The wind moved softly across the hills, rustling the tall grass where Kazuki and Aiko lay hidden. The Mongol patrol passed through the valley below, their banners fluttering, their voices loud and careless. Kazuki remained still, his eyes sharp, his fingers gripping the hilt of his father’s katana.
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Then it happened.
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A voice echoed through the breeze — familiar, unmistakable.
Kazuki’s breath caught in his throat. He turned slightly, eyes wide with disbelief.
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That voice belonged to Renji, his childhood friend.
Once like a brother to him.
Now... riding among the Mongols.
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“Impossible…” Kazuki whispered.
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His heart pounded, not with fear, but fury.
Memories flooded back — sparring in the courtyard, sneaking dumplings from the kitchen, laughing under cherry blossom trees. That Renji… could not be this Renji.
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Kazuki started to rise, eyes burning with betrayal.
But Aiko caught his wrist.
“Not now,” she whispered. “You’ll die.”
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“He was my brother,” Kazuki hissed.
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“Which is why we wait,” she said firmly. “Revenge is not won with rage. First, we find the others. The lost clans. We strike when we are strong.”
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Kazuki trembled with anger but nodded.
She was right. For now.
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As the patrol disappeared into the trees, the silence returned.
Kazuki stood slowly, watching the path Renji had taken.
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“Why, Renji…” he muttered. “Why did you betray us?”
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Aiko looked at him. “There’s always a reason. And sometimes… it’s worse than death.”
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Kazuki said nothing.
He turned, eyes cold, steps steady.
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The hunt for Renji had begun.
But first — they would gather the forgotten warriors. The scattered swords of a fallen land. The time to rise was near.
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And Kazuki swore, when they did —
Renji would answer for everything.
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