The sparring matches were almost like a sacred ritual. When a Hikagami turned sixteen, they would present themselves before the current Clan Head, who would judge both their character and overall ability.
Match-ups were decided by drawing straws from a cup, each marked with a colored tip. Since there were five participants, one straw would be blank—whoever drew that would automatically advance to the final match. After all, luck was considered a skill too.
The drawing began. Yuri and Kurenai drew straws marked red. Kagerō and Gorōta drew blue. The blank straw landed in Katsuya's hand, sending him straight to the viewing area alongside the two who wouldn't be fighting in the first round.
The first match would be between the two girls. They both grabbed practice swords from the rack and stepped into the center of the field. Kurenai paused briefly, inspecting hers.
The field was a flat expanse of hardened dirt, sunlit and dry.
The blazing sun bathed the arena, casting a halo around the two girls. Yuri, her silver hair tied in a ponytail and crimson eyes gleaming with confidence, gripped her sword with both hands. She narrowed her gaze.
"I'll make sure not to injure you too badly."
Kurenai's expression remained hidden behind her red veil. Silky platinum-blonde hair spilled over her shoulders as she gave a graceful nod and turned sideways, aligning her body behind her blade.
The overseer looked to both girls and declared,
"Fight as cleanly as possible. Begin!"
Silence.
Neither moved.
Then—Kurenai dashed forward. Her sword thrust for Yuri's head, but Yuri tilted her head just in time. The blade shifted mid-attack into a horizontal sweep aimed at her neck. Yuri bent her upper body backward, narrowly dodging again.
With a sudden palm strike to her sword's hilt, Kurenai redirected her blade once more. It arced back toward Yuri—just as she was about to regain her stance. Her eyes widened. The blade was inches from her face.
No time to dodge.
"[Spirit Arts: Earth Spike]"
The ground erupted beneath Kurenai's feet, forcing her to leap back. Just in time. Her veil fluttered, revealing a subtle smirk—she was enjoying herself. Most opponents her age fell with a single strike. But the girl known as the Saintess was different.
She couldn't afford to hold back.
"[Spirit Arts: Fire Meteor]"
She raised her hand. A torrent of flame spiraled upward, condensing into a searing ball the size of a meteor.
Yuri's eyes widened in shock.
That amount of spiritual energy...
She gritted her teeth and exhaled. Her breath frosted in the air around her—no, the temperature had dropped, but only around her.
Ice crept from her fingertips along the blade.
"[Spirit Arts: Glacier]"
Above her, a massive icicle formed, dwarfing even the flaming meteor. But frost also crawled along her arms and shoulders. She winced in pain but held firm. She had to endure. If she wanted to become the next Clan Lord... she had to be willing to sacrifice.
Both girls launched their attacks.
Flames and cold radiated across the arena—so intense that even the boys in the viewing area felt it. Gorōta stared, stunned and scared. He had no idea the Saintess possessed such overwhelming power. He always thought she was just... kind.
Kagerō, however, was astonished for a different reason.
He'd never seen Spirit Arts used like this. His only frame of reference was his grandfather lighting a candle. His red eyes shimmered. No—this time, they stayed red, burning as he absorbed every detail.
The attacks were about to collide.
Then—
Snap.
A single snap echoed across the field.
The Clan Lord, seated high on the viewing platform, had snapped his fingers. In that instant, both attacks vanished into thin air.
The girls froze, their heads snapping toward the man with crimson eyes colder than steel.
"The winner of this match is Kurenai."
His gaze shifted to Yuri, who was trembling and barely standing.
"Yuri. Don't use Spirit Arts in that manner again. If you know you lack the talent."
Her lips parted as if to argue... then shut. The light in her eyes dimmed, replaced by a hollow smile.
"Yes... Father."
Both girls returned to the viewing area. Kurenai took a seat beside her brother, who patted her head with a proud grin. Yuri sat on a bench one row over—alone.
"On to the next match."
The overseer nodded and called out:
"Kagerō, Gorōta—grab your weapons and step forward."
Gorōta picked a sword and walked to the center. Kagerō, however, lingered.
He examined the girls' discarded swords. One was riddled with cracks. The other encased in frost.
The spiritual energy still lingered—too potent for wooden blades.
"Kagerō! Take your position!" the overseer barked.
Gorōta sneered, assuming the "trash" was scared.
Kagerō finally grabbed a sword and sent a pulse of energy through it. A faint crack appeared. He ignored it. It wouldn't matter.
He stepped onto the field opposite Gorōta.
"Heh. I won't even need Spirit Arts to beat a commoner like you," Gorōta scoffed.
Kagerō smirked.
That only enraged him further.
"Bastard! Wipe that smile off your—"
"Refrain from unnecessary remarks," the overseer snapped.
Gorōta fell silent, barely restraining his fury.
Kagerō tightened his grip.
"Begin!"
All eyes focused on the so-called weakling—especially the First Elder and Kagerō's grandfather seated across from the Clan Lord, surrounded by other high-ranking officials.
***
Beyond the sparring ground in a place known as:
Moon Flower Village. A sacred place said to be watched over by the moon goddess, who only reveals her blessing beneath the stars.
But it was daytime now.
Even so... a fog began to form, rolling in without warning. Panic swept the streets as visibility vanished.
A young boy gripped his mother's hand tightly, fear flooding his eyes.
"Mother... what's happening?" he asked, trembling. "Mo...ther?"
He looked up.
What stared back wasn't his mother.
Golden eyes. Slit pupils. A Majin.
She lunged without hesitation.
A scream. Blood. The boy's body went limp—lifeless.
The Majin lifted her head, ears twitching at another scream. She bolted toward it, vanishing into the fog.
On a slanted rooftop nearby, a man stood with a straw hat casting a shadow over his face. Golden eyes shimmered. A bloody fanged smile spread across his lips as he licked them clean.
"This'll be a fun hunt."
Fog swirled around him—and he disappeared into it.