Dekamoshi turned around, spotting his only friend, Keiji, an enslaved member of a family that had been in bondage for generations, approaching him. Keiji, being older, wore the same rudimentary uniform as all the other slaves: a worn gray pair of pants and light chains around his wrists, marking their status. Unlike Dekamoshi, Keiji possessed the Byakugan, albeit weakly developed.
Keiji stopped a few steps away, wiping the sweat from his forehead before giving his friend a concerned look.
"You'll kill yourself if you keep this up, Dekamoshi," he said, placing a hand on his shoulder.
Dekamoshi shrugged, letting the pile of wood fall near the furnace. "If not today, then tomorrow. Might as well finish what I have to do."
Keiji sighed. "You can't think like that. If you let your anger consume you, you won't last."
Dekamoshi gave a cold, almost cynical smile as he locked eyes with Keiji. "Anger is all I have left, Keiji. It's the only thing keeping me standing."
Keiji shook his head, frustrated but unable to suppress his compassion. "I know you've suffered... more than all of us. But rebellion has never saved anyone here. Look around you. Those who try to fight end up as ashes in this forge."
Dekamoshi fixed his gaze on the flames in front of him, his fists clenching involuntarily. "You don't understand, Keiji. You can't understand. My mother died for nothing. My father... annihilated along with his entire clan. All because they were different, because they wouldn't submit. And me? I'm here, condemned to live a life of shame because I'm their son. Even the other slaves despise me."
Keiji lowered his eyes, searching for the right words. "You're not alone, Dekamoshi. I'm here."
A heavy silence fell between them. Only the forge continued to roar, as if to stifle any attempt at comfort. Eventually, Dekamoshi broke the silence.
"Keiji, you... you've accepted all this, haven't you? This slave life, this existence without hope."
Keiji lifted his eyes, meeting Dekamoshi's gaze once more. "Yes, I've accepted it. Because I have no choice. We're born to serve. To rebel is to die. So I do what I can to survive, to make this existence a little less unbearable."
Dekamoshi let out a soft chuckle, but there was no joy in it. "I can't do that. Not when I still remember my mother, the way she smiled at me for the last time before they took her life. Not when I remember my father's darkness, his overwhelming power. They destroyed them because they were afraid. And here I am, chained, feeding their forge, as if my life meant nothing."
Keiji placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Your life means something, Dekamoshi. But you must find another way to survive, another way to exist. Not through hatred. It will consume you before you have a chance to do anything."
Dekamoshi gently moved away, without aggression but with a cold resolve. "Maybe hatred will consume me. But if that's what it takes to bring them down, then I'll accept it."
Keiji didn't respond immediately, his eyes fixed on his friend's emaciated figure, the muscles tense under the burns, his body marked by pain but still standing. He knew that nothing he said would change Dekamoshi.
"You'll never change, will you?" he said finally, a sad smile on his lips.
"No," Dekamoshi replied, his tone final.
Their conversation was interrupted by a brutal scream from an Otsutsuki overseer. "Back to work, you miserable wretches! Or you'll feel the sting of the whip!"
Dekamoshi and Keiji exchanged one last look. Keiji whispered, "Don't get yourself killed."
Dekamoshi nodded before turning away, returning to his labor, the flames of the forge reflecting in his eyes like an embodiment of the fury he carried within.
As he loaded another pile of wood into the furnace, fragments of memories resurfaced, like shards of a past he would rather forget. The dimension where he was born, a world shrouded in perpetual night, reappeared in his mind.
He remembered his father's abyssal black skin, the imposing gaze that dominated all the Kurayami. He recalled the living shadows that seemed to obey the will of this clan. But most of all, he remembered his mother's smile, that fragile light in a world of darkness. His mother, Matsuya, who was from the Otsutsuki Clan, a servant who had come as a scout, had fallen in love with the Kurayami chief.
Then came the screams, the explosions, the chaos. The Otsutsuki chief himself, accompanied by his army, had reduced this world to dust, annihilating his people and their culture. The power of darkness, so feared by the Otsutsuki, had been defeated, but at the cost of a total massacre.
Dekamoshi, as a child, had been captured and brought to this bright but cruel dimension. Since then, he had been an outcast, an anomaly that didn't belong among either the slaves or the Otsutsuki.
Yet, the hatred he carried was a flame that no forge, no matter how infernal, could extinguish. One day, he promised himself, he would return to that world of darkness, and he would make those who had destroyed everything he had pay. One day, the roles would be reversed.
...
The week passed in a whirlwind of exhaustion and contained rage for Dekamoshi. Every night, lying on the dusty floor of the slave dormitory, he felt his hatred grow like an insidious poison. His hands, though calloused and hardened, still trembled when he recalled the daily injustices he endured.
The fateful day of the inspection arrived, marked by a palpable tension in the air. All the slaves from the forge were gathered on the vast esplanade overlooking the Otsutsuki domain. A hundred men and women of all ages stood in perfect columns under the strict watch of the guards. Every face wore an expression of fear or resignation, except for Dekamoshi's, which remained impassive.
Above them, the sky seemed to open. A blinding light erupted as a majestic silhouette appeared, floating with divine grace.