Toji's eyes opened to darkness. His body ached faintly, though nothing felt broken. He sat up, scanning his surroundings with sharp instincts. Trees stretched high above him, the forest air cool and damp.
He frowned. He didn't remember entering a forest.
His hand moved automatically to his side. The familiar weight of the Split Soul Katana rested there, wrapped in cloth. Relief flickered across his face for just a moment before vanishing into his usual calm.
"…Still here, huh."
He rose to his feet and started walking. His senses guided him—keen ears picking up faint movement, the subtle scent of iron riding the breeze. Blood.
The trail led him out of the forest and into a village. Or what was left of one. Houses were torn apart, the ground slick with crimson. Mangled bodies lay scattered in the streets.
Toji crouched by one of the corpses, studying the wounds. They weren't clean cuts from a blade. These were rips, tears—like an animal's claws.
A low growl rumbled from behind him.
He turned his head slowly. Out from the shadows lumbered a monstrous figure, taller than any man, its form grotesque and twisted. Its jaws split into a wide grin, sharp teeth glistening.
"You… still alive?" it rasped, drool dripping from its mouth. "Good. Fresh meat tastes better."
Toji's grip tightened on the cloth-wrapped hilt of his weapon. His expression stayed unreadable.
The thing lunged. Its claws carved through the air, fast—but not fast enough. In one fluid motion, Toji unsheathed the Split Soul Katana.
Shhk!
The blade severed its arm cleanly. The creature shrieked, staring in disbelief at the stump where its limb had been.
"What… what is this blade…?!"
Toji didn't answer. His next strike split its head, the Katana slicing deeper than flesh—splitting something more fundamental. The creature crumbled into ash, scattering into the wind.
Silence followed.
Toji wiped the blade, eyes narrowing. The body hadn't bled. It had… dissolved. Not like anything he'd seen before.
A faint whimper pulled his attention. From beneath the wreckage of a collapsed house, a child crawled out. Dirt streaked their face, eyes wide with terror.
Toji approached, looming over them. The kid flinched, expecting the same fate as the villagers.
"Relax, brat," Toji said flatly. He jerked his chin toward the wreckage. "Anyone else alive?"
The child shook their head, tears spilling down their cheeks. "N-no… just me…"
Toji studied them for a long moment, then turned away, sheathing his weapon.
"Then you'd better learn how to run. Things like that don't stop at one village."
The child blinked, confused by his words. But before they could say anything, the man was gone—his figure swallowed by mist and shadow, leaving behind only the lingering fear of the monster he had slain.
And so began the tale of a hunter with no allegiance, no Breathing, and no place in this land—armed only with the Split Soul Katana