THE ETERNAL SWORDSMAN
Prologue : A Blade from the Moon
The lanterns of Tetsuryūryū Dojo swayed in the midnight breeze, their golden glow painting shifting shadows across the courtyard. Hiruko Kyotetsu sprinted past them, his sneakers skidding on the flagstones as he vaulted the front step. Royal-blue hair, untamed and spiked from the wind, caught the lanternlight, shimmering like ocean waves under moonlight.
"Damn it, late again." He muttered, tugging his gym bag higher on his shoulder. His lungs burned, but not from exhaustion he had enough stamina to outpace the track team for laps. It was just his sensei's temper he dreaded.
Inside, the dojo smelled of polished wood, chalk, and the faint iron tang of sweat. Students were already kneeling in neat rows, their white uniforms crisp and spotless. Hiruko barged in, shirt untucked, shoes still on. Sensei Siete's brows drew low and sharp.
"Kyotetsu!" the man barked, voice slicing the quiet like a blade. "Tardiness is weakness."
Hiruko scratched the back of his head, grinning sheepishly. "C'mon, Sensei. I was running laps before this. You know I gotta keep my speed sharp."
"Excuses." The dojo master jabbed a finger toward the mat. "Face Buroue. Now."
A ripple of surprise ran through the students. Hiruko's grin widened. "Bet."
Kohei Buroue, broad-shouldered and twice Hiruko's weight, stepped onto the mat. The two bowed, but Hiruko's eyes gleamed with mischief. As soon as the clap echoed to start, Kohei lunged forward, heavy hands raised.
Hiruko didn't even flinch. A slip, a pivot, and his palm shot into Kohei's chest with explosive precision. The bigger boy hit the mat, air blasted from his lungs. The dojo fell silent.
A chuckle escaped Hiruko's lips. "Man, that was quick. Sorry, bro ya good?"
Kohei coughed, nodding faintly, but the silence wasn't admiration. It was disbelief.
Sensei Siete's eyes narrowed to slits. Without a word, he stormed onto the mat.
"Hiruko!" His fist lashed out like lightning.
Startled, Hiruko raised his arms but his body moved on instinct. A block here, a sidestep there, his counters smooth, effortless. His sneakers squeaked against the floor as he flowed around his master's strikes. Then one clean counter-strike landed against Siete's ribs. The man staggered back.
Whispers filled the hall.
Before anything else could escalate, a heavy voice cut through:
"Enough."
The crowd parted as Master Rika entered. Tall, steel-eyed, with hair white as frost, the headmaster's presence silenced even the restless lantern flames. He lifted a single hand, and Sensei Siete froze mid-motion.
Later, in his office a room of lacquered wood, old scrolls, and ink-painted landscapes Master Rika studied Hiruko. The boy shifted under his gaze, restless, tapping his foot.
"You are… unnatural," the master murmured, as if to himself. His gaze was sharp enough to pierce flesh. "If you continue this path, Hiruko Kyotetsu, you may become the greatest this dojo no… this world has ever seen."
Hiruko blinked. "…That's crazy. I mean, I'm good, yeah, but the best in the world? Nah, you're reaching."
The master said nothing more. Hiruko left, that phrase echoing in his mind.
Unnatural. Greatest in the world.
He scoffed under his breath. "Maybe I'm just not that strong."
Outside, night had deepened. The dojo gates creaked closed, lanterns dimmed to embers. Hiruko lingered at the shrine's weathered statue, the stone face bathed in silver moonlight. He crossed his arms, pouting like a kid denied candy.
"Strongest, huh? Sounds like a shōnen anime plot. Guess that makes me the main character." He smirked, but the weight of the words pressed deeper than he let on.
A faint sound drew his attention the dojo TV in the lounge. A news report flickered, showing grainy footage: shadows twisting at the city's outskirts. Journalists spoke of "disturbances," "unexplained figures," and "rips in space."
"Ghost stories," Hiruko muttered. "Bet it's just some drunk dudes in cosplay."
A fellow student, quiet and lean, passed by. "Sometimes," he said softly, "you have to believe in things… even if you don't."
Hiruko tilted his head. "…That's deep, bro. You been reading philosophy books again?" But the words stuck in his mind as he headed home.
The night grew colder. Clouds devoured the stars. The city slept uneasily.
And then
NARRATOR:
"In the human world, emotions weigh more than flesh. Anger, jealousy, despair when gathered in great floods, they curdle into something else. That vile energy tears open reality itself, birthing monstrosities from a realm unseen. They are called… Hollowkind."
The air shivered. Space itself warped like shattered glass. From the rift, a colossal form emerged.
It towered over rooftops, a beast of shadow so dark it devoured the streetlights. Claws scraped the pavement, leaving molten gouges. Its eyes burning red and purple—glared with hunger. A grotesque tongue slithered past broken-glass fangs.
It hissed one word: "Hu…man…"
Hiruko froze, every vein iced over. "…What the hell?"
The Hollowkind lunged. Instinct screamed. Hiruko bolted, sneakers pounding the asphalt. The monster's footfalls shook the ground like earthquakes, each roar a jagged knife in the night air.
Streetlights flickered. Shadows stretched and snapped. Hiruko cut into an alley, lungs burning.
The beast smashed after him. Claws swiped he barely ducked. A wall crumbled. Dust choked his throat. Then, with bone-shaking force, a colossal fist struck.
Pain exploded across his ribs. He crashed into concrete, vision swimming. Blood filled his mouth.
His eyes darted. A steel guardrail lay twisted nearby. He crawled, snatched it, gripped tight. His hands shook, but he swung with every ounce of fear-driven strength. Metal clanged uselessly against hide.
The Hollowkind snarled, claws tearing down. Hiruko's body crumpled against the wall, air crushed from his chest. His vision narrowed to black.
Is this it?
Flashes of memory burned his father's worn hands setting dinner on the table, the quiet strength in his smile. The man who raised him alone.
"No…" Hiruko rasped, voice cracked. "I… I have to live. For Dad. Even if I have to kill you…"
Blue eyes blazed. Somewhere deep inside, something stirred. A spark of Karma Energy awakened.
Above, the moon pulsed. Its silver glow warped, a shaft of light descending like a falling star.
With a soundless thrum, a blade appeared ancient, celestial. A katana of silver steel and faint blue light slammed into the asphalt before him.
Hiruko reached. His fingers curled around the hilt. A surge ripped through him, every nerve ablaze. His body hummed with energy raw, unrefined, but alive.
The Hollowkind roared, charging. Hiruko rose, staggering, katana steady. The blade hummed with pale-blue Karma Energy, alive as though breathing with him.
"Alright… let's see what this baby can do."
The monster lunged. Hiruko swung.
One strike. A perfect arc of light.
The Hollowkind froze mid-roar. Its form fractured into streams of shadow, evaporating like mist at sunrise, it was decapitated and returned to nothing. Silence rushed in, deafening.
Hiruko dropped to one knee, chest heaving, hands trembling around the hilt. The katana's glow dimmed, but moonlight lingered, as if watching him.
He whispered, almost laughing: "It's… over."
The weapon lay gleaming faintly. He reached again, but stopped. "No way Dad would believe this. Guess this one's my little secret."
Above, the moon drifted free of clouds, light washing the alley. The quiet returned, but it was not the same. The world had shifted.
For Hiruko Kyotetsu, life would never be ordinary again.
"The quiet tension between worlds lingers as the real world resumes its stillness but for him it will be a whole lot different."
To be continued…