In the Eternal Empire of Yamato, high atop the mist-shrouded peaks of Mount Haguro, the Ryuzaki Clan waited in hushed awe. For ten long years, Lady Shizuka had carried a child who refused to enter the world. The seasons turned, the cherry blossoms bloomed and fell ten times, yet the life within her only grew more potent.
Suddenly, the air grew heavy with the scent of ancient incense, and thunder roared from a clear blue sky. "The time has come!" Kenshin declared, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and hope. Beside him, the High Priestess Miko narrowed her eyes as the wooden floorboards began to glow.
With a cry that sounded like a silver bell ringing across the heavens, Haruto was born. As Shizuka held him, the room vanished, replaced by a void of celestial light. The infant did not cry like an ordinary child; his eyes were deep pools of starlight, and his skin radiated a warmth like the midday sun.
But the heavens do not grant such power without trials. Around the infant's tiny limbs, ten translucent, golden shackles manifested. These were the Seals of the World, meant to suppress a power too great for the mortal plane to contain.
Haruto reached out a small, defiant hand, and the heavy chains rattled. He took a deep breath, and the air in the room rushed into his lungs like a whirlwind. With a sudden burst of will, the first three shackles shattered into a thousand golden petals. A shockwave of pure spiritual energy rippled outward, knocking over the ceremonial lanterns.
"Look! The heavens are breaking!" Kenshin shouted, shielding his eyes from the brilliance. One by one, the remaining shackles gave way until the tenth shackle crumbled into dust. A pillar of light erupted from the Ryuzaki shrine, piercing the heavens and splitting the clouds.
High above the Yamato Empire, the sky transformed into a tapestry of ancient legends. From the forests, the oceans, and the hidden mountain peaks, the Kami emerged. Ten thousand spirits—great dragons with scales of jade, multi-tailed Kitsune, and armored warrior gods—descended.
To the utter disbelief of the Ryuzaki Clan, the ten thousand Kami lowered their heads in unison. In a silent, cosmic harmony, the gods of the world bowed to the infant in Shizuka's arms. Kenshin fell to his knees on the wooden deck, realizing that his grandson was not merely a prodigy, but a being whom the heavens themselves revered.
A new warmth flooded Haruto's veins, even more potent than the light he was born with. He looked at his grandfather and smiled—a smile that held the wisdom of ages and the fire of a thousand suns. The era of the Ryuzaki Clan had truly begun.