Between awakening and the next heartbeat, time itself seemed to stretch.Hinokami felt as though he stood in a place between worlds — a space where fire did not destroy, but created.
The flames around him swirled like living ribbons.They did not burn the grass.They did not melt the stone.
They shaped.
"Fire is a language.Matter listens to those who know how to speak it."This time the voice echoed from within him, like a memory that did not belong to him.
Before him, a small stone appeared — simple, ordinary, covered in dust.Hinokami did not know why, but he picked it up.
The flames around him shifted colors:blue for breath,purple for memory,gold for creation.
"What… is happening?" he whispered in his mind.
The fire enveloped him.It was no longer flame — it was a forge.The dusty stone melted and stretched into a thin strand of light.
The strand twisted, lengthened, curved…and became a sword.
The blade shone like lightning trapped inside crystal.Symbols burned along its length — ancient, powerful, alive.
Hinokami lifted it.The sword was light, yet it felt burdened with a thousand voices.
— What… are you?
And then he heard:
"I am Kagehora, the Sword of Flaming Memory."
A blade born from one who does not yet know his own name.A blade waiting for its destiny.
His strength collapsed.Hinokami fell onto the grass.
In his sleep, he heard a whisper of his forgotten name:
HINOKAMI!
When he awoke, the forest was no longer merely a place — it was a feeling.The air vibrated.The trees glowed with a faint blue light.Their leaves twisted softly, as if speaking to one another.
The wind whispered:
"You are not alone."
A creak.Footsteps.A branch bending too carefully.
Then the creature appeared.
Tall.Skin like smoked glass, eyes that saw far too much.
"Goblin…"The voice inside Hinokami named it, though he did not know how he knew.
The creature opened its mouth.Hinokami thought:
"I don't want to take its life… but if I don't kill it, it will devour me."
It lunged.
Instinct — not thought — guided Hinokami.He raised his hand.
And the Fire came alive.
Not as an attack, but as wings — vast, red, and gold.They wrapped around the creature, which froze, torn between terror and a painful moment of clarity.
— I don't hate you… — Hinokami whispered. — …but I won't let you kill me.
The flames consumed it.Nothing remained but ash dissolving bitterly into the air.
Hinokami stood still.His chest tightened with a strange feeling — not victory, not fear.
An understanding:that the fire within him had a will of its own.
Then he continued forward.
The forest changed with every step.Leaves sharpened.Colors darkened.The air grew heavier.
Hinokami held the sword low, the blade angled back — the stance of someone who could kill, but had not yet decided.
"Control… I need control."
His breath was tense.His thoughts trembled with fear:
"What if the fire decides on its own?What if I am only the vessel…?"
But he walked on.
A creak.A hiss.Shadows moved between the trees.
Goblins.But not like those from legends.
Their eyes glowed like liquid amber.Runes were carved into their flesh, pulsing with their heartbeats.
Hinokami raised his sword.
"I don't want to hurt you."
But the goblins were enslaved —driven by black mana to attack.
The first one charged.
Hinokami stepped back with a half-turn, his movement circular, almost like a dance.The blade slid upward diagonally.
A crack.Sparks.Kagehora's fire flowed like a living serpent, wrapped around the goblin's spear, and melted it.
But it did not touch the creature's flesh.
And then—Light.Warm, soft, silent.
The Forgiveness of Light awakened.
Hinokami felt his heart shift.The fire within him stopped being a weapon.
The goblin calmed.Its eyes cleared, as if seeing for the first time.
It fell to its knees.
The others halted.The runes on their bodies shifted from dark to bright blue — a sign of awakened consciousness.
"The Light… is protecting them?" Hinokami thought.
The forest fell silent in awe.Even the air seemed to accept a new law.
After that day, his days became ritual.
Morning:The sword before him.Slow movements. Controlled breathing.The fire followed his will — not the other way around.
Afternoon:He created tiny strands of flame.Fiery shapes.Feathers that drifted on the wind.
The flame was not an enemy.But not yet a friend.
Night:Hinokami sat inside a protective ring of quiet fire, which did not burn the grass.The sword rested against his chest.
Sometimes he awoke suddenly, thinking:
"If I lose myself… will Kagehora stop me?"
The blade shimmered softly.It gave no answer.
After a week, the sky split open.From a dark rift descended flying creatures — wind-wraiths, with glass-like wings and bodies of translucent ice.
They thought only one thing:
"Warmth! Light! Hunger!"
Hinokami was exhausted, yet calmness held him upright.His fatigue became his shield.
The first wind-wraith dove.
Its wings sounded like tearing silk.Hinokami crouched low, lifted the sword, and let fire coil into his palm.
A whirlwind of light.A burst of air ignited by his will.
Three foes fell like ash.
The fourth descended…And Hinokami closed his eyes.
— Forgiveness…
The light in his chest erupted.The creature froze.In its eyes, the three moons reflected — not as a predator, but as a frightened child.
Its body crumbled gently into dust.
Creatures in this land began to change.Goblins, beasts, flying monsters — all once driven by black mana — gradually regained reason.
Rumors spread:that when someone attacked without cause, an unseen flame stopped the first blow.
Hinokami did not know he was the reason.
Hunger.Cold.Sleeplessness.
Attacks from small but vicious beasts.Every day — training.Every night — doubt.
But on the fourth night… something changed.
Thick fog fell.Shadows stirred.
Three figures emerged.Clothed in rags, faces hidden behind bronze masks.
One held a staff crowned with a lightning crystal.Another carried two curved blades.The third simply watched.
— Traveler… said the one with the staff. — Your light smells of fire. Who are you?
— I don't know yet. But I'm not seeking a fight, Hinokami said.
— In this world… those who don't seek battle die first.
They attacked.
Lightning.Blades.Shadows.
Hinokami absorbed the strike with a fiery shield.He melted their blades with his bare hands.He tried to stop them.
— Leave! I don't want to kill you!
The third whispered through the mask:
— Forgiveness here… costs your life.
Then Hinokami saw their eyes.Empty.Soulless.
And the fire… answered for him.
A whirlwind.Flame.Silence.
The sky brightened.
Through shredded clouds, Hinokami saw distant lights — a city.
Before leaving, he looked at his sword.
His heart sank.
The blade was cracked.The symbols dim.The tip broken.
— No…
When he touched it, Kagehora crumbled in his hands.Only the hilt remained — warm, almost breathing.
He fell to his knees.
But from the ashes before him… she appeared.
A woman of light and fire.Her hair flowed like molten gold.Her eyes — like dying stars.
"It is too late for regret now, Hinokami."
She touched his chest.Her flame sank into him.
"You will have companions.You will meet people fighting their own inner battles.Know this: power becomes a curse if you do not think of them."
Her body dissolved into sparks.
Hinokami whispered:
— I promise… I won't forget.
The wind carried away the last of the blade's ashes.
After seven days of walking, hunger, and loneliness, he reached the black walls bearing banners of the three moons.
The guards stopped him.
— Name?— Hinokami.— Where do you come from?— From a place… that no longer exists.— What do you seek?— Truth.— What truth?— About the world… and about myself.
The gates opened.
The city was alive.Loud.Beautiful and ominous.
Hinokami looked up at the three moons.
— So… this is where it all begins.