Kenshi and Himawari huddled behind the jagged remains of a collapsed stone wall, the dust of the ruins biting into their skin.
Loud, booming voices echoed behind them, reverberating off the hollow stones of the abandoned village.
"Find them, now!"
Two Hours Earlier...
Kenshi gasped, his body jerking upright as the remnants of the nightmare shattered. The image of the stone General and the river of blood faded, but the cold sweat clinging to his back remained.
He was back in the ruins. The morning sun was just starting to bleed through the cracks in the masonry.
But the silence he expected was gone.
Instead, the crunch of heavy boots on gravel drifted in from the courtyard, accompanied by a rough, shouting voice that cut through the morning air like a jagged blade.
"Search for anything valuable! Food, water, weapons... and women. Check the bodies—even if they are dead!"
A chorus of lecherous, raucous laughter erupted in response, shaking the quiet air.
Beside Kenshi, Himawari jolted awake, a small gasp escaping her lips as her eyes flew open in terror.
"Susssh!"
Kenshi moved instantly, his hand clamping gently but firmly over her mouth. He pulled her close, pressing her back against the cold stone of the wall, shielding her with his body. His heart hammered against his ribs, but his eyes were sharp, focused entirely on the voices drifting around the corner.
He could hear the clatter of gear and the murmur of men—a group, likely a dozen or more.
"So, Boss," a slimy voice piped up, distinct among the chatter. "What happened to this village? The last time we came for women, it was good. Plenty of pickings."
There was a pause, the sound of a heavy boot kicking debris aside. Then, a deeper voice answered, one thick with a strange mixture of greed and underlying fear.
"The White Masked Monster," the man they called 'Boss' replied. "It killed everything here."
The chatter of the underlings died instantly. The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the sound of men fidgeting, armor clinking as they shifted uncomfortably. Someone made a choking sound, clearing their throat nervously before a brave—or perhaps foolish—soul spoke up.
"But... Boss Hugo," the voice wavered slightly. "Isn't the White Monster just a myth? A story we named our gang after? You know... to look inspiring?"
Kenshi, peering through a small fissure in the broken wall, saw the man named Hugo stop.
Hugo was a massive man, his armor cobbled together from mismatched plates. He turned slowly toward the underling who had spoken, a smile spreading across his face. It wasn't a friendly smile. It was a wide, stretching grin that didn't reach his dead eyes.
Without a word, Hugo lunged.
His hand, thick as a ham hock, snatched the questioning subordinate by the throat. He lifted the man into the air with terrifying ease, his feet dangling inches off the ground.
"Ghhk—!"
The underling kicked wildly, his hands clawing uselessly at Hugo's iron grip. His face turned red, then purple, as he suffocated.
Hugo didn't stop smiling. In fact, his grin widened, stretching the scar tissue on his cheek until he burst into a loud, crazed laughter.
"HAHAHAHA!"
The rest of the gang took a collective step back, fear rippling through them. Hugo laughed as the man in his hand turned limp, enjoying the sound of his own madness echoing off the dead walls.
Suddenly, Hugo flicked his wrist, throwing the gasping man into the group like a sack of grain. The underling crashed into his comrades, toppling three of them into the dust.
The laughter cut off as quickly as it had begun. Hugo's face was still twisted in that manic smile, but his voice dropped to a lethal hiss.
"Listen, you fools," Hugo snarled, stepping toward them. "I am the 3rd Squad Captain of the White Mask Gang. And you all... are under me."
He spread his arms wide, encompassing the ruins and the men before him.
"Your life. Your death. And if I wish, your women. All are mine. That is the price for you to survive carefree in this land."
The entirety of the ruins went dead silent. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath. The underlings stared at the ground, terrified to meet his gaze.
Hugo lowered his arms, his chest heaving slightly. Slowly, deliberately, he turned his head.
His eyes scanned the rubble, moving past the collapsed pillars and the overgrown weeds, until they stopped. He was looking directly at the section of wall where Kenshi and Himawari were huddled.
His nostrils flared, as if he had caught a scent on the wind.
"And..." Hugo's smile returned, sharper this time. "It seems we have children to take care of."
Hearing this, Kenshi didn't hesitate. He grabbed Himawari's wrist, his grip tight.
"Run!"
They scrambled backward, turning their heels to the White Mask Gang. But before they could take more than three steps, a deafening boom shook the earth.
CRACK!
The stone wall they had been hiding behind disintegrated. It wasn't just kicked over; it was blasted into rubble by a force that sent shockwaves through the ground.
Debris rained down like hail. Kenshi was thrown to the left, tumbling into the dirt, while Himawari was flung to the right, landing hard near the base of a fallen pillar.
Coughing through the cloud of dust, Kenshi scrambled to his knees, his eyes frantically searching. "Himawari!"
"Well, well," a growl rumbled from the dust cloud.
An underling stepped forward, his eyes locked on the trembling girl. He licked his lips, ignoring the boy struggling to stand a few meters away.
"Boss, we got a little girl," he snickered, reaching out with a grimy hand to grasp her arm. "Heheh! She'll fetch a pretty—"
SPLAT.
The man never finished his sentence.
Hugo appeared behind him, a blur of massive motion. With a casual, almost bored backhand, he slapped the underling on the top of his head. The force was catastrophic. The man didn't just fall; he was driven into the soil like a nail, his neck snapping with a sickening crunch. He died instantly, his body crumpling into a heap.
The laughter died in the throats of the other gang members.
"You idiots!" Hugo roared, stepping over the corpse without a glance. He pointed a thick finger at Kenshi, who had just drawn the Talwar, the blade gleaming dangerously in the sunlight.
"First catch the brat! Look at his hand!" Hugo's eyes widened, a spark of recognition—and terrifying avarice—igniting within them. "That isn't just a sword... It's likely a Zanpakuto!"
Zanpakuto.
The word hung in the air like a spell.
The effect was instantaneous. The lust for flesh vanished, replaced by a burning, feverish greed. The underlings who had been leering at Himawari snapped their heads toward Kenshi.
A Zanpakuto. A weapon of power. A ticket to unimaginable wealth and status in this broken world.
"What are you dogs waiting for?" Hugo shouted, his voice booming like thunder. "Bring it to me!"
With a collective roar, the stupor broke. The mob surged forward, abandoning the girl, their weapons drawn and eyes fixed solely on the curved blade in Kenshi's hand.
Kenshi watched them come. A dozen men, armed with axes, spears, and rusted swords.
He should have been terrified. He was a child, tired and cornered.
But as the first man lunged with a spear, Kenshi felt a familiar coldness wash over him. The trembling in his hands stopped. His breathing evened out. The world slowed down.
The soldier within him leaked out.
Kenshi sidestepped the spear with minimal movement, the tip grazing his shirt. In the same fluid motion, he brought the Talwar up in a diagonal arc.
Flash.
Blood sprayed in a perfect line. The attacker collapsed, clutching his throat.
Kenshi didn't stop. He pivoted, ducking under a clumsy axe swing, and drove the hilt of his sword into the attacker's solar plexus, followed instantly by a slash to the hamstrings.
It was a massacre.
Kenshi moved like water, flowing between the strikes, his face a mask of cold indifference. He wasn't fighting like a desperate child; he was fighting like a veteran of a thousand wars. Limbs were severed, armor was pierced, and men fell screaming around him.
But the body had its limits.
After the sixth man fell, Kenshi stumbled. His small lungs burned, gasping for air that felt too thin. The adrenaline was fading, leaving behind the crushing weight of exhaustion. He leaned heavily on the Talwar, sweat dripping from his chin, his vision swimming.
He looked at the bodies around him. The red blood soaking into the grey dust.
No matter the world, he thought, a wave of bitterness washing over him. I seem to always... cause death.
Suddenly, a sharp sensation pricked the back of his neck.
It wasn't pain. It was a vision.
In his mind's eye, he saw it clearly: A sharp wooden pike, thrusting silently from his blind spot, aiming for his kidney.
Kenshi didn't think. He didn't turn to look. He simply trusted the vision.
He spun his body to the left, bringing the flat of the Talwar around to his back.
THUNK.
A split second later, the wooden pike slammed into the steel of his sword, exactly where he had predicted.
The attacker, a sneaky underling who had tried to flank him, froze, his eyes bulging in shock. "H-how...?"
Kenshi didn't answer. He was just as stunned, staring at the pike that he had stopped before the attack had even fully registered in reality.
I saw it... before it happened.
But the distraction cost him.
A massive shadow fell over him, blotting out the sun.
"Impressive," a deep voice rumbled.
Kenshi looked up, terror seizing his heart. Hugo was there.
The giant man raised a club the size of a tree trunk high above his head, his muscles bulging like cords of steel.
"But you are still just a brat!"
Hugo brought the club down.
Kenshi instinctively raised the Talwar to block, bracing himself.
CLANG!
The impact was like being hit by a falling building. The force traveled through the sword, shattering Kenshi's stance. His grip failed.
The Talwar was torn from his hand, spinning through the air to land clattering in the dust meters away. Kenshi was thrown backward, skidding across the ground, his arms numb and useless.
He looked up, defenseless, as Hugo grinned, resting the massive club on his shoulder.
"Now," Hugo said, stepping toward him, the massive club rising once more. "Let's see what else you can do."
The giant muscles of Hugo's arm tensed. He prepared the final strike, a blow meant to crush Kenshi into the earth.
Kenshi stared up, his body refusing to move, resignation washing over him. It was over.
Then, a blur of white darted into his peripheral vision.
"Kenshi!"
Himawari.
She wasn't hiding. She wasn't running away.
With tears streaming down her dusty face and her small teeth gritted in a snarl of pure defiance, she sprinted from the safety of the fallen pillar. She didn't run toward him; she ran toward the weapon.
She dove into the dirt, her small hands grasping the hilt of the Talwar. It was too heavy for her to lift properly, but adrenaline gave her strength. With a grunt of effort, she spun and heaved it with all her might.
"Catch it!" she screamed, flinging the sword through the air.
The steel glinted as it spun, arching over the heads of the stunned bandits, aimed directly at Kenshi.
As the sword turned in the air, time seemed to freeze. The roar of the wind vanished. The shouts of the men faded into silence.
And in that perfect, suspended silence, a voice spoke.
It didn't come from Himawari. It didn't come from Hugo. It resonated from the marrow of his bones, ancient and familiar.
"Will you keep running, Arjun?"