The sun dipped low over the mountains, casting long shadows over the training grounds of the Tokyo Corps. Wind rustled the sakura trees, their petals fluttering in slow dances across the empty courtyard.
Only two figures remained.
Sahiru and Suzune.
Their blades clashed in rhythm, a soft cadence of sparks and motion—more a duet than a duel.
"You're holding back," Suzune teased, brushing aside a strike with her parasol. "Am I getting that good, or are you just distracted?"
Sahiru, for once, smiled faintly. "Maybe both."
Their spar ended with Suzune's blade at his shoulder—and her face inches from his.
A pause. Then she smiled.
"You smiled again."
"I do that sometimes," Sahiru muttered, brushing past her. But the red in his cheeks betrayed him.
Over weeks, their bond only deepened. They trained, laughed, and fought side-by-side. In missions, their synchronization was flawless. In battle, they needed no words.
Perfect partners. Perfect harmony.
Sahiru now stood at the peak of the Tokyo Corps, with Suzune right beside him. He, the silent sword of vengeance. She, the radiant storm.
Kenta often watched them from the shrine steps, a gentle smile on his face.
"They're more than warriors," he whispered to an old crow. "They're light in the shadows."
But light always draws the gaze of darkness.
Deep within the Infinity Castle, a chilling calm echoed through the endless halls of shifting rooms and floating stone.
Muzan Kibutsuji stood before a circular mirror, his crimson eyes unblinking.
"Kokushibo," he said, his voice smooth as death, "What do you make of this… Sahiru?"
From the shadows, the towering form of the First Upper Moon stepped forward, arms crossed.
"He's unrefined… but dangerous. That sword style of his—Facade Breathing—it's unnatural."
"And growing," said Muzan. "Too quickly."
Akaza, perched atop a broken pillar, scoffed. "Just another child with a sword. I'll crush him."
Muzan's gaze narrowed.
"No. Not yet. I want to see how far he rises. The greater the flame, the sweeter the extinguishing."
Kokushibo said nothing, but deep within his forgotten heart, something stirred.
Another sun-touched prodigy. Another boy with eyes of burning resolve.
Another Yoriichi?
Muzan turned to the vast chamber of the Eclipse Moons, preparing his next move.
A storm was coming.