Night rolled around, and the sound of crickets chirping echoed throughout the darkness. Mirai stood outside the bath, watching as the full moon slowly reached its apex, its soft glow caressing his face.
"I'll get the fire going for you, so you can just get ready, okay?" Shou's mother offered, her arms already filled to the brim with firewood. Shou had just gone to bed, and the fire under the barrel was starting to dim.
"Oh no, you really don't have to—" Mirai tried to reassure her, but he was cut off by the maiden, her voice sharp and sudden.
"I insist!" she pushed, walking ahead, leaving him no more room to argue. Her footsteps echoed, and Mirai simply watched her back, gratitude mixed with guilt in his gaze.
"R-right…" he muttered softly, more to himself than to her, his gaze shifting once more to the moon as he waited.
As time passed, the bath was warmed and ready. Mirai sank into the heated water, letting its warmth envelop him. He groaned with pleasure, his head resting against the wooden frame of the barrel with a soft sigh.
"Sure is quiet…" he mumbled to himself, his eyes closed as he listened to the chirping crickets and croaking frogs hidden among the grass. His body was untouched by the cold air around him.
"He stuck his nose where it didn't belong, and it cost him. That's all." The kind woman's words echoed in his mind, his hand reaching up to cup his face.
"I wonder… what could've happened—" he said to himself, only silence there to accompany his words.
"Despite it not being any of my business, my heart aches for them…" His hand fell from his face, his gaze taking on a somber look as he stared at the wooden ceiling.
"Maybe because I do too…" His words softened, his mind reeling with memories of the past—the touch of his brother's hand going cold, the desperate grasp of his mother on his kimono, pulling him to safety.
Her voice calling his name was the most prominent thing in his mind.
"Knows what it's like to lose people close to you…" It was as if time stood still, the symphony of crickets and frogs stopping completely, leaving a dead silence.
"Huh? Who's there—" Mirai raised his head, only to lean back quickly, narrowly avoiding a knife that pierced the wooden wall behind him, trapped inside the frame.
Without wasting another moment, Mirai got out of the bath as fast as he could, reaching for the katana he had propped against the wall along with his clothes. He turned his gaze back outside, only to see a man in a strange mask right beneath him, his body encased in a kimono that hid his figure.
"What the—" he muttered, stepping backward just outside the man's reach, the blade narrowly missing his nose.
Mirai drew his blade and charged forward, striking at the man as he struck back, their blows exchanged in a flurry, the sound of clashing metal filling the room.
Mirai moved quickly, throwing himself over the bath with a surge of momentum as the masked man slashed at him, missing his hand by a hair's breadth. With a shove, Mirai sent the barrel tumbling toward his attacker, hot water splashing across the man's robes.
A sharp gasp of surprise escaped the figure, his guard dropping just long enough for Mirai to charge forward, his blade striking down and slicing through fabric, though the wound was shallow.
The man stumbled back, briefly dazed, but quickly recovered. In a flash, he turned and sprinted toward the door.
"Stop there!" Mirai shouted, leaping to his feet and rushing after him. With a swift motion, he threw his blade toward the figure, watching as it missed, embedding itself in the earth. Unfazed, the masked man spun around, now advancing with renewed confidence, his own blade gleaming in the moonlight. He swung it, barely grazing Mirai's hair as he ducked.
Mirai's feet slipped on the damp ground, but he planted a hand to steady himself, rolling to avoid a second strike aimed at his side.
Flipping back onto his feet, he reached for his katana, breathing heavily as he raised it to mask half his face. He locked eyes with his opponent, each daring the other to make the next move.
"Tell me, why are you here?" Mirai inquired, his blade raised to mask half his face, staring into the perceived eyes of his opponent.
"I should ask you that question," the figure declared, saying his first few words since coming here.
"Tell me something—" Mirai muttered, his gaze narrowing at the man before him.
"Very well, since this will be your last night alive." He lowered his blade slightly to the earth, his threat hanging over Mirai's head as he spoke, his words filled with anger and resentment.
"Are you part of the Akai Kiba?" the young samurai asked, awaiting an answer. The night remained silent as the two of them stood face to face, neither daring to move, hardly even breathing, each watching for the slightest intent to kill.
"What if I am?" the man grunted, sliding his foot forward and leaning back on his other, sword raised to his face, preparing to fight.
"Then I'm afraid I can't let you live," Mirai muttered, a snarky look on his face.
"Oh? Why's that?" The man's voice was mocking.
"You have the nerve to ask me that question!?" Mirai roared, charging into the mysterious figure.
Their blades met again with a loud clang, but this time, Mirai sensed something was off. His opponent was allowing him to get close, letting him believe he was gaining ground. Suddenly, the man's knee shot up, slamming into Mirai's abdomen. The young samurai gasped, doubling over in pain, barely managing to parry as the man swung his sword again, nearly grazing his shoulder.
Desperately, Mirai staggered back, trying to regain his stance, but the masked man was relentless. Before Mirai could steady himself, the man was already there, his blade glinting as it arced upward, finding its mark. Blood sprayed across the ground as Mirai stumbled, clutching his chest, his breaths shallow.
"You… you were toying with me, weren't you?" Mirai's voice was little more than a ragged whisper, but it cut through the quiet night. He grinned, a fierce glint in his eyes that defied his battered body.
The man tilted his head, amusement flickering behind the cold eye slits of his mask. "It was always a matter of time."
The words were the final spark, igniting something fierce within Mirai. He spat blood from his lips, his grip tightening around the hilt of his sword until his knuckles went white.
"If I'm dying tonight…" Mirai steadied himself, feeling the earth shift beneath his feet as he raised his blade in defiance. "Then I'll make sure you don't live to see the dawn!"
The man barely shifted, but his intent was clear. He took a step forward, sword raised, ready to finish it. But as Mirai inhaled deeply, the world seemed to slow. Pain fell away, and a strange clarity filled him, resonating with something deep inside—a flicker of blue light that appeared and swelled, filling his senses with strength he didn't know he had.
"Time to wake up!" Mirai spat, the name falling from his lips like an incantation.
"鎌鼬 Kamaitachi!"