The One-Eyed Demon

"Damn you, Watari…"

I clenched my teeth.

"He looks up to him without even thinking… without even knowing who he's dealing with."

I tried to approach as a friend. Just to warn him.

But once again—he brushed me aside.

His eyes were blind now.

Blind to everything… except that one-eyed demon.

And I know what I saw.

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(Seven years ago.)

The day I joined the camp.

I remember stepping onto the training grounds, still trying to hide the smell of city ash from my coat.

Then I saw it.

Beneath the large sakura tree, two red-headed twin girls were sparring with wooden swords.

Small frames. Delicate forms.

But their eyes—sharp, honed. Cutting through their own laughter like blades.

One of them aggressive, precise. The other more reserved.

And both of them—out of place.

Seriously?

Girls? With swords?

Female warriors weren't rare.

But these two?

They weren't fighting.

They were playing.

Twirling wooden blades like it was some festival game.

Laughing.

Smiling.

This place was for warriors.

Not little girls pretending to be strong.

I walked up, my voice sharper than I meant:

"Hey! What are you two doing here?"

One of them looked up. Her brow furrowed.

Her gaze cut deeper than any sword.

"That's none of your business."

I tried to soften.

Do I always come off this harsh?

Why does no one ever talk to me with kindness?

I offered a compliment. A bridge.

"Wooden swords don't suit pretty girls like you."

But she just turned away. Cold. Unimpressed.

Kindness never works.

It never does.

So I tried something else.

"Train with me," I said, pointing at the fierce one.

"Beat me, and I'll give you three copper."

She laughed.

"Copper? What would we do with copper?

Our goal is two silver."

Her voice was dry, but confident.

So I turned to the quieter twin.

"What about you, beautiful? Beat me, and I'll be your servant for life."

But the first one stepped in again, voice like flint:

"Stay away from my sister.

If you're that eager, I'll fight you."

And just like that—the duel began.

I picked up a wooden sword.

My body felt light.

I needed to win.

She rushed in—faster than expected.

Level 2 Tier 1… but still too fast.

She struck from the right—I dodged.

A swing from below—I slipped past.

But the third—landed straight into my ribs.

I staggered.

My blood boiled.

This wasn't just a girl.

She was a fighter.

I found an opening and hit back.

She fell—bruised, panting, her body trembling.

But her eyes still burned.

Defiance. Raw and fearless.

I hadn't meant to go that far.

But she wanted it to go that far.

She pushed me. She tested the limits.

As the sun dipped lower, someone else approached.

A boy.

Twelve, maybe.

But his eyes—one of them white as bleached bone.

Not blind. Not injured.

Just… empty.

No flame in it.

No innocence either.

Only weight.

Some children are born blessed—marked with fire in their eyes.

But this boy?

This boy looked cursed.

Like he carried divine wrath inside a child's frame.

He stopped in front of me. Calm. Still.

"I heard you're looking for someone to spar with," he said.

"Try me."

I don't know why I accepted.

Maybe it was the voice. The stance. The silence behind his words.

Five minutes later…

I was on the ground.

My body wrecked. Vision spinning.

The taste of blood in my mouth.

This boy wasn't cursed.

He was a demon.