Meiji 40 (1907) — Mid Winter
Kai — Age 15
The road south was narrow and snow-dusted, winding through hills stripped bare by winter. Their footprints overlapped—four sets moving together, never quite out of sync.
This was life now.
No gates.
No lantern-lit estates.
Just the road, the crows, and whatever waited at the end of the path.
They hadn't gone far before the whispers started.
Not spoken aloud—at first.
Traveling swordsmen noticed things. The way Kai walked at the center of their loose formation. The way the girls unconsciously adjusted around him. And, inevitably—
The blade.
It happened at a roadside tea house.
The owner bowed deeply, hands shaking slightly as he served them. His eyes flicked, again and again, to the sword at Kai's side.
Black scabbard.
Unmistakable.
"…Excuse me," the man said finally, voice low. "Young sir."
Kai looked up calmly. "Yes?"
"That sword—"
The room went quiet.
A few patrons pretended not to listen. None of them fooled anyone.
"Is it true?" the man asked. "A black Nichirin… does that mean—"
"No," Kai said gently. "It means it's black."
A ripple of awkward laughter followed.
But the unease lingered.
Outside, once they were back on the road, Mitsuri puffed her cheeks. "Why do people look so nervous? It's just a color!"
Kanae glanced sideways at Kai. "It isn't just a color."
Shinobu folded her arms. "Black blades are rare. Historically… their wielders tend not to live long."
Mitsuri stopped walking. "That's a horrible thing to say!"
"It's a factual thing," Shinobu replied lightly—then paused, softer. "But history isn't destiny."
Kai hadn't reacted at all.
"I don't mind," he said. "Let them speculate."
Kanae studied him. "You're unusually calm about being the subject of ominous legends."
He shrugged. "I've been an omen since I was born."
That earned him three different reactions at once.
Mitsuri gasped.
Kanae frowned.
Shinobu snorted. "Dramatic."
---
Public reactions were… complicated.
Some villagers bowed too deeply. Some avoided eye contact altogether. A few whispered prayers under their breath when Kai passed.
Others—mostly children—stared openly, curiosity overpowering fear.
One little boy tugged on Kai's sleeve as they passed through a market town.
"Mister," he asked, eyes huge, "are you really gonna die because your sword's black?"
Mitsuri inhaled sharply.
Kai crouched down, meeting the boy at eye level.
"Everyone dies eventually," he said calmly. "But not today."
The boy considered this.
Then grinned. "Cool."
And ran off.
Mitsuri laughed weakly once they were alone again. "You're… disturbingly good at that."
"At what?"
"Being terrifying and reassuring at the same time."
Shinobu smirked. "It's a talent."
---
Privately—
It was different.
That night, they camped beneath a leaning cedar, fire crackling softly. Snow fell in thin, quiet strands.
Kanae brewed tea. Mitsuri hovered near Kai, pretending not to worry. Shinobu sharpened her blade with slow, deliberate strokes.
"Kai," Kanae said eventually. "Does it bother you?"
He didn't pretend not to understand.
"No," he answered. "But I notice."
Shinobu paused. "Notice what?"
"How people start measuring distance," he said. "How they decide who I'll become before I act."
Mitsuri clenched her hands. "That's not fair."
"No," Kai agreed. "But it's useful."
Kanae tilted her head. "Useful?"
"If they expect tragedy," he said quietly, "then hope becomes something I give them—not something they demand."
The fire popped.
Shinobu resumed sharpening. "You're strange."
"Compliment?"
"Observation."
Mitsuri scooted closer, resting her shoulder against his arm. "Well, too bad. We already decided who you are."
He glanced down at her. "Oh?"
She smiled, bright even in the firelight. "Ours."
Shinobu rolled her eyes. Kanae smiled softly.
Kai didn't pull away.
---
Travel settled into rhythm.
Mitsuri complained about the cold until she forgot about it. Shinobu teased her relentlessly, then wordlessly handed over extra gloves. Kanae mediated arguments before they fully formed.
They sparred during breaks.
Not to train—just to move.
Mitsuri laughed when Kai redirected her strikes effortlessly. Shinobu tried to tag him with blinding speed and failed every time. Kanae studied him quietly, noting things even he didn't realize he was doing.
"You don't waste motion," she said one afternoon.
"I don't like unnecessary things," Kai replied.
Shinobu smirked. "Yet you tolerate Mitsuri."
Mitsuri gasped. "Hey!"
He smiled faintly. "She's not unnecessary."
The road wasn't always gentle.
They passed burned-out homes. Fresh graves. Signs of demons they had just missed.
One night, Shinobu sat awake longer than usual, staring into the dark.
Kanae noticed. "You're thinking too loudly."
Shinobu sighed. "I keep wondering which rumor will reach us first. That the black blade brings death… or that it brings salvation."
Kai listened quietly.
"Both," he said eventually.
Shinobu looked at him.
"I'll be blamed for what I can't save," he continued. "And praised for what I do. Neither changes the work."
Kanae nodded. "That's leadership."
Mitsuri blinked. "Is it?"
"Yes," Kanae said. "The kind that doesn't ask for permission."
---
By the time their first official mission crow arrived, the road no longer felt strange.
It felt theirs.
The crow circled once overhead.
Then landed.
"TROUBLE AHEAD," it announced. "VILLAGE. DISAPPEARANCES. MOVE QUICKLY."
Mitsuri straightened instantly. Shinobu's eyes sharpened. Kanae's posture aligned.
Kai stood.
Black blade resting at his side.
Public whispers would follow him.
Private bonds would steady him.
And somewhere ahead—
Reality waited.
He stepped onto the road without hesitation.
And the others followed.
---