Enishi kept staring into the blade. On it was an inscription, old, worn, almost erased by time, something he couldn't quite make out no matter how hard he squinted.
When he was done, he slid the sword back into its sheath and clipped it to his hip.
"Alright, Matahachi… what's next?" he asked.
No reply.
He looked around. Matahachi was gone, just like that.
Enishi sighed. He didn't care much. He'd thought Matahachi's "wisdom" was useless anyway. Whether the guy was there or not didn't matter; he'd figure things out on his own.
He turned back toward the giant metal door, grabbing his blade and drawing it in one smooth motion.
The blade came out like a whip, slicing straight through the door and leaving red, smoldering marks in the metal. Enishi stepped through the opening and sheathed the blade again, the metal melting back into place behind him.
Wandering through the massive estate, Enishi couldn't help but feel uneasy. This place… it was too big, too quiet. He couldn't shake the thought that his ancestors had lived here for generations. The weight of that realization made him pause.
"Why would Dad ever leave this behind?" he muttered. "Why be with Mom if it meant abandoning all this? What the hell did he even do here?"
He shook his head. "Whatever. I need more answers. If this place can give them, guess I'll crash here for a bit."
"That's a bad idea," Inazuma warned.
"Why's that?" Enishi shot back, silence.
He clenched his jaw. "Why does everyone treat me like I don't deserve a damn answer?" he snapped. "Every time I ask a genuine question, I get silence!"
"Shh. You can't yell in these halls," a voice whispered.
Enishi turned sharply. A figure peeked out from behind a wall, wearing a smooth, pale mask that hid their face completely.
"Yeah? Or what, stranger?" Enishi barked back.
"Shh! I'm warning you. Keep your voice down," the masked person repeated.
"How about no?" Enishi yelled, his voice echoing through the corridor.
The masked figure flinched and disappeared behind the corner.
"Tch. Whatever." Enishi kept walking, ignoring them.
After fifteen minutes, he realized he had no idea where he was going, or what he was even looking for. Eventually, the path split into two.
To his right: an open coliseum-like arena, its pillars cracked but still standing tall.
To his left: a long, dark hallway that seemed to stretch into nothing.
Enishi noticed carvings etched into the coliseum pillars, drawings, maybe inscriptions. His curiosity got the better of him. "Maybe one of those'll tell me what's on my sword," he said, heading toward the arena.
"Don't do it," Inazuma warned again, stopping him mid-step.
"Finally, you speak. Why not?" Enishi asked.
Silence again.
"Alright, then. Screw you." Enishi kept walking.
As he moved closer, the hallway behind him began to stretch, elongating like the building itself was alive. Metal gates identical to the one from the weapons room slammed down behind him, one after another, locking the path.
"Well, no turning back now," he muttered. "No way I'm breaking through those again."
The coliseum ahead seemed to grow farther away with every step. Gritting his teeth, Enishi sparked electricity into his legs, just enough to push his body faster. He dashed forward, every footstep cracking the marble beneath him.
After what felt like forever, he finally made it to the coliseum entrance, only to stop dead in his tracks.
There was writing carved into the archway. Jagged, messy, like it had been scratched in with a knife.
"YOU GO IN HERE, YOU DIE."
"MURDER. MURDER. MURDER."
"NEVER CHOOSE WRAITH."
Enishi stared at the words, a chill crawling down his spine.
"Damn, what happened here? I get this is a fighting arena, but still. Isn't this a little brutal?" he said to himself
He pushed further into the coliseum itself, sunlight hitting him like a truck, and he covered his eyes with his shoulder.
Just then, the sentence he came from fell to the ground.
Enishi looked around the place, blood on the walls, broken swords, and skeleton parts all around.
"This place looks like it hasn't been used in decades." Enishi says to himself
After being locked away for hours, Enishi finally lets it all sink in.
"In just one day, I watched the love of my life and my mother both die right in front of me. Then got tossed around by their murderer. Wow... how melancholic," he mutters, lying down, eyes lost in the sun above.
"Do you feel angry about their deaths? Like it was your fault?" Inazuma's voice slips into his mind.
"I know it was my fault. If I hadn't put you on, my life would be different. I'd probably be in school, struggling to make friends, stressing over stupid teenage crap."
He exhales. "But strangely... I'm not angry at myself for getting them killed. What boils my blood is knowing I couldn't do anything to stop it, not even with all the rage in my heart."
"Enishi," Inazuma hums, "do you know why people treat their sigils like weapons, forgetting we're alive just as Matahachi does?"
"Tell me why, Inazuma."
"The reason we choose our bearers is because they embody our sin, the same crime we committed against God himself. We rejected Him for our own gain. My sin was hatred. I refused to let Him bear me... because He was perfect."
Enishi frowns. "And what does that have to do with being rejected by your bearer?"
Inazuma's voice darkens. "Everything. Each wielder mirrors us perfectly. And because we once rejected God... they subconsciously reject us. We're reflections of what they deny, their own sins. That's what makes us both divine... and pathetic."
Enishi laughs, a sweet, hearty sound that trembles on the edge of irony.
"By that logic… I guess in that fight, you were rejecting me, and I was rejecting you. In the end, it was my wrath that got them killed." He lifts the ring toward the sky, letting its bright blue glow swallow the sun.
"I guess… you're right, Enishi. But I can't stop rejecting you. Your greatest sin isn't wrath. In fact, from every memory I've seen of your life before that day, there isn't a single sin you committed. All we can be grateful for now is your survival, to avenge them."
"Is survival worth it if the person who survives isn't really 'you' anymore?" Enishi asks, voice tight with tension.
"Yes, Enishi. Pushing through death never leaves a man the same. They either change for the worse… or for the better. Let's see which one you become."
"I won't change from the man I was that day," Enishi says, eyes sharp. "I can only shift… into a stronger version." he remarks, remembering what Matahachi said
"That's correct kid! Your finally getting it" someone screams from one of the pillars