THE ETERNAL SWORDSMAN
Chapter 3: The Gates of Hitorika
The journey stretched across rolling hills and ancient forests until, finally, the path ended at towering gates of obsidian stone. The gates loomed high into the sky, carved with runes that pulsed faintly with energy. Each stroke of the inscription felt alive, watching, measuring the worth of those who stood before it.
Hiruko paused, sweat beading on his temple. The vastness of the structure dwarfed everything he had seen before. It wasn't merely an entrance it was a decision.
Hayate stood beside him, arms folded, cloak fluttering in the morning wind. His sharp red eyes gleamed with both pride and indifference. "Don't gawk too long," he muttered, brushing a strand of black hair from his face. "This is only the beginning."
Two figures emerged from the shadows of the gate. Guards yet not ordinary men.
The first was dark-skinned, bald, with a body built like forged iron. His gaze was firm, unwavering, as if no enemy could ever break past him. His name carried the echo of steel: Hito.
Beside him stood a lighter counterpart: short blond hair cropped close to his head, fair skin that contrasted sharply against the stone. His expression held a quiet ease, almost playful in its sharpness. This was Chazz.
Both crossed their blades before the newcomers, the tips crackling faintly with condensed Karma Energy.
"Identify yourselves," Hito commanded, his voice deep enough to make the gates vibrate.
Before Hiruko could stammer, Master Hatake stepped forward. His very presence sent frost into the air, a cold authority that silenced even the gates' runes. "Stand down," Hatake said flatly. "They're mine."
Recognition flickered in Chazz's eyes; he quickly lowered his blade. Hito did the same, though his sharp gaze lingered on Hiruko, weighing him.
"Welcome back, Master Hatake," Chazz said, his voice respectful. "The headmaster has been expecting you."
The gates opened with a thunderous groan, revealing the legendary Hitorika Headquarters.
The headquarters was not merely a fortress; it was history carved into stone. Vast courtyards stretched into halls lined with banners, each bearing the insignia of a division. Training fields echoed with the clash of steel, young warriors sparring with precision that could cut the air itself. The scent of incense and sweat lingered together a temple of battle.
It was here that Hiruko's world shifted.
Though not all was shown outright, hints whispered in the air: masters moving through corridors, pupils gathering at their sides. Hiruko caught fragments of faces, fleeting presences that hinted at the power hidden here. And among them, truths began to surface.
Hayate was not just any swordsman. He bore the title of PA of Division Seven. His mpupil one of Hatake's equals was none other than his uncle, Mikoto Senju. Hiruko saw him only briefly: a tall man with long black hair flowing like ink, his bearing sharp, noble, almost identical to Hayate's. Their resemblance was uncanny, their presence heavy enough to silence the courtyard.
And he was not alone. Among the whispers came another name: Nemu Roiten, PA of Division Four. A pale young man with short white hair and eyes the color of winter storms. His scarf coiled around his neck like a serpent, and his gaze was distant, detached, yet chillingly precise. Where Hayate's aura flared bright and bold, Nemu's was quiet and suffocating, like ice spreading unseen across a pond, besides he his Master Hatake's nephew.
Later, Hatake led Hiruko deeper, through twisting halls of stone and flame-lit braziers, until they stood before an office door carved with silver inlay. Inside awaited a presence unlike any Hiruko had felt.
The Headmaster.
Ukoten Senju.
He sat behind a desk of ancient oak, long straight black hair cascading down his shoulders. A black and Royal blue samurai mask covered his mouth, regal and austere, but his eyes royal blue, framed by silver lashes shone with calm authority. His demeanor was that of a king who did not need to raise his voice to command loyalty.
"Hiruko," Ukoten said softly, as if speaking to kin long awaited. "Welcome home."
The words shook Hiruko. He wanted to ask how, why but the warmth in Ukoten's tone silenced him. This was not a place of questions. It was a place of fate.
Hatake inclined his head, ever the loyal soldier. "He will train under me."
Ukoten's gaze shifted to Hiruko again, piercing, unreadable. "Then teach him well. The path of a swordsman is not forgiving."
Training began at once.
Hatake took Hiruko to the sparring fields, where the air was heavy with spiritual residue. "Today," Hatake said, voice sharp as breaking ice, "you learn Raiken."
He demonstrated, his blade crackling with stormlight, arcs of electricity leaping from steel to stone. The very earth quaked beneath the strike.
"Again," Hatake ordered after Hiruko failed his first attempt. And again. And again.
For days, Hiruko practiced until his hands blistered, his body trembling with exhaustion. Sparks flickered at his fingertips but refused to take form. Still, he did not quit. Every failure etched determination deeper into his bones.
Then, one evening, a messenger summoned Hayate to the Headmaster's chamber. Hiruko lingered nearby, curiosity gnawing at him.
"Hayate," Ukoten said, his voice steady. "A mission awaits. You will lead it."
Hayate bowed. "Where?"
"Tokyo,west of Shibuya" Ukoten replied. "A nest of hollowkind has surfaced. You will purge it before it spreads." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Take PA Haku of Division Six. And bring Hiruko."
Hayate stiffened but did not argue. The command of the Headmaster was law And of his oldest uncle "As you will."
The gates groaned once more as another figure entered the headquarters.
A man walked with calm steps, long light-black hair flowing behind him, green eyes detached as though the world itself were beneath his notice. His name whispered among the guards: Haku.
Hito and Chazz greeted him, their voices formal. Haku ignored them, his gaze distant, as if they did not exist.
He passed another master short cyan hair, Division Three's Shinjiyu Kyoraku. The master paused, brow furrowing, and turned to his own division guards.
"What is with him?" he asked.
The guards shook their heads.
Shinjiyu only sighed, then handed them small parcels of food. "Eat. Strength comes before questions." Compassion softened his sharp features, the sign of a leader who valued his people.
Haku's path finally crossed Hayate's.
"So you're here," Hayate muttered, standing tall, hand on his blade. "We leave now. I'm leading."
Haku's expression barely shifted. Only the faintest flicker of annoyance crossed his face, as though Hayate's words were more troublesome than orders of death.
He said nothing. Silence was answer enough.
Hiruko joined them soon after, still sore from Raiken practice, but determination burning in his chest. Together, the three stood at the threshold of destiny: Hayate, Haku, and Hiruko.
Their blades shimmered faintly under the dawn light as they set out, the weight of their mission heavy upon them.
Ahead lay Shibuya.
Ahead lay the Kage.
Ahead lay blood.
And as the gates closed behind them, the world whispered only one truth
The purge had begun.
TO BE CONTINUED....