At seven years old, you held Mei Rokuro's hand in front of the other children and proudly declared that she was your best friend. That simple declaration slowly made the others begin to accept her.
At eight years old, you received news that Mei's family would soon be leaving for a faraway place. Mei told you that they were bound for deep space, where her parents—Uncle Rokuro and Aunt Megumi—would continue their research into life sciences.
You begged your parents to let you go with her, but they firmly refused.
So, on the day before Mei's departure, you carved a small wooden keepsake with plum blossoms and gave it to her as a farewell gift.
At nine years old, after Mei's absence, an emptiness gnawed at your heart. In that loneliness, you set yourself a goal: to become a life scientist, so you might one day stand by her side again.
At ten years old, you continued to ask your parents about Mei's whereabouts, all while studying diligently toward your dream.
At eleven years old, you graduated from the private school as the top student of your generation. A wandering swordsman noticed your skill with the blade and invited you to train under him. At first, you refused—but he tricked you, claiming that his home was filled with countless books, and if you became his disciple, he would introduce you to someone knowledgeable in life sciences.
At twelve years old, your swordsmanship advanced rapidly under his tutelage.
At thirteen years old, you defeated every disciple in the dojo, earning the title of a genius among the young. Your master gifted you an ancient sword, which you named "Nameless."
At fourteen, through your master's recommendation, you enlisted in the army to temper both your blade and spirit.
Until then, your path had been smooth, almost blessed.
But everything changed when you turned fifteen.
At fifteen, a Stellaron descended upon your homeland. Shortly after, the Antimatter Legion arrived, slaughtering indiscriminately.
In the chaos, your mother perished. Your father lost an arm.
When order began to return, your father sold everything the family owned, donating it all to the relief effort and the resistance forces. Then, despite your objections, he joined them himself.
At sixteen, the war dragged on. The Antimatter Legion was endless—like a tide of locusts crashing ceaselessly against the last bastions of humanity.
One day, you read your father's name on a casualty list. His entire volunteer unit had been annihilated during a desperate border defense, buying time for reinforcements that never arrived.
At seventeen, you discovered the source of this catastrophe: the Stellaron itself. Your master was chosen for the critical mission to destroy it.
But when you next saw him, he was no longer the man you knew. Corrupted by the Stellaron, he had become something else entirely.
Your fellow disciples, one after another, fell at his very hands. Before the mountain of corpses, you stood facing your master, the man who once guided you, your heart breaking with every memory.
You knew all of his techniques, every motion of his blade. As his direct pupil, it was your duty to end this tragedy.
But even with your brilliance—your original sword style, your unparalleled skill among youth—against the current Sword Champion, you had no chance.
You had only two choices: evade and watch more innocents butchered… or fight until the end, with death almost certain.
Your heart gave you the answer. You chose the latter.
Beneath a setting sun dyed scarlet, you faced him. Although you foresaw every strike, your lack of experience sealed your fate.
His blade pierced your chest. The suffocating agony stole your strength, and yet, you tightened your grip on his sword, stalling him even for a breath longer.
In your final moment, your blood ran freely down the crimson blade.
Through the haze, the Amber King of Preservation looked upon you in silence. Golden energy briefly dulled your pain. With your last ounce of strength, you raised "Nameless" overhead—and struck.
Shirakawa Hibiki knelt amidst a sea of blood and mangled corpses, both Antimatter Legion and fallen comrades alike. His vision blurred red, body trembling as he clutched the sword still embedded in his chest.
He knew his wounds were fatal. He did not pull the steel free—there was no point.
One by one, he recalled what had been lost: his parents, his friends, his disciples… and finally, his own master, by his own hand.
Now, only he remained.
Exhaustion dragged at his eyelids. Slowly, they closed.
In the fading dark, he drifted back to childhood memories—
Snow falling softly in the courtyard. The faint smoke of incense rising in the corridors. Wooden boxes filled with pastries stacked neatly by his mother's hands.
He remembered chasing plum blossoms in the garden while his father threatened discipline with a broom. He remembered hiding in his mother's embrace, sticking out his tongue at his father.
He remembered racing to Mei's house to tuck those blossoms into her long hair.
He even remembered that sly master, tricking him into discipleship with promises of sacred texts—when in truth, his home had been full of cheap comic books.
And his senior disciples, who practiced swordplay for five minutes before vanishing to raid bird's nests for two hours.
Those fleeting, carefree days returned to him.
Until—
The delicate sound of a ruan flowed into his ears.
Hibiki stirred, his eyes fluttering open. Pain still throbbed in his chest, but he felt the softness of a bed beneath him.
"…I… didn't die? Where am I?"
Clutching the bandages on his chest, he forced himself upright. He looked around, realizing at once—
This was a young woman's chamber.
The ruan's music drifted in from outside.
Hibiki staggered across the room, pushing the door open.
There, in the courtyard, sat a young woman.
She wore a flowing green dress. Her long black hair was bound with a pair of jade pins. Her hands moved gently over the strings of her ruan. Her eyes, clear as cut jade, gazed distantly at the falling plum blossoms.
When she sensed Hibiki's presence, she slowly lifted her head. A faint smile crossed her lips—gentle, serene, almost divine.
"…Long time no see."