A New Life

At 5:43 a.m., Kurashi arrived at the Fukuoka train station, the screech of the brakes dulled when the train appeared on the platform. He entered the compartment and gravitated toward an empty seat by a window, placing his bag in the seat beside him.

The train launched forward.

Kurashi let out a deep breath, resting his head against the cool glass. Outside the window, the warm sun rose over the horizon, its rays casting an orange glow on the world. The compartment was silent, and his eyes slowly shuttered closed.

"Now arriving at Meitetsu-Gifu Line," The train announces in an automated robotic tone. 

His eyes opened, looking down at his phone. The screen lit up "11.25 a.m."

Grabbing his bag, he made his way off the train. The unfamiliar city was alive, contrasting sharply with the tranquility of the train ride. With his bag thrown over his shoulder, he made his way through the city streets, gradually giving way to more rural landscapes with each step he took. The quietude of nature enveloped him as he progressed, the Hida Mountains becoming clear.

Upon entering the forest in front of the mountain range, Kurashi set his bag down and rested against a tree, letting his back lean on the trunk. He reached over to his bag, grabbing a water bottle and a dried meat stick. He ate without thought, looking up at the sun glimmering through the leaves.

After his break, he grabbed the neatly folded map out of his bag.

The point was close.

Following the map's guidance, he navigated through the dense woods until he found it—a buried case, its black surface barely visible beneath the soil. Kurashi crouched down, wiping the dirt from the case.

Inside was a katana.

Black-wrapped handle.

Blackened steel guard.

High-carbon blade.

Beside it was a black sheath with an adjustable shoulder strap connected to it.

Kurashi placed the strap over his right shoulder, tightening it to fit firmly against his back.

He picked the katana up afterward, his dead eyes reflecting off the blade. Then, the words resurfaced in his mind—words written in the worn pages of the journal.

"Find your purpose, son."

His fingers tightened around the handle.

Was this it?

Was this blade his purpose?

There was no answer.

No sudden realization.

Just the weight of the weapon in his hand.

He slid the blade back into its sheath. The fit was perfect—designed for quick access.

Exiting the forest, he encountered the view of the broad mountain range.

After a cruel and tiresome hike, he had made it, the breathtaking view from the top providing a moment of reflection. The crisp wind blew through his hair, as he gazed up at the blue sky. A convergence of past and present now unveiled the path forward. 

Then—

The sound of crackling came from behind him as if something cut through the air.

"Are you lost?" A man's voice echoed, his tone edged with suspicion. "I can't have any trespassers around here."

Kurashi turned around slowly.

Standing a few feet away was a young man who held a kunai in his right hand, his jet-black hair parted down the middle, and his eyes crystal blue.

"Who are you? What are you here for?"

A moment of silence fell before them as the stranger awaited an answer.

"Kurashi Ito..." Kurashi responded in a whisper.

The stranger froze in disbelief, his grip on the kunai loosening.

"What did you just say?"

Kurashi didn't answer.

"Ito?" The stranger took a half-step forward. "The Ito clan has been gone for almost a decade. You can't be—"

The stranger stopped, his gaze fixed on Kurashi's blade.

"That blade..." The stranger thought to himself.

His eyes locked onto Kurashi.

Then—it clicked.

The resemblance.

The katana.

The impossibility of it all—made real.

"The lost fragment...of the Ito clan. To think it really is true."

There was no doubt in his voice this time.

The stranger let out a sigh, spinning the kunai around his fingertip.

"Sorry, about that, really..." His tone shifted from serious to friendly in that instant. "Names Hikari Aoirai...C'mon, I'll show you to the base."

Following behind Hikari, they walked further along the Hida Mountains before coming across the base. A valley set in the core of the mountains. The base, a harmonious blend of imposing high black metal walls and traditional Japanese architecture, revealed itself. The sight of flowing water, which gives the base its power, added an element of natural beauty to the secretive location.

They reach the entrance of the base, stopping under a black torri gate to take in the view.

"Welcome to Naishotetsu, son of Yasushi."

The name.

The weight of it.

The past pressing forward.

This was the start of a new life.

The colossal main gate ruptured open, revealing a new world.

Inside the walls were different, something that Kurashi had never experienced before. The streets were lined with traditional Japanese buildings, stretched across the towering black steel walls.

Eventually, they arrived at a large temple located at the center of the base. Inside, through a long hallway, Hikari knocked gently on an office door.

"You may enter..." A rusty voice rang out from within.

They stepped inside, facing the leader of the base.

Draped in traditional attire, the elderly man sat at his wooden desk, his presence commanding despite his old age.

"What is it you need, Hikari?" The leader's aged eyes studied him.

"Apologies for the sudden intrusion, Lord Fujita," Hikari said with a respectful bow. "But the rumors were true. He's here—the lost fragment of the Ito clan."

Silence

Fujita slowly stood from his chair, squinting his eyes at Kurashi to get a better look. He wasn't one to believe tall tales, and yet—this boy standing before him held a resemblance that was too difficult to ignore.

"I see it...traces of him," Lord Fujita thought.

Lord Fujita stepped forward, his eyes opening in disbelief.

"After all these years...to believe you truly exist. Tell me, boy. What is your name?"

"Kurashi."

At that moment Hikari looked up from his bow.

"Lord...I ask you to inform Kurashi."

"Yes...I suppose I should." Lord Fujita said, wrapping his hands behind his back. "You see, centuries ago, during the Sengoku period, a band of ronin was formed. Abandoning their past ideals, they became something new—shinobi. They began to fight from the shadows, not for lords, not for glory, but to maintain peace. Leading them, a master swordsman of the Ito clan, discovered a mysterious power that bestowed upon him supernatural abilities, which we now call Ryokukami. A generous man he was...sharing his discovery with his comrades."

Lord Fujita looked out of the window, a clear view of the base present outside.

"But with the growth of members, a stronghold was needed. Somewhere they could hide away. Somewhere they could strategize...Which is why this place was built."

Lord Fujita walked over to a case of artifacts on the wall.

"Yasushi Ito, your father, built up what this base is today: the strongest member Naishotetsu has ever had..."

From the case, Fujita picked up a worn-down black kitsune mask.

"Then one day, he just disappeared without a trace, never to be seen again. There was hope—hope that somewhere out there in the world, the Ito name would live on..." Lord Fujita turned around, walking over to Kurashi with the mask in hand. "And here you are now..."

Now standing in front of Kurashi, he handed the mask over.

"This mask...was your father's, let it be a symbol of your fate."

Kurashi looked down at the mask, trying to understand what was so special about it.

"And Hikari..."

"What is it, sir?"

"I'm assigning you to mentor, Kurashi." Lord Fujita stated as he walked back to his desk. "I trust you can handle this."

"Yes, sir. Thank you for your time, Lord Fujita."

Outside the temple, Kurashi and Hikari continued their walk through the streets.

"What do you think? Is it all coming to you?"

Hands in his pockets, Kurashi gave a subtle shrug.

"Hmm, wanna get some food?" Hikari asked with a warm smile. "Who knows...might all come to you on a full stomach."

"I'm fine..."

A beat of silence—then Kurashi's stomach growled. A natural reaction after such a long journey.

Hikari grinned. "That so?"

The rich aroma of broth filled the air as they arrived at a ramen stall.

"Long time no see, Hikari," The chef said, wiping his hands on a rag. "The usual?"

"Yeah, but make it two this time. Thanks..."

"Alright, two Tokushima bowls coming right up."

As the steaming bowls were placed in front of them, Hikari leaned forward slightly.

"Look...I'm going to be blunt with you. The potential that you have exceeds most of the others here...And to make that potential come true, you'll have to put in the work to achieve it."

Kurashi stared at him blankly.

Hikari tapped his chopsticks against the rim of his bowl.

"What I'm saying is—your training will start tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow morning?"

"Yeah...as Lord Fujita said, you're under my supervision now...Think of me as your new mentor, but just...don't get all over-mannered. I'm not that much older than you are."

Kurashi didn't respond, taking another bite of ramen instead.

After finishing their meal, they made their way to Hikari's house—a beautiful traditional home with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, and a kitchen. Inside, Hikari led Kurashi to his room, sliding the door open. The space was simple—a low platform bed, a nightstand, and a dresser with a small TV sitting on top.

"This is yours...take your time settling in."

Kurashi didn't say anything, just walking inside and placing his bag down. Settling in for the night, a good rest would be needed for what would come the next day.