The sun barely pierced through the thick clouds as Kuroki Aozora walked through the training grounds of his family's stronghold. The scent of damp earth filled the air, mingling with the distant clang of steel and the low murmur of warriors exchanging words.
Today should have been like any other, a day of training, a day of duty.
But something had changed.
The men avoided his gaze. The younger warriors whispered behind his back. Even the seasoned fighters—those who had seen countless battles—looked at him with an unease they could not hide.
He was used to being ignored. He preferred solitude. But this was different.
They feared him.
---
The Warlord's Judgment
At the center of the stronghold, Takato Aozora sat within the War Council Chamber, his expression unreadable. Before him stood Kuroki, his sword sheathed at his side, his posture steady.
To the left, Raizo leaned against a wooden pillar, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his lips. Beside him stood Daigo Kanzaki, the old general who had fought alongside their father for decades.
A heavy silence hung in the air.
Takato exhaled slowly. "Do you understand why you are here?"
Kuroki met his father's gaze. "Because I fought."
Takato's fingers curled against the armrest of his chair. "Because you fought too well."
Raizo chuckled. "Father, if you're punishing Kuroki for being a natural killer, then maybe you should punish me, too."
"This is not a joke," Daigo said, his voice sharp. His weathered eyes flicked toward Kuroki. "The men fear him."
Kuroki remained silent.
Daigo stepped forward. "I watched you on the battlefield. I have seen hundreds of warriors, thousands of killers. But I have never seen a boy of twelve fight with such precision. No hesitation, no mistakes. That is not natural."
Raizo shrugged. "So he's talented. Shouldn't we be celebrating that?"
"This is not talent," Daigo said coldly. "This is something else."
Takato leaned forward, his piercing gaze locked onto his youngest son. "Kuroki… I need to know the truth."
Kuroki hesitated. He could lie, pretend he was just a skilled fighter. But his father would see through it.
So instead, he told him.
"The night of the battle… I saw something," Kuroki admitted. "Something that was not real. Shadows. Visions. A throne of bones."
A sharp silence followed.
Shizune Aozora, standing near the entrance, lowered her gaze. She had expected this.
Raizo, for the first time, frowned. "You're saying you saw a vision? A prophecy?"
Kuroki clenched his jaw. "I don't know what it was."
Daigo exhaled. "This only confirms my fears."
Takato closed his eyes for a moment before standing. "For now, Kuroki, you will continue your training as normal. But from this moment forward, you will be watched."
Kuroki didn't argue. He bowed slightly and turned to leave.
But as he stepped past his father, Takato whispered something only he could hear.
"I will not let fate decide your path."
For the first time in his life, Kuroki felt his father's fear.
---
The Bonds That Remain
Later that evening, Kuroki found himself walking along the outer walls of the stronghold, away from prying eyes.
"You don't seem concerned," Jiro Makoto's voice came from behind him.
Kuroki turned. His friend stood with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. "You told them everything?"
"I did," Kuroki admitted.
Jiro exhaled. "And they still don't know what to do with you."
Kuroki smirked slightly. "Neither do I."
Jiro studied him for a long moment before speaking. "You're still my friend, Kuroki. No matter what the others say."
Kuroki didn't reply, but the small weight in his chest eased.
For all the uncertainty surrounding him, at least this had not changed.
---
The Night That Shattered Peace
That night, Kuroki did not dream of shadows.
He dreamed of fire.
He stood in the middle of a burning village. Smoke choked the sky, and the stench of burning flesh filled the air. Bodies lay scattered across the ground—warriors, peasants, even children.
And at the center of it all… stood himself.
But he was not the boy he knew.
He was a man, clad in black armor, his sword dripping with fresh blood. His eyes, once cold and calculating, now burned with an unnatural blue flame.
The world around him trembled.
And then, from the shadows, the voice returned.
"You cannot escape your fate."
Kuroki's chest tightened. He stepped forward, reaching toward his older self—
And suddenly, the figure turned.
A dark smile crossed his face. "Why do you resist?"
Kuroki jerked awake, his breath ragged, his body damp with sweat.
For the first time in his life, he felt terror.
---
The Assassins' Arrival
Kuroki did not sleep again that night.
Hours later, just before dawn, the stronghold shook.
A sharp alarm bell rang through the air, followed by the unmistakable clash of steel.
Kuroki grabbed his sword and rushed to the courtyard. The gates had been breached. Warriors of the Aozora clan fought against a group of assassins dressed in black, their weapons flashing in the torchlight.
Jiro appeared beside him. "They came through the northern entrance!"
Kuroki didn't hesitate. He moved forward, sword in hand, cutting down one assassin before the man could react. Blood splattered across the dirt as Kuroki turned toward another enemy.
He did not think. He did not hesitate.
He fought like a man who had done this a thousand times before.
---
The Shadowed Duel
At the far end of the courtyard, Takato Aozora was locked in combat with a masked figure, their blades clashing in a violent display of skill.
But as Kuroki cut through another assassin, he felt it.
A presence.
A dark, consuming energy unlike anything he had ever encountered.
And then, from the shadows, a voice whispered:
"I have found you."
A figure emerged—a man cloaked in midnight, his face hidden beneath a hood, his hands wreathed in black fire.
Kuroki froze.
The figure tilted his head. "So young. And yet, the power within you stirs."
The man raised his hand, and suddenly, Kuroki's vision blurred. The world twisted.
And for a brief moment, he was somewhere else.
A throne of bones. A sea of blood. The same burning blue eyes.
Then—darkness.
A sharp pain shot through his chest, and Kuroki gasped, falling to one knee. His body burned, but not from any wound.
It was something inside him.
The figure took a step forward. "Not yet," he murmured. "But soon."
And just like that, he vanished.
Kuroki exhaled sharply, his hands trembling.
Who… was that?
End of Chapter 3