The ancient blade of the Hakken Shikikan—Tetsuken no Raijin, forged in the thunderstorms of Shurigawa centuries ago—still hummed faintly in his memory. The symbol of supreme authority in battle. The mark of a leader chosen not by bloodline, but by fate.
He stood in the darkened barracks of Amonkai Fortress, the flames of oil lanterns flickering along the walls. The scent of sweat, steel, and oiled leather hung in the air.
“Why me?” he whispered.
The question echoed in his mind like a war drum.
He ran a hand through his tangled hair, still in disbelief. To be chosen by Kanzaki Doni himself, the legendary Strategos of Tanna—was it providence, or a cruel mistake?
As he moved to retire for the night, he paused at the open corridor.
There she stood.
Princess Asuna. Wrapped in a robe of light azure, gazing into the endless sky beyond the fortress walls. Her profile soft against the moonlight, but her brows furrowed—troubled.
He admired her—not with desire, but with a quiet reverence. Her humility, her empathy, and her sorrow—they made her glow not like a star, but like the moon: distant, dignified, unreachable.
“Can humans even bring love into this world?” Kofi thought as he turned to his quarters.
And then, the memory came crashing back.
He was ten again. A barren field in the eastern Wadai provinces. The land of his stolen youth. Strapped and beaten. His cries blending with those of other enslaved children. The faces of the slavers—cruel, gnarled, indifferent—burned into his soul.
He jolted, hand on his shoulder, now trembling with pain and memory.
Tears slipped down.
He wasn’t ready.
What if he never lived up to the Hakken’s legacy?
In the shadows, hidden from torchlight, Chiyou—the ever-watchful aide to Kanzaki Doni—stood with arms crossed, leaning on a timber palisade. He’d witnessed the moment Kofi was handed the sword.
“Hmph,” he muttered. “Why would Kanzaki Doni entrust the Tetsuken to a lad?”
But he said nothing more, and melted back into the shadows of his own quarters.
Dawn over Totsuro River
Morning dew shimmered on the blades of tall grass along the Totsuro River, the natural boundary between Tanna and the broken eastern tribal realms.
Banners flapped in the wind. Black on silver—the sigil of Katsuro Morita, a rising star in the Tannan army. At just twenty-four, he had been promoted to Commander of the 12th Containment Division—Jōdan Yōtetsu Unit, trained to control border unrest and quell uprisings.
Their drills began early, footwork and phalanx rotations on open plains near Kiyomitsu Ridge.
Back in Amonkai Fortress
The scent of grilled yakigyu and hot miso tane-soup wafted through the halls.
“I believe the cook has finally mastered gyudon soba,” Kanzaki Doni mused, slicing through the meat with a practiced hand.
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Chiyou bowed. “Good morning, Kanzaki Dono.”
“You’re up early,” Kanzaki said with a smirk.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Chiyou said, looking out the window at the rising sun.
Then, a soft voice entered the room.
“Good morning, Uncle.”
It was Asuna. Kanzaki turned—his expression unreadable.
“I’m leaving now,” she added gently.
“Wait,” he said. She paused.
“Stay close to your brother. Mino is not safe for Tannans. Lay low.”
“Yes, Uncle,” she said, nodding.
Then—unexpectedly—she hugged him.
Kanzaki’s eyes widened in surprise. But slowly, his arms wrapped around her. In that silence, a thousand things unsaid lingered.
Aranawa, her guardian and a seasoned warrior, stepped forward.
“Protect her,” Kanzaki said.
“I swear it.”
The carriage door opened. Asuna entered.
Aranawa climbed to the front beside the cocchiere—the coach driver.
The hooves struck the earth like heartbeats as the chariot rolled out of Amonkai.
Chiyou stood beside Kanzaki as they watched her disappear.
“She won’t return, will she?” Chiyou whispered.
Kanzaki said nothing.
Chiyou lowered his gaze. “A bright soul... surrounded by storms.”
Kanzaki finally spoke. “When you become a father, you’ll see... the choices you make shape destinies.”
Chiyou nodded. “But... you’ve no children.”
Kanzaki sat at the breakfast table. “Doesn’t mean I never wanted to.”
Kofi watched the departing chariot from his balcony.
“All warfare is based on deception…” he murmured, recalling a line from The Eleven Scrolls of Kurai Heihō.
Was the princess part of something more?
He splashed cold water on his face. “No. Focus.”
He rushed to Imei’s chamber.
Inside, Imei crouched over a detailed topographic map of Tatsuya Hill and Shuri, the capital. It was roughly a four-day march under normal weather conditions. But the rebel force gathering near Tatsuya was... unsettling.
Kofi greeted him. “Morning.”
But only heard snoring.
Lima was sprawled across a pile of parchment, snoring loud enough to rattle the ink pots.
Kofi poked him. Lima moaned. Kofi dumped water on his face.
“AGHH—YOU SATAN SPAWN!” Lima shouted, clutching his wet tunic.
“I thought your soul left your body,” Kofi grinned.
Imei sighed. “We may have a problem.”
Just then, the doors slammed open.
A bloodied soldier stumbled in, arrows still in his back.
“Help him!” Kofi rushed.
Imei gasped. “He’s from the Shigen no Rihishito—my grandfather’s informant network!”
Lima blinked. “You have your own spy network?!”
The messenger coughed. “The rebels at Tatsuya…”
“What of them?” Kofi pressed.
“They now number... thirty thousand.”
Kofi’s eyes widened. “What?!”
The soldier collapsed.
“We have to move,” Imei said, grabbing his maps.
“What about him?” Lima asked.
“Call a medic.”
As they left, the wounded man reached for Kofi’s hand.
“You... are the next Hakken,” he gasped. “May Lord Adonai... be with you.”
Kofi froze.
“What did you say?”
But the man lost consciousness again.
Outside, Kanzaki Doni stood with his elite retinue. A rider informed him that 5,000 soldiers had assembled and awaited orders.
Kofi stepped forward, sword at his hip.
“KOFI!” Kanzaki called.
Everyone turned.
Kanzaki looked him in the eye.
“Your battle is not at Tatsuya. Not yet.”
He rode closer.
“But listen well... every soul you meet from here on is God-sent. Learn from them. Grow.”
Then, to Imei and Lima: “Behold your brother. Stand united. Even when you differ. Stay... united.”
He turned.
“Until next time, Kofi-boy.”
And with that, Kanzaki’s forces galloped toward Tatsuya Hill.
Back in the war room:
“The Council is suspended,” Lima said.
“Yes,” Imei added. “Power vacuum. Lords near Shuri are missing.”
“Missing?” Kofi blinked.
“Last time this happened... was the 4th Yao-Tanna War. The Council froze for 11 days. It triggered the Battle of Yonehara Straits, costing us half our fleet.”
“But this time,” Kofi interrupted, “there’s an army gathering at the gates.”
“How does an army sneak past our capital unnoticed?” Lima joked. “Maybe it’s ghosts!”
Kofi’s eyes narrowed. “A shadow war… The real enemy may be hidden.”
Before they could pursue the thought, another soldier entered.
“The escaped prisoner... was found near Soga Province. But he... killed himself. Fell on his own blade.”
“What?!” Lima shouted.
“All that work—wasted!” Imei sighed.
“Should we pursue others?” the soldier asked.
“Send scouts to Hitachi. Look for clues.”
Narrator's Voice:
The suspension of the Council of Shuri—known as the Sōkai no Ketsudan—caused seismic shifts in Tanna’s geopolitical spine. Lord Arashi Naran, head of the Tannan military, had enforced a blackout on all news. But the truth... seeped out.
Northern Castle District, Shuri – Kōkan Hall
Two diplomats met in the shadows of tension.
From Yao: Kengyo Morisada.
From Mino: Yuki Arasaka.
“Tanna struggles,” said Morisada. “We’ve offered aid. Rejected each time. If they fall, the East Sea balance breaks.”
“Mino isn’t worried,” Yuki said coolly. “But it’s not Tanna that will fall.”
Morisada raised a brow.
Yuki smirked. “Let’s keep our peace… and our masks.”