?"
He tilted his head slightly, a dry hint of amusement curling at the corner of his lips.
"And if this is about the Sword of Justice—the very name you nearly forced into this place to intimidate everyone—then allow me to remind you: according to legend, it's not merely a weapon of punishment. It's a blessing. A gift from God and Mother Nature—the Creators, as they're known. Yes, it protects. Yes, it preserves. But above all, it was forged to maintain equilibrium. It is a balancer."
The wind stirred faintly at his back as he continued, speaking now as if from somewhere deeper.
"It doesn't take sides. Just or unjust—makes no difference. The moment balance is disturbed, it senses it as injustice from its own standpoint. And when that happens…" His tone dropped, cold and precise. "It doesn't negotiate. It destroys the heavier side—no judgment, no mercy—until balance is restored. That's its nature."
A crooked smile flickered across his face, brief and pointed. "You know this, don't you? Of course you do. After all, it's been under your roof for so long."
He gave a slight shrug, tension gathering once more across his shoulders as he squared his stance.
"Anyway, what was I saying? Right." His voice settled into a firmer register. "The fact remains—it never tolerates injustice."
And then, with quiet finality:
"So in this case, I'd suggest you wait a little… Your Ma...jes...ty..."
Masaru stood tall, the weight of his words hanging in the air—his presence neither loud nor aggressive, yet impossible to ignore.
Akihiro barely said something when the chief bandit spoke again holding the familiar venom in his voice "what's there to talk? My master is strong enough to beyond all of your imagination he can protect me just by being in the shadows you know?! He is still protecting us.. Huuh.."
Masaru's facial changed just a bit, a smile both calculative and thoughtful "strong? I doubt, If he really like to hide in the shadows then he is not strong, he is just a FAKE.. WORTHLESS.. COWARD.. much like you.."
His word struck hard to everyone around but no one dared raise voice at that moment, Akihiro listened with grim silence hovering his hand just over his dangling sword on his left
The chief bandit furious with Masaru's statement turned sharply towards him "How dare you say this about my master; do you have any idea how strong he is? He is stronger than everyone, unique than everyone… You all are like a piece of straw to him.. he is...."
But before he could utter another word, Akihiro's blade sliced through the air, beheading him instantly, and with just a silent signal to his men, they ended the life of other bandits on the spot. Despite all this, the Chief Bandit, as he was succumbing to death, as he was taking his last breath, still managed to complete his last words glopping like a fish that has been taken out of the water. With all the strength in his body, "the greatest ruler in this world..." Then everything became quite for a while.
Akihiro let out a discreet sigh, careful not to draw attention then broke the silence, seems like he didn't feel or cared about what he just did. Instead, he ignored this scenario and said sharply. "Disgraceful to speak between two noble men's."
Gasps rippled through the crow, everyone else present there was momentarily stunned. Masaru on the other hand halted with a shock that quickly got replaced by suspicion his sharp gaze was about to say something when another presence entered.
Kuroi Aimi, the youngest daughter of the Koakuma Clan, stepped forward, wielding a gleaming blade unlike any other: the Sword of Justice.
Its hilt shimmered purple. The double-edged blade bore red and blue—a balance of hell and heaven. Ten huge gem slots. eight slots were glowed with power except two… the fifth and sixth slot. In addition, the sword was adorned with countless gemstone of various kinds, large and small, familiar and unfamiliar, all over its body.
As Aimi held it high, a radiant light erupted from the sword—not golden, but silver. It washed over the forest like the first breath of dawn.
And Misaki… Misaki stopped crying.
The silver rays touched her sightless eyes. For a brief, wondrous moment, her irises shimmered with light, as if touched by something divine.
The sword's glow faded. Misaki collapsed.
Everyone stood frozen.
"What was that?" Masaru whispered.
Akihiro, shaken but composed, seized the moment. "This sword… was gifted by the gods to my late father. But it had never reacted this way before. It responded to her. I believe… it showed mercy."
Masaru frowned. "Mercy? What are you suggesting?"
Akihiro replied calmly, "The court meeting in three days will proceed, but not only for the judgment of the bandits. The Sword of Justice has actually chosen their subject: This unfortunate child and her family. So, the presence of this child, and her father, the ruler of the Torihiki land, Yajima Yamato, is also desirable. Not only that, but the presence of all the other clan rulers of the Lotus continent is also desirable. The meeting will now decide everything, what is to be done with the silver thread that fate has woven around her and also all of us those who, whether willingly or unwillingly, we are involved in today's tragedy... and now the sword demands our loyalty, so we should focus on Mrs Yajima's funeral...", everyone else could only agree.
The End of the Funeral
The next day, after Izumi's cremation, her ashes were laid to rest along the quiet riverbank. The same flames also consumed the bodies of the bandits who had fallen with her. They had been part of the dreaded Reaper's Flute, yet by blood, they belonged to the Miyamoto clan, the ruling family of Satori Land, known across the Lotus Continent as the Land of Education. For years the Miyamotos had denied this shameful connection, but bloodlines are not so easily erased.
Still, every clan of the continent sent officials to pay respects. Grief weighed heavy in the air, incense mingling with smoke as the mourners began to disperse.
Then, through the thinning crowd, two young warriors emerged, dragging a bound prisoner. Tekeda Aito of Bushi Land and Akagi Chimon of Koakuma led him forward. Both carried noble blood in their veins, though it was Chimon who bore the heavier legacy: a descendant of the fallen Akagi line, once crowned princes of Tera No Tochi. After the Kuroi clan conquered that land, his family fled and sought refuge with the Tekeda.
The man they dragged was Musushi, one of the last surviving members of the Reaper's Flute.
Aito raised his voice, steady but firm. "Since every clan is gathered here today, since our beloved friend has been laid to rest, this is the time to bring the truth forward."
At once, Akihiro, ruler of Koakuma, cut in. His eyes narrowed on Musushi, but when he spoke, his tone carried authority without rising in anger. "This is neither the place nor the time. The trial has already been decreed. Two days from now, in Koakuma, under the Sword of Justice. Every testimony will be heard, not just from nobles, but from all witnesses, even the surviving Reaper's Flute. If your words carry weight, they will be given their due… but not here."
He looked directly at Musushi. "Your brothers are being cremated. You arrived during their last rites. Set your hatred aside for once, and stand in silence. This is sacred ground for the dead, not a court for the living."
The moment was tense, heavy with unspoken defiance.
Chimon's temper finally snapped. "Why must you always speak first? Let someone else speak for once!"
Before Akihiro could answer, a younger voice shouted from the crowd. "He's your elder! Show some respect!" It was Ayaki, Akihiro's son.
The commotion drew forward two more figures, Masaru, sovereign of Bushi Land, and Akagi Makoto, leader of what remained of Tera No Tochi. Both men radiated authority, their presence silencing the gathering.
Masaru's voice rang out. "Aito. Chimon. Apologize. Now."
The two young men bowed deeply before Akihiro and the crowd. Their words came slow and measured, carrying the sting of pride swallowed. "We apologize for our disrespect. This isn't the time. We know our words may have caused offense. But please, we beg you, listen to what we've come to say."
Aito began, Chimon finished. Aito tried to press further, but before he could, Makoto's voice cut through like steel.
"No."
It was the first time Makoto had ever raised his voice to Chimon and Aito. His gaze was heavy with both authority and grief. "Did you not hear me? I said no. And when I say no, I mean no. Keep your mouth shut."
Aito's voice wavered with desperation. "Uncle Makoto… Father… please. If we stay silent now, the cost may be too high."
But Makoto's face was unreadable stone. Whether it was fear of losing more, or simply the weight of too many losses, he would not yield.
Tension crackled. The moment teetered on the edge of chaos until a new voice rose, low and bitter.
Yajima Yamato.
He stepped forward slowly, his face lined with grief and exhaustion. He moved toward the riverbank, where shadows of the forest met the glow of burning pyres. His lips curved into a faint, joyless smile.
"How wonderful," he said softly. "Here we are, gathered to say our final farewell. A ritual as sacred as any prayer." He paused. "And yet… I can still smell something rotten. Hatred."
The hush deepened. His words, though quiet, cut deeper than any shout.
"We call ourselves the Supreme Father's chosen. Mother Nature's children. But why do we spend more strength fighting the living than honoring the dead?" His gaze lifted skyward. "Perhaps… that is simply what it means to be mortal."
Then his eyes found Misaki, kneeling silently mourning, shoulders trembling. He walked over, lifted her gently into his arms. She clung to him as though he were the last solid thing in a breaking world.
"She left us behind," he whispered, voice breaking, "and drifted into her final sleep."
Cradling his daughter, Yamato turned to the gathering. His voice steadied as he bowed. "If you'll excuse us."
But before leaving, he paused. Facing the officials and royals, he spoke again. "To all who came today, from across the continent, to honor my wife and even her enemies, I, Yajima Yamato, on behalf of Torihiki Land, offer my gratitude."
Silence met his words.
"However," Yamato continued, "I will not attend the trial two days from now. The Yajima Clan will accept the verdict, whatever it may be, but I won't contest or participate."
Pressing his lips gently to Misaki's forehead, he whispered, "Let's go home, sweetheart."
The crowd stirred with whispers. Then Izumi's father, Konohara Meruem, stepped forward. His voice trembled with both dignity and grief.
"Yamato, wait. We may rule different lands, but you are still my son-in-law. And today, you are a grieving husband. She was my firstborn." His voice cracked. "Please, reconsider. Your choice today will shape Misaki's future. Don't decide in haste. I trust your judgment, I always have."
Masaru added firmly, "I second His Majesty Meruem's plea. Yamato, this isn't only about grief. Think of the world your daughter will grow into."
But Yamato shook his head. His answer came instantly, unwavering. "I'm grateful for your counsel. Truly. But my decision stands. While I live, I won't let this world take anything more from her."
Akihiro, watching from above, gave his final word. "So be it. If you refuse counsel, then let it be declared: the Yajima Clan accepts the court's judgment without opposition. Is this your will?"
"It is," Yamato replied. His voice carried both grief and resolve. "I may be a merchant, but I am also ruler of Torihiki. A ruler's word must not waver. This is my will."
And with that, he walked away, holding Misaki close.
The crowd parted in silence. No one followed.
Thus, the funeral ended, not with fire and prayer alone, but with a vow carved deep into the heart of a grieving man.
Back to the Present Day
After finishing her story, Misaki drew in a long, steadying breath. Mitsuo, who had listened in thoughtful silence, lowered his gaze and asked quietly, "What happened to Aito and Chimon?"
Misaki's hands tensed slightly. "The day after my mother's funeral, a secret letter arrived. It said Uncle Aito and Uncle Chimon had passed away too. Three days later, the Kuroi Clan sent an official message, both had been found brutally murdered in the forest. And the man they brought with them from the Reaper's Flute… had vanished."
She swallowed, her voice wavering then steadied herself. "They made three claims. First, they accused my uncles of treason of bringing a criminal to the funeral without permission, and for daring to question the Sword of Justice's verdict. For that, they said, they paid with their lives. Second, they blamed the murders on the remaining members of the Reaper's Flute."
Mitsuo's brow tightened. Impossible, he thought.
Misaki continued, her voice firmer despite the pain. "They ordered the execution of any surviving members of the Reaper's Flute on sight. And third... they invoked the Sword of Justice again claiming it had acted for the greater good. They even suggested the Sword took pity on me, left me motherless, and saw fit to give me a new one. And who better than Aunt Aimi?"
Her tone darkened. "I think the other eight clans were shaken by Aito and Chimon's deaths. But no one could tell anymore whether it was truly the Sword speaking—or simply some leading clans hiding behind its name. And no one dared to ask."
"The clans' verdict was upheld," Mitsuo said softly.
Misaki nodded. "Yes. Our clan had no choice. My father had already sworn loyalty to the court. So Aunt Aimi became my stepmother… as Mrs. Yajima. From that day forward…" She trailed off with a quiet sigh.
Mitsuo's voice lowered, heavy with the weight of truth. "Misaki… what excuse did the leading clans give for burying the truth about Izumi, Chimon, and Aito?"
She exhaled slowly. "For my mother, they used my name and my father's as a shield. Framed us as victims, to win sympathy from the other clans. Then they invoked the Sword of Justice again despite knowing the unspoken threat behind their words, the swords absurd reaction that day towards me was maybe enough to silence everyone."
A pause. Then, colder: "As for Uncle Aito and Chimon… they said warriors who sided with criminals had disgraced their bloodline. That dying by those criminals' hands was a shame too great to acknowledge. So, to preserve the 'honor' of the Tekeda Clan… their names were never to be spoken again."
Her smile was bitter. "Once again, the Sword of Justice became a mask—a veil to silence and suppress. They called it 'the Sword's verdict,' as if that made it unquestionable."
She shook her head. "And the worst part is… it worked. Seventeen years, Sensei. Not one person has spoken their names aloud."
The silence that followed was full weighted and sacred.
Then Misaki looked up with a quiet, sorrowful smile. "Sensei… have we fallen too far? So dull, so blind… that we no longer know what's right or wrong? What's true and what's not?"
Mitsuo answered gently. "Misaki, one day, time itself will answer your question far better than I ever could."
A stillness settled between them.
Then Misaki suddenly lifted her face, alert. "Sensei… what time is it? Has the sun risen?"
Mitsuo moved to the window and drew the curtain aside. Pale light spilled across the marble. "Yes. It's just rising. But how did you"
"I may be sightless," Misaki smiled, "but somehow… I always know when the sun rises here. It's a feeling I've always had. And it's never wrong."
She rose and walked gently towards the entrance, like a child feeling her way. Mitsuo joined her, opened the doors, and guided her down the temple steps.
Morning had awakened. Birdsong echoed through the trees. A breeze stirred the scent of lotus, and wind chimes danced in its rhythm. Sunlight warmed her face as she paused.
Mitsuo noticed something lingering behind her expression. "Is there something you wish to say, Misaki-chan?" he asked softly.
She hesitated. "How… how did you know?"
"I've learned to listen, even to silence."
She gave in with a quiet pout. "There's something that's been haunting me. That day… at the Court of Koakuma. Was that truly the Sword's judgment? Or was someone using its name to impose their own will? I doubted it… but for peace, I accepted it. Still, if I doubted it surely the elders did too, right?"
Mitsuo took her hand. "If that question rose in your heart, Misaki, then perhaps… you already know the answer. You just need to hear it aloud."
She nodded slowly, then spoke with quiet conviction. "Yes… I believe it was none other than the Kuroi Clan. And the others know it too. But no one questions them because of fear. But who are they afraid of? The Kuroi Clan… or the Sword of Justice?"
"If the Sword is meant to serve all and be just, then when people see injustice in its name, why does no one raise their voice against it?" She drew a breath. "Maybe… that's why even the Sword is silent now. Maybe it's asleep. Or maybe it's awake, waiting to see if someone dares to stand up against injustice done in its name. And maybe… the day someone does, it will reveal its power again."
She steadied her voice. "Should I be the one to stand up for this? Someone has to, eventually… right? Should it be me?"
Mitsuo replied, "I belong to no clan. But as far as wisdom goes… what truly matters is what you believe."
Misaki nodded. "I think everyone's afraid, just like I am. But if the Sword of Justice is meant to be a protector… a Justiciar… then why should we endure this?" Her voice softened. "Then maybe I wasn't wrong after all… Maybe, just maybe, it's time I stood up."
She lowered her voice. "I've carried this doubt for years. I've never spoken it aloud...until now."
Mitsuo gently placed his hand on her head. "Then never be afraid to speak the truth. Never be afraid to stand against what's wrong."
He paused, then asked, "Now tell me, Misaki-chan… do you still have faith in our Supreme Father and Gentle Mother?"
"Always."
"And in the Sword of Justice?"
"It's guided by them," she said. "So there can be no doubt."
"Then don't let your faith waver. The Sword of Justice is not just a protector. It's a balancer."
She nodded, calm and resolute.
After a pause, Mitsuo smiled. "Still… I don't think that was all you came to say, was it?"
Misaki chuckled softly. "Let's save the rest for next time. I'll need a reason to return, won't I?"
"Didn't you once devote yourself to Lord Akimitsu?"
"Mhm."
"Then that's reason enough. You belong here just as your mother, Izumi, once did."
As they reached the foot of the stairs, Misaki said, "Sensei, I can go on from here."
But Mitsuo smiled. "Let me walk you a little further. After all you've endured… I won't send you off alone."
Blushing, she nodded.
They walked in silence until she suddenly said, "Oh! I forgot something."
"What is it, Misaki-chan?"
"I heard… Uncle Aito and Chimon's ashes were buried near my mother's. Someone said… an apple tree and two peach trees grew there."
Mitsuo stopped, stunned. "What?"
"Three trees. But I've never seen them, I don't even know if it's true."
He said nothing for a long moment.
"Sensei?" she asked in a low voice.
"Have you ever been there?" he asked softly.
"No. I don't even know where it is. There's no one to take me. But I think… maybe they live within those trees. And if I visit… they'd recognize me, right?"
He looked at her with quiet warmth. "Of course they would. Don't worry, Misaki. I'll take you there one day. I promise."
Their path continued through the forest, past The Genesis, until the edge of Asa no Hana.
"Sensei, I can go alone now. And…"
"And?"
She hesitated. "Would you teach me? Like you taught my mother?"
"Of course" he smiled.
"But… I'll have to come in secret. At night. Is that alright?"
"For learning," Mitsuo said, "there is no need for permission. Come to Lord Akimitsu's temple night or day."
Her smile returned. She bowed and disappeared down the trail.
"Go safely, Misaki," Mitsuo whispered.
After Misaki Left
When she was gone, Mitsuo stood still in the clearing, eyes closed.
Then he felt it.
Not a ghost. Not a beast. Something else.
"…Yes. Just as I thought. Something had been following us all the way."
He opened his eyes, scanning the trees.
"To channel such celestial energy this subtly… only a trained hand could do that. A Heaven-dweller? a Sage? or one blessed by divine hands?..."
Mitsuo repeated in his mind, steadying his mind.
"I want to understand what's their intensions before I strike..."
"And their energy…"
Then his expression shifted.
"…No. This isn't from Heaven. It's coming from The Mortal land... The Koakuma Land!!?. What the..."
He drew a breath out of confusion but kept his composure.
"Could it be… the Sword of Justice?"
He closed his eyes again, speaking to the unseen.
"Your Lordship… forgive me, but I must ask: who are they and why do I feel divine energy with them?"
A response came, deep and distant, like a breath through ancient stone:
"Now they are neither mortal souls nor wandering spirits. Their bodies dwell not in this land. They came with purpose and by my hand, they walk its path. The veil has lifted enough. The rest, you must find within for the truth lies within you, waiting to be seen."
Mitsuo's eyes snapped open but his posture restored to it's usual calmness.
The presence vanished as if swept away by the wind.
Narrowing his eyes Mitsuo began walking toward The Genesis.
At The Genesis
A white swan descended in silence onto the sacred grounds of the temple. The moment its feet touched marble, its form shimmered, transforming into a man.
Miyamoto Mitsuo, revered as Sensei, Priest, and Guardian of The Genesis.
At the temple entrance, his eyes fell on a scroll left upon the steps, an area forbidden to any visitor without his consent.
The instant his fingers brushed the parchment, a familiar chill crept up his spine.
That presence again.
The same one from the forest.
Air clones…
Impossible. No being, mortal or otherwise could enter The Genesis without his sanction.
He lifted the scroll cautiously.
Then, from the air around him, a voice echoed unnatural and disembodied:
"Mitsuo-sensei…
or shall we say…
Lord Akimitsu?"...
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To be continued...