The morning air was sharp and cool, dew still clinging to the grass as three figures gathered in a small clearing hidden deep within the forest. Birds cried overhead, but the sound was drowned out by the steady thwack of wood meeting wood.
Yoshiki Takahiro's breath came fast but steady as he struck forward, wooden blade angled like a predator's claw. His body moved with a rhythm honed from years of practice, every strike echoing with the weight of his conviction.
Across from him, Hikaru Hayashi grimaced, barely raising his own practice sword in time to block. "Yoshiki!" he grunted, stumbling back under the pressure. "What are you trying to do, kill me?"
"You'll thank me later," Yoshiki snapped, pressing the attack. His strikes weren't wild—they were calculated, relentless, a storm contained in human form. "The enemy won't go easy on you. Neither will I."
"The enemy doesn't even exist!" Hikaru shouted, finally breaking free with a wide, clumsy swing."You've been talking about war for years, but we've never even seen another human outside this island!"
Yoshiki blocked, twisted, and knocked Hikaru's sword aside in one smooth motion. The blade stopped inches from Hikaru's neck. His eyes burned, not with malice, but with a fire that made Hikaru flinch.
"They'll come," Yoshiki said coldly. "And when they do, being unprepared will kill you faster than any blade."
"Yoshiki…"
Yuzuriha Mori's voice carried softly from where she knelt, her satchel of herbs open at her side. She had been silently observing, her notebook balanced on her knee as she scribbled notes between glances.
"You push him too hard," she said, though her tone was calm, not accusing.
Yoshiki lowered his sword but didn't look away from Hikaru. "He has to be ready."
Hikaru dropped onto the grass, sweat dripping from his brow, his chest rising and falling like a bellows. "Ready for what? Your ghost stories?"
The words stung, but Yoshiki didn't answer. He couldn't—not when his grandfather's voice still echoed inside him.
Instead, he turned and strode toward the edge of the clearing. The forest spread out before them, vast and alive. Shafts of sunlight pierced through the canopy, glinting against stones embedded in the soil.
Glowing stones.
Yuzuriha followed his gaze. She had seen them too—strange veins of mineral threaded through tree roots and rocks, faintly pulsing with light. They were beautiful, but also unsettling.
She closed her notebook and stood. "I've been tracking these stones," she said, walking closer to one. "They're everywhere now. And not just stones. The plants near them… they're changing. Stronger, faster-growing. Some even glow at night."
Hikaru groaned, sprawling on the grass. "Great. More glowing rocks. I'll start worrying when they sprout legs and chase us."
But Yoshiki stepped closer, crouching near the stone. He pressed his hand against it, his fingers brushing over the faintly warm surface.
And then—
Thrum.
It was faint, like a heartbeat, deep in the earth. For a moment, Yoshiki froze. The sound didn't come through his ears—it resonated in his bones.
He drew in a sharp breath, pulling his hand back.
"…Did you hear that?" he whispered.
Yuzuriha tilted her head. "Hear what?"
"The ground," Yoshiki said. His pulse raced, his chest tightening with something between awe and fear. "It was like… a drum. A heartbeat."
Hikaru sat up, squinting at him. "Now you're hearing things? I think you hit your head too many times with that wooden sword."
But Yuzuriha didn't laugh. Her sharp eyes studied Yoshiki carefully. She hadn't heard it herself, but she remembered the hum she thought she'd imagined last night. Could it be connected?
She reached for the stone, pressing her own palm against its surface. At first—nothing. Cold, hard, silent. Then, faintly, she felt warmth. Not sound, but a vibration, like the air holding its breath.
Her eyes widened slightly, but she pulled her hand away before the boys noticed. "Strange," she murmured, jotting something in her notebook.
Yoshiki turned back toward Hikaru, his jaw set. "You see? This island isn't normal. The land itself is alive. My grandfather knew. That's why we have to prepare."
Hikaru threw up his hands. "Even if you're right, what good is swinging sticks at each other going to do against—what? A heartbeat? A humming rock? An army we don't even know exists?"
Yoshiki's grip tightened on his sword. "Because when the time comes, skill will be all we have."
The clearing fell into tense silence. Only the rustle of leaves filled the air.
Then, as if to punctuate Yoshiki's words, a wind swept suddenly through the trees, sharp and cold. The branches swayed violently though no storm brewed above. For a brief second, the stones glowed brighter, and the ground seemed to pulse.
Yuzuriha's eyes darted toward Yoshiki. He stood frozen, staring at the forest like he could hear something neither of them could.
The song of the island stirred again.
And none of them yet understood that it was only just beginning to awaken.