Fragments Of Bonds (Part 1)
The night had grown quieter.
For the first time since the storm began, laughter had cut through the blizzard—Hanae's laughter, awkward and clumsy, ringing bright against the stillness. Rūpu and Isshun had exchanged a glance, a strange, almost embarrassed glance, but the weight of their earlier battle had softened into something new. Something fragile. Something they dared not name yet.
The three stood in the ruined courtyard, snow collecting on their shoulders, their breaths forming clouds in the cold.
"We should go," Hanae said, her eyes sparkling with determination despite the wobble in her stance. "Together. The world doesn't care for us, so... so we'll care for each other. Right?"
Isshun huffed, arms crossed, but his lips betrayed the faintest twitch of agreement. Rūpu's throat tightened as he nodded. His voice broke, soft but steady: "We'll protect one another. No matter what."
The storm howled, but inside their small circle of warmth, the vow was sealed. Three children against the world. Three fragments of sorrow promising not to break again.
And then—
Step.
The sound was soft. Too soft to belong in a storm. Yet it cut through the air like a blade.
Step.
Rūpu froze. His blood ran cold, colder than the snow ever could. His throat went dry, sweat beading across his brow. He knew that rhythm, that echo. It was the same sound that had haunted him since the night in the streets, the same steps that belonged to a figure who shouldn't exist in their fragile sanctuary.
"Get ready," Rūpu rasped, his voice trembling. His hand clenched around the hilt of his sword. "He's here."
Isshun blinked, confused. Hanae tilted her head, curious. But then they heard it too.
Step. Step.
The smirk appeared before the figure did. That sharp, mocking curl of lips materialized in their memories before their eyes caught him through the snow.
And then he was there.
A tall oni, middle-aged but sharp as a blade, his body towering with the presence of a storm given flesh. His long white hair curled with streaks of crimson at the tips, swaying against the black-and-red tatters of his kimono. His horns were long, sharper than any blade, glistening against the faint light. Four swords rested across his hips—two at each side—sheathed in silence.
Only his eyes broke that silence. One glowing a faint ember. The other burning bright, scar carved beneath it like a permanent wound.
He stopped just yards away, his footsteps still echoing in the storm, as if the snow itself feared to swallow his presence.
"Well, well," he said, voice smooth, almost playful. "Children should not be out so late. It is dangerous, you know."
His tone was mocking, dripping false warmth, the mask of a doting elder. He tilted his head, pretending concern. "The night is full of beasts who would love to taste young flesh. You ought to—"
"Drop the act."
Rūpu's voice breaking, raw but firm. He stepped forward, sword half-drawn, horns gleaming with frost. "I saw through you the first time. You don't care about us. You never do for anyone and I can tell."
The Oni's smirk faltered. For a flicker of a second, the ember of his eye dimmed. Then it returned, wider, sharper than before, curling into a sneer.
"Oh?" His voice deepened, the playfulness falling away. "And what does a child see, exactly?"
"That you're not here to 'warn' anyone," Rūpu said, his stomach rising and falling with each breath. "You're here because you want blood."
The silence after those words was unbearable. Even the storm hushed for a heartbeat.
Then the smirk spread wider. His hand moved to his hips, fingers curling around the hilts of two swords. With a smooth motion, he unsheathed them—twin blades of dark red, forged from ruby-like metal that caught the faint moonlight and twisted it into something unholy.
"You're not wrong," the oni murmured, his scarred eye narrowing. "I came here to rest. To enjoy the ruins behind you. But you children... You've soured my mood. And when my mood sours..."
He stepped forward, his voice falling into a growl. "...I find that blood helps sweeten it again."
The storm answered him, whipping into a frenzy. His sandals pressed into the snow, steps echoing like drums.
And then, faster than breath, he charged.
The world blurred.
One moment he was across the courtyard, the next he was in front of them, his swords slashing downward in a cross meant to cut flesh and bone apart in a single instant.
Rūpu's body moved before thought. His sword came up, steel screaming against ruby as sparks flared. The force nearly tore the blade from his grip, nearly crushed his bones, but he held, teeth grinding, sweat and snow mixing on his brow.
"Isshun! Hanae!" he roared, his voice trembling. "Move!"
Isshun darted left, dagger flashing, his kimono whipping around him. Hanae stumbled, nearly tripping in the snow before drawing her sword with both trembling hands, her bow fluttering wildly.
The oni's smirk only grew wider, his strength unrelenting. "Children with swords. How quaint."
With a twist, he broke Rūpu's guard and swung again. The blade whistled past Rūpu's face, close enough to shear a strand of hair. He staggered back, his horns glinting in the ember glow of those burning eyes.
Fear clawed his ribs. But beneath the fear—something stronger.
Resolve.
He had sworn it just moments ago. To protect Isshun. To protect Hanae. To protect their fragile bond against the world.
And if that meant standing against this monster, so be it.
He raised his sword again, voice breaking the storm. "We're not running. If it's blood you want... you'll have to cut through all of us first."
The oni chuckled with the faintest bit of laughter, the sound low and terrifying, echoing across the ruins like thunder. His smirk gleamed sharper than any blade.
"Very well, little horn. Let us see if your sorrow can match my hunger."
And with another step, the ground itself seemed to shatter.
The storm had only just begun.
Crimson Blades in the Storm (Part 2)
The storm clawed at the night sky, its howling winds swallowing the world in white. Flakes lashed like daggers, slicing the air with each breath. Amidst that endless curtain of snow, three children stood, their fragile vow trembling on the edge of collapse, as the monster before them—an oni draped in scars and shadows—unsheathed his twin ruby-forged blades.
The ground itself seemed to flinch when those swords were revealed. Their crimson glow reflected in the storm, turning the snow into glittering embers of blood. The figures smirk was cruel, carved deep into his weathered face, his long horns gleaming in the faint light. One eye burned bright with red fury, the scar beneath it twisting his expression into something almost inhuman.
"You're shaking," he said, his voice rich and smooth, yet steeped in venom. "Good. I like it better when they shake before they fall."
Rūpu Rīpā tightened his grip on his blade. His breath rattled in his stomach, his sweat stung his eyes, but his stance did not falter. Behind him, Isshun slid into place, dagger glinting faintly, his left arm tense as though bound to that weapon by his own flesh. Hanae wavered, her purple kimono swaying in the storm, bow at her back trembling, her purple kimono covered hands clutching her sword too tightly.
They were children. And yet, they stood against him.
The oni stepped forward. Step. Step. Each sound echoed louder than the storm itself, like drums of war.
Then, without warning, he lunged.
The world blurred. Snow exploded under his sandals as he crossed the distance in a heartbeat. His swords came down in a savage arc, two rivers of crimson light meant to cut through all three children in one strike.
Rūpu's instincts screamed. He moved, his body burning with desperation. His blade shot upward, clashing against the first sword. The impact shuddered through his bones, nearly splitting his wrists apart. Sparks ignited, dancing wildly between steel and ruby.
Isshun darted in, his dagger flashing upward to catch the second blade. The clash sent him skidding back across the snow, his knees buckling, but he held on. His teeth clenched, his eyes burning with defiance.
Hanae stumbled, nearly falling in her rush to move. The crimson light slashed past her face, close enough that a strand of her curling hair drifted down, severed. She gasped, but her feet steadied, her sword trembling in her hands.
The oni chuckled low in his throat, twisting his blades free. "Not bad. Not bad at all. But tell me—" His smirk widened, sharp as fangs. "—how long can you endure before the storm swallows you whole?"
He swung again, faster than before.
The children scattered. Rūpu rolled across the snow, leaping to his feet and bringing his sword down in a counterstrike. Isshun darted to the side, circling like a wolf, looking for an opening. Hanae hesitated, then rushed in too, her sandals slipping but her spirit pulling her forward.
Steel clashed again and again. The courtyard became a storm within a storm, blades screaming against blades, sparks lighting the snow like stars. Each strike rattled the children's bodies, testing their bones, testing their will.
Rūpu shouted as he parried, his voice raw: "We swore—we'd protect one another! Don't break that now!"
Isshun snarled, deflecting a slash with his dagger. "I don't plan to die here, horn-kid!"
Hanae nearly tripped again, catching herself with a laugh even as her blade scraped against crimson steel. "I—I might die tripping over my own feet first!" Her laugh broke into fear, but it held a strange brightness, cutting through the despair.
The oni's eyes narrowed, his smirk faltering just slightly. "You dare laugh? In front of me?" His voice deepened, a growl that shook the storm. He pressed harder, his strikes heavier, faster, each one meant to crush their fragile vow beneath sheer power.
Rūpu's arms ached, his muscles screamed, but something deep inside him flared brighter than the pain. Memories of his father, the monk who had once despised him but grown to call him son, surged through his mind. That sorrow, that loss, burned into his technique.
"The Makigatsu Technique," he whispered, his horns glistening with frost. "The sorrow of the horned one."
He shifted. His blade carved through the air not just with strength, but with grief sharpened into form. The strike twisted, unexpected, bending like the storm itself. The oni's eyes widened faintly as Rūpu's sword scraped against his crimson blade, throwing his balance off for a breath.
"Now!" Rūpu roared.
Isshun didn't hesitate. He lunged, dagger flashing, slashing across the oni's side. The blade barely pierced the thick kimono, drawing only a thin line of blood, but it was enough to make the monster stagger back, his smirk flickering.
Hanae saw her chance. She charged in clumsily, her sandals skidding, her sword raised high. She swung with all her strength, voice breaking into a shout that was equal parts courage and terror.
The oni twisted just in time, her blade grazing his arm instead of cutting deep. Yet the spark of her courage echoed through the air louder than the strike itself.
The oni froze, his glowing eyes narrowing, his smirk turning sharper. Blood dripped into the snow from his side and his arm. His chuckle returned, low and cruel.
"Children with teeth," he muttered. His voice was almost impressed, almost amused. Then it darkened, colder than the storm itself. "But teeth break."
He stepped forward again, faster this time, his ruby blades whistling in arcs too fast for eyes to follow.
Rūpu blocked one, barely. His sword rattled in his hands, bones straining. Isshun leapt to intercept the second, the impact throwing him into the snow, his breath ripping from his lungs. Hanae yelped, stumbling back as the shockwave knocked her off her feet.
The oni loomed above them, his shadow drowning their small forms. His smirk widened once more, blood at the corner of his mouth. "This is fun. Let's see how long your bond holds before it shatters."
Rūpu staggered to his knees, ribs heaving, tears freezing on his lashes. But his grip on his sword did not falter. He lifted it again, his voice breaking yet filled with fire.
"You can break our bones. You can spill our blood. But you'll never break what we are together."
Isshun crawled up beside him, dagger gripped tight, his own voice raw. "If he falls, I fall. If she falls, I fall. That's our bond."
Hanae scrambled to her feet, cheeks flushed, her laugh shaky but real. "I'll probably trip again—but I'll trip standing beside you!"
The oni's smirk froze, his burning eyes narrowing. For the first time, a flicker of something colder passed across his face. Not fear. Not anger. Something deeper.
Recognition.
He stepped back once, his laughter dying in the snow. Then he leaned forward again, blades dripping with blood and frost, his smirk returning sharper than ever.
"Very well. Let me test your bond until it bleeds."
The storm roared louder, swallowing the world.
The battle had only just begun...