Part I – Ash and Arrival

The wind had stopped.

Lonmaru’s eyes fluttered open to the stillness of scorched earth. Above him, blackened clouds loomed low, like a lid pressed against the sky. All around him, the world was quiet—too quiet. No birds. No breath. Just the brittle hiss of dying embers buried in the soil.

He tried to sit up.

Pain. Everywhere.

His body screamed, but his left hand moved on instinct—gripping the side of his face, just beneath the eye. It burned from within, like fire trapped in bone. A pulse throbbed through his skull, and for a moment, he swore he could hear something calling.

And then…

A figure.

On the ridge above the crater. Cloaked, distant. Watching.

Wind kicked up suddenly, scattering a swirl of dead leaves across his field of vision. When they cleared—

The figure, Gone.

Lonmaru blinked.

And in the space of a heartbeat—

She was there.

Blade drawn. Right above him.

Akane’s silhouette stood in stark contrast against the bruised sky, her cloak snapping faintly in the breeze, red threads humming like taut wire around her blade arm. She landed silently on the crater’s edge and stepped forward, sword angled just inches from his throat.

She didn’t speak yet.

Her eyes scanned the scene.

Hundreds of bodies. Some in black Prophetess garb, others twisted by curse—a few still smoldering, limbs twitching in post-mortem spasms. The air stank of spirit decay and burnt iron. At the crater’s center: a man covered in dirt, clothes torn, hair matted to his face, gripping his eye like it might betray him at any moment.

And beside him—

A sword.

Half-buried in the ash like it had been driven there by God himself. Its hilt glowed faintly, veins of orange light pulsing along the blade’s length, like magma trying to cool.

Akane’s eyes narrowed.

Did he do this? Alone?

She pointed the tip of her sword to his throat, not touching—just close enough for the pressure to be felt.

“Are you him?” she asked. “The Bladeborne?”

Lonmaru didn’t flinch. He blinked once. His voice, when it came, was dry and hoarse.

“I am no one.”

Wrong answer.

Akane pressed the blade just slightly forward. “Then explain the explosion. The corpses. That sword. What are you?”

He looked at her—really looked.

And for the first time, a smirk twitched at the edge of his mouth.

“You couldn’t kill me if you wanted to.”

His head dropped.

Unconscious.

⸻

“Of course,” Kaoru huffed, climbing over the lip of the crater. “You always get the dramatic entrance.”

Akane didn’t answer. She was still staring at him—at the tension in his sleeping jaw, the faint twitch of his fingers, like he was fighting something even in his dreams.

Kaoru knelt beside her and nudged the unconscious stranger with the hilt of her dagger. He didn’t move.

“…Is he snoring?”

Akane glanced down. “Tch.”

Kaoru smirked. “Must be nice. We’re chasing myth and madness and this guy’s catching Zs like it’s a nap day in hell.”

Akane finally sheathed her blade. “He’s not normal.”

“No kidding.”

“His sword—there’s something about it. It felt alive.”

Kaoru leaned back on her heels. “Think he’s dangerous?”

“Everything here is dangerous,” Akane said. “But this… this feels like something the world’s been holding its breath for.”

Kaoru raised an eyebrow. “So what, we babysitting now?”

Before Akane could respond—

A low voice drifted in from above.

“No. You’re not.”

Both women turned.

Standing at the rim of the crater was a man in a wide-brimmed straw hat, shoulders cloaked in a travel-worn haori. His face was shadowed, but the glint of steel chained to his waist was unmistakable.

A kusarigama. Blade and chain.

His voice was calm. But not kind.

“Step away from the body,” he said.

“Bladeborne or not, he belongs to the Order now.”

Akane stood slowly.

Her fingers drifted back to her sword.

⸻

Part II – The Ronin Showdown

The man in the straw hat took a slow step forward, the chain at his side clicking softly with each movement.

“Move,” he said again, eyes locked on Lonmaru’s unconscious body. “This man is not yours to protect. He’s a cursed inheritor. The Order will take it from here.”

Akane didn’t move.

Kaoru glanced at her. “…Akane?”

Akane’s voice was low. “You’ll collect his body… over mine.”

The Ronin didn’t hesitate.

One breath.

Gone.

He appeared beside Kaoru in a flash—too fast to track. His blade already mid-swing, chain lashing out like a whip of lightning.

But just before it struck—

CRACK. パシッ！

Akane intercepted, her boot slamming into the Ronin’s side with a force that sent him flying. He crashed through the air, tumbling 20, maybe 30 meters before hitting the dirt in a burst of dust and rock.

Kaoru blinked. “Did you just—?”

“He’s fast,” Akane said, eyes narrowing. “Too fast.”

The Ronin staggered up, brushing ash from his shoulder. His head tilted slightly—not in pain, but curiosity. “Impressive,” he murmured. “Very few can read me.”

He reached to his back and unslung the chain and sickle in one slow, deliberate motion. The curved blade shimmered under the orange light of Lonmaru’s dormant sword, and the chain twitched like it had a life of its own.

“No more warnings.”

⸻

They collided like spirits unleashed.

Kaoru circled wide, talismans blazing from her hands as Akane met the Ronin head-on. His kusarigama spun in deadly arcs, the chain slicing through the air like thunderbolts. Akane deflected one blow, ducked under the chain, and launched a counterstrike toward his ribs—but he twisted unnaturally, evading her blade by inches.

Kaoru struck from behind—three seals slamming into his back and erupting in bursts of spectral light. The Ronin snarled and spun, his blade catching the edge of her robe. She dropped and rolled, barely dodging the chain that followed.

Together, they were overwhelming him—barely.

Akane’s precision. Kaoru’s magic. Strike, bind, evade, repeat.

But then—

The Ronin exhaled slowly.

A faint crackle rose in the air.

“Enough.”

He bit the edge of his lip, and blood touched the chain.

It lit up with electricity—jolting alive, the blade humming with wild static energy. Sparks burst from his body like an overcharged spirit as he entered his second phase.

Kaoru threw a seal. He slashed it in half with a spark-coated strike, and the explosion knocked her off her feet.

Akane rushed forward—too late.

The Ronin was already in front of her.

He grinned.

Then struck.

The blade lashed out, skipping across her side, burning through cloth and flesh. She gasped and stumbled, blood spraying across the dirt.

Kaoru launched herself back into the fight with a roar. Her talismans flared, wrapping the Ronin in glowing chains of light. “NOW, AKANE!”

Akane’s eyes flashed.

“Threadweaver Style—Fifth Thread.”

From her outstretched hand, glowing crimson threads extended like spider silk. They shot forward, splitting midair, interlacing into a net of blazing razor-light, aimed directly at the Ronin’s heart.

His eyes widened.

He moved.

Barely.

The threads cut across his shoulder, slicing clean through armor, cloth, and skin. Blood gushed—but not fatal. The Ronin hissed, staggering, sparks still crackling around him.

He wiped sweat from his brow. First time all fight.

“You almost got me.”

Akane didn’t respond. Her threads retracted into her palm, smoking.

They clashed again.

Blade versus blade, chain against steel, electricity lighting the edges of their strikes. Dust flew. Blood spilled. Sparks clashed with talismans. Every strike pushed both warriors to their limit. Every breath drawn was survival.

Then—

Silence.

A pause.

The final charge.

The Ronin came in from the left, chain spinning like a storm above him. Akane moved right, sword drawn low.

They passed each other in a blur.

For a second—nothing.

Then:

The chain hit the dirt.

The Ronin froze, mid-step.

A single line of blood bloomed from his chest. He looked down slowly.

Akane stood behind him, sword still outstretched.

“I missed your heart…” he rasped, smiling through crimson teeth. “Barely.”

“No,” Akane whispered. “You’re finished.”

He stumbled.

Fell to his knees.

Collapsed.

Blood poured from his chest in great, heaving bursts. His body convulsed once, then stilled.

Silence again.

Kaoru rushed to Akane’s side, already pulling out a pair of glowing talismans. She slapped one on her own shoulder and pressed the other to Akane’s ribs.

Warm light flared, closing the worst of their wounds.

Kaoru winced. “Only one left.”

Akane didn’t answer.

She just stood over the fallen Ronin, blade dripping.

The blood pooled around her feet.

It wasn’t the first time.

And it wouldn’t be the last.

She was the Bloodbride.

And death always followed her vows.

🟥

The wind stirred with quiet anticipation, as though the world itself held its breath. The bloodied battlefield, once full of the sounds of death, now lay still—save for the rustling of leaves and the distant groans of fallen soldiers. Akane and Koaru, their clothes stained with blood, made their way back toward Lonmaru, the memories of their brutal fight with the Ronin still fresh in their minds.

Akane wiped the sweat from her brow as she stepped carefully over the wreckage of battle. Koaru, barely able to stay on her feet, struggled to keep up. The talismans she had used to heal them were now drained. Only one left. They had used them all up so quickly. They had only one left.

As they approached, Koaru’s breath caught. “Akane… there’s four more!”

Akane’s gaze sharpened. From the shadows, four men emerged, their figures cloaked in the rising dust. They were silent, their presence radiating the kind of malevolence Akane could sense in her bones. Each was carrying a distinct weapon, their movements calculating, dangerous. They were:

•A massive Ronin with a tetsubō (a huge iron club), his broad shoulders dwarfing the others.

•A leaner man holding a set of kama, both blades curved and ready to strike.

•Another wielding a kamayari, a spear designed for precise, deadly strikes.

•The last was armed with a katana, his stance calm, but a quiet ferocity behind his eyes.

Koaru stepped back, eyes wide. “We barely took out one, Akane. How do we fight four?!”

Akane’s jaw clenched. She had no intention of running. She was far from finished.

“I’ll handle this,” she said, drawing her blade and stepping forward, her eyes narrowing. “We fight.”

The Ronin didn’t waste words. They asked a simple, chilling question:

“Where is our comrade?”

Akane’s response was cold, her voice a razor’s edge: “Dead.”

The Ronin’s leader, the one with the tetsubō, let out a bark of laughter. His voice was sinister, like the sound of cracking stone. “Dead? That bastard… I always thought I’d die before him. I suppose I’ll just have to settle for killing you instead.”

Akane’s mind raced as she surveyed the four. They were far too fast to outrun, and they were much stronger than she’d anticipated. Even with Koaru at her side, she wasn’t sure how long they could hold out. But she had no choice. She would not run.

Just as the first Ronin prepared to move, something incredible happened.

In the blink of an eye, Lonmaru’s hand shot out from the dust, gripping the back of the first Ronin’s head. His sword, still sheathed, gleamed faintly, but his other hand was like a vice, tightening around the Ronin’s skull with terrifying strength.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Lonmaru’s voice was quiet, but there was a chilling calmness in it.

Then, in one smooth motion, Lonmaru tossed the Ronin like a rag doll. The man flew through the air, crashing into a heap of bodies and creating a cloud of dust that spiraled into the sky.

Koaru’s mouth dropped open, her heart pounding in disbelief. “He—he just threw him like nothing.”

The second Ronin moved in, his kama flashing toward Lonmaru, but before it could land, Lonmaru’s fist smashed into the Ronin’s face, sending him flying backward with such force that he cracked the earth beneath him. The second Ronin landed in a heap, dazed.

Akane and Koaru exchanged a stunned glance. They had seen strength, but this? This was something beyond their comprehension. Something otherworldly.

“His strength…” Akane whispered under her breath, unable to tear her eyes away.

Lonmaru stood, his eyes still calm, as if this was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

With two Ronin already incapacitated, the remaining two began their assault. They attacked together, swinging their weapons with brutal precision, but Lonmaru was too fast. He danced around their blows with an effortless grace, dodging each strike like he was anticipating them before they even moved. His body seemed to flow through the air, and his feet barely touched the ground as he delivered punishing kicks that sent the Ronin stumbling backward, gasping for breath.

Akane couldn’t believe it. With each strike, Lonmaru drained the life from them, his kicks taking the fight out of them faster than they could react. One Ronin tried to land a blow with his spear, but Lonmaru simply sidestepped and landed a kick that shattered the Ronin’s ribcage.

The final Ronin—he was the fastest, the deadliest—charged in from behind, swinging his katana in a blur of motion, intent on catching Lonmaru off guard. But Lonmaru’s movements were effortless. As the Ronin lunged, Lonmaru drew his sword in a single, fluid motion.

The world seemed to slow as the orange glow of his blade flashed through the air. In one sweeping arc, he took out all three Ronin. Their bodies crumpled to the ground, defeated before they even realized what had happened. Akane and Koaru stood frozen, their minds struggling to process what they had just witnessed.

Lonmaru, his sword still glowing faintly, lowered it with a soft hiss. The aftermath of his attack was a brutal landscape of blood and death.

Koaru was the first to speak. “Did he… did he just—?”

Akane nodded slowly, her eyes wide with awe. “That was… that was more than just power. He…” Her voice trailed off.

But just as the final Ronin’s body crumpled to the ground, Akane’s sharp eyes caught a movement. In the air above them, a fourth Ronin descended with an impossible speed, aiming his weapon straight at Lonmaru.

Without hesitation, Akane acted. Her thread, honed to a razor’s edge, lashed out, wrapping around the Ronin’s body and pulling him violently toward the ground. The impact was deafening—his body slammed into the earth, creating a crater on impact. The Ronin didn’t rise.

Koaru didn’t hesitate either. She rushed in, her sword flashing, and delivered the final blow with deadly precision. The Ronin’s head fell from his shoulders, his blood staining the ground beneath him.

Lonmaru watched the scene unfold, a quiet smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’re not half bad,” he muttered, nodding in approval.

Akane could hardly believe what had just transpired. She turned to him, her voice thick with disbelief. “What are you? Why are they hunting you?”

Lonmaru’s eyes darkened, and his voice grew cold. “I’m hunted by everyone. It seems like everyone wants me for different reasons, but those Ronin… former samurai who now protect—or prey upon—villages as mercenaries and slayers of the cursed. What they want from me… I’m not sure yet.”

Akane opened her mouth to ask more, but Lonmaru raised a hand. “Shut up. I won’t answer anything else until you feed me.”

Koaru chuckled under her breath. Akane—usually the composed one—frowned, clearly thrown off balance.

With the last of the Ronin slain, the three of them began to walk away from the scene of carnage. Lonmaru led the way, his sword still resting at his side, the blood of his enemies dripping from his hands. Akane and Koaru followed behind him, a tense silence hanging between them. As they moved deeper into the woods, the world felt oddly calm, as if the storm had finally passed.

Lonmaru turned his head, his gaze sharp and calculating. “There’s a peaceful spot not far from here. Let’s eat.”

Akane’s eyes met Koaru’s, and for the first time in a long while, they both smiled.