The wind howled around me, the forest blurring into streaks of green and brown. Each step carried me farther, faster—my body no longer bound by the limits of a mere human, but by something greater. Beneath the breath of the wind and the whisper of the leaves, I reveled in this newfound sensation of freedom.
"What a disgrace it is for a man to grow old without ever seeing the beauty and strength of which his body is capable."
The words of Socrates echoed in my mind—not as ink on a page, but as truth etched into flesh and soul.
With every stride, I was filled with a euphoria unlike any other. I could leap nearly ten meters into the air with a single bound. My flexibility allowed me to twist and turn, midair or on land, with a grace that would shame the most seasoned of acrobats.
My senses guided me—the branches sturdy enough to bear my weight, the rhythm of the ground beneath me, the life that stirred around me. Even at this overwhelming speed, nothing escaped my awareness.
"I'm almost there!"
The black smoke was now visible to me without straining my eyes as I had before. With the distance closing, I could finally shift my focus—not on sight, but on something deeper.
My sensitivity to chakra and natural energy pulsed through me. Though I had grown accustomed to this awareness, it was time to push further, to stretch my perception not just around me, but all the way to my destination.
Still too far… but if it were easy, I would never truly grasp my limits.
[POV: Third Person – Dojimaru Seimei]
Dojimaru's very first memory was of a woman with flowing white hair and gentle brown eyes. She looked upon him with love, but also with sorrow.
"This is the end of the Mazoku clan… I pray you find happiness in an ordinary life, far from all this chaos. Farewell, my son."
He grew up in an orphanage in the capital of the Land of Rivers. His albinism made him stand out among the other children, but it also left him isolated. Withdrawn, he buried himself in study, soon discovering his remarkable gift for memorization and problem solving.
The caretakers recognized his brilliance and nurtured it. Letters, arithmetic, geography, the arts—Dojimaru absorbed them all. By the age of fifteen, he passed the examinations to serve in the Daimyo's court as a civil aide.
Through diligence and intellect he solved problems that had long plagued the region. Floods striking the capital?
"Urban development here has been neglected for far too long we must construct a proper drainage system and closely monitor the soil in this district…"
His insight stabilized and enriched the country during the turbulent shift from feudal rule to the rise of the Great Nations. Yet, the words of his mother never faded from his heart—ever warning him of the dangers this new age carried.
Within four years of service, Dojimaru was granted the honorary title of Abe no Seimei for his wisdom and countless contributions but when offered a position at the Daimyo's side, he humbly refused. Instead, he accepted only the name Seimei and a modest parcel of land deep in the countryside, where he might live in peace with his family.
The nobles sighed in relief at seeing this rising star retreat from politics, while others lamented the waste of such a brilliant mind.
At that time, Takumi Village was just a little more than two hundred people tending their fields and home, a nameless and unremarkable place. With Seimei's arrival, everything changed. He turned his genius toward the practical arts—agriculture, carpentry, metallurgy. Under his guidance, Takumi grew into a hub of artisans, drawing craftsmen from across the Land of Rivers to hone their craft together.
It has been a long journey… Seimei reflected, sprinting through the village streets, Imaki and a squad of guards at his side, rushing toward the warehouses.
This village has grown so much… Each street sparked memories. Roads once bustling with life now lay deserted—civilians hidden away or already evacuated to shelters.
Takumi… Both the name of the village and of his son. Once, Seimei believed the name would grant prosperity to both. Now, he could only pray that both might be spared.
"Seimei-sama!"
A guard's shout signaled their arrival. Warriors surrounded the warehouse, spears and swords drawn.
Seimei's gaze hardened. The warehouse was a ruin—the roof half-collapsed and burning, a gaping hole at its entrance torn open by explosive tags. Within, the sounds of combat echoed.
"Hold the perimeter! No one enters or leaves without my order. Imaki and I will lead the reinforcements. Forward!"
Like his men, Seimei wore the armor of Takumi, yet in his hands he bore something unique—a prototype weapon, a blue-hued blade shaped like a Sai. At his side, Imaki carried another strange creation: a katana and wakizashi with strange inscriptions etched along its steel.
"Oh, look who finally arrived—Chief Seimei himself~" Utahei mocked, plunging his kunai into the chest of a fallen guard.
The sight within the warehouse was horrific. Bodies of workers and guards littered the ground, the fruits of their lives and labor stained in blood. To Seimei, who had watched this place rise from nothing, who knew each face that once worked these halls, it was unbearable. The enemy laughed amidst the carnage.
"You bastards!"
All of Seimei's scholarly restraint vanished as he charged, chakra surging through his blade as its form began to elongate. But before he could strike—
"Seimei-sama, look out!" Imaki's voice tore through the chaos, warning of the puppet descending from above, its body bristling with deadly spikes.
'Damn it… Forgive me, Shinobu, Takumi… I pray you find happiness without me.'
With death looming, his thoughts turned only to his wife and son, hoping they might escape the threat of the shinobi's world, as his own mother once wished for him.
"It's over…" one of the enemy muttered.
"SEIMEI-SAMA!" Imaki screamed.
—BOOOOM—
A shockwave shook the entire warehouse, the walls groaning, dust billowing upward. The puppet shattered, its fragments scattering across the floor schooking the onlookers.
From within the haze, a figure emerged.
A young man, no more than twenty, his skin pale as moonlight. Tall, over six feet, with golden eyes and long black hair tied in a flowing tail. Clad entirely in dark martial garb, his presence carried a pressure that weighed upon all who met his gaze. His expression heralded the imminent violence.
"I have only one question for you…" His voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"…Are you ready?"