Chapter 10 – The Village That Forgot Itself
The Almighty Katana: 全能の刀 (Zennō no Katana)
Season 1: Exile of the Blade
By Paul Richard
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The path to the forgotten village was never marked.
No map recorded it. No traveler remembered it. Even Old Man Hiro had hesitated before drawing a shaky circle around the name Iwakura-mura—a settlement buried in time and sorrow.
Kenji and Kaede passed through twisted groves and winding mountain trails. The farther they walked, the more reality seemed to blur. Birds flew in reversed patterns. Trees bloomed and withered in the span of a breath. Time moved oddly—sunlight lengthened then shrank, like an old man breathing his last.
Finally, just as the sky began to shiver into dusk, they reached it.
The village was silent. Not the peaceful kind—but the kind where even memory dared not speak.
Dozens of thatched-roof homes stood in neat rows, but no fire burned, no rice steamed, and no footsteps sounded. The villagers—if they still were villagers—sat in doorways, unmoving. Their eyes open. Staring. Distant.
Kaede whispered, "This place… it's been cursed."
Kenji nodded, but the Seijintō's glow stayed dim. No threat. Not yet.
A child emerged from a nearby alley. His eyes were wide, his hands shaking. But he didn't speak. He simply handed Kenji a scrap of parchment and pointed to the shrine at the village's center.
Then he walked away… and vanished mid-step, as if memory failed to finish painting him.
Kenji opened the note. It read in crude ink:
> "Please… remember us."
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The Shrine of the Forgotten
The shrine was massive. Carved into the cliffside, its doors chained with rusted gold. As they entered, the air turned cold, and a dull pulse echoed beneath their feet.
Kaede stepped closer to the altar and froze. "Kenji…"
He followed her gaze.
There, impaled into the base of the altar… was a katana. Black steel with silver veins, humming like a heartbeat. Around it, dozens of name tags—some childlike, some old—pinned to the walls. Each one faded. Each one unreadable.
Kaede touched one and suddenly gasped. Her body shivered.
Kenji grabbed her arm. "What did you see?"
Kaede was shaking. "I saw a memory. A wedding. A fire. Then… nothing. My name vanished."
Kenji's eyes widened. "This sword doesn't kill people…"
> "It erases them."
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The Katana of Oblivion
Kenji reached for the blade.
Seijintō began to vibrate violently, resisting. His vision blurred—and in that moment, the shrine transformed.
He stood in a mirror world.
Kaede was gone. The village was aflame. People screamed, but their mouths made no sound. The altar pulsed red. A masked warrior stood before him, wielding the black katana.
> "You remember too much," the man said, voice emotionless.
Kenji gritted his teeth. "Who are you?"
> "I am Tsuyoi of the Silent Flame. Guardian of the Forgotten. You were never meant to find this place."
He charged.
Kenji barely had time to raise Seijintō.
Their blades clashed—reality cracking around them like shattered glass. Tsuyoi's blade sapped light, drained motion. Every time it struck, a part of Kenji's memory flickered: the academy, his mother's smile, the night he found Seijintō.
Gone. Just for a second. But it was enough.
> "This sword doesn't just erase names," Tsuyoi said. "It eats identity."
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Suspense Ending
Kenji roared and pushed back with all his strength, channeling everything Seijintō had left.
Light burst from the blade, carving open the illusion.
He woke in the real shrine, panting. Kaede was unconscious.
The black katana?
Gone.
But in its place… a new name had been etched on the altar.
KA-E-D-E
Kenji dropped to his knees, shaking her.
> "Kaede… Kaede, remember me. Please…"
She opened her eyes.
And whispered:
> "Who… are you?"
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