"Sometimes, fate speaks in silence. Other times, it shouts through the roots of forgotten gods."
Kamui and Arma are at the old shrine again, waiting to see if Argon would return, but like the last 2 weeks, he hasn't returned.
To Kamui and Arma, this old shrine wasn't just an abandoned mystery.It was home. Their shrine, their escape, their world, even though it had deeper meaning since Master told them the legend of this place.
They sat by the broken altar, munching on stolen pickled plums.
"Where the hell is Argon?" Arma grumbled, licking his fingers.
"Still figuring out how to sneak past his dad's ten guards."
Kamui replied, tossing a plum pit into the darkness. "He'd better bring the rice balls this time. I miss his nerdy talks from time to time."
Deep down, Kamui feared that something had happened to his best friend.
But then, Kamui remembered, Arma, as he pointed to him.
Kamui smirked.
"You know, if your fighting style had a name, it'd be... 'Drunken Cartwheel.'"
Arma laughed, a thunderous sound.
"And yours would be 'Angry Porcupine Punch.'"They burst into laughter, shaking the ruined beams.
Then silence.
Kamui glanced up.
"Ever wonder why Ishido knows why this place is way up here? Or how does he even know the legend of it? Like, isn't it a little weird?"
Arma shrugged."Maybe, our Master is a mystery himself. In the 2 years I have been in the Dojo, I saw his knowledge being limitless, but we never questioned how he GETS this knowledge."
Kamui looked at him and said.
"It's like he lived for 200 years..."
Suddenly...
"I didn't know you thought that I was that old!"
A shadow glided over the stone floor. Ishido stepped out of the dusk like a ghost returning home. Long white robe. Calm steps. Hands behind his back.
The boys froze."Master—!" Before they could bow—
Bonk.
Bonk.
Both heads were smacked by Ishido's hand in perfect rhythm.
"What are you doing here?"
he scolded.
"What is this place to you?"
They rubbed their skulls, sheepish.
"Our dumpster!?" Arma offered.
"A hideout?" Kamui guessed.
Utsuro raised one palm slowly. The air shifted. The silence deepened.
Then he spoke. One word: "Mabitake."
And the world changed
The rotten wood of the temple shimmered. Dust lifted in reverse. Statues stood tall again. Bells chimed with voices of prayer. Suddenly, they weren't in ruins.
They were in a living, breathing temple of light.
In front of them stood a man—ancient, radiant, robed in emerald and gold. His fingers drew symbols in the air, carving fire into nothing. With a whisper, he summoned something from the earth...
Roots tore through the stone. Light split the sky. A massive tree burst forth, glowing with silver-blue leaves and golden bark, pulsing with memory.
The Tree of Echoes.
Kamui stepped back. Arma stopped breathing.
The tree sang — not in words, but in memory. Visions danced in its leaves: wars fought, promises broken, love lost, destinies whispered across generations.
They were both speechless.
The illusion faded. The ruined temple returned. But the Tree of Echoes remained. Rooted. Real. Alive.
Meanwhile, Argon, who was sleeping, felt the power and the call of the Tree of Echoes, as he had his dreams filled with its power.
Something that Argon had, meanwhile others didn't was, that he saw himself, the future him, older, bleeding from his body, as he held his sword up against the Special One himself...
as Argon woke up, unable to see who that was...but he knew this was related to his friends...to their Master...
Ishido stepped between them, his eyes more serious than ever."You two... and Argon..." he said softly."...are worthy of knowing the truth that lies in this tree."
Kamui turned slowly, his breath shallow."What is it, Master?"
Ishido smiled — not kindly, but like a man who had waited centuries to say these next words."A tree that saw the first Mabitake... and will whisper your destinies."
He looked at Kamui."A broken boy."
He looked at Arma. "A loud fool."
He thought of Argon. "The Mistaken One."
Then he grinned."And three... fated to shake the heavens."