The silver glow of the River of Moonlight shimmered beneath the autumn sky, casting an eerie glow upon the battlefield. The scent of steel, blood, and dying leaves intertwined with the cold air.
Five figures stood before Renji and Sayaka, their crimson-and-black armor glistening under the moonlight. The Sanguine Hounds—Shogun Mikazuki Shion's most feared executioners. Their mere presence twisted the air, their Kenko (Sword's Calling) suffocating.
The leader, clad in deeper crimson than the rest, stepped forward. His voice was eerily calm.
"Do you understand the weight of your actions, Kiryuu Renji?"
Renji tilted his head, golden embroidery on his kimono catching the wind. "If you're asking whether I regret them... you already know the answer."
Sayaka's grip on Setsugetsuka tightened. "Talking won't change anything. Let's finish this."
The Hounds moved instantly.
The first warrior lunged, his blade carving through the mist like a phantom. Kazeryu-tier speed. Renji barely had time to react, his instincts forcing him to sidestep as the blade whistled past his throat.
The second came next—Kaen-tier power—his katana descending like a guillotine. Renji parried, but the sheer force sent him skidding back.
The leader stood still, watching.
Sayaka, meanwhile, danced between two opponents. Her Kenmei shifted like the seasons—swift as spring, unshaken as winter. Her blade caught the first enemy's wrist, a clean cut. A scream echoed. Blood sprayed onto the moonlit river.
Renji exhaled sharply. His pulse slowed. His world narrowed.
The voice inside him whispered once more.
"Yes... I remember this feeling. The song of clashing steel. The wails of the dying. A perfect symphony of chaos!"
The leader of the Hounds finally moved.
In a single motion, he unsheathed his katana—and the world trembled.
The space around him distorted, the reflection of the moon on the water splitting into fragments.
Kagetsu-tier Kenko. A battlefield-altering presence.
Renji and Sayaka tensed. This was not an opponent they could defeat with brute force alone.
And then—
The battle truly began.
Perspective: A Young Kiryuu Renji (10 Years Ago)
The flames of the Kiryuu Manor burned against the night sky. Screams filled the air. Blood pooled in the gardens where once cherry blossoms bloomed.
Renji stood amidst the carnage, his young hands trembling as he clutched a wooden training sword.
His father, Kiryuu Masakage, knelt before him, blood dripping from his lips. Behind him stood a man cloaked in the Oboro Shogunate's imperial black—a figure Renji would never forget.
Mikazuki Shion.
"Renji," his father whispered, voice weak but firm. "Do not cry. A warrior does not weep."
Renji's small body shook. "Father...!"
Masakage smiled faintly. Even on the verge of death, he was still a samurai.
"You must survive."
A sharp pain filled Renji's vision—a sudden, blinding impact to the back of his head. The world tilted. His father's form blurred.
The last thing he saw was Shion's golden eyes watching him. Unshaken. Unmoved.
And then—darkness.