Chapter 7 – Whispers in the Bamboo Forest
Season 1: Exile of the Blade
全能の刀 (Zennō no Katana)
The bamboo forest whispered.
Not with wind or wildlife, but with voices Kenji couldn't place—voices that had no source, no mouth. Every step he took crackled against leaves damp from morning dew, yet the deeper he went, the more even the birds dared not sing.
He had left the twisted illusions of the shrine behind him two nights ago, but the wear in his steps hadn't faded. His wounds, bandaged in haste, itched under his robes. His mind swirled with questions: Why did the yokai recognize my blade? What is this katana truly? The words still echoed in his thoughts like a curse:
"One of the Chosen Hundred..."
The forest grew denser. Sunlight struggled to reach the moss-covered floor, filtered through swaying stalks of green. Somewhere in this eerie quiet, a village healer was said to live—a woman whose herbs could restore wounds that even spirit blades couldn't close.
Kenji didn't believe in miracles.
He only believed in movement.
And yet… he paused.
A soft humming.
Not the voices again—this was real. Feminine. Gentle. Almost mournful. Following the sound, he stepped through a veil of hanging leaves and into a hidden clearing.
A woman knelt beside a small brook, grinding herbs with a smooth stone. Her long black hair flowed like ink down her back, and she wore a cloak embroidered with a lotus flower—faded, but intricate. Her back was to him, yet she spoke first.
> "You've walked far, Kenji Sora of Hoshikawa."
Kenji's hand instinctively brushed Seijintō's hilt.
> "How do you know my name?"
She didn't turn. Her hands remained calm.
> "The blade at your side whispers louder than most."
Now she stood, finally revealing her face. She was no older than twenty, but her eyes carried the weight of ages. Pale, stormy-gray. The kind that had seen war—and worse.
> "I'm Kaede Mizuno. Healer. Wanderer. Listener of forgotten voices."
Kenji frowned. "Then you know what this is?" He drew Seijintō slightly, just enough to let its faint blue light glow across the clearing.
Kaede stepped forward, slowly. Her hand reached out—but stopped inches away.
> "I know of it. But only the sword chooses who can know it fully."
> "Then why does it keep choosing me?" he muttered.
> "Because you keep surviving," she said simply.
They sat by the brook. Kenji told her only fragments of his journey. The shrine. The cursed yokai. The illusion. The creature that called his blade 'one of the Hundred.' Her eyes widened slightly at that.
> "Then it's true," she said softly. "The Hundred are awakening."
Kenji turned sharply. "What are the Hundred?"
Kaede looked up at the forest canopy. "A legend. A nightmare. A forgotten war. A hundred katanas forged by hands not entirely human—some for justice, others for vengeance. It was said they were scattered, cursed, or buried to keep them from turning the world into ash again."
She turned to him. "If yours is one of them… you won't be the only one being hunted."
Kenji clenched his fists. "Then I need answers. I need—"
Shing!
A blade slid from its sheath.
Not his.
Not hers.
Kaede froze. "He's here."
Kenji stood instantly, eyes scanning the treeline.
A figure emerged from the bamboo.
Draped in black. Face hidden behind a demon-shaped mask. His presence wasn't loud—but it was sharp. Every leaf around him seemed to recoil.
And in his hand… a katana etched with red flame-like curses that pulsed like veins.
> "Kenji Sora," the masked man said, voice low and hollow. "Return the blade. Or bleed for it."
Kaede gasped. "That's not a sword. That's a curse."
Kenji drew Seijintō.
Its glow deepened, flaring in response.
The masked man took a single step forward.
The wind stopped.
The forest held its breath.
And Kenji spoke just one word:
> "No."
Their blades clashed, and the clearing erupted into light and fury.
---
Suspense Ending:
As the fight rages, Kaede sees something horrifying—the masked man's blade and Seijintō are reacting together. Spirals of cursed light and holy flame wrap around both swords. They are not just legendary—they are linked.
> Kaede whispers to herself in horror:
"These blades… they remember each other."
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