In the ruined streets of Kujira City, Kujaku Suijin moved like a storm given human form.
Her boots splashed through shallow water and blood as she advanced with her elite guard, cutting down assassins who emerged from smoke and collapsed buildings. Blades flashed, water surged, and bodies fell. There was no hesitation in her movements—only purpose. The city screamed around her, buildings burning, steel clashing, rain beginning to fall as if the heavens themselves mourned Kujira's fate.
At the heart of the city lay the Grand Battlefield.
A vast open expanse of stone and broken banners, built generations ago to host wars of unimaginable scale. Wide enough to hold an army of millions, it now stood ready to witness the destruction of a family.
Kujaku stepped forward alone.
Her voice rang across the battlefield, sharp and commanding.
"Kagekawa! Show yourself!"
From the opposite end, horns sounded. Rows of soldiers parted as Kagekawa Suijin emerged, flanked by his army. Rain slid down his armor and hair as he raised his voice in reply.
"Nee-sama! There is still time. Surrender. Hand me the throne, and I will end this war!"
Kujaku's eyes burned with fury.
"Father judged me worthy of leading the Suijin," she replied. "I will never betray that trust."
Kagekawa's expression hardened.
"Then prepare for total war!"
Both armies charged.
Steel met steel. Water techniques detonated across the field. Screams drowned beneath thunder.
The screen went black.
The rain began before either of them moved.
Thin, cutting lines of water fell onto a shattered plaza away from the battlefield. Broken stone and fallen banners littered the ground, the Suijin crest crushed beneath countless boots. Torchlight reflected in growing pools of water—and in the hatred burning within two pairs of identical eyes.
Kagekawa smiled first.
"You always loved dramatic stages, sister," he said, rolling his shoulders. "A city in flames, rain from the sky… fitting for the end of an era."
Kujaku said nothing. She stepped forward, boots splashing softly, her stance low and controlled.
"This ends tonight," she said. "You've bled Kujira enough."
His smile vanished.
They moved as one.
Kujaku closed the distance instantly, her foot skimming the water's surface. She twisted and drove a palm strike toward his chest. Kagekawa barely evaded—water beneath him erupted violently, launching stone and spray into the air and forcing him back.
He countered low, sweeping her legs as water coiled around his arm like a serpent, hardening at the moment of impact. Kujaku leapt, but Kagekawa followed, slamming his fist into her ribs mid-air. Water exploded outward, cushioning yet amplifying the blow.
They skidded apart across wet stone.
"You've grown stronger," Kujaku admitted, blood at her lip.
"I had to," Kagekawa snapped. "You were always above me."
He attacked again—faster, relentless. Each punch carried compressed water, striking like iron. Kujaku met him head-on, blocking and redirecting, stealing control of the surrounding water with every movement.
Their fists collided—bone against bone. No techniques. No distance.
Elbows. Knees. Headbutts.
Kujaku drove a knee into his stomach. He caught her leg and slammed her into the flooded stone.
Water surged.
Hands formed beneath Kujaku, shoving Kagekawa away. He stumbled, laughing breathlessly.
"That control… it's unfair."
"Control is earned," she replied.
She stomped. Water spread outward, thinning, sharpening, rising into dozens of hovering blades.
Kagekawa crossed his arms.
The rain reversed.
Every drop halted, then surged toward him, forming a dense spinning shield. The blades shattered into mist. Using the cover, he charged, slamming Kujaku into a broken pillar.
Pinned, she headbutted him, then shattered his balance with a brutal punch. She advanced relentlessly, fists wrapped in rotating water, driving him back step by step.
He stopped her mid-strike, catching her wrist.
"Why wouldn't you share the throne?" he growled. "Why did it always have to be you?"
"Because you wanted power," Kujaku said quietly. "I wanted to protect."
She broke free and drove her palm into his chest.
This time, she held nothing back.
Water erupted from every crack in the plaza, surging forward like a tidal wave. It lifted Kagekawa and smashed him into the far wall, stone fracturing on impact.
Kujaku stepped toward him, kunai raised.
Then a voice cut through the rain.
"Stop right there—or I slit her throat."
Kujaku froze.
Arata stood behind her, holding Sakana—her seven-year-old daughter—in his arms. A blade rested against the child's neck.
"Don't try anything," Arata snarled. "Release Kagekawa, and I let her live."
"Let her go!" Kujaku screamed.
Kagekawa's eyes widened. "Arata! This wasn't my order! I never told you to take Sakana!"
"I'm sorry, my lord," Arata said, lowering his gaze. "I can fall to any depth for you."
Kujaku turned on her brother, fury shaking her voice. "You would risk your own niece's life?"
Kagekawa looked away.
"Forgive me, Sakana," he said coldly. "This is for the family."
Tears streamed down Sakana's face. "Mama… you said a leader must be ready to lose everything."
Arata raised his blade.
"Sakana!"
Kujaku lunged—but Kagekawa tackled her. Sakana closed her eyes.
Smoke exploded between them.
From the swirling mist, the hooded man from the forest appeared. In a single motion, he seized Sakana and vanished—leaving only drifting smoke behind.
Silence fell.
Before anyone could react, Kujaku bound both Kagekawa and Arata in crushing streams of water.
"Sakana!" she cried.
A small figure stepped from the shadows.
"Mama."
Kujaku ran to her, dropping to her knees and pulling Sakana into a desperate embrace.
The rain finally stopped.
The screen went black.