Looking out the carriage windows to the streets of Takamichi, Kengo Tachikawa saw the joy living within the district’s denizens. Those delightfully smiles that shined ever so dazzlingly, those laughter of innocent children as they played in all sorts of ways and places, and those songs played by the passionate musicians traveling to make a name for themselves … The driving will and the beating hearts of the people brought forth a sense of liveliness in this often mundane life, where nothing happened apart from peace which everyone sought to cherish and preserve.

To think this much had changed in ten years. I guess your dreams have come true, Kengo thought, having bore witness to many travesties over the fifty years since he took the path of the blade. The grandmasters of back then could never hope to achieve such a development. In fact, they would’ve destroyed it, for the sake of Hoshikuni returning to what it was hundreds of years ago before the coming of the First Mage.

Still, there remained a few unwanted fellows hiding in the shadows or in plain sight. Had it been two decades ago, Kengo would’ve done all he could to make sure they were quickly brought to light and face the law of man. An antithesis to the grandmasters' lessons, whose ideals were fixated on the law of beasts, to let conflict ensue and cut it once it reached its climax. The innocents weren’t spared of those cuts.

Alas, despite having abandoned those ideals, Kengo continued to walk on the path of the blade which they have set himself on. The road often forked to multiple paths, but a blade was a straight line meant to cut all other lines, thus leading him here in Takamichi to see someone he expected to meet.

The carriage stopped and the coachman’s voice could be heard, kindly offering someone to climb up so long as they paid the fee. “Ah, thank you, young sir,” the coachman said. “And where shall be your destination?”

“Tsugunori,” the man replied.

“You’re in luck because the guy inside is also heading up north.”

“I see, then it’s a fortune indeed.”

The man climbed up the carriage and sat opposite of him. He was a rather thin man, a very frail one at that, limping on the right side of his body due to an old wound hidden beneath that neat ordinary kimono of his. Nothing was special about his appearance. No notable features that would set him apart from your everyday citizen. Complete and utter mediocrity designed to not stand out.

“It appears that time has not changed you,” Kengo spoke calmly. “On the surface that is.”

“I could say the same for you, old man,” the man replied with a quiet broken voice. “Well, maybe apart from your graying hair.

“Life has been peaceful.”

“I heard you saved a couple of kids just yesterday. You caused quite a scene.”

“An unavoidable incident, I would say,” Kengo hoped that the two weren’t too affected by what transpired. It would be a shame to see young bright futures be decimated due fear and terror. “Now considering that we’re the only ones here,” he recounted the number of times this public carriage was stopped due to potential passengers, yet all were denied except the one before him. “The coachman is yours, isn’t he? A subordinate?”

“More so a partner. My goals and his employer’s goals simply aligned, that’s all.”

Although that was what the man said, Kengo retained his skepticism. Not toward the man himself, rather to this employer he was colluding with. Several guesses popped inside his mind with one being most apparent and the one he dreaded the most.

“It won't end well, ⎕⎕⎕⎕⎕-kun,” he tried to convince them. “Haven’t you already seen what it’s like outside? There is peace. While the Fukyusei have lost the war, their noble goal of enriching the lives of the common folk have won out. The cold hearts of the Ten Council were swayed … or should I say paid heed to the needs of the ordinaries and third-rate mages. While there remain injustices happening around the corner, I can concur that things are far better than it was decades ago.”

“Looks like I was wrong. You did change,” the man said. “Your travels have mellowed you out. Never thought of settling down?”

“That kind of life doesn’t suit me,” Kengo said. “nor does it suit you so it seemed.”

“And why do you think that?”

Kengo took a silent pause and retraced what had happened. From the moment the man stepped foot into this carriage, he noticed something else apart from his weak body. It was a scent so familiar to him as it was terrifying.

“How many?” he asked, but the man merely tilted his head, acting innocent as if to toy with him. Kengo asked again, “How many,⎕⎕⎕⎕⎕-kun. How many have you killed?”

“Killed? I have killed no one,” he said, playfully. “These hands you’re seeing never touched a blade larger than a kitchen knife.”

“Then let me rephrase the question,” his blue eyes stared daggers at him. “How many have you ordered to be killed?”

The man gave no response, but the devil’s smile. Kengo felt sick to his stomach. To think that the sweet boy he once knew grew up to become so cruel. The air was getting damp and weary, and the mood turned sour at a moment’s notice. He couldn’t stand it anymore.

“I’ll be taking my leave,” Kengo was about to get out, but the man stopped him by grabbing hold of his hand. There was barely any force put in his grasp. A single swat and the bones might as well break like glass. “Do let go,” Kengo asked, kindly, while slightly unsheathing the blade on his person.

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“You sure you won’t hear me out?” the man said.

“I can already see the path you’re trekking on and I ask not your forgiveness in letting you go on said path. I ask only that you understand that the wishes you hold dear shall threaten the wishes of others and how lonesome it shall be.”

“I’m quite content with this new life of mine and, yes, I understand well enough of the consequences of my actions. However, what happens to others is not of my concern nor shall it be ours.”

“Then we have nothing more to talk about.”

“Not even about your promise to my father?” the man reached into Kengo’s pocket, pulling out a pair of identical silver pendants of a swallow, a sparrow, and a falcon chasing each other in a loop with their feets fastened together by a long woven vine.

Kengo took back his pendant and said, “My promise to him is to protect his family and nothing more.”

Thus, he tried to leave once more, when all of a sudden, a sharp thin blade made contact with his neck. Not from the man, but from someone else—an assassin standing behind Kengo, while ducking under the roof. It left Kengo utterly puzzled, having not sensed anyone entering nor hiding within the carriage. It was as if the assassin had used some means to gain total camouflage or to be teleported inside the moving space they were in.

Moreover, the assassin’s blade looked peculiar. It didn’t look like a sword or dagger forged by any known metal. Heck, it didn’t look to be made of metal at all, but rather a large piece of broken glass painted black. Neither natural nor man-made, reflecting no light nor casting shadows, incapable of producing sound nor scent. Could such a blade exist in reality?

“You’ve really gone senile, old man,” the man commented.

“Perhaps so. However, do know that you’re making a big mistake doing this.”

The assassin pulled her blade closer, making a thin cut, as blood dripped out of his neck. “Frivolous threats won’t do you any good,” a woman’s voice came out from behind, which was a surprise. Female assassins that do their work usually made their hunting grounds in the red light district, using their beauty to lure foolish men into their range of attack. For better or for worse, those hiding in the shadows have too changed like those living in the light.

That being said, Kengo noticed her speech to be peculiar. Having an foreign accent so to speak. Neither of the three known languages of Hoshikuni: heishita, longhuo, nor shingeul, were easy to learn, as you’d have to comprehend the various characters available, each might or might not have different meanings depending on tone or context.

So perhaps change never came for the shadows in Hoshikuni. Rather, this was a threat hailing from a foreign nation, which upheld values different from the people in this land. Whatever the case was, Kengo did not like the assassin’s demeanor. Underestimating him was a mistake.

“How about we make a bet on whose blade shall reach the other first?”

“Don’t joke on—”

In a split second, Kengo unsheathed his katana and sliced the glass-like blade, which shattered in an instant. Without giving him another moment, Kengo altered his grip and went for a reverse stab followed by a turn around and a forward thrust. The assassin dodged them narrowly, with Kengo’s blade managing only to cut the outer surface of his abdomen.

Backed to a corner, dark crystals erupted from the base of her palm and condensed into a new blade, which she wielded in a defensive stance. Kengo would’ve gone for the offense, but the small carriage restricted his movement and he didn’t want to cause a scene. Nevertheless, this small spar was bountiful in information and Kengo found himself impressed by the assassin for being skilled enough to evade two of his strikes.

Sheathing back his katana, Kengo could now see the assassin’s face. At first, she looked like any ordinary hoshikunian woman in a simple-looking kimono, or so it seemed. For starters, she looked too tall to be a hoshikunian and her face looked too clean to be in the assassination business. And while the two never really crossed blades, Kengo could tell from her footwork and her stances that her combat style focused on survivability. Not at all like the assassins he knew, who mainly focused on speed and stealth.

Alas, all those paled in comparison to the one key thing he discovered about her.

“I believe that is enough. Stand down,” the man ordered, and while the so-called assassin’s hostility faded, she kept guard up as if it was a natural thing to do so. “Tachikawa-san, are you sure you will not join our endeavors?”

While Kengo remained disinterested in the prospect, knowing what the assassin was changed everything. The reason was clear.

In Antryion, therein lay four primordial concepts known as Prima. The saying went as follows: ‘Mages rebuild the laws of Creation, priests follow the will of Faith, shamans preserve the commandments of the Soul, and ascendants deceive the world through their Existence’.

While this was the first time Kengo had met an ascendant, those foreboding words led to a distasteful perception toward their kind. Of course, not all ascendants were evil just as not every person who followed the path of the blade was good. However, knowing that the so-called assassin was that kind of ascendant, Kengo thought, How could I ever let him be deceived by those who deceive as naturally as they breathe?

However, a person’s mind could not be dissuaded so easily. It’d take time, but surely the treasured child of his precious friend would see the world as clear as day itself. The sins he committed might not be ever washed away, the same could be said for Kengo’s own sins, which had long since been imprinted into his katana.

“I really hate this,” Kengo muttered.

“I’m sure you do,” the man said. “but I’m also sure that you’d find pleasure in it.”

“How dare—”

“Not in what I nor my partner intend to do,” he calmly interjected. “Rather at a certain meeting you’ll get a chance of. I’m sure you know as to who I’m talking about.”

At first, Kengo doubted his friend’s son, knowing full well the circumstances of that person. But seeing through his eyes, Kengo saw no falsehoods except pure unrivaled confidence. For the first time in a long while, Kengo felt his heart racing. The blade on his grasp screamed for the prize it’d been waiting for so many years.

And that scared him.

It scared him because, after being initially so vehemently against it, he was willing to commit himself to another list of sins.

All for the one duel he’d long been yearning for.