THE ETERNAL SWORDSMAN
Chapter 10: ONE OF SHADOWS PART 1
The night air of the training grounds was cool, touched with the scent of pine and iron. Lanterns flickered faintly along the courtyard walls, casting long shadows that stretched like ghosts across the dirt. A few years ago before Shibuya burned, before the rebellion, before the name Juzou Sasesage struck fear or respect he was simply a young swordsman, training under the watchful gaze of his master, Kanyko Ryoiten.
The sound of clashing steel rang sharply, each strike echoing in the silence. Juzou's breath was ragged, his grip trembling on the hilt of his katana. Kanyko, calm as an unmoving mountain, deflected every strike with ease.
"You're distracted, Juzou," Kanyko's voice was steady, not scolding, but heavy with the weight of truth. His long, weathered fingers spun his blade effortlessly, like a farmer twirling a sickle. "Your mind is elsewhere. A sword with a wandering spirit is nothing but dead iron."
Juzou clenched his teeth, trying to steady his breathing. I can't stop thinking about it. The forest, the Hollowkind… what we saw. The memory of that night carved itself into his skull the writhing beasts, the panic, the whispers of his comrades. He had heard the elders murmur afterward, caught the look of concern on Headmaster Hiyori's face, and worst of all, seen the cold suspicion in Ukoten's eyes.
They thought he was dangerous. A threat. Even when he hadn't done anything but survive.
The weight of those thoughts made his strikes sloppy. Kanyko slipped past his guard, his blade kissing Juzou's shoulder before he could react. Pain flared, and Juzou stumbled back.
"Lost in your head again," Kanyko said, lowering his sword. His bright yellow eyes studied Juzou carefully. "The forest will haunt you as long as you let it. But the enemy we fight does not wait for your doubts to settle."
Juzou bit his lip, shame burning hotter than the cut on his shoulder. He bowed, but the tremble in his knees betrayed him.
A week later, dawn spilled across the compound. The smell of steamed rice drifted faintly from the kitchens, but Juzou had no appetite. He stood stiffly in the courtyard, confused, as Master Kanyko gathered the division together.
Kanyko's voice cut through the crisp morning air. "From this day forward, Juzou Sasesage will serve as my new personal assistant."
The words struck like thunder. For a moment, Juzou thought he'd misheard. Him? A PA? His eyes widened, disbelief flooding his veins.
The other swordsmen whispered among themselves, some surprised, some dismissive. But Kanyko continued as if their murmurs didn't matter.
"He has endured trials that would have broken many of you. He has spirit, and he has potential. That is enough for me."
Juzou felt his chest tighten. A wave of joy surged, unsteady and overwhelming. For the first time in months, his doubts seemed to crack. He clenched his fist, punching the air slightly in a rare burst of boyish pride. "Y-yes, Master! I won't fail you!"
Off to the side, leaning casually against a wooden post, Headmaster Hiyori watched. His straw hat tilted low, hiding his expression, but beneath it, there was the faintest curve of a smile.
Days blurred into routine. Training, missions, endless practice. But one night, beneath a swollen purple moon, Juzou found himself restless.
He sat cross-legged in his quarters, staring at his blade. In Raiken form, the weapon pulsed faintly, a sinister glow weaving along its edges. He reached out, brushing his fingers against the cold steel.
The moment his skin touched it, a whisper slid into his ears. Faint, almost drowned by the rustle of the wind, but there.
"Master why do you kill us?" As if its a childs voice
Juzou froze, breath caught. His heart pounded, but he couldn't pull away.
"We exist because of them. Because of humans. Their hatred. Their grief. Their weakness. And yet… you slaughter us."
His chest ached. The words coiled inside him, like smoke filling his lungs. He thought of the Hollowkind he'd faced, their twisted bodies, their screeches of despair. But hadn't he also seen their eyes? Eyes that once were human? Which it being deception never crossed his mind
"Why… do we kill them?" he whispered aloud, his voice cracking. "They're only born from what humans can't control. From emotions we drown in."
The whispers grew louder, more insistent. Juzou pressed the blade harder, gripping it with his bare palm. Pain tore across his hand as the edge sliced flesh, blood dripping onto the floor.
His eyes sharpened, a feral determination burning. "It will have to be different," he hissed, blood mixing with steel. "I'll make it different."
Elsewhere, the night was calm until it wasn't.
Headmaster Hiyori slept lightly in his office, legs stretched on his desk, straw hat covering his face. He seemed at peace, but his senses were always alert. When the glass shattered, his body moved before thought. A blade whistled through the air, and he twisted, narrowly avoiding the strike, at hypersonic speed.
His hand gripped his sword in an instant, eyes flicking to the intruder.
A man stood framed by the broken window. A cloak draped over his shoulders, concealing most of his body, but his long, straight black hair spilled free. Only his lips were visible under the shadows.
"You," Hiyori said coolly, his voice carrying both familiarity and disdain.
The man tilted his head. "Hey there, Hiyori. It's been a while. Would you mind telling me…" His voice dropped, dripping with venom. "…where is my brother?"
Hiyori's hand tightened on his blade. His tone dropped low, dangerous. "Senju."
The intruder smirked faintly, though his eyes remained hidden. "So, you won't tell me. I expected as much." He took a step forward, the floor creaking under his boots. "Then hear this instead. We 'the Destroyers' declare war on the Hitorika Swordsmen. Every one of you will be purged."
Hiyori's expression hardened. His hat shadowed his eyes, but his jaw clenched. "…A civil war, then."
The cloaked Senju gave no answer. He vanished in an instant, disappearing like smoke. Only the faint hum of steel remained where his blade had been.
Hiyori exhaled slowly, the weight of his words pressing heavy in the silence.
Two weeks later, tension gripped the compound. Whispers of rebellion, of Destroyers gathering, of war looming it pressed against every corridor like a storm before thunder.
In his quarters, Juzou sat by the window, staring out at the fading sun. His blade rested beside him. He whispered softly to himself, voice trembling. "Should I… even fight in this war?"
A voice answered. "You don't have to, Juzou."
He turned sharply. Master Kanyko stood by the window, his face illuminated by the last rays of dusk. His voice was gentle, steady, like a father's.
"It's alright to feel fear. To hesitate. It makes you human. No one forces you to fight. That burden is mine, not yours."
Juzou's fist clenched. He wanted to agree, to let the fear win. But as Kanyko smiled faintly and turned to leave, another voice cut through the silence.
"He's right, you know."
Juzou whipped around. Another figure stood by the door a man in his twenties, tall, broad-shouldered, his mouth concealed by a black cloth mask. His dark straight hair framed piercing, muted eyes that seemed to cut through him.
"Master… Senjurai Omotski," Juzou breathed. Division 6's master at that time. Elder brother of Heburai.
Senjurai stepped closer, his presence heavy as iron. "But remember this. You're here because of someone. Every blade must have a reason to be drawn. You don't have to fight for pride, or duty, or even for yourself. But you will fight for someone. Decide who it is."
Juzou swallowed, the words striking deep.
Senjurai's eyes softened, just slightly. "Don't be an illiterate brat, Juzou. Even you must have someone worth dying for. I fight to protect. For you… there has to be at least one person who makes that blade worth holding."
He turned, fading into the shadows as quickly as he had appeared.
Juzou's lips trembled, but then firmed. His voice was steady now. "You're right. I will fight. For you, Headmaster. And for you, Master Kanyko."
The war came and went in fire and steel.
The battlefield was a blur of blood and smoke. Screams cut through the night, blades flashed, and the Hollowkind roared alongside traitorous swordsmen who had sworn themselves as Destroyers. The sky burned crimson.
When the fires finally faded, the Hitorika compound lay in ruins. Walls scorched, towers toppled, courtyards stained with blood. The air stank of ash.
Juzou stumbled through the wreckage, his body covered in cuts, blood dripping from his arm. His blade was cracked, but still clutched in his hand. He coughed, forcing himself forward.
And then he saw it.
Headmaster Hiyori's body lay in the center of the shattered courtyard. His straw hat lay broken beside him. His neck was slashed, a gaping wound that no healer could mend. Dozens of blades pinned his body to the earth, like cruel markers of betrayal.
Juzou froze. His heart stopped, then shattered.
"No…" His voice broke, his knees giving way. He stumbled forward, collapsing in the dirt, staring at the lifeless figure of the man who had once smiled faintly at his promotion.
"Headmaster Hiyori is… dead."
The words left him in a hollow whisper, carried by the wind.
Above him, smoke still curled into the night sky. The civil war was over. The Hitorika Swordsman had won but at a cost that would echo forever.
TO BE CONTINUED...