Chapter :4 The Sparring Invitation
After leaving their secret hideout, Arata and Balder were still quarreling, voices rising and falling like waves. They were about to split up and do their own things when something suddenly struck Luka's mind. He turned to Balder, who was walking on his side, and asked, "Name?"
"Balder," Balder replied casually.
"Not yours—"
"Luka," Balder said again, completely serious.
Luka stared at him, helpless, as if he'd just seen a monster. All four froze in their tracks.
"Oh! I see. Alphabetical order!" Balder exclaimed. "Okay, everyone, say your name in alphabetical order. You start!" He pointed at Arata.
"Arata," Arata said dutifully.
"Balder," Balder followed.
"Loki," Loki added, calm as always.
Luka: " . . . ?"
"Your turn," Balder gestured toward Luka.
Luka blinked, unsure whether to laugh or cry.
"What's wrong?" Loki asked, tilting his head.
Luka let out a long, exhausted sigh. "Name—"
"That's what we just did! Names in alphabetical order—you—"
"Would you just shut your mouth for a while!" Luka snapped at Balder. His temper flared for a second, but then he quickly shook his head and laughed nervously, trying to cover up his frustration.
Luka lifted his folding fan and covered half of his face, leaving only one eye peeking through the narrow gap. With a sharp motion, he drew a finger across his own throat, then snapped the fan shut.
"I was asking the name—"
"We already did it," Balder cut in again, this time yelling—but oddly enough, his face was completely serious.
"OH, YOU LITTLE SMUG FACE, ARE YOU TRYING TO DRIVE ME INSANE?" Luka shouted.
At once, thick branches burst from the ground, twisting through the air like living serpents. They wrapped around Balder, first sealing his mouth shut, then binding the rest of his body. The branches lifted him high and flipped him upside down, leaving him dangling helplessly.
Luka inhaled sharply and forced himself to calm down.
"Ooh, you called him a smug face," Arata chuckled, clearly entertained.
"I feel pity for him," Loki said flatly.
"I was asking the name—"
Balder tried to shout again, but all that came out was loud, furious mumbling, his words smothered by the branches around his mouth.
This time Luka completely lost it.
"YOU'RE AN ABSOLUTE GENIUS... AT BEING AN IDIOT! YOUR BRAIN MUST BE ON VACATION PERMANENTLY! I WANT TO WRAP YOU IN BRANCHES, THROW YOU IN A HAT, AND CALL IT A FASHION STATEMENT! MR. NOT-SHUTTING-HIS-MOUTH, YOU'RE REALLY ABOUT TO DIE... OF HOW RIDICULOUS YOU ARE!"
He threw his folding fan at Balder with all his strength. It hit with a loud thwack, and Balder immediately went limp.
Arata and Loki stood dumbfounded as the branches had flung Balder into the air, only for him to crash back down like a sack of stones. Not a twitch, not a groan—nothing.
Arata grabbed a nearby stick and started poking Balder's cheeks. His head swayed gently from side to side with each prod... still no movement.
"Is he... dead?" Arata whispered, eyes wide.
"I can't see any movement. He's not even breathing, is he?" Loki whispered back, leaning closer.
"You hit him hard," Arata muttered.
"Yeah... really hard," Loki added.
"Really? I'm sure I didn't hit him that hard," Luka said, squinting suspiciously. "Let me check."
Arata and Loki stepped back, giving Luka room. He crouched next to Balder, inspecting the motionless body carefully.
And then—
As soon as Luka settled in, Balder suddenly sprang to his feet, letting out a thunderous scream.
"AAAHHH!"
Arata screamed.
Loki screamed.
Luka screamed.
All three of them screamed together. Luka, eyes shut tight, flung his folding fan at Balder with far more force than before. Balder went flying, hit the ground, and collapsed, unconscious.
For a long moment, there was only silence. Not a word, not a breath—just the soft rustle of leaves around them.
Arata finally broke the quiet. "Why... did you do that?"
Loki's voice was calm, almost ceremonial.
"Now he's absolutely dead."
"I got scared!" Luka protested, pointing at Balder's still body. "It's his fault!"
Arata shook his head. "What a shame."
"Yeah," Loki added solemnly. "A total shame."
Luka frowned, trying to change the subject.
"We didn't even get the name of the masked guy."
"The masked guy?" Arata and Loki said in unison.
"Duh! Didn't he say he knew it before we got attacked?" Luka replied, exasperated.
"Oh... so that's what you were asking," Arata said slowly, realization dawning.
"Yes! That... wait, what did you think all this time?"
"I honestly thought you were playing name games with us," Loki admitted.
"Yeah," Arata said with a hint of sadness, "I got way too excited about it."
Loki glanced at Balder's motionless form.
"He must've wanted to play too."
"Poor Balder... heartbroken," Arata said solemnly.
Loki clasped his hands together in mock prayer "Rest in peace, brother. Rest in peace"
Suddenly, Luka's voice cracked through the silence. "He's still breathing!"
"Oh, he is! So he's not dead," Loki said, too cheerfully, like this was the best news of the day.
Arata groaned, rubbing his temples.
"That's... a bummer. But still, we have an advantage. He can tell us his name."
Luka opened his mouth, then froze mid-sentence. Nope. He couldn't deal with this nonsense anymore.
Balder slowly sat up, rubbing the spot on his head that had taken two hits from Luka's folding fan. "Ohhh! So that's what you were trying to ask," he said, grinning through the pain. "I thought you were planning some kind of name game again."
"Enough games!" Arata said, pointing a finger like a general. "Now tell us!"
"Aoba," Balder said, finally. "His name is Aoba. That's all I know. Aoba."
"Anything else?" Arata pressed.
Balder shook his head. "Nope. Nothing else. Except his name. He's cunning... leaves no traces."
Arata's eyes darkened, the air around him suddenly heavy. He looked like a storm had descended into his soul.
Then—CRACK! A thunderclap echoed across the sky.
"See! Told ya!" Loki said, grinning. "It's gonna rain!"
"Tch, so what!" Balder barked, though his gaze flicked nervously to the sky.
Luka groaned and rubbed his face. "I... I can't. I cannot deal with this group right now."
Arata glared at him. "One day, you'll regret doubting us."
"I regret existing with you three!" Luka muttered.
Balder flopped backward dramatically, rolling onto his side. "Someone get me a pillow... or a funeral blanket. I might need both after this."
Suddenly, a raindrop fell. Then another. Within seconds, it was a drizzle.
Balder flailed. "The sky is attacking me! Luka, save me!"
Loki calmly raised a hand. "Relax. It's just water. You're not being attacked... yet."
Arata crossed his arms, still brooding like a dark storm. "Focus. The masked guy... Aoba... we have work to do."
Balder rolled over again, accidentally kicking Arata's foot. "Ow! Watch it, Black Crow!"
"Black Crow? I'll peck your eye out, Red Pepper!"
Luka facepalmed, muttering, "I just want a normal day. That's all I want..."
At that moment, Balder sneezed loudly, Loki ducked reflexively, Arata sighed dramatically, and Luka groaned so hard he nearly fell over. Rain splashed down, soaking everyone except Loki, who just shook his head and muttered:
"Somehow... this is perfectly normal."
"Hurry, let's go back to our houses—we're already wet," Luka said.
Arata nodded, and they each went their separate ways. Lost in thought, his mind drifting, Arata bumped into someone. At first, he ignored it, took two steps, then froze. A chill ran down his spine, and the hairs on his neck stood on end, as if unseen eyes were watching.
He spun around—but the street was empty. No person, no animal, not even a stray leaf stirred. Then who—or what—did I just bump into?
Shaking it off, he stepped forward again. Unseen, a shadow had materialized behind him. Its shape was human, but its features were completely hidden, swallowed by darkness. A flute glinted briefly in gloved hands, catching the faint light of a dying lantern. Then the lanterns flickered out, plunging the street into near-darkness. When the light returned, the shadow was gone—though Arata never saw it.
Completely dry, as if protected by an unseen spell, he continued walking. His path led him to a mansion alive with a soft, resonant hum, illuminated by dozens of colored lanterns swaying gently in the night breeze. The faint scent of incense mingled with the crisp chill of evening, a serene contrast to the street's tension.
The guard at the gate snapped to attention at his approach, eyes wide—but Arata didn't need to show his badge. Everyone already knew him: hair black as a void, presence commanding even the winds to still, a prince who had never lost, who always emerged victorious, and the one the emperor himself trusted implicitly.
Arata Kurogami stepped forward, and the mansion seemed to welcome him, every shadow and lantern bending around the prince who carried both fear and awe wherever he went.
Inside, the hall was crowded with all sorts of faces—lively, chatty, and, to Arata, utterly annoying. But there was one face he didn't want to see. The face of the person who had invited him here.
Everyone's eyes seemed to follow him as he moved. Arata paid no attention, taking a glass of juice and retreating to a corner, lost in his own thoughts. Many wanted to approach him, to speak, but none dared—everyone knew better than to provoke someone like him.
An Elder finally stepped forward and greeted him. Arata nodded, returning the greeting politely, the faintest trace of acknowledgment on his otherwise unreadable expression. They exchanged a few words, low and measured, before the Elder moved on.
Then the crowd shifted. Gasps rippled through the hall. All eyes turned to the staircase, where a figure descended with the air of royalty.
There he was. The one with that face—the one Arata didn't want to see.
The figure was tall, almost matching Arata's own height, though a mere finger's width shorter. No doubt he possessed a charming, handsome, almost flawless face, but to Arata, it paled in comparison. This was Shen Hua Lan—the only child and heir of the Shen family. No wonder he was draped in gold, glittering stones, and jade, each piece more extravagant than the last. His mansion, it was said, was decorated with the same ostentatious wealth.
The crowd stared in awe, their admiration practically palpable. Every gesture, every movement of Shen Hua Lan was calculated, graceful, commanding attention.
All except Arata. He watched silently, his gaze icy and sharp, a look capable of piercing anyone foolish enough to meet it. To those who did, it felt as though his eyes could tear through steel, and in the hall filled with flattery and admiration, only Arata seemed unaffected, observing the show with a cold, unforgiving clarity.
"Ah... Shadow Controller. I'm glad you could make it," Shen Hua Lan said smoothly, his voice polite, almost warm. "I wasn't certain you'd accept my invitation."
"I came," Arata replied coolly, his tone detached, measured. "Wouldn't miss it. Though I didn't expect you to think otherwise."
The crowd instinctively stepped back, a ripple of unease passing through the room. Whispers died instantly; everyone present knew the history between them—blood-stained, violent, unyielding.
Their eyes locked, cold and unflinching, a silent duel of wills. Neither moved, yet the tension alone was enough to command the room.
Shen Hua Lan's smile remained flawless. "I hope you'll find the evening... enjoyable. Let's set aside our past... at least for tonight. A gathering like this is rare, after all."
Arata said nothing, the faintest glimmer of disdain flashing in his eyes as he lifted his glass of juice, taking a slow, deliberate sip.
Leaning in slightly, lowering his voice so only Arata could hear, Shen Hua Lan added, almost teasingly, "Though I must admit... I am curious. The Shadow Controller... still lurking in the shadows, or have you finally stepped into the light?"
Arata's eyes narrowed, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Shadows don't disappear just because someone lights a candle."
Shen Hua Lan's smirk widened, sharp and confident. "Enjoy the party... while you can," he said, his smile thin, before slipping back into the crowd.
The room buzzed with laughter and chatter, the occasional burst of cheer from a group game punctuating the air. But Arata stood apart, a lone figure in the corner. He lifted his glass of juice to his lips, took a measured sip, and let his dark eyes sweep over the crowd with calm detachment.
"Well, well... if it isn't the famous Shadow Controller," a man in brilliant yellow robes called out, his voice carrying a hint of challenge. He was handsome, no question—but next to Arata, draped in crimson robes over black trousers, hair like a shadow that swallowed the light, he seemed almost... insignificant. The room's warmth didn't reach Arata; he was a storm contained, silent and unyielding.
"Lan Fa," Arata said, his tone cool, almost detached. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"But I did," Lan Fa replied lazily, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"Good to hear," Arata said flatly.
"Of course—it is me you're talking about,"
Lan Fa said, tilting his head.
Arata muttered under his breath, "That's what I hate the most."
"Huh? Oh… anyway," Lan Fa continued, a spark of mischief in his eyes. "Do you know why I'm here? Of course you don't. I'm here to spar with you."
The words hit like a lightning strike.
Whispers erupted, and a crowd quickly gathered around them, drawn to the brewing tension. Shen Hua Lan's grin widened, and he couldn't resist adding fuel to the fire.
"Ooh! This is going to be interesting… a bonus show for everyone," he exclaimed, his voice rising theatrically. "A battle between two of the greatest fighters ever to exist… at… this party! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! Brace yourselves, because it's about to get explosive—and I've even prepared a proper arena for you two!"
"You planned this," Arata said, his voice sharp, cool as ice.
"Oh, come on! I'm being considerate here—at least thank me," Shen Hua Lan said with mock admiration, eyes twinkling.
"You really are considerate," Lan Fa said politely, nodding at Shen Hua Lan, his tone dripping with subtle irony.
"Such a nice guy," Shen Hua Lan laughed, clapping his hands together.
"Unnecessary flattery," Arata muttered, sounding exasperated.
"So… are we going to see a battle or not, Shadow Controller?" Shen Hua Lan shouted, practically bouncing with excitement.
"Or maybe you're not in the mood… maybe scared?" Lan Fa added with a sly grin, eyes locked on Arata.
Arata laughed, a low, teasing sound that carried across the crowd.
"Oh boy… I really don't want to make these babies cry," he said, wagging a finger dramatically. "Sheesh, not in the mood. Scared? chuckles Of course I'm not in the mood. Battling you is like snatching candy from a baby. Scared? Well… yes, I am. Scared people might criticize me for making a baby cry."
He even puffed out his cheeks and acted like a whining child, reaching out as if to snatch back imaginary candy.
Lan Fa's face burned crimson with humiliation. No one had ever dared speak to him like this—not to his face, and certainly not in front of an entire crowd.
"Pfft!" The laughter spread like wildfire. The crowd couldn't contain themselves, their voices ringing with amusement.
Lan Fa's eyes blazed with anger. "Arata Kurogami! Enough talking—come on and battle me! Prove yourself worthy!"
"Hold on, can't you see he hasn't even finished his juice? And I haven't either. What's the rush?" Shen Hua Lan interrupted smoothly, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "The preparations are just about complete. Wait a little longer."
"Agh!" Lan Fa snapped, storming to the opposite corner, eyes locked on Arata like daggers.
Arata, unbothered by the cold glare, lifted his glass and drained it in one confident gulp. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and handed the empty glass to a nearby servant, every movement slow and deliberate—as if daring Lan Fa to make the next move.
"What, haven't you seen someone this beautiful before?" Arata said casually, tilting his head slightly at Lan Fa, who was staring at him. Lan Fa quickly averted his gaze, heat and frustration rising in his chest.
"The preparations are complete. Everyone, this way," Shen Hua Lan announced, guiding the crowd with a sweeping gesture of his hand. Lan Fa hurried to his side, whispering and gesturing animatedly as they moved, while the others filed into a dark, spacious hallway.
Arata remained where he was, eyes tracing the polished black of his long boots. Slowly, he became aware of multiple gazes on him.
Lifting his head, he saw Shen Hua Lan and Lan Fa watching him, their smiles sharp—something between amusement and challenge, far from polite.
With an expression of calm seriousness, Arata began walking toward them. Shen Hua Lan made a delicate, almost mocking "please, go ahead" gesture toward the hallway. Arata stepped into the darkness and didn't stop until he was completely out of sight.
Shen Hua Lan and Lan Fa watched him go, the red sweep of his robes fading from view. Lan Fa exhaled, relief mixed with lingering tension.
"You have to win this," Shen Hua Lan said, resting a hand on Lan Fa's shoulder. "No matter what. Got it?"
"I know," Lan Fa said through gritted teeth. "I won't let him humiliate me again. I... really hate him."
"Then win," Shen Hua Lan said firmly.
"Come on, let's go."
Lan Fa nodded and fell in step behind Shen Hua Lan as they entered the hallway.
The door at the far end of the hallway slowly closed on its own, sealing the space behind them. The mansion was now eerily empty, silence stretching in every direction. But in that stillness, a shadow emerged—tall, masked in white, a flute cradled in his hands.
He stood silently, staring at the closing door.
Then, as suddenly as the lights flickered out, the shadow vanished. When the illumination returned, the mansion was completely empty. No one remained.