Chapter I: Outside of Aethoria
The atmosphere in the meeting room was stifling in cycle 74 of the year 2517 A.P. The sharp hum of the neon lights, arranged like tangled roots on the metal ceiling, bathed the place in a cold, white glow. The walls, completely covered with holographic screens, displayed strategic maps, flashing figures, and real-time battle reports.
Koroshi Yōsei Tsunenari, lord of the Tsunenari Clan, remained seated in his imposing black leather chair, like a granite statue under the pressure of the disaster.
Facing him, a commander of the southern front, Ryota Enka Tanaka, a tall feline nobleman with several scars around his arms, kept his back rigid, his hands clenched behind his back.
—Sir...” Ryota began, his voice deep in the heavy silence, “the situation is critical. The Nagaka House vastly outnumbers and outguns us. Our troops are weary and demoralized. If we don’t act soon... we will lose the war.—
Koroshi closed his eyes for a moment. The severity of his wrinkles deepened like a map of scars from years of war.
“What options do we have?— he finally inquired, his voice strong but tinged with a shadow of despair.
Ryota shook his head slowly.
“Few, sir. Besides the fact that we’re fighting on several fronts, the Nagaka have deployed a new armor technology that’s impenetrable to our current weapons. And to top it all off, they’ve hired mercenaries from other worlds. People hardened by a thousand battles...—
Koroshi lightly tapped the black glass table with his knuckles.
—And what about our technologies? Don’t we have anything that can penetrate their armor?
—Not yet, sir. Our engineers are working against the clock, but the prototype is still far from ready.
A sudden noise interrupted the conversation.
From outside the room, muffled shouts and the sound of a struggle could be heard. The guards seemed to be dealing with someone trying to get in at all costs.
Koroshi stood up straight and his gaze sharpened like a hawk’s.
—What the hell is going on?
A guard appeared in the doorway, panting.
—Sir, it’s your son. Kano. He demands to see you... now.
Ryota opened his eyes in surprise, but shook his head slightly when Koroshi gave him an inquisitive look.
—I didn’t know Kano was here,— she murmured. The door burst open.
Kano Enka Tsunenari, a young Ehaykean with messy black hair and intense steely blue eyes, burst into the room like a storm.
She wore a red and black kimono with gold embroidery, but her posture had a fierce determination that clashed with her youth.
—Father,— he exclaimed, ignoring the guards who were trying to stop him, —I need to talk to you.—
Koroshi stood up, his voice booming like thunder:
—What is this insolence, Kano? I’m in the middle of a war meeting!— Kano didn’t back down an inch.
Sweat beaded on his forehead, but his gaze did not waver.
“Let me go to the front, Father! I want to fight for the House of Tsunenari!” The silence that followed was sharp.
Koroshi walked slowly towards his son, each step echoing like a drum in the room.
“Have you lost your mind? You are one of the heirs of our clan. Besides, you lack the experience and composure necessary to survive on the battlefield.
“I cannot stand idly by while our people annihilate themselves in a war that has raged for over forty years!” Kano spat, his chest swelling with pride. “I am a Tsunenari! It is our duty to keep the Empire prosperous, not in endless decline.”
Ryota stepped between father and son, his voice calm. “Sir, perhaps we should consider Kano’s words. He may have something to offer on the battlefield.”
Koroshi turned to Ryota, surprised. “You agree with him too?”
Ryota nodded. “Yes, sir. Kano has potential. But it’s also true that war is a dangerous place. Perhaps we should consider other options for him.”
Kano seized the opportunity to continue his argument. “Father, if you don’t let me go to the front, I’ll be wasting my potential. I want to prove that I can be a valuable warrior for our clan.”
Koroshi frowned. “I don’t want you to become a hero, Kano. I want you to survive and stay alive so you can inherit the Tsunenari house someday.”
Kano flew into a rage. “Whom will I rule? What if, when that day comes, only ashes of irreparable chaos remain? I am a Tsunenari, Father. We are made of a hide hardened for combat as well as for ruling.”
Ryota stood on the sidelines, watching the discussion with interest.
Finally, after much debate, Ryota intervened again. “Sir, perhaps we should consider giving Kano advanced military training. That way, he could learn the skills necessary to survive on the battlefield.”
Koroshi turned to Ryota, lost in thought. “Do you think that would make a difference?”
Ryota nodded. “Yes, sir. With proper training, Kano could become a valuable warrior for the Tsunenari. But it’s also important that he understands the risks and responsibilities that come with being a warrior.”
Kano felt encouraged by Ryota’s words. “Father, please. Let me try. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to prove myself.”
Koroshi sighed, knowing his son wouldn’t give up easily. But he still wasn’t convinced. “I don’t think so, Kano. War is a dangerous place, especially in these troubled times.”
Kano approached his father, his eyes pleading. “Father, trust me. I can do it. And if I don’t try, I’ll always wonder what could have been.”
Koroshi looked at his son, seeing the determination in his eyes. He began to doubt his decision.
Ryota interjected a second time. “Sir, if I may, I believe Kano is right. Military training might be just what you need to prove yourself.”
Koroshi nodded slowly. “Alright, Kano. I’ll give you the opportunity to receive military training. But if you don’t prove yourself, you won’t go to the front lines.”
Kano smiled, feeling he had won a small victory. “Thank you, Father. I will not disappoint you. I swear on my name that I will bring peace to our race.”
But Koroshi still wasn’t entirely convinced. “Remember, Kano. War isn’t a game. Honor is the last thing you should lose; there won’t be second chances.”
Kano nodded, determined to prove his worth.
Ryota interjected for the third time. “Sir, it might be beneficial for Kano to be assigned an elite squad under his command. That way, he could demonstrate his leadership and skills on the battlefield.”
Koroshi thought for a moment before finally nodding. “We can’t afford to remove Ehaykeans from the front, Ryota. Kano will be well protected at Thalios’s academy.”
[...]
For a week, Kano trained with ferocious intensity. His days were a succession of combat tactics, military strategy studies, and extreme physical training. The atmosphere in the Tsunenari House was somber, but a new flame burned within him: determination.
Finally, the day arrived to depart for the military academy. The spaceport was buzzing with activity.
Beneath the reddish sky of Aethoria, a colossal Kyokai-class vessel floated majestically, its dark metal hull reflecting the last rays of the sun. Its silhouette commanded respect: 500 meters long, capable of transporting troops and dreams alike.
Around it, four Akatsuki-class frigates, measuring 300 meters long, 80 meters wide and 50 meters high, and crewed by 100 Ehaykeans, and also ten Kaze-class corvettes measuring 200 meters long, 50 meters wide and 30 meters high, and crewed by 50 soldiers, stood as silent guardians.
Their engines hummed with contained energy, ready to escort the young heir to his future.
Kano boarded the ferry along with other young nobles. The interior smelled of steel and oil, a scent that promised glory... or ruin.
As the ship ascended and passed through the atmosphere, Kano rested his forehead against the observation glass, watching as his home became a small blue dot in the black immensity of space.
“I will not return as apuppy”I will return like a warrior,” he thought.
In the gloom of the 138th night of the year 2517 A.P. The military academy stood on the planet Thalios like a jewel of futuristic architecture: white steel towers, glass domes, corridors that seemed to flow like rivers of light.
Upon disembarking, Kano was greeted by an imposing Ehaykean, with white fur striped with beige tiger markings, feline yellow eyes, and silver hair tied back in a ponytail. A scar ran across his left cheek, a reminder of ancient battles. He wore a black kimono embroidered with silver.
“Welcome, Tsunenari-Enka. I am Fukoka Enka Ikematsu,” said the head instructor in a grave voice. “Here we forge true warriors. It will not be easy.”
“I’m ready, sir,” Kano replied, standing upright, his voice firm despite the nervousness gripping his stomach.
“First, let me guide you to your dormitory, Tsunenari-Enka,” Fukoka said in a soft, courteous voice. “I’m sure your journey was tiring, since you were in space for fifty-six days.”
“I couldn’t sleep at all with the constant alerts about preventive drills in case of an attack” said Kano, his voice a little calmer.
The next morning, the morning suns poured their golden light over Fukari’s dojo.
There, Kano met his first master: Domaru, a formidable Ehaykean with intense green eyes. His fur was white and red tabby, and his long reddish hair was tied in a ponytail. He wore a black kimono with a white haori.
“Today you will learn Fukari, the art of harmony and balance”announced Domaru, his voice soft as a stream, but full of authority.
Kano focused on the basic movements of ukemi, learning to fall, roll, and dodge like a dancer in combat.
A senior student burst into the class: Taro kūne Yamada, a tall, muscular Ehaykean with a carefree smile.
“Time for a randori, rookie!” exclaimed Taro, launching himself into the friendly match, while Domaru remained expectant of the situation, but with a little curiosity about what was going to happen.
Kano and Taro bowed respectfully to Domaru, then to each other. Then they assumed fighting stances, feet apart and hands ready.
“Hajime!” Domaru shouted, signaling the start of the duel.
The two fighters lunged forward, their movements fluid and natural. Kano attempted a direct attack on Taro, but Taro intercepted it with a deflecting motion, easily parrying it to the side. Taro then seized the opportunity to unleash a Fukari technique, using Kano’s energy against him. Kano staggered forward, losing his balance.
Taro seized the opportunity to execute a throwing technique, and Kano found himself flying through the air. He landed with a thud on the tatami, gasping for breath.
“Oops, sorry,” Taro said, smiling. “Looks like he needs a little more practice.” Kano stood up, smiling. “Don’t worry, I’m learning.”
The duel continued for several minutes, with Taro demonstrating great skill and control in his movements. Kano, on the other hand, seemed somewhat clumsy and uncoordinated, although it was clear he was trying to apply the techniques he had learned. At one point, Kano attempted a surprise attack, but Taro anticipated it and met it with a parry. Then, Taro seized the opportunity to use a Fukari technique that Kano barely managed to dodge.
Finally, the duel ended with both fighters panting and smiling. Domaru approached them and patted them on the back.
“Excellent work, Taro,” he said. “You’ve demonstrated a great understanding of the Fukari principles. Kano, don’t get discouraged; you’re just starting out and you’ll improve with practice.”
Kano and Taro bowed respectfully to Domaru, then to each other. “Thank you, Master,” they said in unison.
Kano, still clumsy, resisted as best he could.
Taro congratulated him at the end, slapping his back with a loud laugh.
“He’s got grit, Tsunenari-Enka. With training, he’ll be a beast!”
Kano, panting, could only smile.
After Fukari, Kano left the dojo accompanied by instructor Domaru. As they walked through the academy’s corridors, Kano could not remain silent.
“I just want to train enough to end this war, to defeat the leaders of the Nagaka clan. If they die... peace will come,” Kano said, still panting from the previous battle.
Domaru, without looking at him, said, “Peace through the edge of a katana? I could cut the stem of a flower, Tsunenari-Enka, but not its root.”
“So what’s the point of training if it’s not to win?” Kano said, doubting his convictions.
Domaru stopped in front of a decorative mural in the hallway depicting a wounded crane flying over burnt fields.
“The Kihokurai does not train assassins. It shapes righteous spirits” Domaru said in a calm voice filled with pure wisdom. “The warrior does not fight for the end of war, but for the harmony that war denies.
“But… isn’t it the same thing? “Kano said hesitantly.
“No. The first wants to impose, the second wants to serve. One leaves fear and the other leaves balance” said Domaru, resuming the walk to the next dojo.
For a moment a breeze enters through some wooden latticework on the top of the dark wall of the hallway.
“The question Tsunenari-Enka must ask himself is, how does he want to achieve peace?” Domaru said in his calm voice, and after a brief pause continued, “through fear or through balance?
The atmosphere in the corridor seemed heavier after the instructor’s words, each footstep echoing softly. Kano remained silent, pondering those words that were beginning to challenge his ideals as the heir to his clan.
Once they had moved to Homade’s dojo, Domaru positioned himself in the middle of the dojo to teach the next class, but now his face looked much more severe.
“Homade isn’t dance,” the instructor grumbled. “It’s survival.”
For 5 hours he learned to throw straight punches, spinning kicks and brutal blocks.
In the middle of the class, a young feline with hazelnut-colored fur and short hair that reached her shoulders, was meditating at the back of the training tatami.
“Emiko Kūne, come! Put our master to the test!“Domaru shouted.
Emiko rose with inhuman elegance and faced Kano in kumite combat.
The difference was abysmal.
Emiko, agile as the wind, dodged and counterattacked with surgical precision. Kano attacked with force, but without strategy, until he fell exhausted onto the mat.
Emiko bowed respectfully.
“He has a heart, Tsunenari-Enka,” he said with an enigmatic smile. “He just needs to polish his mind.”
At dusk on the 147th day, in the west courtyard, the young nobles of the academy gathered in a corner between the dark stone pillars. The cords of their training kimonos swung softly in the breeze. Among them was the young Kano Enka Tsunenari, listening with a frown.
“They say both sides have sent more troops to the eastern front of Aethoria,” exclaimed a young nobleman, Kei, in a cold voice. He wore a jade green and bright orange kimono, the colors of the Morikawa clan, bearing their emblem of a mountain reflected in the water. “If the war drags on, our clans could benefit from the lands of those who fall.”
“Don’t forget the glory, better to die wielding the banner than to plow other people’s fields” exclaimed another young nobleman, Kei, who wore a bright turquoise and dark brown kimono characteristic of the Renju clan with its notorious emblem of two crossed branches with a flower in the center.
“Glory? Do you call it glory to win with the blood of the Ehaykeans who will never see another winter?” Kano said in a tense voice.
“Speaks the heir who has never had to seize anything to protect his own” said young Morikawa.
“Perhaps that’s so, but remember who committed seppuku so that their clan leaders wouldn’t spill their blood,” Kano said, his voice gradually becoming filled with anger.
“We all value the sacrifice your grandfather made after the war with the Zhyrrak, Tsunenari-Enka,” said the nobleman Kei Renju. “But in the end, it only delayed the inevitable a little...”
“You do not deserve any protection if you are eagerly seeking lands; that makes you something far worse than the enemy we are fighting,” Kano said, bursting with anger.
The young nobles stood up, their hands and eyes tensing; the argument was about to turn physical, until the deep voice of the chief instructor, Fukoka Enka Ikematsu, cut through the tense atmosphere.
-Enough!
Everyone turned around, Fukoka fixed his feline eyes only on Kano.
“Tsunenari, with me. Now…
Minutes later, they were both under an old cherry tree, outside the academy as the sun set behind the mountains.
“The tongue can be sharper than a katana, Kano-Enka,” Fukoka said in a calmer voice. “Were you seeking justice or another open conflict?”
“I just want you to understand that this war isn’t about prestige or ambition,” Kano said, his voice still filled with anger. “Many clans lost their families, including my own...”
“It is well known that many leaders of the main branches of the Tsunenari clan had to commit suicide alongside their grandfather to uphold the clan’s honor” Fukoka said in a deeper tone” but remember that many clans are still with you, Kano-Enka, even with your father.
Fukoka glances slightly towards the cherry tree branches, watching as the rosy petals slowly fall downwards and one of the petals lands on Kano’s hair, then Fukoka continues speaking:
“Whatever your goal may be, Tsunenari-Enka, you must remember your position as the future leader of the empire. Your lineage gives you a voice; use that voice to change what can still be saved…before only dry branches remain where flowers bloom today.
The wind stirs the fallen cherry blossoms, and Kano lowers his gaze. He understands that silence is not defeat, but a point of understanding.
Seven days later in cycle 154 of the year 2517 A.P., Kano, along with other nobles and recruits, was summoned to the Jusowa dojo, where the ancient art of swordsmanship was taught.
Their instructor, an Ehaykean with a stern face and steely gaze, handed them heavy wooden bokken.
“There is no room for doubt here,” he announced.
It was there that he met Hiroshi Kūne Saito, a quiet young man with a serious look.
“Be careful, Kano-Enka! I don’t want to break your bokken so quickly,” Hiroshi said with a worried tone before launching into the duel.
The wooden swords clashed loudly, the echoes resonating in the dojo.
Kano, although more defensive, began to understand the importance of precision over brute force.
The instructor nodded, satisfied.
—Both have potential. Now, master it.
After a tough training session on day 155 of the year 2517 A.P., Kano walked away towards the hills surrounding the academy.
The savanna of Thalios stretched out like a golden ocean under the twilight sky.
There, sitting on a rock, he saw a young woman gazing at the stars: she had hair and fur so silver that it shone like mercury under the moon, her feline ears seemed erect in attention.
—Looking at the stars? —Kano asked gently.
The young woman turned around, revealing violet eyes so deep they seemed to contain entire galaxies.
—Yes —she replied—. It reminds me how small we are, I am Yumi Enka Kawahara, heir to the main Kawahara branch.
Upon hearing the Ehaykeana’s name, Kano bowed and said, “I suppose you already know who I am, but my name is Kano Enka Tsunenari, one of the main heirs of the empire.”
Yumi looked at him with an ironic gesture, from top to bottom, searching for this so-called heir he claimed to be.
—So Tsunenari-Enka, do you know anything about the history of the Precursors? — Yumi asked, her voice full of curiosity.
Kano was surprised by the question. “The Precursors... yes, I’ve heard of them. They were the human race that created all the races in the universe, right?”
Yumi nodded. “Yes, that’s correct. The Precursors were an advanced civilization that created all the races we know today. But what’s even more interesting is that they disappeared 2,517 years ago, leaving no trace of their existence.”
Kano was intrigued by the story. “What do you think happened to them?” he asked.
Yumi shrugged. “No one knows for sure. Some say they went extinct, while others believe they ascended to a higher plane of existence. But what is certain is that their disappearance left a void in the universe that has never been filled.” Kano moved closer to Yumi as they continued chatting about the Precursors, fascinated by the history and mystery surrounding this advanced civilization. Yumi leaned forward, her eyes shining with excitement.
“The Precursors were an incredibly advanced race,” he said. “They created all the races in the universe, including the Ehaykeans. Our race was modified from our feline ancestors, and we were endowed with intelligence, a survival instinct, and immense strength.”
Kano was intrigued. “What kind of technology did the Precursors create?” he asked.
Yumi smiled. “The Precursor technology is still a mystery to us. Centuries have passed, and we still haven’t been able to decipher many of its secrets. But we do know that they created technologies like quantum energy, teleportation, and space-time manipulation. They also created devices like the Planet Destroyer and Planetary Terraforming.”
Kano gasped. “A Planet Destroyer?” he repeated. “How does it work?”
Yumi leaned forward, her voice filled with fascination. “According to legends, the Planet Destroyer is a device that can destroy an entire planet with a...”
single shot. It is believed to use a form of quantum energy that can break the molecular bonds of matter, causing a chain reaction that destroys the planet—.
Kano was horrified. “That’s terrifying,” he said. “And what about planetary terraforming?”
Yumi nodded. “Planetary terraforming is a device that can alter a planet’s atmosphere and geology to make it habitable for a specific species. It’s believed to use a combination of nanotechnology and quantum energy to modify the planet’s chemical composition and create an environment suitable for life.”
Kano was intrigued. “How do you think it would work?” he asked.
Yumi stared at a fixed point in the sky and said, “According to the theories, the Planetary Terraforming device would use nanobots to disperse chemical and biological substances into the atmosphere and onto the planet’s surface. These nanobots could alter the planet’s chemical composition, creating an environment suitable for life. They could also create a stable atmosphere and a climate suitable for the species being terraformed.”
Kano remained silent, reflecting on the Precursor technology and the mysteries surrounding this advanced civilization. He felt grateful for the
He had a conversation with Yumi, and wondered if he would ever have the opportunity to discover the secrets of the Precursors.
“Where are the ruins of your empire?” Kano asked.
Yumi briefly shifted her gaze from the sky and looked directly at Kano, saying, “There are several ruins and strongholds scattered throughout the universe. Some of the most famous are the planet Xeridia, which was one of the Precursors’ centers of power, and the Arkeia Stronghold, believed to house some of their most important technological secrets. But it’s important to note that these places are dangerous to enter, as there are automatons left behind by the Precursors that still function and protect the secrets of their empire.”
Kano was intrigued. “Automatons?” he repeated. “What kind of automatons?”
Yumi sighed for a moment as she returned to gazing at the stars. In a high, mysterious voice, she continued, “It is believed that the Precursors created advanced automatons to protect their secrets and defend their strongholds. These robots are capable of detecting and eliminating any intruder who attempts to access the Precursors’ secrets. Some say that these piles of junk are nearly indestructible and can survive for centuries without maintenance.” Suddenly, Yumi stopped mid-conversation and looked up at a comet streaking across the sky: the legendary Imade, which travels through much of the Ehaykean galactic territory…
“I have to go,” Yumi whispered suddenly, her voice urgent. “I remembered I have something important to do...”
She said goodbye with a mysterious smile and disappeared into the night, leaving Kano alone under the sky.
He remained there, gazing at the stars, feeling that a new story was just beginning to be written.
Kano remained on that hill for a few more minutes, lost in thought beneath the starry dome. However, Yumi’s departure left a restless longing within him. From that night on, whenever he could, Kano ventured beyond the academy’s boundaries, into the vast golden plains that surrounded the complex, searching for that intriguing Ehaykeana he had met.
The academy, seen from the outside, resembled a futuristic mirage lost in the desert: its white towers reflected the light of the two suns, while enormous solar panels rotated slowly like metallic flowers in search of energy. Elevated walkways connected the various structures, suspended by lightweight alloy columns that whispered softly in the breeze. In the interior gardens, fountains of liquid water danced in fractal patterns, reminders of a civilization that did not forget beauty even in times of war.
Every evening, Kano sought refuge on the same hill where he had met Yumi. There he trained alone, practicing the katas of Fukari and Homade under the warm wind that swept across the plain. His movements, initially erratic, gradually refined themselves, finding a natural fluidity between strength and serenity. Afterward, he would sit and meditate, reflecting on the advice given to him several times by instructor Domaru and head instructor Fukoka, his bokken resting on his knees, in that posture seeking the stillness his rebellious spirit so desperately needed.
Every sound—the whisper of the wind through the tall grasses, the distant call of the zhirok flying in formation, the vibrant rumble of the solar towers—was part of his silent training. In that communion between body, mind, and environment, Kano began to forge not only his strength, but something more important: his purpose. As Kano stood firm on the hill, breathing in sync with the wind, a crunch of footsteps broke the harmony of the moment.
“Well, well...” came a mocking voice behind him. “Look who’s decided to become a hill monk!”
Kano opened one eye slightly. It was Taro Kūne Yamada, with his wide smile and carefree gait, swinging a bokken over his shoulder as if it were a freshly cut branch.
“Meditating?” he asked, approaching with exaggerated stealth. “How boring. You should be training with someone who can give you a real educational beating... like me, for example.”
Kano closed his eye again and concentrated on his breathing, refusing to take the bait of the provocations.
Taro sat beside her, awkwardly mimicking her meditation posture. For a few minutes, he made annoying noises: he coughed, pretended to snore, even mumbled “ohhhm” in absurdly deep tones.
“You know,” Taro continued, feigning wisdom, “true enlightenment comes when you’re able to meditate while someone is yelling in your ear.”
Kano barely frowned, struggling to maintain his composure. Each provocation was a spark his youthful pride longed to ignite... but, remembering Domaru’s lessons, he took a deep breath and released the tension.
Finally, Taro stopped joking and, with a more genuine sigh, let himself fall back onto the grass.
“Bah... sometimes I forget you’re one of those intense types,” he said, gazing at the orange sky. “Although it’s not bad, considering your feud with the other nobles. We Yamadas are a bit different.”
Kano opened his eyes slightly, curious, but still in his meditative posture.
“The Yamadas?” he asked in a calm voice. Taro laughed softly.
“Yes. My clan. We’re famous in Aethoria... though not exactly for our patience.” He turned sideways to look at him. “Have you heard of the Crimson Storms?”
Kano shook his head, intrigued.
“That’s what they call us,” Taro continued, puffing out his chest with pride. “Because when we go into battle, we’re like a whirlwind of blood and steel. Our ancestors believed that the best defense was an unstoppable attack. Never give ground, never retreat!”
He sat up and drew an invisible whirlpool in the air with his finger.
—The Yamada fight to their last breath. If an enemy sees our banner, they know they must either surrender... or prepare to die fighting.
Kano opened his eyes fully now, impressed. He could see, behind Taro’s joking facade, the fierce heritage of his warrior blood.
“And you?” Kano asked with a slight smile. “Are you a storm too?” Taro let out a loud laugh, stretching like a satisfied cat.
—Let’s just say... when it comes time to really fight, the storm doesn’t forgive.
The wind blew stronger then, stirring the high leaves and carrying with it the promises of future battles.
Kano closed his eyes again, resuming his meditation, but this time with a new energy throbbing within him: the inspiration of those who fought not only for victory, but for the honor of their lineage.
The wind was still singing among the hills when Kano opened his eyes, feeling a different kind of restlessness stirring in his chest. Taro’s words, his pride in his clan, and his indomitable spirit had ignited something within him. He couldn’t stay still.
“Taro,” he said suddenly, his voice firm.
The boy sat up, raising an eyebrow curiously.
—What’s wrong, little monk?
Kano stood up, the wooden bokken resting firmly in his hand.
—I challenge you to a duel. Here and now.
Taro let out a loud laugh that echoed in the air.
“A duel? After all that Zen meditation?” Kano nodded gravely.
“I want to test myself. I want to feel the spirit of the Crimson Storm.” The gleam in Taro’s eyes changed: from mockery to genuine excitement.
“Good, good... I like that fire,” he replied, adjusting his belt.
They walked a few meters to have some free space, surrounded only by the endless savanna and the sky of Thalios that was beginning to turn violet.
“What style do you propose?” Taro asked as he warmed up his shoulders.
“Jusowa,” Kano replied without hesitation. Taro smiled with a predatory edge.
—I propose Homade. Faster, more brutal.
There was a tense moment, then Taro shrugged.
“Why not both? First phase with a sword, second phase with bare hands. But on one condition...” he pointed to the bokken Kano was holding. “You will use that.”
Kano nodded, accepting without fear.
Both took their positions. The first bout would be Jusowa’s, with bare bokken. Both bowed formally as tradition dictated.
“Hajime!” Taro shouted, and the battle began.
Kano advanced with measured steps, remembering his master’s teachings of precision. His bokken sliced through the air with force, searching for openings. Taro, however, was swift, too swift. He deflected every blow with disconcerting efficiency, moving like a raging tide.
Kano managed to land a couple of taps on Taro’s forearms, eliciting a satisfied grunt from the veteran.
—That’s what I like to hear, Tsunenari!
But then, in a swift maneuver, Kano slightly lost his balance during an attack turn. It was barely a minor shift in position, a tiny slip in his center of gravity.
Taro didn’t waste the opportunity.
With a brutal and swift movement, he deflected Kano’s bokken and made him stumble backwards, placing the tip of his own wooden sword in his chest.
“Point for me!” Taro announced, laughing.
Kano, panting, looked up at the sky for a moment, frustrated with himself... but then he smiled. He had fought well. Better than ever before.
Taro extended his hand and Kano accepted it.
“Let me tell you something, little Tsunenari,” Taro said, helping him to his feet. “A few weeks ago you wouldn’t have lasted ten seconds with me. Today you really made me sweat.”
She took a step back and looked at him with unusual seriousness.
“You will be a great warrior... and a worthy leader for the House of Tsunenari. I have no doubt.”
Kano lowered his head briefly in a sign of respect, feeling within him not the bitterness of defeat, but the seed of an even stronger conviction: his journey had only just begun, but each duel, each fall, brought him closer to his true destiny.
Without taking too much time to lament the outcome of the bokken duel, both young men dropped their wooden swords and took their fighting stances again, now ready for the second phase: Homade, the hand-to-hand combat.
Taro grinned from ear to ear, rubbing his hands together.
—Now we’ll see what you’re made of without weapons, little monk.
Kano gave a calm smile. The wind ruffled his hair as they both began to move in circles, gauging the distance.
Taro attacked first, swift as an arrow, unleashing a series of straight punches that Kano barely managed to dodge with polished ukemi movements. He responded with a spinning kick that Taro effortlessly blocked, counterattacking with a leg sweep that nearly knocked Kano down again.
The duel was escalating in intensity, their feet were hitting the ground hard, and sweat was beginning to bead on their foreheads.
Until, suddenly, a shadow appeared between them like a flash of lightning. A sharp, authoritarian voice tore through the air:
-Enough!
Era Emiko’s Body Tanaka.
Her silver hair shone in the sunlight, and her normally serene gaze burned with discontent.
Both young men stopped abruptly, breathing heavily.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he snapped, crossing his arms. “Duels are not allowed without an instructor present or explicit authorization from the council!”
Taro tried to open his mouth to defend himself, but Emiko raised a hand, silencing him.
—They are putting their safety and the reputation of their homes at risk. How reckless!
Kano lowered his head in respect, while Taro huffed, clearly annoyed.
“As punishment,” Emiko continued, her voice as cold as steel, “both of you will practice basic Fukari katas until the last light of twilight fades. Perhaps this will remind you that discipline is as important as power.”
Taro frowned, his pride rebelling.
—Fukari? Come on, Emiko, that’s for beginners! I’m advanced in Homade, I don’t need
“Silence!” she snapped, her gaze hardening. “Remember your place, Yamada. In Fukari, I hold a higher rank than you. Here, you obey.”
Taro gritted his teeth, but finally lowered his head with a resigned grunt. Kano, on the other hand, looked up, a spark of wit flashing in his eyes.
“I accept the punishment,” she said, “but on one condition.” Emiko raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
“What condition?” Kano smiled slightly.
—I want you to practice the kata with us. I want to learn your technique... to perfect my Fukari.
For a moment, Emiko seemed surprised. Then, a slight smile curved her lips.
—Very well, Tsunenari. I accept.
They lined up on the hill, amidst the savanna tinged with shades of purple and gold. The wind accompanied their movements, carrying in each gesture the promise of the future. One after another, they performed the katas: synchronized breaths, smooth yet firm movements, elegant transitions between attack and defense. Taro, grumbling at first, eventually concentrated as well, captivated by the serenity and rhythm of the art.
Under the double sky of Thalios, among the grasses that whispered forgotten stories, three young warriors unknowingly forged the foundations of a tomorrow full of glory and challenge.
When they finished the last movement of the kata, Emiko took a step back, silently watching them as both young men panted softly, drenched in sweat, but resolute.
The light of twilight was slowly fading, and the first glimmer of stars was beginning to appear in the violet sky.
Emiko walked slowly around them, her gaze as sharp as a spear.
“Today they broke an important rule,” he said, his voice no longer so stern, but carrying a different nuance. “But they also showed something that cannot be taught: a hunger for self-improvement.”
She stopped in front of Kano and Taro, her silver hair waving slightly in the wind.
“You, Kano,” he added, nodding slightly at him. “You have the mind to be a warrior, and the heart to be a leader. Never lose that.”
Then he looked at Taro, whose face still showed traces of annoyance... but also of respect.
—And you, Crimson Storm... remember that even the greatest fury needs to be directed, or it will end up destroying itself.
They both nodded silently.
Emiko took a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill her lungs.
—The Tsunenari clan and the Yamada clan have high hopes for you. Don’t let them down.
With a final nod, he turned and began walking back towards the academy, his steps sure and silent.
Kano and Taro stood on the hill, watching Emiko’s silhouette disappear into the golden mist of dusk.
“I don’t know about you,” Taro muttered, with a crooked smile, “but I think I just learned more in one afternoon than in a whole week of classes.”
Kano let out a short laugh and looked up at the stars.
A new story, he thought, was still being written... in every blow, in every fall, in every lesson.
And he was determined to become someone worthy of her.
Practice ended, and the three young men began their descent from the hill, their silhouettes etched against the last firelight of the setting sun. The wind blew softly, like a farewell whisper, as the sky turned red and purple.
Taro, always unable to maintain silence for long, broke the calm with a laugh.
“Can you imagine Domaru’s face if he finds out we were fighting like savages here?” he joked, glancing sideways at Kano. “He’ll probably slice us to pieces before we can even explain.”
Kano let out a short laugh, tired but in a good mood.
Emiko, taking a step forward, let out a soft laugh that the wind almost carried away... but soon gently shook her head, making it clear that she disapproved of the lack of discipline implied by the comment.
“Don’t tempt him, Yamada,” he murmured without turning around. “Domaru doesn’t need an excuse to make us sweat blood in the dojo.”
Taro snorted amusedly, but did not reply.
As the three walked away, enveloped in a silent camaraderie that was beginning to take shape, a solitary figure watched them from a distance.
Among the tall grass, almost invisible, Yumi Enka Kawahara looked towards the hill.
Her feline ears twitched slightly as she caught the laughter and voices of the three young men. A faint expression of disapproval crossed her face; it wasn’t hostility, but rather a silent critique of the commotion that shattered the serenity of that place sacred to her. Nevertheless, she made no attempt to approach.
With a barely audible sigh, Yumi lay back on the grass, letting her gaze wander once more into the starry sky.
There, beneath the vast expanse of the universe, he sought answers once more in the eternal patterns of the constellations, while the distant echoes of youthful laughter faded with the twilight breeze. Night slowly descended upon Thalios... and in each star shone the promise of future encounters, challenges, and destinies yet unwritten.
