Dawn rose over a wounded village. The sky, painted in orange and gold, couldn't hide the scent of blood or the smoke still drifting from broken homes. They had survived... but at a steep cost.
The raiders' bodies were buried far from the village, without ceremony or mourning. Even as enemies, their lives served as a reminder of what desperation could lead to.
Donyoku stood next to Aika, helping rebuild one of the damaged homes. His clothes were torn, one arm wrapped in makeshift bandages. Despite the pain, he wore a strained smile.
"I still can't believe we made it..." Aika murmured, awkwardly placing a wooden plank. "If it weren't for you..."
"Everyone fought. It wasn't just us," Donyoku replied, watching as the village children played nearby, blissfully unaware of what had just occurred.
Further off, some villagers whispered, nodding respectfully at Chisiki, Kagenami, and Donyoku. But not all voices were grateful—some carried resentment.
"Where was the king while we were being slaughtered?" "He sent no help..." "What kind of ruler lets his people die?"
Even Reiji Mikazuki, who watched from a nearby hill, could hear those words. His robe fluttered in the wind as his gaze stretched toward the horizon, as if searching for something beyond sight.
When the three young men approached, he gestured to them.
"You. Come here."
He led them to an old ruined cabin—the village's former temple. Inside, broken statues and worn stone carvings remained. Reiji sat on the creaky wooden floor, arms crossed.
"It's time you understood more about the power awakening within you," he said, his tone deeper than usual.
Chisiki and Donyoku sat before him. Kagenami stayed back, leaning against a pillar. Aika stood quietly at the entrance, listening.
Reiji raised his hand. A soft white light glowed from his palm, forming a circle mid-air.
"The Shinkon, as you know, is the reflection of one's true soul. But not all Shinkon are the same. There are branches, depths... and consequences."
The circle split into five distinct paths.
"The most common ones, like the Soukei, are basic manifestations—physical strength, elemental abilities, soul manipulation. But there are deeper levels..."
1. Jōgon (浄眼) – The Pure Eye. It reveals hidden truths, intentions, emotions... but at a cost. Some truths are better left unseen.
2. Ketsuhō (結法) – Connection techniques. Rituals that forge bonds between souls. Often, they demand sacrifice or intense emotional links.
3. Hizumi (歪み) – Distortion. Shinkon like yours, Donyoku — unstable, fractured. Dangerous... but unpredictable.
4. Yuino (結納) – The most feared. A power granted only through great loss or a deep exchange. Something is gained... but something must always be given.
Donyoku swallowed hard at the last one. Reiji's eyes locked onto his.
"Without knowing it, you tapped into a form of Hizumi when you defended your people. It's neither a blessing nor a curse—but you must understand it. Your soul isn't entirely human anymore... and that matters."
Kagenami averted his eyes. They glinted briefly—no one seemed to notice.
"Why tell us this now?" Chisiki asked.
"Because this was only a small battle. If you truly want to change this kingdom, you'll need more than strength. You'll need wisdom... and an understanding of pain."
A cold gust swept through the old temple, making the wood creak under its breath.
---
Scene Shift
Inside the palace of Hokori, under golden candlelight, the king laughed. Wine glasses clinked, hollow laughter filled the halls, nobles toasted to "peace."
On his throne, eyes hidden behind his goblet, his mind wandered.
"So many useless smiles… weak humans celebrating a false stability. True evolution is born only from suffering."
He shifted slightly, tapping his fingers on the goblet with a bored rhythm.
"If that boy's village dies... it simply means they weren't worthy pieces on my board."
---
[Location: Frozen Ruins – Border of the Kagekura Territory – Night]
Wind howled through cracked stones, freezing every breath that dared linger. Beneath the broken tower, a cloaked figure held a bluish lamp whose flame did not flicker despite the storm.
"There you are... finally," he muttered, voice rough as gravel. He unrolled an old manuscript, worn and scorched, filled with ancient script.
His fingers traced the faded ink, stopping at an illustration: a figure wreathed in dancing flames rising from ashes, and another submerged in swirling shadows, its eyes glowing from the depths.
"Hinokami... Ryukon... they're more than myths."
He drew out a torn scroll. Much of it was burned or missing, but symbols remained—circles of invocation, golden-ink phrases. Then, he looked up at an inscription carved into the stone:
"When the ancient souls awaken, the balance of Shinkon shall shatter."
He closed his eyes, his expression weathered by time and regret—torn between hope and dread.
"I'm not ready to face what's coming... but he will be," he whispered, leaving the name unspoken.
A sudden crunch of snow caught his attention. He turned. No wind. Yet the temperature plummeted. His lamp's flame trembled... then began to die.
From the shadows emerged something barely human. Its presence twisted the space around it. Its eyes were pale white, its body part flesh, part metal.
"A Shinkon abomination… failed experiment, or something worse?" the man murmured, drawing symbols that gleamed between his fingers.
The creature let out a guttural, broken roar—and lunged.
---
[Shortly after – Outskirts of Hokori Village, Dawn]
The earth trembled slightly as a figure emerged from the woods.
A tall man, wrapped in a tattered cloak dragging dust behind him, walked toward the village. His left arm was gone—just tight bandages at the shoulder. A wide hat cast his face in shadow. A sword hung from his side. Though his pace was slow and calm, an unsettling aura surrounded him. Birds fell silent.
A village boy saw him first. He stepped back, wary. But the man stopped, dipped his head, and offered a warm smile.
"This Hokori? Heard the rice here's good," he said, voice hoarse but oddly kind.
He tripped on a stone, almost falling face-first. The boy giggled nervously. The stranger laughed too, rubbing his knee.
"Sometimes the ground wants to fight too, huh?"
But deep within him, something burned.
His Shinkon—still dormant—was not unlike fire. It didn't consume. It healed. It returned. It had no name, but those who'd felt it before described it as... impossible to extinguish.
No one knew it yet, but his arrival would change everything.
---
And in the stillness of dawn, a new spark of hope began to burn—one destined to change everything.
Thank you for reading this chapter of Chi no Yakusoku.
If you enjoyed it, don't forget to follow for the next step in this dark blood oath.