Month: Early Summer
Year: Meiji Era
Age: Akira – 16 years old | Mitsuri – 16 years old
Location: Northern village outskirts | Kanroji estate
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Akira
Northern Village, Night
The road ended in quiet.
Too quiet.
No insects.
No dogs.
No lamps lit beyond the third house.
Akira crouched at the edge of the village, breathing steady, presence reduced to almost nothing. His uniform was concealed beneath travel clothes. Sword wrapped, unremarkable.
Great Sage evaluated calmly.
Confirmed hostile entity within village center.
Civilian survival probability: declining.
Engagement recommended.
Akira moved.
---
The demon revealed itself without subtlety.
A woman-shaped thing clung to the side of a house, skin stretched thin, mouth splitting wider as it sensed him. It dropped soundlessly, claws scraping stone.
Akira didn't flinch.
Hinokami Kagura —
Clear Blue Sky.
The strike took its head cleanly.
The body collapsed, twitching once before dissolving.
Too easy.
Akira kept moving.
---
The second demon was smarter.
It hid inside a home, mimicking breath, pulse, warmth. A family slept inside — unaware.
Akira stopped outside the door.
He listened.
One heartbeat too many.
He slid the door open and stepped inside.
The demon lunged.
Hinokami Kagura —
Fake Rainbow.
Akira vanished from its line of sight.
Sunflower Thrust followed immediately — precise, contained, lethal.
The demon died without waking the family.
Akira closed the door gently behind him.
---
By dawn, the village breathed again.
No bodies found.
No screams remembered.
Only a vague sense of safety returning.
Akira stood at the edge of the forest as sunlight crept over the horizon.
Great Sage concluded quietly.
Mission complete.
Threat eliminated.
Psychological impact on civilians: minimal.
Akira wiped his blade clean.
Controlled.
Terrifying — only to those who deserved it.
Clean.
He turned back toward the road.
Home awaited.
---
Mitsuri
Kanroji Estate, Day
Mitsuri stood before her parents with straight posture and steady breath.
Her hands did not shake.
"I want to train as a swordswoman," she said clearly.
Silence followed.
Her mother blinked.
Her father frowned slightly.
Her siblings leaned forward, curious.
"A swordswoman?" her father repeated.
"Yes," Mitsuri said. "Not for sport. Not for show."
Her chest rose and fell evenly.
"I want to become strong enough to protect people."
---
Her mother studied her carefully.
"This isn't sudden," she said.
Mitsuri nodded. "No."
"And this isn't about Akira," her father added, watching closely.
Mitsuri met his gaze. "…No. But he showed me it's possible."
That was the truth she was allowed to say.
---
Her mother exhaled slowly.
"You know," she said gently, "that this path won't be easy. That people will talk."
"I know."
"And that once you begin," her father said, "you may not be able to stop."
Mitsuri bowed deeply.
"I won't stop," she replied.
Not defiant.
Certain.
---
Her parents exchanged a look — long, wordless.
Then her mother smiled.
"If you're going to walk a difficult path," she said, "then you'll do it properly."
Her father nodded. "We'll find you a teacher."
Mitsuri's breath caught — just for a moment.
"…Thank you."
---
That evening, Mitsuri trained alone in the garden.
Her movements were sharper now. Her breath deeper. Purpose threaded through every motion.
Love Breathing —
Shivers of First Love
→ Love Pangs
She stopped, blade lowered, heart calm.
"…I'm coming," she whispered to the wind.
"Not chasing. Not copying."
Walking her own path.
---
Far away, on a road still damp with night dew, Akira walked steadily.
Sword hidden.
Breath unbroken.
Unaware — yet somehow certain — that the distance between them was not growing.
It was aligning.
---