The memory began as a whisper in the depths of Hikari’s mind, a fragment of the past surfacing unbidden as she faced Hakari in the cold shadows of Kurohana. The glow of her judgment beads pulsed against her chest, their warmth a sharp contrast to the chill of her brother’s corrupted aura.

  It had been a bright spring morning in Yamaoka when Hikari’s life had irrevocably changed. The village was alive with celebration as the elders prepared to bestow the sacred beads of the Kanshisha upon their next Arbiter. Cherry blossoms drifted lazily through the air, and the villagers had gathered around the shrine, their faces alight with expectation.

  Hikari stood at the side of the shrine steps, her own hands awkwardly clasped in her lap. Being the youngest to ever be a candidate in living memory at the age of seven, she barely understood the magnitude of what was happening outside of the fact that the beads themselves symbolized huge strength and responsibility.

  Standing beside her, Hakari was unflustered and confident, his robes immaculate and his face a quiet mask of pride. At twelve years old, he was already the village favorite—the smartest of the archives, the most compliant in training. He was always the one everyone looked at and predicted would get the beads, the one who would get far in life.

  As Elder Miyako progressed, the shrine fell silent. The judgment beads, gently emitting a pearl-like light, rested on a ceremonial pillow in her hand.

  "The authority of the Kanshisha is not assigned by tradition or expectation," the elder announced, her voice ringing out over the crowd gathered in front of her. "Nor is it a title given by the hands of mortals, to be usurped by ambition alone. It is the spirits that give it, through the will of the ancestors who watch over us, guiding us from the unseen plane. It is a calling—a burden and a responsibility entwined."

  "The Kanshisha is not chosen for power, but for purpose. Not for bloodline, but for the weight of their soul, measured against the fires of judgment. To bear this title is to stand between the living and the forgotten, between light and darkness, between what is and what must never be. The ancestors do not bestow their favor lightly, nor do they bestow it on those who seek only glory."

  "And today, they have spoken. Today, they have chosen."

  Hakari straightened, his chest puffing slightly as he prepared to step forward.

  “Hikari Tsukimura.”

  The name hung in the air like a thunderclap.

  Hikari’s breath caught in her throat. She froze, unsure if she had heard correctly. The murmurs of the crowd swirled around her, a mix of surprise and confusion.

  Hakari’s face, so confident just moments before, fell into a mask of stunned disbelief.

  "Hikari," the old woman said once more, smiling softly and motioning her to draw closer. "The beads are yours, child."

  Hikari glanced up at her brother, hoping for some indication of encouragement, but his face was tense, his jaw clenched.

  "Go on," he snarled, his voice strained and hard.

  Reluctantly, Hikari stepped forward, shivering in her dainty hands as Elder Miyako tied the judgment beads around her neck. Their warmth seeped through to her like sunlight, and for a strange sense of cleanness, as if the world had crystallized.

  The crowd clapped wildly, but Hikari hardly noticed it. She had glanced back one last time for a glimpse of pride in his eyes, and she saw she had been fooled; he stood facing away now, his back straight as he descended the steps of the shrine.

  The remainder of the days were a blur of ceremony and drill, but there was one thing that was sure: Hakari was no longer the same. He no longer smiled for her at mealtimes or helped her with lessons. He only addressed her when he had to, his tone curt and aloof.

  At first, Hikari tried to cover the distance, searching for him in the records or training yards, but always had a good reason to leave.

  One evening, she found him in the woods just outside their village, perched upon a fallen tree and carving intricate patterns into a wooden board. She crept up slowly, her judgment beads softly aglow in the diminishing light.

  "Hakari?" she breathed.

  He didn't look up. "Aren't you practicing with your beads?"

  "I've practiced enough today," she replied, sitting beside him. "I... I wanted to see you."

  He was quiet for a moment, the knife sliding effortlessly over the wood. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and bitter. "It should have been me."

  Hikari flinched. "Hakari, I didn't—"

  "I read every book, learned every way," he continued, his tone as keen as the knife itself. "I did it for myself. And you? You didn't even know what the beads were until the elders informed you."

  Hikari's tears flowed. "I didn't ask for this. I never wanted to steal anything from you."

  Hakari's sword halted, and for a moment, his features eased. But then he stood up, leaving the half-whittled wood behind. "Willingly or not is irrelevant. You now got power, Hikari. And I have nothing."

  He turned away and vanished into the encroaching shadows.

  The recollection shattered like glass as Hikari's focus returned to the present.

  "You still despise me," she spat, her face trembling with anger as she glared at her brother. "After all these years, you still begrudge me for something I had no control over."

  Hakari's laugh was acidic, echoing through the ruined village. "Despise you? No, little sister. I feel sorry for you. You've lived your whole life held in thrall by those beads, by conditioning in a village too small to see the truth."

  "A-and what truth is that?" Hikari asked, her voice shaking slightly.

  "Power isn't awarded," Hakari said, moving forward. The runes on his arms burst into dark light, twisting themselves like living tendrils. "It's taken."

  The darkness that filled around him churned and Hikari remained taut, her beads pulsating with alarm. The battle was hardly at an end, and the night that stood between them had extremely deep roots—roots that had been laid since that spring day when everything had turned different.

  The forest seemed unnaturally quiet as Hikari and Takashi stood in the clearing, the echoes of Hakari’s laughter fading into the distance. The air was thick with an oppressive weight, the faint scent of decay mingling with the hum of malevolent energy that still lingered after Hakari’s disappearance.

  “What was that?” Hikari asked, her voice trembling as she clutched her judgment beads.

  Takashi’s grip on his katana tightened. His jaw was set, his sharp features lined with tension. “Something far worse than ambition. He’s carrying something powerful—something cursed.”

  Hikari’s beads pulsed faintly as if echoing her father’s words. “The markings on his arms… and the way the shadows moved. It wasn’t just his power, was it?”

  No, Takashi replied firmly, his eyes scanning the trees as if expecting Hakari to suddenly pop back out. "It's the artifact. The Immortal Mask. I should have suspected when you mentioned Kurohana. That thing has tainted him."

  Hikari's breathing came out in a harsh rush. "The Immortal Mask? But that's. I-i saw it get destroyed. B-by Rinne. And with the holow queen."

  Takashi unsheathed his katana in a quick motion. "Even it is disappear. That power consumed Hakari—and now, he is the immortal mask. If Rinne didnt also slay the soul of the Kurohana villager. He can consume it again."

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  He didn't get a chance to speak another sentence before a torrent of dark energy washed through the air, so powerful that the trees were bending in its grip. Hikari staggered, the judgment beads around her own neck scorched with fierce heat.

  "He's drawing upon it," Takashi breathed, his voice tight with alarm. "He's drawing its power.".

  In the distance, the forest began to twist and writhe. The trees bent unnaturally, their branches elongating into jagged, claw-like shapes. The air itself grew heavy, crackling with dark energy that made Hikari’s skin crawl.

  “We have to stop him,” Hikari said, determination hardening her voice.

  Takashi nodded, already exiting. "Keep close. The mask is tightly sealed, but a shattering fragment of its power would still blow everything apart.".

  The source of the discomfort was not far away. As they approached the border of the ruin of Kurohana, the earth shifted under their feet, the rocks groaning and cracking as if protesting their presence. They sensed a pulsating black energy emanating from the village, and at its center, he stood.

  Hakari stood in the middle of where the village square used to be, his arms raised and head flung back. The Immortal Mask hung from his waist, its polish like lacquered bone but marred by heavy veins of dark red that pulsed with a soft, inner light.

  The runes on Hakari’s arms were glowing brighter than ever, their movements almost hypnotic. The air around him shimmered, warped by the immense energy radiating from the mask.

  “Hakari!” Takashi’s voice boomed across the clearing, drawing his son’s attention.

  Hakari turned slowly, a smile dancing across his lips. His eyes glowed with an unearthly light, their depths boiling with darkness. "Father. Sister. How kind of you to drop in."

  "Get away from the mask! Throw it off now!" Takashi shouted, flashing out his katana once more.

  Hakari chuckled, his laughter low and ominous. "Throw it off? My artifact?" He stroked his fingers across the artifact at his waist, caressing it gently. "This is power, Father. Real power. Not the power you maintain through your katana and your worn-out methods. This is what will reverse fortunes."

  "It's changing you already," she said to Hakari, trying to keep her voice even amid the fear clawing its way around her chest. "Look at yourself, Hakari. That thing's distorting you into something else."

  "Something I'm not?" Hakari's voice rose, and a wave of anger washed over his face. "No, Hikari. It's revealing what I truly am. What I always was. While you played flawless Arbiter, clutching your beads and your criticisms, I have been wrestling with power that matters."

  "That relic won't make you strong," Takashi snapped, voice hard. "It will kill you. It's a cursed relic, hidden away for a reason. Even the Kurohana people couldn't master it."

  Hakari laughed, his fingers around the mask tightening. "They were below me. They didn't have the vision of it. But I do. And soon, so will you."

  Before either Hikari or Takashi had a chance to react, Hakari waved the mask in the air. The red veins tracing along its surface pulsed furiously, and a jag of dark energy shot out of it, cracking the air like a thunderclap.

  Hikari staggered, holding up her hands over her eyes as the ground beneath her feet trembled and split. When she lifted her eyes, her breath caught in her throat.

  The mask’s power had begun to take hold. The veins along its surface spread like living things, climbing up Hakari’s arms and weaving into the runes that marked his skin. His body trembled with the force of the energy coursing through him, his features contorting as the artifact’s influence deepened.

  “Hakari, stop!” Hikari shouted, desperation in her voice.

  But he just laughed, his voice echoing and funereal. "Why stop now? This is just the beginning."

  His body shifted, dark tendrils of energy curling around him like armor plating. His body grew heavier, his presence constricting. The earth cracked and crumbled beneath him as the energy of the mask hit ten percent, its aura so thick that even the air seemed to darken.

  Takashi pressed forward, katana glinting in the polluted light. "You believe this power makes you invincible, Hakari? Let's see how good it is when it's facing someone who fought actual wars."

  Hakari's smirk stretched. "You'll find I'm not quite so easy to beat anymore, Father."

  In a stroke so swift that it was nigh on indistinguishable, Hakari attacked, his corrupted energy flashing like a tempest. Takashi awaited him. With trained grace, his own katana moved to parry each strike in calculated force.

  The battle was fierce, the clash of steel against shadow echoing through the glade. Hikari watched, her judgment beads beating in time with her racing heart. She felt the strength of the mask growing, its dominance spreading wider with each passing second.

  "This isn't over," she breathed, her beads clutched against her chest. She stepped forward, calling upon her chain of judgment. No matter how powerful Hakari had become, she would not let the mask consume him—or the world they lived in.

  The Immortal's dawn had arrived, but Hikari vowed it would not reach its peak. Not if she had anything to do with it.

  The air thrummed with tension as the dark tendrils of Hakari wrapped around his son, trembling with power generated from the Immortal Mask. Takashi maintained his stance, his katana shining with righteously clear intent as he confronted his own corrupted son. Hikari, her judging beads softly luminous, stayed where she stood, conflicted between fear and resolve.

  "You can't help it, Father," Hakari sneered, his voice heavy with a full, resonating distortion that did not belong to him. "This is what you would not accept, what strength you refused to seek. You're merely a relic, clinging to antiquities that will die with you.".

  "And you," Takashi declared, his voice firm but with an undercurrent of steel, "are a fool, blinded by the promises of a cursed relic. Power for its own sake is destruction. You do not command the mask—it's commanding you."

  Hakari's grin expanded. "Then let me show you how it feels to be powerless."

  His surrounding darkness seethed forward, heavy and writhing like living things. In the space of a heartbeat, Hakari melted into the darkness, his shape consumed by the black cloud.

  "Stay back, Hikari!" Takashi snarled, his eyes scanning the boiling shadows.

  Hikari’s heart raced as the oppressive energy grew heavier. She gripped her beads tightly, their warmth a small comfort against the chill of the cursed aura. “Where did he go?”

  A low, mocking laugh echoed from all around them. “I’m everywhere, little sister,” Hakari’s voice whispered, disembodied and sinister.

  Suddenly, the shadows behind Hikari coalesced, forming Hakari’s twisted figure. His eyes burned with malevolent light as he lunged toward her, his corrupted arm outstretched, claws glinting with dark energy.

  “Hikari, move!” Takashi’s voice roared like thunder.

  Before Hakari could strike, Takashi was there, his katana flashing in a deadly arc. The blade bit into Hakari’s arm, severing it cleanly at the elbow.

  Hakari shouted, a howl of rage and pain, as his severed arm thumped to the floor, twitching for a moment before fading into darkness. Black power flowed out of the stump, but before Hikari could stand frozen in terror, the wound began to heal, the flesh repairing itself at unnatural speed.

  In awe-inspiring, Hakari spit, grasping the partially restored arm. His smirking smile crept back, though with his eyes flashing a wince of caution. "But it'll only slow me down."

  Takashi stood between Hakari and Hikari, his sword held high and unmoving. "You've lost sight of your own mentor, child. You're powerful in that mask, perhaps, but there remains skin you wear as thin as their tears. And I'll defend my blood whatever it costs to do so.".

  Hikari's voice trembled as she took a step forward. "Father, we can't continue fighting him like this! The mask is powering him—he'll just grow more powerful."

  "That's why you have to go," Takashi declared, his tone allowing no argument. He didn't blink away from Hakari, his stance unyielding. "Go to the village. Inform the elders. Prepare the guardians."

  "What? No!" Hikari objected, her beads erupting in a blaze of light. "I can assist you!"

  "You will assist more by living to do battle another day," Takashi growled, his tone authoritative but with an unusual gentleness. "This is my battle now. Be gone, Hikari. You are vulnurable."

  Hakari laughed, cold and mocking, in the clearing. "Running away, little sister? I didn't think the chosen one, the perfect Kanshisha, would do that. Or are you frightened?"

  Hikari stood before him, fists clenched with rage. But Takashi swung around to face her for a moment, piercing but gentle. "Hikari. Go."

  She swallowed hard, her vision blurring with tears. "Be careful, Father."

  She did not pause for a reply but turned and ran, her beads softly aglow as they illuminated her path back toward the security of Yamaoka. Behind her, she heard the ring of steel and the roar of dark energy as Takashi held fast against the advancing shadow.

  When Hikari reached the boundary of the forest, the oppressive air of the mask was already beginning to fade, although its wicked power still lingered in her thoughts. Her mind was filled with questions and fear, but one thing was certain: the battle was far from over.

  She gripped her hand into a fist over her beads, their warmth a reassuring reminder of what was hers to do. "I'll be back, Hakari," she whispered into the distance.

  The battle between Takashi and Hakari slashed through the hulk of ruins of Kurohana, their every blow jarring the air and earth with the intensity of their conflicting wills. Shadows were wracked and lashing around Hakari like snakes, chaotic and dangerous. Takashi was steady in his turn, unflustered and unthinking, but deadly precise in the slash of his katana cutting through attacks.

  “You think you’re stronger than me now?” Takashi called out, his voice calm despite the storm of dark energy swirling around him. “Because you’ve wrapped yourself in shadows and curses? Power without discipline is nothing but a child’s tantrum.”

  Hakari sneered, his eyes shining as he cast a wave of dark tendrils at his father. "You don't get it, old man. This isn't a village practice bout. Your tricks and reflexes are nothing compared to true power!"

  Takashi's katana cut through the tendrils effortlessly, scattering them into strands of fading shadow. He sidestepped Hakari's next attack with a smooth smoothness, his movements honed from decades of training and fighting.

  "You've always relied on brute force, Hakari," Takashi replied, his voice tinged with a soft hint of disappointment. "That's why you always lost to me. You never understood the beauty of precision and patience."

  "Lost?" Hakari snarled, his anger growing. "That was then. This is now!"

  He lashed out, his corrupted arm molding itself into a sword of pure shadow. The blow was quick, lethal—but too late.

  Takashi’s katana met the shadow-blade with a ringing clash, the force of the impact sending shockwaves through the clearing. With a sharp twist of his wrist, he redirected the blade’s momentum, forcing Hakari off balance.

  The elder warrior’s movements were seamless, flowing from one strike to the next like water. He followed up with a precise slash that cut across Hakari’s chest, the blade sparking as it met the cursed runes etched into his skin.

  Hakari recoiled, the snarl of frustration and agony slipping past his lips. The wound across his chest healed almost at once, the energy of the mask healing his skin back to normal. But the blow rocked him—not because it hurt him, but because he hadn't expected it.

  "How?" Hakari snarled, his eyes growing narrower. "How are you keeping up with me? You have no magic, no demon ability—only that damned sword!"

  Takashi's grip on his katana hardened, his position unyielding. "A sword is enough when wielded with purpose. You've forgotten what true power is, Hakari. It's not in the ability you steal—it's in the ability you forge."

  Hakari’s eyes flared with fury. “Don’t lecture me!” He raised his arms, the runes glowing brighter as the mask pulsed with dark energy at his belt.

  The shadows surged around him, coalescing into a massive clawed hand that loomed over Takashi like a living storm. With a roar, Hakari brought it crashing down, intent on crushing his father beneath its weight.

  But Takashi didn't blink. His eyes didn't skip a beat, his muscles taut as a coiled spring. When the shadow-claw descended, he was a burst of speed to the side and an upward slash with his katana.

  The katana cut through the claw, severing it in two clean pieces. The pieces dissipated into wisps of black vapor, leaving Hakari on the ground by himself, his chest heaving with exertion.

  Takashi sheathed his sword, his expression calm but firm. "You're reckless, Hakari. You think your magic makes you invincible, but it's only made you reckless."

  "Reckless?" Hakari's voice shattered with rage. "Do you think I'm reckless?!"

  He charged at Takashi again, his strikes wild and brutal. Launching tendrils of darkness in all directions, the ground shattering beneath him as the corrupted power surged through him.

  But however fast or vicious his assault, Takashi was faster. He moved with the assurance of a man who had spent decades mastering his craft, each step measured, each strike precisely timed.

  Hakari swung his shadow-blade in a wide arc, but Takashi ducked beneath it, his katana slicing through another tendril. He pivoted, his blade flashing as it cut through the chaos, always one step ahead of Hakari’s assault.

  “Enough!” Hakari roared, leaping back to put distance between them. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths, his frustration written across his face.

  Takashi stood tall, his katana solid in his hand. Although he had just been in a fight, his breathing was still level, his movements still restrained and calm.

  "You've lost control, Hakari," Takashi said softly now but no less firmly. "That mask is siphoning off your rage, your fear, your desperation. It's turning you into something you're not. Is this really the strength you were looking for?

  Hakari’s grip on the mask tightened, his expression faltering for a brief moment. But then the runes along his arms flared, and the mask pulsed violently at his belt, its crimson veins glowing like molten lava.

  "It doesn't matter what I am," Hakari snarled, his words cold and low. "All that matters is what I shall do. And I shall not allow you to stand in my way."

  The shadows churned once more, and Takashi steeled himself, his katana glinting in the damned light. The fight was far from finished, and both father and son knew there was to be no easy conclusion.

  But as Hakari prepared to strike again, a flash of doubt crossed his face—a fleeting, evanescent reminder of the boy Takashi had once instructed.