"Damn it, Watari…"
I clenched my teeth.
"He looks up to him without even thinking… without even knowing who he's dealing with."
I tried to approach him as a friend. Just to warn him.
And once again, he brushed me aside like I was nothing.
His eyes were blind now.
Blind to everything… except that one-eyed demon.
And I know what I saw.
---
(Seven years ago.)
The day I joined the camp.
I remember stepping onto the training grounds, still trying to hide the city's ash on my coat.
Then I saw them.
Beneath the large sakura tree, two red-headed twin girls were sparring with wooden swords.
Small frames. Delicate forms.
But their eyes—sharp, honed. Cutting through their own laughter like blades.
One aggressive, precise. The other quieter, more controlled.
And both of them—out of place.
Really? Here? Them?
Girls with swords weren't unusual.
But these two?
They weren't fighting.
They were playing.
Twirling wooden blades like it was some festival game.
Laughing.
Smiling.
This place was for warriors.
Not little girls pretending to be strong.
I walked up, my voice sharper than I intended:
"Hey! What are you two doing here?"
One of them looked up.
Her brow tightened.
Her gaze cut deeper than any sword.
"That's none of your business."
I tried to soften it.
Do I always sound this harsh?
Why does no one ever speak to me kindly?
I offered a compliment. A bridge.
"Wooden swords don't suit pretty girls like you."
She turned away. Cold. Unmoved.
Kindness never works.
So I tried something else.
"Train with me," I said, pointing at the fierce one. "Beat me, and I'll give you three copper."
She laughed.
"Copper? What would we do with copper? Our goal is two silver."
Her voice was dry, confident.
So I turned to the quieter twin.
"What about you, beautiful? Beat me, and I'll be your servant for life."
But the fierce one stepped forward again, her voice like flint:
"Stay away from my sister. If you're that eager, I'll fight you."
And just like that—the duel began.
I picked up a wooden sword.
My body felt light.
I needed to win.
She rushed in—faster than expected.
Second Flame – Weak Stage… but still too fast.
A strike from the right—I dodged.
A blow from below—I slipped past.
But the third hit me clean in the ribs.
I staggered.
Something hot snapped inside me.
This wasn't just a girl.
She was a fighter.
I found an opening and hit back.
She fell—bruised, panting.
But her eyes still burned.
Defiance. Raw and fearless.
I hadn't meant to go that far.
But she pushed me there. Tested the limits.
As the sun dipped, someone else approached.
A boy.
Twelve, maybe.
But his eyes—one of them white as bleached bone.
Not blind. Not wounded. Just… hollow.
No flame. No innocence. Only weight.
Some children are born blessed.
This one wasn't.
He carried divine wrath inside a child's frame.
He stopped in front of me.
Calm. Still.
"I heard you're looking for someone to spar with," he said. "Try me."
I don't know why I accepted.
Maybe it was the voice. The stance. The silence behind his words.
Five minutes later…
I was on the ground.
My body wrecked. Vision spinning. Blood in my mouth.
This boy wasn't cursed.
He was a demon.