Katakuichi's Lore: The Unyielding Vessel
Long before the current crisis, Katakuichi's fate had already been carved into shadow.
His parents were once honored members of the Yami Clan's elite shadow division—respected, skilled, and unquestioningly loyal. At least, that was the image they upheld. In secret, they were devout believers in an ancient prophecy buried deep within forbidden scrolls—one that spoke of the return of Chernobog, the Shadow God. But within that same prophecy, nestled between the warnings and omens, was a fragment of hope… or perhaps, a curse. It spoke of a "Singular Shadow"—a child born immune to corruption, whose affinity to darkness was unlike any other.
That child was Katakuichi.
Unlike others who practiced the shadow arts, Katakuichi's chakra never twisted into malice. His mind never clouded with rage. While his peers struggled against creeping madness and inner demons, he stood unaffected. Where others faltered, he flourished. His shadow chakra, instead of consuming him, stabilized—flowing with balance, clarity, and an eerie calm.
His parents, however, did not see this as a gift. They saw it as a design—an answer to prophecy. Their son, incorruptible, could become the key to the Shadow God's ultimate rebirth. They believed that if Katakuichi could master the shadow style in its purest, untarnished form, he could walk where others perished. He alone could approach Chernobog upon his return—whether to serve as a vessel, a key to unlock his divine form, or as a worthy sacrifice.
But there was a deception few understood. The current vessel, Haru (present), though dangerous, was imperfect. An unstable placeholder. A tool. Chernobog himself knew it. His gaze had always been fixed on Katakuichi. Haru was never the end—he was bait. Bait to lure the Singular Shadow closer.
CUT TO PRESENT
The memory of prophecy and pain faded into the shadows of the past—only to be eclipsed by the cruel present.
Koumei Kurosaki, battered and bloodied, lay collapsed on the jagged earth just beyond the forest outskirts. Smoke lingered in the air, a testament to the brutal skirmish that had occurred. His breathing was ragged, barely coherent, as crimson stained his robes. The emblem of Yami was torn, slashed through as though mocking everything it once stood for.
Gaki knelt beside him instantly, panic tight in his chest.
"Hang in there, brother," he said, his voice trembling but steady. "Help's coming, just hold on a little while longer. You're not done yet."
He placed a firm hand over Koumei's chest, trying to stabilize his breathing with shadow-augmented healing. The sight of his brother broken like this nearly shattered him.
Beside him stood Sensei Shidou—his face painted in sorrow, his hand clutching his chest in mock despair. Tears streamed down his face, glistening beneath the flickering light.
But they were empty.
Faked.
Behind the veil of grief, Shidou's thoughts were cold and calculating. His orders had been carried out to perfection. Koumei had gotten too close to the truth, too deep into the heart of the Shadow Organization… and Kuzu Endo had made sure he paid the price.
What a shame, Shidou mused silently, keeping his mask of mourning flawless. If only you had stayed away, little Kurosaki.