The Bloodline’s Truth

The wind had stilled. The ruins of the village stood in eerie silence, except for the crackling of flames licking the broken remains of the wooden houses.

Ryuji's fingers tightened around his sword. His mind was in chaos. Kenshiro Akagami. His uncle. A man who had died right before his eyes—now stood alive, stronger than ever.

And he was offering a choice.

"Come with me, Ryuji." Kenshiro's voice was steady, his silver eyes gleaming behind his mask. "You don't understand your power. But I do."

Akari stepped in front of Ryuji, her katana gleaming under the moonlight. "He's not going anywhere."*

Kenshiro sighed. "Foolish girl."*

Then, in a blur of movement, he was gone.

The First Strike

Ryuji barely had time to react before Kenshiro reappeared behind Akari.

"Move!" Ryuji shouted—but it was too late.

Kenshiro's palm struck Akari's back with terrifying force. Her body twisted midair, crashing into the stone wall of a nearby house. The impact sent cracks splintering through the ruins.

Ryuji's heart dropped.

"AKARI!"

She coughed, pushing herself up. Blood trickled from her lips, but her glare was sharp, unbroken.

"I'm fine," she spat, tightening her grip on her katana.

Ryuji exhaled in relief—but Kenshiro wasn't done.

"Good," Kenshiro mused. "If you died from that, you wouldn't be worthy of fighting beside Ryuji anyway."

Ryuji's rage ignited.

"Don't you dare act like you know what's best for me!"

Kenshiro smiled. "But I do."

"Liar!" Ryuji's blade glowed with a swirling blue aura. The wind screamed around him. "You died! I saw you die!"

Kenshiro's smile faded. "What you saw was an illusion. A trick to keep you ignorant."

"Ignorant of what?!"

"Of who you really are."*

Ryuji launched forward. His sword **slashed through the air—**aimed straight at Kenshiro's throat.

Kenshiro didn't move.

Instead, the wind itself bent around him.

Ryuji's sword stopped mid-swing.

His muscles locked up.

A burning sensation seared through his veins.

"What—" His vision blurred. His body refused to listen.

Kenshiro watched him with something almost like pity. "Your blood is resisting, isn't it?"

Ryuji collapsed to one knee. "Damn you…!"

Kenshiro exhaled. "You've been suppressing it your whole life. But your power—our power—was never meant to be caged."

His eyes darkened. "Let me show you."

The chains inside Ryuji's soul shattered.

And the darkness rushed in.

The Howl of the Forgotten

A wave of energy erupted from Ryuji's body. The ground split apart. The sky darkened.

Akari shielded her eyes as a gust of wind exploded outward, carving deep scars into the stone beneath them.

Kenshiro watched calmly.

Ryuji screamed.

His vision was no longer his own.

He saw **flashes—**memories that weren't his, yet felt more real than anything he had ever known.

A battlefield soaked in blood.

A warrior clad in black, standing over mountains of corpses.

A voice, cold and commanding:

"He is the last of our bloodline. He must never awaken."

Ryuji gasped, reality snapping back into place. His hands trembled.

Kenshiro stepped closer.

"Now do you understand?"

Ryuji's breath was ragged. His heart pounded in his chest.

He had spent his whole life thinking he was just another fighter, another warrior trying to survive.

But his bloodline carried something more.

Something forbidden.

Something dangerous.

Kenshiro's voice was soft but firm. "Come with me, Ryuji. Or… fight me and lose everything."

Ryuji's grip tightened around his sword.

Akari staggered to his side. "Ryuji… whatever this is, you don't have to face it alone."*

But Ryuji wasn't sure anymore.

Because for the first time in his life, he was terrified of himself.

And Kenshiro's silver eyes held the answers he had been denied.