"From the left!"
The command was firm and sharp. Ryu jumped, avoiding the energy blast that shot past him and then exploded.
The blast tore the asphalt apart. Shards of concrete flew into the air. The street had long been evacuated. Street lamps flickered weakly. Storefront windows were already shattered from earlier impacts. The air felt heavy, thick with spiritual pressure.
He lunged forward, slashing with his katana. But the attack was blocked by a hard shell.
"Really solid." Ryu muttered.
The Spirit's body did not even flinch. Sparks scattered as steel scraped against the shell. The impact vibrated through Ryu's arms.
At the same time, a massive claw swung toward him. Ryu blocked it with his sheath. But the attack was too strong and Ryu was thrown toward the ruins of a wall across the street.
The wall collapsed further as his body crashed into it. Pieces of brick and dust rained down.
From behind the cloud of smoke, Ryu stood up again, wiping a bit of blood from his lips.
"This is strange. This Spirit knows how to fight. Isn't that right… Kagutsuchi-sama?"
"Hm."
The short answer came from inside Ryu's head. A heavy voice filled with authority. Great Demon Kagutsuchi, The Warlord of Cinders.
The presence of that voice alone was enough to steady his breathing.
"Should we use the third petal?" Ryu asked the Great Demon within him.
He could already feel the heat in his left palm. The stigma pulsed faintly, as if responding to his thoughts.
On top of the building across the street, two masked men wearing black robes stood accompanied by two Spirits. Their robes fluttered in the wind. Their masks were plain, white, expressionless.
One Spirit looked like an ape with a turtle shell and a human head. Its fingers were long and thick like tree roots. The other looked like a large wolf with four eyes, its gaze sharp and unnatural.
They were not ordinary rogue Spirits.
"Ryu-kun." The voice paused for a moment. "It seems the answer lies with those masked men."
So this was not random.
A flower-shaped symbol with three petals glowed from his left palm. Ryu gripped his katana tightly. Flames began burning along the blade.
The fire was not wild. It was controlled. Focused.
"Jigen Ryu: Third Form!"
Ryu dashed forward at extreme speed.
The ground beneath his feet cracked.
"Claw." One of the masked men said calmly.
The wolf Spirit lunged toward Ryu, ready to clash.
"Now!"
Ryu twisted his body, shifting position midair. They failed to collide. Ryu kicked the wolf's body and used it as momentum to launch himself toward one of the masked men who was now unprotected.
His body moved purely on instinct. Years of training compressed into one decisive moment.
"Block." Said the other masked man.
The shelled Spirit leapt toward Ryu's target. As the distance closed and his katana was about to strike the hard shell, Ryu flipped his body. Then he slashed toward the masked man controlling the ape.
SLASH!
Flames from the slash cut off the masked man's right arm.
Blood sprayed across the rooftop.
"Damn it!! Smash him!" The furious command drove the shelled ape Spirit to ram its body toward Ryu, who now had no protection.
BUGH! KRAKK!
The sound of several of Ryu's bones breaking was heard as he was struck by the shell. His body was thrown again violently.
He hit the street hard. The impact forced the air out of his lungs.
"Claw."
The four-eyed wolf greeted Ryu's body with its claws.
JLEB.
Ryu's right chest was pierced by the claw. Blood flowed, warm and heavy.
For a second, the world went silent.
"Kagutsuchi… sama." Ryu's voice weakened.
At that moment, a small memory surfaced. A younger voice calling his name. Laughter in a quiet courtyard. A child chasing him with wooden sticks pretending to be swords.
Flames ignited again from his katana.
SLASH.
A circular flame slash created a large explosion. Heat swallowed the street. Fire rose like a blooming flower.
After the smoke cleared, Ryu was no longer there.
But his blood trail was clearly scattered.
"Pointless." Said one of the masked men.
They did not pursue immediately. They watched.
...…
With blood still flowing and his vision gradually fading, Ryu continued to force his steps forward.
Each breath hurt. Each movement pulled at torn flesh and broken bone.
The city lights in the distance blurred.
"If you die, Muramasa ends here." The voice spoke inside Ryu's head.
There was no anger in it. Only truth.
"Is there a way for that not to happen… Kagutsuchi-sama?" Ryu asked with a hoarse voice, barely audible even to himself.
"There is. But this is not a way to live."
The voice then explained a way to preserve the family. Not a way to win. Not a way to survive. But a way to remain.
A ritual.
A transfer.
A final act of will.
Ryu understood immediately.
There was no hesitation.
Ryu smiled faintly. A beautiful smile too bitter for such a decision.
"Shogo will definitely hate me."
He could already imagine it. The anger. The shouting. The accusations.
"He will understand." The voice replied.
Ryu stopped.
The night felt strangely quiet now.
He sat down slowly in the middle of the ruined street.
For a moment, he simply looked at the blade in his hand.
Muramasa.
The steel reflected the dim streetlight.
He placed the katana on his lap. He drew the blade fully.
Slowly, black flames crawled along the steel.
Not wild.
Not raging.
Controlled.
Along with fragments of past memories, memories from before he ever raised this sword.
Training at dawn.
The weight of expectation.
A small boy watching from a distance.
The two masked men had arrived.
Their footsteps echoed faintly.
They seemed to be saying something.
Threats. Orders. Maybe laughter.
But their words were no longer enough to break Ryu's focus.
The decision had already been made.
"Jigen Ryu…"
Ryu closed his eyes.
"Harakiri."
Ryu stabbed the katana into his own abdomen.
Time seemed to stop.
There was pain. Sharp and absolute. But he did not cry out.
He dragged the blade across himself.
A horizontal slash released an explosion of black flames that blasted the two masked men and their Spirits away.
The fire expanded violently, devouring everything in its path.
Buildings cracked.
The ground split.
Then the flames narrowed, collapsing inward.
"Honor will always be with you, my samurai." The voice spoke as black flames began to consume Ryu's body.
The fire did not feel hot.
It felt light.
...…
That afternoon, a high school boy with a sling bag was walking home.
The sky was painted orange, the sun beginning to set behind rows of buildings.
He walked casually, earphones hanging around his neck. He kicked a small pebble along the sidewalk without thinking.
Suddenly, something warm touched his shoulder.
Not wind.
Not imagination.
A clear sensation.
The boy stopped.
He turned around.
Empty.
No one was there.
The street behind him was normal. Cars passing. People walking.
The wind blew softly.
His chest tightened without reason.
"Ryu?"