The sun barely pierced the morning fog in the hills of Settsu Province, leaving the valley bathed in a cold, gray light. Raizen and Kaito trudged through the uneven paths, their clothing bloodied and torn from the Yamato Clan's destruction. Their home had been reduced to ashes, their families scattered and slain. Every step through the mountains reminded them of what they had lost—but also of what they must survive.
Kaito's breathing was heavy, but he tried to mask it with a grin. "Hey, at least the air smells nice, right? Fresh… and… smoky."
Raizen didn't respond. He kept his eyes scanning the misty slopes, fingers brushing the hilt of his sword. Instinct had taught him that the mountains were never empty, and the quiet carried a dangerous weight.
Behind a boulder on a nearby ridge, Senji watched. His eyes were calm, calculating, as he observed the two boys. He had been tracking the remnants of the Tsuchigumo scouts that had swept through the northern villages. His clan—the Hoshigaki—had fallen to the same marauders years ago, leaving him alone in the mountains. Survival had made him patient, silent, and precise.
Now, he watched the survivors of another destroyed clan—two boys moving with purpose, caution, and skill despite their youth. They were strong, determined, and… reckless in ways that amused him.
A rustle in the trees caught Senji's attention. He crouched lower, blending with the shadows. Small figures moved toward the boys: scouts of the Tsuchigumo, clearly unaware of Senji's presence.
Senji exhaled slowly. Perfect timing.
⸻
Raizen and Kaito reached a small village tucked between cliffs. Smoke curled from chimneys, but the settlement looked abandoned. They crept closer, wary of ambush. "Something's off," Raizen murmured. "Villagers should be out by now. They'd have spotted survivors of Yamato Clan."
Kaito tightened his grip on his sword, eyes darting across the rooftops. "Yeah… and it feels too quiet. I don't like quiet."
Raizen's instincts were correct. Without warning, three Tsuchigumo scouts emerged from the mist, cutting off the boys' path. Their armor was crude but effective, and their blades gleamed in the dim morning light. One stepped forward, hissing. "Looks like more survivors of the Yamato Clan."
Kaito's eyes narrowed. "Then they'll learn not to mess with us!"
He charged recklessly. Raizen shouted, "Wait! Don't—" But Kaito was already in the fray, swinging wildly. One scout lunged at him with a poisoned blade. Kaito barely dodged, slicing across the man's arm. A spray of blood arced through the fog, painting the nearby wall red.
The fight was brutal, but Raizen could see they were outnumbered. They were strong, but scouts like these didn't fight for honor—they fought for survival, territory, and cruelty. Raizen knew they would tire quickly if they tried to handle them alone.
From the shadows, a figure moved—quietly, fluidly, like a shadow unbound. Senji dropped a small, sharpened stake from the ridge above, catching one of the scouts in the chest. The man gurgled and fell, lifeless, as Senji landed silently behind him.
Raizen froze, then realized they had an unexpected ally. "Who—"
Senji didn't answer. He moved like smoke, placing traps, cutting down the scouts with silent precision. Kaito stumbled back, wide-eyed as Senji disarmed another attacker with a swift kick and a blade to the wrist.
Raizen adjusted his stance, watching closely. "We fight together. Follow my lead!"
The three of them moved in coordination, almost instinctively. Senji's calm, calculated strikes complemented Raizen's precise swordsmanship and Kaito's reckless strength. Within moments, the scouts were either disarmed, incapacitated, or fleeing into the fog. Blood coated the ground, and the metallic smell of life and death lingered in the air.
Raizen wiped his blade, catching his breath. "Who… who are you?"
Senji finally spoke, his voice quiet but firm. "Someone who hates the same enemy as you. I've been tracking these scouts for months. You're lucky I arrived when I did."
Kaito grinned despite the blood smeared across his face. "I like you already. Silent, deadly, doesn't talk too much… perfect for us."
Senji didn't smile. "You're lucky I see potential in you. Alone, you would have died in minutes."
Raizen studied him. His calm demeanor, the precision in his movements, the way he anticipated enemy attacks—it was clear that Senji's skills far exceeded anyone their age in this region. "If we want to survive… we need you with us. You know the mountains, the scouts, the traps. We need someone like you."
Senji's eyes narrowed. He had always trusted only himself. "And why should I trust you?"
Raizen looked at Kaito, then back at him. "Because we're survivors. We've lost everything to the same enemy you hate. We're not strong, not yet—but together, we have a chance to fight back. We can learn from each other. And if we survive… we can make sure the Tsuchigumo never harm another village like ours."
For a moment, silence hung in the fog. Senji's gaze flicked to Kaito, then back to Raizen. He studied their determination, the fire in their eyes despite exhaustion, grief, and bloodied hands.
Finally, he nodded. "Fine. But understand this—I don't follow blindly. We move on my terms, and any fool who jeopardizes the mission… will be left behind."
Kaito laughed, brushing blood from his cheek. "Don't worry about us. We're a team now."
Senji allowed a faint smirk. "A temporary one. We'll see how long it lasts."
⸻
The three of them spent the rest of the morning tending to minor wounds and checking for any additional scouts. The village, though small, had enough supplies to sustain them for a few days. Raizen and Kaito filled Senji in on the Yamato Clan's destruction—the ambush, the fires, and the survivors' escape. Senji listened intently, his expression unreadable.
"Your clan…" Senji finally said, his voice low. "I've seen this before. The Tsuchigumo strike fast, leave no witnesses, no mercy. You're lucky you survived at all."
Raizen clenched his fists. "We survived. But others won't, if we don't act."
Kaito punched the air. "That's right! Time to hunt the bastards!"
Senji shook his head. "Patience. You've survived by luck and brute force so far. That won't be enough against the real enemy."
Raizen nodded solemnly. "Then teach us."
Senji's eyes flicked toward the mountains beyond the village. Hidden valleys, treacherous cliffs, and narrow passes—the terrain was perfect for traps and ambushes. "I will. But understand this—the mountains are alive. They'll test you, and the Tsuchigumo are smarter than you think. If you can survive my lessons, maybe… just maybe, you can survive them."
Kaito grinned wildly. "Sounds like fun!"
Raizen looked at him, then at Senji. "We'll need each other. And if we're going to take on the Tsuchigumo, we'll need every skill you have."
Senji's gaze softened slightly. "Then don't fail me. Because I won't forgive mistakes."
For the first time since the destruction of the Yamato Clan, Raizen felt a flicker of hope. They were no longer alone in the mountains. Together, the three of them—childhood friends and a skilled tracker—would begin the path toward vengeance, survival, and the long journey that lay ahead.
And somewhere in the misty hills of Settsu Province, the Tsuchigumo scouts had already begun preparing. They would be watching, waiting, and testing the newcomers who dared to challenge them.
But Raizen, Kaito, and Senji had something the enemy did not: determination, skill, and a bond forged in fire and blood.
The hunt had begun.