The warm breeze rustled through Akira's massive northern forest, where golden sunlight poured between thick canopies of emerald green. Sensei Gara, clad in his flowing silver-and-blue robe and iconic fox-like mask, strolled casually down a dirt path. Birds chirped above. Leaves crunched below. And Gara? He was… dancing.
With every step, he twirled, leapt, and hummed an absurdly cheerful tune—arms flailing and hips swaying as he sang aloud:
"Wiggle-waggle waddle-woo!
I'm a squirrel and so are you!
If you got nuts then shake your tail!
Dance like muffins in a snail!"
He paused only to do a full spin and a high kick.
"Socks on my ears and jam on toast,
Who's the ninja who boogies the most?
It's Sensei Gara, the fabulous fox!
Dancing through trees and collecting rocks!"
He tossed a pebble over his shoulder dramatically—right before freezing in mid-step.
A dark, suffocating chill crept over the forest.
The wind died.
Even the birds went silent.
From the shadows of a tree hollow, a figure emerged slowly—his black boots crunching the fallen leaves, a slow deliberate rhythm that screamed menace.
Gimori Aku no.
His outfit radiated pure dread. A long black coat, torn and stitched with blood-red thread, flared out at the ends like tattered wings. Crimson runes pulsed down his sleeves, and an oversized shoulder pauldron made of twisted bone rested on his right arm. His chest was bare, save for a glowing, corrupted sigil carved into his skin, oozing dark energy like ink dripping in water. And strapped to his waist, wrapped in cursed cloth, was his twisted blade—the Demon blade.
His face was pale, framed by straight, jet-black hair that flowed to his shoulders, and his eyes—one normal, the other glowing with the cursed blue light of the Aku no Eye—burned with cruelty.
Sensei Gara straightened instantly, the tune dying on his lips.
"…Well, if it isn't Mr. Overcompensating-Evil-Aura," he said, adjusting his mask. "What's the occasion? Lose your soul and come to borrow mine?"
Gimori smirked, his voice a deep, slithering drawl. "Still hiding behind that ridiculous mask, Gara? You've always been a coward. Or are you just afraid someone might mistake you for a porcelain doll?"
Gara shrugged theatrically. "Some dolls are collector's items, darling."
Suddenly, Gimori lunged forward, unsheathing his blade with a shriek of cursed energy. A dark arc of force slashed through the air, cleaving trees in half—and slicing Gara's mask clean down the middle.
The two halves dropped to the forest floor.
Gara's face was revealed—smooth, symmetrical, and strikingly feminine, with soft lips, long lashes, and clear violet eyes that glistened like moonlight. For a moment, the forest itself seemed to pause.
Gimori burst into mocking laughter. "You don't just act feminine… you look like a blushing princess! What next, gonna cry when I break your nails?"
Gara's grin remained calm, though his eyes narrowed like daggers. "Says the guy wearing half a skeleton as a fashion statement."
With a sudden burst of wind, Gara unsheathed his twin crescent blades, their silver arcs glinting under the dappled sun. "Let's see who breaks first."
The two clashed.
Blades screamed against one another as sparks and dark energy exploded with each impact. Gimori's cursed strikes were wild, violent, meant to destroy. Gara's movements were fluid, graceful—almost dance-like. But each graceful dodge was backed by deadly precision.
Trees exploded. Rocks shattered. The ground cracked beneath their feet.
Gimori's blade surged with corrupted flame, but Gara twisted mid-air, spinning with both blades in a counter-arc that sent the firestorm flying off course.
"You're slowing down, Gimori. You sure that new eye wasn't just for show?"
Gimori snarled, his corrupted aura expanding, engulfing the entire forest path in shadow.
But Sensei Gara didn't retreat.
Instead, he leapt straight into the darkness with a smirk. "Let's dance, skeleton boy."