The man's voice cut through the courtyard, stern and unwavering, but his eyes—when they fell on Akeno—were heavy with sorrow.
"Great Uncle…"
Akeno's voice trembled as she pressed a hand to her lips, staring at him as if he were a ghost from a nightmare she'd never quite escaped.
She always knew the Himejima clan was hunting her. But she never imagined the head of the family—her mother's own uncle—would come himself.
The Himejima were an ancient Shinto clan, their bloodline tied to shrines older than memory itself. This man, her great uncle, was the current patriarch. The other monks filling the courtyard—all Himejima as well—stood silent, forming a wall of tradition and judgment.
He stopped before her, then—unexpectedly—bowed.
"I'm sorry, child. This time, you won't escape again."
He straightened, his voice rough with pain.
"You are the stain the Himejima family must erase. You understand that, don't you?"
The words hit like a curse. Akeno's face went white, her knees nearly buckling.
All her life, that's all she'd been to them—a stain.
But a gentle hand caught her before she could fall.
"Akeno, you're not anyone's stain. You're just you."
Tenra's eyes met hers, steady and warm. Just a simple touch, a simple truth—but it anchored her, swept away the fog of pain and confusion. The sorrow on her face faded, replaced by something fierce and bright.
Yes. She was herself—no one's stain.
For the first time, she stood tall, facing the man who called himself her family. Her voice rang out, clear and defiant:
"I want to live!"
Her great uncle shook his head, disappointment etched deep into his features. "You still don't understand. Even if you survive, your life will be nothing but misfortune and pain."
Akeno laughed, cold and sharp. The last trace of uncertainty vanished from her eyes, leaving only ice.
They killed her mother for the sake of family honor and the gods' pride. Now they wanted to erase her, too. That was what "family" meant to them.
If that's how they saw her, she'd live just to spite them.
"Stubborn to the end, I see…"
Her great uncle's sigh was the last sound of mercy. His gaze hardened, cold and absolute. With a wave of his hand, the monks advanced, circling Tenra and Akeno.
"Boy," the patriarch said, voice like stone, "this is Himejima business. It doesn't concern you."
Tenra stepped forward, sword raised, eyes blazing. "If you want to hurt Akeno, you'll have to get through my sword first."
Akeno's look was pure tenderness, but when she turned to her great uncle, her gaze was all frost and scorn.
"Hmph. Attack!"
Patience spent, her great uncle gave the order. Spiritual power surged as the monks charged. From Akeno's sleeves, a handful of tiny spirits burst forth—some exhaling gales, others spewing fire—clashing with the monks in a riot of wind and flame.
Tenra and Akeno exchanged a glance and sprang into action.
Crackling arcs of lightning danced between Akeno's fingers. She hurled them into the fray; with a blinding flash, electricity exploded outward, wracking the temple with screams and the sharp scent of ozone.
Tenra wasted no time. He darted in, his sword a blur, felling monk after monk left stunned by Akeno's lightning.
Her great uncle watched, regret flickering across his face. "So your lightning's grown this powerful already? If you kept growing, perhaps even I wouldn't be your match someday…"
But then his eyes steeled.
"But you won't get that chance!"
He slammed his staff into the ground. A tidal wave of spiritual force crashed out, scattering Akeno's lightning and sending her and her spirits flying.
"Akeno!"
Tenra's eyes flashed red as he lunged for the patriarch, pouring every scrap of spiritual energy into his blade.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Sparks flew as sword and staff collided again and again, a hundred times in the span of heartbeats. Tenra's last desperate swing even forced the old man back a step.
"Ha… ha…"
Tenra's hands shook as he gasped for breath. Across from him, the patriarch regarded him with grudging respect.
"Incredible swordsmanship for someone so young."
Skill like that wasn't just talent—it was willpower, forged by hardship.
But admiration wouldn't save him. The Himejima family's stain had to be erased. No one could stand in the way.
"Boy, try this!"
With a shout, the patriarch's staff blazed with power as he thrust it at Tenra.
Tenra's eyes narrowed. With nowhere to run, he raised his sword to block. The impact was monstrous—a crack sounded, and his blade snapped in two. Tenra was hurled backward, crashing to the ground.
"Tenra!!!"
Akeno, barely recovered, saw him fall and screamed. She rushed to his side, tears streaming down her face.
"Tenra, I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"
She cradled him, guilt and heartbreak twisting her features.
Tenra tried to smile, brushing her forehead. "Don't cry, Akeno… I'm fine…"
But blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
Her great uncle watched, face conflicted. The other monks, having regained their footing, stood behind him, eyes cold and unfeeling.
"Akeno, stop fighting. It's over."
"If you want blood, take mine! Just don't hurt Tenra anymore!"
Akeno shielded Tenra with her body, voice raw with desperation.
"I can grant you that," her great uncle said quietly. "So—farewell, child."
He raised his staff high. For a moment, regret flickered in his eyes—but it was gone as quickly as it came. Duty demanded the stain be cleansed.
The staff whistled downward.
Tenra, battered but not broken, braced himself to shove Akeno out of harm's way.
But before the blow could fall, a voice, rich with demonic power, rang out:
"Stop!"
The staff froze mid-air. A girl stepped into the courtyard, her crimson hair blazing like a banner against the dusk.
Tenra let out a shaky breath.
Finally.
Rias Gremory had arrived.
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
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