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The heavens above Heian-kyo had been a suffocating shroud of ashen gray for days.
The streets of the capital, once lauded as the eternal city of a thousand years, lay in ruinous half-decay. The acrid stench of charred cursed spirits intermingled with the rot of human remains, piercing the nostrils of any who drew breath.
It was a pungent, stinging scent rising from the tattered edges of a dying myth.
The devastation left in the wake of the calamity known as 'Ryomen Sukuna' was nothing short of apocalyptic.
The Sun, Moon, and Stars Squad—the crown jewel of the Fujiwara—had been erased without a trace. The blades of the haughty Zenin were shattered into worthless shards, and the noble blood of the Sugawara flowed through the gutters like a crimson river.
Those who survived held their breath in terror, while the masters of the Imperial Court scrambled to bow their heads in desperate supplication before the Disgraced One.
Deep within the ancestral archives of the Sugawara Clan's main house.
Inside a chamber where even the sunlight filtering through the gaps of the shoji seemed to carry a heavy, leaden weight, the clan elders and a lone scribe sat in stifled silence.
Before them lay the massive genealogical scroll that served as the definitive proof of the clan's divine lineage.
"Is this... truly all that is required?"
The scribe's hand trembled ever so slightly. The ink clinging to the tip of his brush was black and viscous, resembling nothing so much as coagulated blood.
The elder seated at the head of the room lifted his wrinkled eyelids. Within his gaze, there still lingered the terrifying afterimage of 'that man' witnessed amidst the inferno of the previous night.
A man who, possessing no innate cursed technique, had cast himself at the monster armed with nothing but that cursed gift: the Six Eyes.
"Yes. That will suffice."
The elder's voice was dry, like parched parchment.
It was the voice of cold authority, stripped of all emotion and guilt.
"Sugawara no Enju fell in glorious battle while defending the clan. That is the only truth that must remain."
"But... Lord Utsugi..."
"..."
"That individual never existed from the beginning."
A heavy silence descended. The scribe swallowed hard and lowered his head.
He knew the truth. He knew that the name he was about to strike from existence was the name of the one who had shone more brilliantly and desperately than any other in the Sugawara line.
Born in the most despised of circumstances, he had been the only blade to aim for the throat of the monster that stood atop the pinnacle of the world.
However, history that is not recorded cannot even become a legend.
Steeling his trembling hand, the scribe drove the brush down toward the name inscribed in a corner of the genealogy.
Sugawara no Utsugi (菅原 卯木)
A drop of black ink splattered onto the paper.
One stroke, then another.
The characters were instantly submerged within a dark, ink-black pool.
████████
The moment that name vanished completely, a gust of wind blew from outside, rattling the windows and causing the candlelight to flicker. It was like the lamentation of a soul that had died a thousand deaths of resentment.
The elder closed his eyes, and the scribe set down his brush.
Now, the world would have no memory of him.
Neither the sorcerers of future generations nor the bearers of the Six Eyes in the distant future would ever know that such a man had once lived.
Yet, simply because he was smothered in ink, it did not mean the blood he shed, the sweat he spilled, or the radiance of those breathtakingly blue eyes would truly disappear.
This is the tale of the man erased from history.
The story of the unrecorded 'Six Eyes' who stood alone against a world of profound injustice.