Chapter 1- Genesis echoes softer than the roar
A high wind threaded the capital of Kotoria-Hoshigawa, lifting cherry-blossom ash and the banners that crowned the city's towers. From below, Hoshigawa looked like a kingdom carved from flame and marble: broad black stone avenues, courtyards scented with incense and oil, and four colossal statues keeping vigil over the Sennin Quarter like patient gods. Up close, they were ridiculous, awe-inspiring things: seventy feet of carved muscle, faces polished until sunlight skated off them.
Perched on the shoulder of the statue that bore his likeness, Mahito Hakari sat cross-legged, as though the air itself had always been his throne. White-and-red robes flared in the wind, a band of red braided through his tipped blonde hair. The inscription at the base—4th Sennin of Kotoria—caught the light, turning his smile into something half-myth, half-man.
But Mahito was not thinking of statues. He was thinking of the places where the world bent closest to breaking.
"You'll catch a cold up there," said a voice, closer than the wind. Masahiro Atasaki, known to friends as Masa, climbed the stone like it was a garden wall and dropped beside him. Older by two years, scarred in different ways, they shared the same kind of battle-forged bond.
"You promised you'd go home," Masa said. "Your wife's ready to hammer you for missing this."
Mahito let the city spread beneath his gaze: merchants haggling, children chasing a loose dog, a courier racing on a scroll-bike. "I'll be there tonight," he said.
Masa snorted. "You always say that. Hero of the Third Kijutsu War… afraid of nappies and lullabies? Aria nearly tore my head off when Rin was born. You'll be fine. We'll guard them."
Mahito's smile thinned. "Kotoria is twenty million square kilometers, Masa. If I take breaks because I'm tired, I'm selfish. People depend on me."
Masa punched his shoulder lightly. "You know I got your back. Always did."
From below, a figure broke from the crowd, running up the steps toward the Sennin Tower: white hair, a lock falling over a scarred eye, the gait of someone with fire in their chest. Arashi Katashi, one of the Ones Marked by Flames, panted and bowed.
"Mahito-sama! Lord Haruko asked me to bring word at once," he said.
Lee Jai streaked in behind, grinning, relentless energy in his frame. "Arashi! You owe me a duel—quit being Haruko's messenger!"
Mahito laughed. "That old man is calling me. I'm in trouble."
A bell tolled in the distance. The friends slid down the statue and moved toward the Sennin Tower, its spire wrapped in ribbons of Nishu, faint spirit energy shimmering in the night. People paused as Mahito walked past. Some bowed, some stared. He ignored the eyes he could not soothe.
Inside the mansion of Haruko Hatoshi, the third Sennin, the living room was painfully ordinary: a low table, delicate tea set, the scent of pine through an open window. At sixty-eight, Haruko moved with the economy of someone who had lived a hundred lives.
"Join me," Haruko said, a cup of tea poised like a staff. Mahito took the seat and sipped.
"Why are you staring?" Haruko asked.
"Duty," Mahito said. "There are messages from the front. Maps are restless. I should be at the Tower."
Haruko pinched his ear lightly. "You are a father first tonight. I selected you to be Sennin not just for strength, but for trust. If you let your daughter be alone while you count borders, you waste that trust."
Mahito swallowed. "I'll go tonight. I promise."
The hospital smelled of antiseptic and life, soft in contrast to the city's resolve. Nurses recognized him before he spoke. Kureha Hatoshi lay in her bed, pale but human, a small laugh playing behind tired eyes.
"You left work for me?" she teased.
"I would have come tonight anyway," Mahito said. "But I wouldn't miss this."
He placed his hands on her stomach. Eight months and three weeks. "Little man," he murmured, "you better come out strong. Look after Muma, understand? Don't be stubborn like her." Kureha smacked him lightly, laughing.
The ward carried on around them. Nurses whispered, "They act lovey-dovey all the time… nothing will separate them." Mahito wanted to believe that, even in a city built on duty and battle.
A flicker of light caught his eye—a small ember at the corner of his vision. The child shifted. Mahito did not speak of omens, only took Kureha's hand once more before leaving the ward. Outside, the city breathed around him, alive, watching, whispering. Somewhere a distant bell tolled, a chain at the harbor trembled, small and easily missed—but not by those who listened for the first hints of storms yet to come.
[SFX: Wind fades, distant bell echoes]
Every choice leaves a mark. Mahito Hakari had taken the first steps in a world that would never forgive him for choosing duty and love together. And it had only just begun.