Narrator: This is Kiyohime's flashback.
She stood in the dojo, a spacious training room filled with young samurai of various backgrounds. The children, no older than nine, sat cross-legged in perfect stillness, their eyes fixed on the sparring match unfolding before them.
Kiyohime, clad in a slightly disheveled gi, gripped her bokken tightly. Across from her stood Valentina, a girl her age with striking blue eyes and hair that was a captivating mix of blonde and black, tied back in a sleek ponytail. Her toned frame radiated strength and precision, and she stood poised in a flawless samurai stance, her movements deliberate and calculated. The two locked eyes, their gazes fierce and unwavering, as if each could read the other's intent. Slowly, they began to circle one another, their steps measured, their focus unyielding, the tension between them growing with each heartbeat.
The teacher, standing to the side, barked a single command: "Go!"
Kiyohime lunged forward, her attack swift and relentless. Valentina reacted immediately, her bokken coming up to block with precision. The clash of their wooden swords echoed in the room.
"You know that never works," Valentina teased with a confident grin.
Kiyohime smirked in response. "We'll see about that."
Her bokken moved like a serpent, striking unpredictably. With a quick feint and a sudden twist, she broke through Valentina's guard and landed a strike squarely on her chest. Valentina stumbled back, falling to the floor with a soft thud.
Kiyohime rushed to her fallen opponent, extending a hand to help her up. "Good match," she said, her smile warm and genuine.
Valentina accepted the help, brushing herself off. "Yeah, thanks. But I'm still no match for you. You're so quick. If this were a real fight and we were using our Toru Maho…" She trailed off, her tone tinged with admiration. "I'm so jealous of you."
Before Kiyohime could respond, the teacher interjected, "You shouldn't be."
Both girls turned to face their instructor, confusion written on their faces. Kiyohime, frowning, asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"
The teacher folded her arms, her expression firm. "She's almost a perfect samurai. Her skill with a weapon is second to none, and her mastery of Toru Maho is extraordinary. But look at her! She's a mess. Even before she arrived today, her hair was unkempt. She was late to training because she didn't clean her room. And look at her gi food stains all over it!"
Kiyohime's cheeks flushed with embarrassment and frustration. Clenching her fists, she snapped back, "None of that matters! How is being neat and tidy supposed to make me a better samurai? That's why I want to train with the brother clan they take being a samurai seriously!"
Her arms crossed defiantly as she glared at her teacher.
The instructor sighed, pulling out a rolled newspaper and smacking it lightly against Kiyohime's head.
"See? That's exactly what I mean! No manners, no respect for your elders!" the teacher scolded.
Kiyohime rubbed her head, muttering, "Ow…"
The teacher continued, her tone soft but resolute. "You may be right in some ways. Ever since your mother, Princess Akemi Yamamoto, was given equal leadership of the samurai clans by her father, the sister clan has gained the freedom to chart its own path even to spar and train alongside the brother clan. But that freedom doesn't mean tradition should be cast aside. Manners, grace, femininity, family, and balance these are just as vital as strength and skill. We are samurai, yes, but we are also women. Remember that."
Kiyohime crossed her arms, a spark of defiance in her eyes. "Well, I think it's an honor to be considered a weapon. That's my dream to be a weapon, a samurai feared by all."
The teacher sighed, a bemused smile creeping onto her face. "Life isn't all about being a weapon, Kiyohime. Don't you want to get married one day?" she teased, reaching out to grab Kiyohime's cheeks and give them a playful squeeze.
"Ew! Stop it!" Kiyohime exclaimed, hurriedly batting the teacher's hands away. She grimaced, the tips of her ears turning red as she added, "Why would I want to do that?"
The room erupted with laughter. Many of the girls giggled at Kiyohime's reaction, their faces lit with amusement. Among them, some students looked every bit the image of serious samurai-in-training, their expressions focused and disciplined. Others carried themselves with a softer, more feminine demeanor, though no less intent on their training.
The instructor turned to address the rest of the class. "All of you, remember this. We must not lose our identity or become mere weapons like the boys' clan."
As the laughter echoed through the dojo, a sharp, piercing ring broke through the mirth. All heads turned toward the corner of the classroom, where a bird was perched, squawking loudly. The teacher clapped her hands to regain control, her voice tinged with emotion. "It looks like class is over, ladies. Don't forget, in an hour, you'll be attending your graduation ceremony to receive your first weapons Kagami no To, the Sword of Reflection."
Her voice cracked as tears welled in her eyes. "It has been an honor to teach you all. From this point forward, your paths will diverge. Some of you will take up the mantle of samurai, while others may choose the path of a wife. Whatever your choice, I wish you all the best of luck."
The girls rose from their seats, their wooden practice swords slung over their shoulders. Chatter filled the air as they filed out of the dojo. Among them, Kiyohime and Valentina walked side by side.
Valentina glanced at her friend. "Why is the teacher always trying to convince you to get married?"
Kiyohime sighed, rolling her eyes. "Partly because I'm the daughter of the princess. But I try to pretend like I'm not."
"I don't know why you'd want to," Valentina said wistfully. "I wish I were the daughter of the princess."
Kiyohime smirked, shrugging. "It's not as great as you'd think. I have to get perfect grades, take etiquette classes, and deal with a ton of expectations." She paused to burp unapologetically. "Plus, my mom doesn't even want me to be a samurai. She'd rather I follow the sisterhood's other path becoming a wife. But I want to be just like her."
Valentina grinned. "I don't blame you. Your mom is so cool! She's not just a princess she's a top-tier samurai. The only person who outranks her is your grandfather."
As Kiyohime and Valentina strolled toward the lunch hall, a familiar figure stepped into their path. It was Li Xiao, her presence commanding attention. She was adorned in an elaborate red and gold silk uchikake, the intricate patterns shimmering with every step. Her hair was styled in a traditional nihongami, adorned with ornate kanzashi hairpins that sparkled under the light. Tucked neatly into her obi was a small decorative dagger a symbol of her proud samurai lineage.
Li Xiao smiled warmly and pulled both Valentina and Kiyohime into a tight hug. "I'm going to miss you two," she said, her voice soft but sincere. "You've always been my closest friends at the academy. But now, we're graduating, and it's time to move on to bigger and better things. You two will walk the path of the samurai, and I'll take the path of a wife. I hope your journeys are full of success and honor."
Kiyohime grinned, her confidence shining through. "Don't worry about us. We're going to have a blast. And just you watch we'll become the best samurai ever." She raised her fist in mock defiance. "We'll show those boys we mean business!"
Valentina chuckled but quickly turned to Li Xiao, her tone becoming more serious. "Aren't you scared? You're only nine, and starting a family already getting married t's such a big step."
Li Xiao shook her head calmly, her expression unwavering. "Not at all. It's an honor. My father has already chosen my fiancé. He's a high-ranking member of our clan. It's a good match, and I trust my family's decision." She gave a small nod of reassurance. "But I do appreciate your concern."
The three of them stood there for a moment, the weight of their diverging paths settling over them. Finally, Li Xiao bowed deeply, her hands folded elegantly in front of her. "Goodbye, my friends. May our paths cross again someday."
As Li Xiao walked away, her uchikake swayed gently with each step. Valentina and Kiyohime watched her go, their emotions a mix of admiration and melancholy. Then, with renewed determination, they turned back toward the lunch hall, ready to face the challenges of their own chosen path.
Kiyohime and Valentina made their way toward the lunch hall when they noticed three boys blocking the entrance, their antics drawing attention. Several samurai girls, their peers, tried to enter, but the boys stood in their way, mocking them.
"You don't deserve to be samurai, especially not warrior samurai," one of the boys jeered, a mocking smirk curling on his lips. Another chimed in, his tone dripping with scorn, "You can't even get past me. You'll just slow us down."
The first boy, Masatomo, had sharp black eyes and spiky jet-black hair. He stood tall in a sleek black samurai outfit, his stance exuding arrogance.
Beside him, Yasuke, with his short black spiky hair and deep brown skin, wore a striking black and blue samurai outfit that seemed to mirror his confident demeanor.
Finally, William, a boy with light brown eyes and neatly combed brown hair, donned a vibrant red and blue samurai suit. His sneer matched the others, completing the trio of mockery as they towered in disdainful judgment.
Kiyohime's lips curled into a sly smile. Without hesitation, she rushed toward the boys, her bokken drawn in a swift motion. As she moved in for an attack, one of the boys stepped forward, meeting her strike with his own bokken. The two wooden blades collided with a sharp crack, drawing gasps from the onlookers.
"Not again," one of the boys groaned. "Not her."
Kiyohime laughed, her confidence unshaken. "What's the matter? Scared I'll beat you up again?" she teased, her eyes gleaming with playful challenge.
The boy scowled but tried to maintain his composure. "No, we're not scared," he muttered, lowering his bokken. "We just don't want to get into trouble with the daughter of the princess."
Before Kiyohime could respond, the heavy doors of the lunch hall swung open. A towering samurai teacher stood there, arms crossed, his stern expression enough to silence the chatter.
"Get in here, now," he commanded, his voice like steel. "The ceremony is about to begin. It's time for you all to receive the Kagami no To, the Sword of Reflection."
The boys quickly stepped aside, muttering under their breaths. Kiyohime shot them a triumphant smirk before striding confidently into the hall with Valentina by her side.
Inside, the lunch hall was grand, with rows of long tables stretching across the vast room, each adorned with a variety of dishes from different cultures an homage to the diverse backgrounds of the samurai present. Despite their differences, everyone shared the common bond of the samurai code.
At the far end of the room sat the high-ranking samurai, their presence imposing and dignified. The young students boys and girls alike were seated at the long tables, eating and chatting in anticipation of the upcoming ceremony.
Kiyohime and Valentina found seats beside one another, the energy between them electric with excitement.
Valentina watched with a bemused expression as Kiyohime devoured the food on her plate like a snake, her movements quick and precise. She couldn't help but laugh lightly before leaning toward her friend.
"You know the food's not going anywhere," Valentina teased. "Relax."
Kiyohime paused for a moment, glancing at her with a playful smirk. "I'm just hungry," she muttered, returning to her meal with fervor.
Valentina, still watching her with a hint of admiration, added, "How are you always so brave? Back there with the boys, it's like you never hesitate to fight. It never seems like you're scared."
Kiyohime, her eyes momentarily softening, gave a quiet laugh. "I'm always scared," she said softly, looking away for a moment as if recalling something deep within her. "I just fight through it."
Before Valentina could respond, a sudden deep boom reverberated through the hall. Massive drums echoed throughout the room, their sound heavy and commanding, drawing the attention of every student. The atmosphere shifted, anticipation thick in the air. The event was about to begin.
From the far end of the hall, the faint but dignified notes of traditional Japanese court music gagaku began to play. The instruments sounded like whispers of ancient times: the koto, the sho, the biwa, and the steady beat of the taiko drums. Their solemn tones reflected the gravity of what was about to unfold, and the air seemed to thrum with the weight of history and tradition.
Then, an old woman appeared at the front of the hall, her presence commanding and wise despite her age. She stood tall in a pristine white samurai robe, intricately embroidered with delicate silver threads that wove patterns of cranes in flight and blossoming sakura branches. The fabric shimmered faintly in the dim light, each movement revealing subtle shifts in texture, as though the robe itself breathed with quiet elegance. Her wide sleeves flowed gracefully, and the hem of her robe bore an ornate trim of gold, symbolizing her high rank and spiritual connection. In front of her, floating with otherworldly grace, was a swirling white energy ball, its radiance pulsing with power as if it had a will of its own.
The room fell silent as the sage spoke, her voice both powerful and serene, as if every word carried the weight of centuries of wisdom.
"I am one of the great sages, the sage of prophecies, of wisdom," she said, her voice echoing throughout the hall. "Let these future samurai come forth and touch my energy ball, Mirai no Ikai, and I shall direct which part of the samurai society you will be part of."
Her eyes, sharp and knowing, swept across the room, as if she could see into the very souls of the young samurai before her.
"These are the divisions I will assign you to," she continued, her voice carrying an almost mystical reverence. "Precision Ballistics and Ranged Warfare. Bladed Combat and Close-Quarters Domination. Colossal Weaponry and Titan-Slaying Techniques. Relic Arms and Mythic Arsenal Mastery. Strategic Intelligence and Espionage. The Grand Arts of Creation and Expression. Hand-to-Hand Combat Shinra Tekken, the absolute mastery of the body as a weapon. Long-Range Devastation and Tactical Bombardment. Demolitions and High-Yield Explosives. The Veiled Doctrine of Assassination and Silent Eradication. Psychological Subjugation and Cognitive Warfare. Interdimensional Conquest and The Art of Dominion Over Realms. Most importantly, Magic Tōru Maho, in all its forms: fire, water, earth, air, lightning, sun, and mutation."
The weight of her words hung in the air as the students absorbed the significance. The Mirai no Ikai was not just a tool to assign them their roles it was the essence of their future paths, guiding them to their destiny.
"And then," the sage added, her eyes now glowing with a deep, ancient wisdom, "you will receive your own special weapon made from your own spiritual energy. It will be part of you for the rest of your life. You can never run away from it. Your own personal weapon Kagami no To, the Sword of Reflection."
The atmosphere grew even more charged as the students began to slowly rise from their seats. One by one, they began to approach the sage, ready to touch the glowing Mirai no Ikai, knowing that this moment would define their futures as samurai.
Kiyohime stood and walked toward Valentina, her face filled with determination. "This is it," she said quietly. "Our destinies are about to be set."
Valentina nodded, a serious look on her face now. "Let's make sure we get the path we deserve."
Together, they moved with the others toward the sage, their hearts filled with anticipation for the future that awaited them.
As Valentina and Kiyohime stood in line, their nerves running high, Valentina couldn't help but turn to her friend. "I hope we get placed in the same division," she said with a quiet wish in her voice.
Before Kiyohime could respond, there was a sudden flash of steel. A blade gleamed just inches from her face, causing her to freeze in surprise. Her eyes widened, and she instinctively stepped back, only to realize who stood before her.
It was one of her masters Nagare, the skilled swordsman who had taught her everything she knew. He lowered his blade and grinned at her, the familiar warmth of his smile cutting through her shock.
"You've got to be quicker than that, my future samurai," Nagare said with a playful glint in his eyes.
Without missing a beat, he pulled her into a big, brotherly hug. "I'm so proud of you," he added, lifting her off her feet for a moment.
Kiyohime embraced the hug, her voice soft and filled with warmth. "Master Nagare, it's so good to see you again."
He gently set her back on her feet, his hands resting on her shoulders as he looked her over with pride. Valentina, watching closely, tilted her head and asked with curiosity, "Kiyohime, is this why you're such a good swordswoman? Because you train with Nagare?"
Kiyohime responded quickly, her eyes lighting up as she smiled. "Yes! I train with Nagare every day. He's like a big brother to me," she said, her voice full of admiration and affection.
Nagare laughed warmly, his eyes softening. "And you've always been the little sister I never had. I've been proud to watch you grow."
After a moment of quiet camaraderie, Nagare turned toward the front of the line, his expression growing serious. "I just wanted to see you both and wish you well before you begin your journey to becoming true samurai," he said, his voice filled with warmth and determination. "Stay strong, both of you."
Kiyohime gave him a final nod as he walked off, then turned to Valentina with a determined smile. "This is it. We're so close."
The line moved forward, and Kiyohime's heart beat faster with each step. Finally, it was Valentina's turn. The great sage, her golden robes shimmering with ancient power, turned toward her.
"Touch the orb of energy," the sage instructed in a voice filled with reverence.
Valentina stepped forward, her hand shaking just slightly as she reached out. The moment her fingers brushed the surface of the glowing orb, it began to pulse with energy, shifting and swirling in response to her touch. The sage's eyes glowed white, her power activating.
"You shall be placed in the Magic Division, Toru Maho, Water Style," the sage announced, her voice echoing throughout the hall.
With a steady, commanding motion, the sage stepped closer to Valentina. Her right hand began to glow pure white, and Valentina felt a strange pull in her chest. Without warning, the sage's hand moved through her chest, and Valentina's eyes glowed white as well. In that instant, she felt something stir deep within her, and from the surge of energy, a weapon appeared.
It was a kusarigama, the curved sickle on a chain. The sage handed it to Valentina with care, saying, "This is a very interesting first weapon, Kagami no to Sword of Reflection. Take care of it."
Valentina accepted the weapon, her eyes wide with awe as she grasped the sickle's handle. It felt warm in her hands, as though it had been waiting for her.
"Next," the sage called, motioning to Kiyohime.
Kiyohime's heart raced as she stepped forward. Her breath slowed with each step, but excitement burned in her chest. This is it. I'm going to be a samurai, just like my mother, she thought, feeling the weight of the moment. The sword she would wield, the path she would take it was all about to unfold.
Kiyohime's steps slowed as her gaze drifted toward the stage, where the most esteemed figures sat beside the Great Granny Sage. At the center, commanding the eye, was the venerable Miyamoto Yamamoto. His face, etched with countless lines of age and wisdom, Japanese features, remained calm as his eyes rested closed in solemn composure. He sat upon a resplendent golden chair, its frame adorned with intricate carvings of dragons, their forms curling and coiling as though ready to leap to life. Draped across his frame was a striking blend of white and gold samurai armor predominantly flowing cloth layered with plates of gleaming lacquered steel. The armor shimmered faintly, catching the light with every shift, projecting both regality and restrained power. Though still, his very presence filled the hall, dignified and commanding, like a living monument to an age of warriors.
Beside Miyamoto Yamamoto, in her own dragon-adorned golden chair, sat Akemi Yamamoto a vision of both elegance and power. Her resplendent samurai armor gleamed in hues of gold, black, and deep purple, the plates layered seamlessly with flowing cloth that moved like living silk. Her long black hair, kissed with violet undertones, cascaded over her shoulders, framing her distinctly Japanese features.
Her piercing purple eyes seemed to glow with untold secrets, each glance carrying the weight of command and the mystery of hidden power. Around her, a crackling corona of energy pulsed and arced, faint bolts of violet lightning weaving through the air, making the atmosphere itself hum with her presence. Seated beneath the carved golden dragons that crowned her throne, she radiated the aura of a living legend both warrior and matriarch, her beauty matched only by the strength that defined her.
On the opposite side of the stage sat the Prince, his very presence radiating divine authority. He was clad in a dazzling samurai uniform of white and gold, accented with streaks of muted gray that lent a sharp edge to the brilliance of his attire. His white hair framed his stern, distinctly Asian features, a reflection of his father and sister's lineage, and his golden eyes glowed with such intensity that they seemed almost blinding, as though the sun itself resided within them.
Yet, for all his majesty, his expression betrayed a simmering annoyance, as though he found the ceremony beneath him, or the company unworthy of his time. He sat slouched slightly in his own grand chair, a counterpart to the others a golden throne adorned with coiling dragon carvings, their eyes gleaming as though alive.
Around his body, golden flames flickered into existence at random, sparks of power that hissed and vanished as quickly as they appeared. The air near him shimmered with heat, a living testament to the immense force he contained and could unleash at will. He was both prince and storm, sovereign by right and terrifying by nature.
As Kiyohime approached, she caught her mother's eye. Akemi smiled and nodded at her, a silent expression of pride and affection that filled Kiyohime's heart. The air around her felt charged with anticipation, and her heart thudded in her chest. She was about to join the ranks of the samurai, standing before some of the most powerful people in her world.
The Great Granny Sage's eyes locked onto Kiyohime as she reached the orb. "You are an interesting young lady," the sage said, her voice steady yet filled with curiosity. "Are you the Princess's daughter, if I'm not mistaken?"
Kiyohime nodded, her voice calm yet proud. "Yes, I am, Madam Sage."
The sage's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Ah, yes, of course. You are not her daughter by blood." She paused, a hint of realization in her voice. "That's why you must go through this same process by law, as required by the samurai code. You cannot automatically become a leader without the bloodline. You must earn your place."
Kiyohime's heart pounded. She stepped forward and placed her hand on the Mirai no Ikai, the Energy Orb, as instructed by the sage.
The orb suddenly darkened to pure black, and a wave of energy shot through the air. The sage's eyes flared white, then shifted to a brilliant yellow, the light so intense it seemed to fill the entire hall. The energy from the orb pulsed violently, and the sage suddenly stumbled, falling to the ground. A collective gasp swept through the crowd as servants rushed to aid the fallen sage.
"What's wrong, Madam Sage?" one of the servants asked frantically.
The sage's voice trembled as she spoke. "Her future... it is clouded by mystery."
The room fell silent, a tension-filled pause hanging in the air. And then, an unexpected voice broke the stillness.
It was Miyamoto Yamamoto, the venerable leader of the samurai. His voice cracked with a cough as he spoke, his eyes filled with concern. "What do you mean? You are the Sage of Prophecies. You cannot see her future? How is this possible?"
The sage struggled to sit up, her face pale. "I'm sorry, Master," she said, her voice strained. "But all I can tell you is that her future lies in Magic Toru Maho, specifically the Mutation style."
The entire room seemed to hold its breath, whispers breaking out among the crowd. Mutation style it was a name few had heard in generations, a path that was as mysterious and feared as it was rare. Kiyohime felt the weight of the murmurs surround her, her ears ringing with the curious and judgmental voices of the assembly.
"Mutation style?" someone whispered. "But... it's been ages since anyone was chosen for that path."
Another voice spoke harshly, "She's half-demon. Why would a princess adopt someone like that?"
Kiyohime's grip tightened on the orb, her face a mixture of confusion and resolve. She had always known she was different, but hearing the crowd's judgment stung.
A voice broke through the whispers. A samurai near the front of the room spoke to Kiyohime directly, his tone more respectful than the others. "You are very fortunate, Kiyohime. The Mutation style is extraordinarily rare. Your teachers will be ancient, old teachers, for it has been many lifetimes since anyone has received the title of Mutation style."
The Great Granny Sage, her eyes still glowing, looked at Kiyohime with a solemn expression. "Now, it is time for me to unlock your sword, Kagami no To Sword of Reflection." She raised her hands, and they began to glow white, shimmering with magical energy. Slowly, she placed her hands on Kiyohime's chest, preparing to summon her weapon.
But as the sage's hands neared Kiyohime's chest, the orb flared up once more, and the sage's eyes shifted from white to gold. Panic flashed across the sage's face, and she hurriedly pulled her hands back. The crowd watched in stunned silence as the sage fumbled, then drew a weapon from within Kiyohime.
In her hands was a katana with a snake-shaped hilt, its handle intricate and coiled, as though the weapon itself had a life of its own. The blade glowed faintly, its presence both terrifying and beautiful.
As the sage's trembling hands gripped the blade, her strength faltered, and she collapsed to the floor. The crowd gasped in shock, murmurs spreading like wildfire. "What is happening?!" some cried, as servants rushed to her aid, lifting her frail form from the ground.
Kiyohime, her heart pounding, instinctively grasped her newly forged weapon, the Kagami no To Sword of Reflection. The ancient katana hummed in her hands, a powerful connection forming in that fleeting moment. As the servants struggled to help the sage, the old woman slowly rose, her energy returning to her as though it had been summoned by the blade itself.
"No... this cannot be," the sage muttered, her eyes wide with disbelief. "It has been centuries since I have witnessed such a thing. A new prophecy... a new prophecy."
The crowd, now in hushed awe, whispered amongst themselves, "New prophecy? A new prophecy?" The air grew thick with tension as they all waited for the sage to speak.
Miyamoto Yamamoto, the revered leader of the samurai, stood up slowly, his voice gravelly with age but filled with determination. "You have seen a new prophecy, Sage? What is it? Tell us."
But before the sage could speak, the prince, regal as ever, intervened, his voice powerful and elegant. "Father, sit down," he implored. "Do not overexert yourself. Your heart is frail. Please."
Akemi Yamamoto, her voice filled with concern, echoed her brother plea. "Please, father, calm yourself. I know how much these prophecies mean to you, how they have guided you through life's most perilous trials. But your health cannot bear such strain."
Miyamoto Yamamoto looked at his children, a proud smile curving his lips despite the concern in their voices. "I am fortunate," he said softly, "to have such loving children who will protect me until my last breath."
Turning his gaze back to the sage, he asked once more, his voice filled with reverence, "What is this prophecy, Sage?
The sage's eyes flickered, returning to their luminous glow as she summoned the Mirai no Ikai, the energy orb, once more. It pulsed with an ancient light, its aura shifting and swirling, forming into the words the sage was about to speak. Her voice grew deep and resonant, like the echo of a distant drum, as if the words themselves carried the weight of the ages.
She intoned with great solemnity:
"There is a warrior, a warrior of fire. His flames are not of destruction, but of pure compassion. He is of this age, yet his spirit has incarnated anew. His form is rational, but his fire consumes all. His words oh, his words change hearts as the winds change the seasons. They are the flames that burn away ignorance, casting light into the darkest corners of the world."
As the sage spoke, the orb shaped itself, revealing an image blurry, ethereal of a warrior bathed in fire, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity. The flames swirled around him, but instead of rage, they held a deeper truth, a truth of unity and awakening.
"His golden eyes shall shatter ignorance, breaking the chains that bind the minds of men. His fire will spread, not in wrath, but in mercy, uniting the realms, the mythologies, the very fabric of existence. No corner of the omniverse will escape his gaze. His compassion will fuel his rage, and his rage will purify the world. In time, he will unite all peoples, bring them to peace, and free the realms to stand alone in their own glory, unchained and unbroken."
A ripple of gasps echoed through the crowd, each word heavy with meaning, yet all the more enigmatic.
The prince, his gaze sharp with an unmistakable gleam of recognition, murmured under his breath, "Eyes of gold... such power cannot be rivaled... this is... a matter of great intrigue."
Miyamoto Yamamoto, now leaning forward with intense focus, struggled to rise from his seat, his voice raw from the strain. With each labored breath, his words were heavy with urgency. "Where?" he demanded, his tone fierce yet tinged with reverence. "Where is this warrior? I have seen him in my dreams. The Buddha himself appeared to me in a vision, declaring that a warrior such as this would rise. Tell us, Sage... reveal what you know. We must know more."
The sage nodded solemnly, her eyes glowing brighter, her voice lowering to a reverent whisper.
"This warrior is shrouded in mystery, his true form elusive even to the highest of sages. But I see more now his essence is not new. He is an incarnation of one who has walked this earth before, a warrior whose name echoes in the hallowed halls of legend. He is the Fist of Buddha, the protector of realms, the one known as Vajrapaṇi, the Fighting Bodhisattva the Fists of the Thunderbolt, the Compassion of Dharma."
The crowd fell silent, as the weight of these words sank deep into their hearts. Some gasped in recognition, others trembled with awe. The name of Vajrapaṇi carried great power, its echo reverberating through the halls of time itself.
The old man, Miyamoto Yamamoto, trembled as the realization dawned on him. "I... I have seen him in my dreams. The Buddha spoke to me of this warrior, and now... now I understand." He fell back into his seat, his body shaking with the enormity of what had been revealed. "Vajrapaṇi," he whispered, reverence filling his voice.
The prince leaned in, his eyes flickering with something darker, more intense. "Yes, this is the one we have awaited. His power will change everything."
The sage's energy orb pulsed one last time, her voice soft but filled with certainty. "The prophecy is clear, and it is ancient. The warrior will return, and through his flames, the world will be reborn. He will unite us all, and in his wake, the realms will know peace."
As the last words faded into the silence, the other young samurai, boys and girls alike, were handed their Kagami no To, the Sword of Reflection. One by one, they received their blades, and the ceremony began to close. The crowd slowly dispersed, their thoughts consumed by the prophecy they had just witnessed.
Kiyohime, her heart still racing from the weight of the prophecy, made her way back home with her mother. The two sat together in the living room, the warmth of their home a stark contrast to the monumental truths revealed that day. The words of the sage, the prophecy, echoed in Kiyohime's mind: a warrior of fire, a warrior of compassion. She felt the weight of the future pressing upon her, the Sword of Reflection resting at her side as the beginning of her own journey unfolded.
As the two sat together in the grand dining hall, savoring their meal in the warmth of their home, Akemi Yamamoto, with a stern yet caring gaze, spoke to her daughter. "You better train hard to become a samurai," she said, her voice holding the weight of experience. "Your new weapon looks very nice. The snake-handle matches you well."
Kiyohime, her eyes gleaming with determination, nodded as she continued to eat, her movements quick and primal. She devoured her food with no regard for etiquette, using her hands with the same ferocity as a snake would strike its prey. Her mother's words barely registered as Kiyohime's focus remained on the meal.
Akemi Yamamoto sighed, a hint of amusement and frustration in her voice. "All those years of etiquette classes for no reason, and you still don't use a spoon. How do you ever expect to get married?"
Kiyohime's eyes narrowed, the fire of resolve burning brightly within them. She paused for a moment, then bit back. "Can you stop bringing that up? I don't want to get married, ever." She continued, her voice steady yet fierce. "I want to be a warrior. A weapon. I want to be a warrior for our country. Our clan. Just like you, mom. You're not married. You don't have children, except for me, and even then, you adopted me."
Akemi Yamamoto's expression softened, but her eyes remained intense, filled with the burden of both love and duty. "I want you to be better than me," she said quietly, her tone heavy with years of sacrifice. "I had no choice as the leader of the samurai. My father had expectations. But you— you can choose a different path. I want you to have a better life than mine. You are a future princess, Kiyohime. Act like one."
Kiyohime's lips tightened, her resolve unshaken. "I don't want to be a princess," she declared. "I want to fight, to defend, to protect. I want to forge my own path, just like you did when you chose to be a warrior instead of a wife." She stood, grabbing her new weapon, Kagami no To, the Sword of Reflection, feeling its weight settle into her grip like an extension of herself.
Akemi Yamamoto's gaze turned sad but understanding, her voice tinged with the wisdom of experience. "Fine, but just know this: the life of a warrior is short, and the life of a wife with a family... that's forever." Her voice dropped, a quiet plea that echoed the weight of all the choices she had made.
Kiyohime glanced at her mother, her eyes unyielding as she responded, "Dying as a warrior for your country also lasts forever. Being a weapon... a legendary warrior will be known through all of history." She stood tall, her presence like the storm before the battle. The sword felt alive in her hands. "I'm going to train now."
With a swift, purposeful motion, Kiyohime left the room, her footsteps echoing in the expansive mansion, the path ahead of her unclear yet full of promise.
Kiyohime entered one of the massive training rooms of the mansion, the dojo designed for warriors of her caliber. The vast space, with its polished wooden floors and intricate patterns, seemed to hum with the energy of past battles. She stood before the mirror, her figure reflected as she practiced with her newly forged Kagami no To, the Sword of Reflection. Each swing of her blade was calculated, swift, and precise as she honed her skills, perfecting both hand signs and spells. The glow from the blade illuminated the room as she weaved her magic, pushing her limits.
Exhausted from the relentless training, Kiyohime wiped the sweat from her brow, ready to leave. But just as she was about to turn away, her sharp eyes caught something unusual. In the corner of the dojo, almost hidden in the shadows, was another sword. Her jaw dropped in disbelief.
"There's no way..." she murmured, walking toward it. "A master samurai left one of his swords behind?"
The sword before her was not a Kagami no To, not a blade made from spirit energy this was a different weapon altogether. Its aura was darker. It didn't carry the same sacred presence as her sword, which made it more accessible. A mere enchanted blade, she realized.
Kiyohime reached for it, her fingers curling around the hilt, feeling its weight in her hands. She gave it a few experimental swings, delighting in the balance and ease of movement. It was a perfect practice weapon. As she continued to swing, her movements fluid and instinctual, the blade began to glow with an eerie light.
The room around her began to warp, the air itself bending. She felt a sudden pull, and in the blink of an eye, Kiyohime was no longer in the dojo. She found herself in a completely unfamiliar space. She blinked in confusion, looking around. The walls were dark, adorned with ancient relics and strange markings. At the center of the room, a line of pristine swords stood, each gleaming with power.
"Where am I?" she whispered to herself.
She took a step back, her heart pounding. The room felt ancient, filled with the weight of countless warriors who had come before her. Her mind raced as she realized what had happened the sword had transported her Kiyohime mutters to herself, "I must have done something to trigger the sword a spell or something that caused it to teleport me and itself back to its rightful place."
Kiyohime's ears picked up the faintest sounds footsteps, the soft shuffle of heavy armor against the floor. Her instincts flared, and without a second thought, she darted behind a Bokken dummy, her heart thudding in her chest. I shouldn't be here, she thought, her grip tightening around the master samurai's sword. I never should have touched it.
She crouched low, trying to control her breathing, each inhale and exhale steady but frantic. The sounds grew louder creaking wooden doors, the clink of metal, footsteps drawing nearer. Her pulse quickened. They're coming. The heavy doors slowly groaned open, and dark, imposing figures began to fill the room tall, regal figures clad in golden samurai armor.
They moved with grace and authority, their every step echoing like the whispers of an ancient tradition.
These are no ordinary warriors, Kiyohime realized, her eyes widening. These are past black belts. High-ranking samurai.
She strained to keep her presence hidden, watching as they entered. The sound of their armor clinking in unison filled the room as they gathered in a circle.
Then, the room grew still.
Kiyohime's eyes widened as the last figure entered the prince. Clad in the same regal gold armor as the rest, his mere presence exuded authority, and the room seemed to grow still in his wake. The samurai, their postures rigid with respect, bowed their heads in silent acknowledgment before taking their seats.
As Kiyohime crouched behind the Bokken dummy, her heart pounding, she overheard the low murmurs of the samurai around her. The tone of their conversation was sharp and filled with discontent.
"Your sister, Akemi Yamamoto, has made us appear weak," one of the samurai muttered, his voice hard with resentment. "She has altered the strategy we've followed for generations. The military has grown soft under her rule. Women now march alongside men in our ranks, and citizens are given too much leeway. Conquered lands were returned at her command, and our system of justice has faltered. The trade agreements with other realms are in chaos, and our leadership is fractured. This weakness cannot stand. Prince, you should be leading us."
Kiyohime's grip tightened around the sword at her side, her pulse quickening at the vehemence in their voices. She dared not move, but she could not tear her ears away from their words.
The prince's voice, smooth and measured, cut through the tension. "I hear your complaints," he said, his tone calm and unwavering. "But the decisions of my father, however misguided, stand for now. Akemi's reign will not last. The changes she has put in place will be undone when I assume command. I have foreseen this. These eyes never deceive. What I envision will come to pass. My eyes are all-powerful."
Suddenly, he paused, his sharp gaze sweeping the room. "There is an intruder," he said coldly, his voice laced with warning.
Kiyohime's heart sank. I'm caught, she thought, her mind racing. I shouldn't be here... Her breath quickened, panic setting in, but before she could act, her body was lifted from the ground by an invisible force. In an instant, she was no longer in the training room. She stood alone in an empty, stark white space, the silence suffocating, She was forced teleported to a higher realm.
"Where am I?" Kiyohime whispered, spinning in confusion. "What have you done?"
The prince's voice echoed from behind her, his tone unchanging. "You did not hear this conversation," he said softly, and then he placed a finger to her forehead.
Before she could respond, the world around her shifted once more, and in the blink of an eye, she was back in her room, disoriented and breathless. The weight of the encounter lingered, leaving her with more questions than answers. Had it been real? Or had it been some strange vision?
Narrator: And with that, Kiyohime's flashback came to an end. The scene shifted back to the present, where the fierce battle between her and her former master, Nagare, raged on
Narrator: Kiyohime knelt on the ground, her hands and knees supporting her as Nagare loomed above her, poised to strike with his new blade. Lightning crackled from the blade's tip, a storm of power ready to surge toward Kiyohime's back. A solitary tear rolled down Nagare's face, his voice soft yet resolute. "I'm just doing my job."
But as the memory of her past began to surface, Kiyohime's confidence returned. Her broken sword, Kagami no To Sword of Reflection, lay shattered before her, the handle still intact. Energy swirled around her and the remnants of the sword, a toroidal field of magic that radiated with raw power. The energy surged, forcing Nagare to be sent flying, skidding across the ground in the wake of her rising power.
Kiyohime stood tall, her aura enveloping her like an unstoppable force. With steady hands, she picked up the handle of her broken sword. Slowly, the pieces of the blade began to reassemble, glowing with the power of her will. As the sword took shape once more, she spoke with quiet determination, "Those memories helped me realize who I am... and what I fight for. And that's my family."
The sword, now fully restored, pulsed with a brilliant purple glow, the energy surrounding it crackling with intensity. Kiyohime's eyes glowed with the same purple energy, mirroring her mother's gaze but with newfound strength. The sword, now reformed, was a perfect blend of beauty and deadly purpose: the handle, black and shaped like a serpent, the blade was dark, with a violet energy pulsating around it.
"The handle was black, coiling like a serpent, cool to the touch, yet radiating an eerie, unnatural warmth. At the tip, the words Lady Death were inscribed in jagged, unsettling lettering, carved by a force beyond human hands. The blade itself was a deep, shadowy violet, its edges sharp they were forged in the darkest corners of the underworld. A pulsating energy, dark and ominous, wrapped around the blade in swirling tendrils, like a storm trapped within steel. Black and purple veins snaked their way up the blade, as though the weapon itself was alive, feeding on the very darkness it wielded. The serrated edges were reminiscent of Inosuke's Nichirin Blades, but with an added sinister twist red-tinted, like blood soaked in shadows.
"This is my sword's transformation," Kiyohime declared, her voice steady and fierce, her grip tightening as the blade hummed with dark power. "Its new name... Shi no Tanjo, the Birth of Death." The blade seemed to vibrate with malevolent energy, its power growing with each passing second, as if it were ready to consume everything in its path.
Nagare, with a tear still lingering in his eye, gritted his teeth. "Why don't you just die? Why do you have to make this so difficult?"
Kiyohime's resolve only grew stronger. "I've finally unlocked my sword's true form... but I have to use it on you."
She stood her ground, her energy crackling, as she offered one last plea. "We don't have to do this. You can just let me go... We're like family."
But Nagare's resolve hardened, and the energy around them swirled violently. His tears were swept away as he spoke, his voice cold and unwavering. "I am a samurai. I am a weapon. I do only what I am told."
Kiyohime's mind flashed back to when she was a child, a fleeting moment of innocence. "I want to be a weapon... the greatest weapon ever. A tool to be used."
With those words echoing in her heart, both warriors assumed their fighting stances. The battlefield crackled with anticipation, and with a surge of energy, they charged at each other, two forces of nature about to collide in a final, fateful battle.