The story begins with the barren, desolate surface of the moon. Craters and jagged rocks stretch endlessly under a cold, pale light. The Earth hangs in the sky, fragile and serene, casting its glow over two figures who stand as opposites in this celestial standoff.
Haruto stands tall, his trident in hand, the weapon glowing faintly with a power that seems as ancient as time itself. His back is turned to Ryuji, his figure silhouetted against the Earth's shimmering presence. His voice, calm yet laced with melancholy, echoes through the emptiness.
"You're too kind for this world, Ryuji." Haruto's grip tightens on the trident as he gazes down at the planet, its blue and green surface brimming with life, yet overshadowed by greed and corruption. "This world doesn't deserve to exist as it is. It's selfish, cruel… filled with people who trample on others to fulfill their desires. I'm simply giving it what it deserves."
Ryuji, standing several feet behind him, his bow raised and an ethereal, glowing arrow forming on the string, stares at his old friend with sorrow in his eyes. The bow, a relic of his clan's ancestors, hums with power as it channels the raw energy of Ryuji's will. The arrow radiates an aura akin to the divine, the energy swirling around it reminiscent of a Brahmastra.
"Haruto…" Ryuji's voice is steady, though his heart aches at the sight of his nakama—his closest ally—standing on the precipice of destruction. "We can't become like this… like them. If we destroy the world because of its flaws, we're no better than the demons who tore it apart before."
Haruto doesn't respond immediately. His gaze remains fixed on the Earth, his expression unreadable. But the faintest flicker of doubt passes over his face before he quickly steels himself.
"Ryuji, you've always been too naive. That's why you'll never understand. To rebuild something better, you have to tear down what's broken."
The scene grows tense as Ryuji tightens his grip on the bowstring, his aura growing brighter, illuminating the cold surface of the moon. The ground beneath them trembles, cracks spreading outward as the energy of their impending clash builds.
But before the confrontation can reach its peak, the scene shifts, fading into a softer, warmer light.
The sound of laughter and celebration fills the air. The camera pans to a vibrant, snow-covered village, bustling with life. The Frost Clan's settlement, nestled in the mountains, is alive with joy as the birth of a new child is announced. Inside a humble yet beautifully adorned home, a group of people gathers around a newborn baby, swaddled in soft cloth and held lovingly by his mother.
The mother, a strong yet gentle woman with strikingly sharp features, gazes at her son with tearful eyes. "Ryuji," she whispers, her voice trembling with love and pride. "You'll grow up to be the pride of this family."
Standing beside her is her father, Kenshiro, a stern but kind elder whose presence commands respect. He places a hand on his daughter's shoulder and looks down at the child. "He carries the blood of our ancestors, the warriors who mastered the art of ki and martial prowess. He'll bring honor to the clan."
The room is filled with warmth and hope as the baby stirs, his tiny hands reaching out toward his mother. Behind them, an elderly woman—his great-grandmother, Emiko—sits by the fire, knitting a ceremonial cloth for the child. She hums an old tune, a lullaby passed down through generations.
But even amidst the celebration, there's a shadow of unease. The mother glances out the window toward the distant mountains, where the skies seem darker, heavy with a sense of foreboding. She clutches Ryuji tighter, a silent prayer forming in her heart.
"May you grow strong," she whispers, "and may you never have to bear the weight of the secrets we carry."