Chapter 6 — The Fall of a Master
The hall of Ryuzen Katana Academy was darker than usual, its torches flickering against the cold stone walls like hesitant spirits. The ancient dojo, where legends were once forged and destinies decided, now echoed only one sound—the steady footsteps of Master Renga.
Kenji stood at the center, the forbidden katana Seijintō resting across his palms.
He didn't tremble. Not anymore.
Around him, instructors, students, and elders formed a tight ring, murmuring, judging, whispering of tradition… and betrayal.
"You refused to kill your opponent," Renga said, stepping forward. "You spat on the honor of the Almighty Fight."
Kenji's voice was low but firm. "Honor without mercy is just pride in disguise."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Master Renga's one eye narrowed.
"You challenge the code itself, boy?" he snarled.
"No. I challenge the part of us that forgot we were once human."
Silence. Until the master's blade hissed from its sheath—Kishiryū, a curved black katana with smoke-like etchings that shimmered like a serpent. A sword once said to cut lightning.
"Then I will remind you of our humanity… with death."
A few of the senior instructors tried to object. "Master, he is just a—"
But it was too late. Renga had already leapt forward.
---
The Duel Begins
The air warped. Renga's movements were too fast for the untrained eye. He struck downward with devastating force—
CLANG!
Kenji blocked it.
The crowd reeled.
Renga frowned. "You've grown."
Kenji didn't reply. Seijintō felt light in his hand, like it wanted to dance. Sparks flew with each clash—steel against steel, flame against storm. Renga's strikes were wide and crushing; Kenji's were narrow and calculated. He had no strength to waste.
With every blow, memories flashed:
The nights of crying into a cold pillow.
The laughter of classmates as he failed basic drills.
The night he found Seijintō, glowing in the forest, calling his name.
Now… he was holding his own.
---
The Final Strike
Renga roared and raised Kishiryū high, its blade crackling with raw ki. "You cannot change destiny!"
But Kenji whispered something—soft, almost too quiet to hear.
"Then I'll write a new one."
He slid beneath the master's strike with inhuman precision. Time slowed. A single, fluid motion—Seijintō shimmered blue-white and pierced straight through Renga's side.
Blood splattered across the dojo walls.
The master collapsed to one knee.
Gasps. Screams. A few students began to cry.
But Kenji didn't gloat. He didn't speak. He dropped to his knees and held his master's hand.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"You… wield it well," Renga rasped. "Too well. That blade… it's one of them…"
"One of what?"
But the master smiled, blood on his teeth. "It will bring you war. And you will bleed more than I ever did."
And then… he died.
---
Exile
No words were needed.
The elders looked at Kenji with eyes full of fear, not fury. Fear of the blade he held. Fear of what he had become.
"You are no longer one of us," said Elder Yukari. "Take your cursed sword and go. You are now banished… forever."
They burned his name from the academy records. Stripped him of his robe. He didn't cry. Not this time.
Kenji turned from the place that made him, broke him, and forced him to rise.
And without looking back, he walked into the rain.
---
Suspense End
That night, under the dripping canopy of a sleeping forest, Kenji lifted his shirt to reveal something new.
Etched across his back in glowing blue flame was a strange mark—a circular curse sigil wrapped in kanji no one recognized. It pulsed… like it was alive.
Far away, in a chamber of obsidian walls, a masked figure stirred. A scroll unfurled before him. One word glowed.
"Seijintō."
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