The ancient wooden doors creaked open, revealing a vast chamber within the Samurai Hall of Tenmo. The air inside was still, sacred. Sunlight filtered through paper-paneled windows, casting gold-veined light across polished floors. At the center stood a towering statue—an armored shogun etched in obsidian stone, holding a blade pointed to the heavens.
Zenith walked in, trailing just behind the others, his boots silent against the smooth floor.
The man leading them moved with slow, precise steps—his presence calm yet calculating. His short white hair was tousled like a fox's tail, and his eyes remained closed, giving the impression that he saw far more than sight allowed.
"Welcome to the first chamber," the man said in a mellow tone. "You may call me Kazui."
The group halted in a line behind him—eleven in total, their expressions ranging from awe to impatience.
Kazui's lips curved faintly.
"So… four of you wish to become Samurai, and the rest…" He tilted his head, "Enforcers, correct?"
A bored voice replied, "Pretty much."
Lithos—lean, sharp-featured, with sky-blue eyes that flicked lazily toward Kazui.
"I see," Kazui murmured. "Then you should all know the basics…"
He turned to face them fully, hands clasped behind his back.
"You're currently Young Disciples—at the base of the path. Whether Samurai or Enforcer, you'll rise to Diamond Rank, and from there, you may be recognized as Ronin. That rank… means you've become a master of your own code."
Zenith raised a hand slightly. "Enforcers… or Casters? I hear both."
Kazui rubbed his chin with amusement. "Casters is the common name. Enforcer is the correct, professional term. Casters tend to rely on talismans and mental projection—enforcers refine it into a science of war."
At that moment, the side door opened, and a tall man in silver robes entered.
Kazui nodded toward him. "Young Enforcers—this is Suno, your instructor. He'll take you from here."
The seven in the back broke off quietly, following Suno with nervous glances and half-bows. Only four remained.
Zenith.
Raijin.
A girl with moon-black hair and a blade like silk.
And a boy built like a boulder.
Kazui turned back to the remaining four. "Now… let's continue."
Zenith spoke again, curiosity cracking through his composed tone. "You're a Ronin, aren't you?"
Kazui chuckled softly, a low ripple of sound.
"I did try to hide my presence, you know?" He opened one eye for just a moment—gleaming like a fox beneath the moonlight—before the chuckle vanished from his face entirely. "But let's get formal."
He walked down the line, pointing one by one.
"Kanzaki Raijin, from the Raiketsu Clan."
He gestured toward a confident young man with spiked yellow hair, a small scar beneath his chin, and a red robe marked with lightning bolts.
"Tsukihana Ayame, from the Tsukihana Clan."
The girl nodded politely. Her face was beautiful—serene—but her eyes held hidden storms. Her blade, long and thin, was adorned with petal engravings that shimmered faintly in the light.
"Ishiguro Jubei, of the Kuroiwa Clan."
The last boy looked like a fortress—broad shoulders wrapped in partial armor, and a massive black sword strapped to his back.
Then Kazui paused before Zenith.
"You," he said quietly. "Shiryu Zenith. Where do you come from?"
The room felt colder.
Kazui's voice dropped. "The guards said you bore a Ronin's pendant… Whose was it?"
Zenith's breath caught.
His sensei's voice echoed in his mind: "Say nothing of me. Not yet."
He stayed silent.
Kazui narrowed his eyes—but only smiled.
"The truth always comes out eventually."
He turned away, and the doors behind him creaked open again—revealing a new chamber bathed in candlelight.
The room was circular, with burning braziers lining the walls and statues of ancient gods standing vigil in each corner. But what caught everyone's attention wasn't divine.
It was the statue at the center.
A towering samurai—black armor like obsidian flame, white hair cascading to the waist, and skin as dark as moonless night.
Zenith's chest tightened.
The features were… familiar.
"Do you know the tale of the War of Dawn?" Kazui asked softly.
"I've heard it," Jubei replied. "But never understood its meaning."
Kazui touched a flame, and light spread into the carvings on the wall—etching glowing lines that danced like ancient scripture.
"Long ago," he began, "in the Age of Myth, the gods shaped the realms of existence into four layers:
The Layer of Reasoning… the human world.
The Layer of Misunderstanding… home to demons.
The Layer of the Divine… realm of spirits.
And the Layer of the Bountiful… the land of gods."
He turned to face them, eyes still closed.
"To keep the balance, they forged a cycle—a river of energy that flows through all things. Life, death, rebirth… all part of this sacred rhythm.
Flow was born."
"But one man revolted."
Kazui pointed to the statue.
"His name… was Arashi Kotetsu."
Narrator:
Arashi—Samurai of legend. A man who could silence wars with a single stroke. He was beloved by some, feared by all.
But one day, he raised his blade not just against kings or demons—but against existence itself.
Against humanity.
Against gods.
Against life.
His Flow was so great, it nearly shattered the balance of creation.
The gods sealed him away.
And with that seal… they too vanished.
"We call it," Kazui said solemnly, "the End of the Mythic Age."
He gestured to a glowing orb on a pedestal.
"This… is your first threshold."
"The moment you touch it, your spiritual space expands. You become a true disciple of Bushido. A Young Samurai."
"But before that… you must understand what Flow truly is."
Kazui held out his hand, and threads of light danced around his fingertips.
"Flow," he said, "is your soul in motion."
"It is not power. It is harmony."
Kazui's Lecture: The Nature of Flow
What is Flow?
Flow is a warrior's connection to the universe—shaped by emotion, discipline, and intent.
Calm brings precision.
Rage brings force.
Will brings shape.
Types of Flow Techniques:
1. Blade Flow – Empowered swordsmanship using compressed air and aura.
2. Mind Flow – Heightens perception, allowing warriors to read motion before it happens.
3. Spirit Flow – Connects the user to spirits, animals, or ancestors for temporary abilities.
4. Echo Flow – Creates afterimage speed or allows repetition of actions like echoes.
Flow Tiers:
Seed Flow: The awakening. Triggered by strong emotion.
Stream Flow: Samurai can summon Flow at will.
River Flow: Their presence alters the battlefield.
Ocean Flow: Oneness with Flow. Few ever reach it.
Rules of Flow:
Flow cannot be forced.
Growth comes through hardship.
Overuse burns the body and mind.
No two warriors Flow alike. It is personal… sacred.
Ayame whispered, "It's… vast."
Kazui turned slowly.
"And the road to Ronin is narrow."
His aura shifted.
"Now… read my spiritual space."
The room shimmered.
Zenith blinked—and suddenly, they were elsewhere.
A sky with no horizon.
A field of stars stretching infinitely.
No ground. No sound.
Only awe.
Zenith felt his body tremble.
"Inside him… is a universe."
"So this is… the power of a Ronin."
The illusion faded.
Kazui stood unchanged.
"Now," he said, stepping back toward the orb, "complete the ritual."
"After that, I'll show you to your rooms."