The wind howled gently through the stone halls of Yami, but the silence between two brothers-in-arms echoed far louder. One had left. The other remained.
Kimikage was gone.
Katakuichi stood on the terrace of the Yami watchtower, cloaked in silver moonlight. His fingers rested on the railing, his eyes scanning the horizon not for enemies—but for a friend now turned rival by prophecy.
"One eye for another…"
That phrase haunted him like a whisper in the wind. The prophecy was no longer distant—it was unfolding.
Footsteps echoed behind him.
"Hey… where's Kimikage?" asked Shidou-sensei, his tone casual but curious.
Katakuichi turned slowly, his face calm, composed. For the first time in what felt like years, he let himself smile.
"He left to do something important."
Shidou tilted his head. "A mission?"
Katakuichi's smile lingered, almost nostalgically. "Yeah. You could say that."
But deep down, he knew it wasn't a mission—it was destiny.
Elsewhere in Yami, shadows moved unnaturally.
Chernobog—resurrected in fragments, whispering to Katakuichi, manipulating fate—had lost interest in the Shadow Organization. His goals had evolved. He no longer desired pawns. He desired devotion.
Shidou had been reanimated by Kuzu Endo, brought back to serve a cause long corrupted. But even in his undead form, Shidou had retained something else… something dangerous.
Arrogance.
He believed himself to be untouchable—above relics, above kings, above prophecy itself.
But Katakuichi saw through him. This was no longer the teacher he once followed. This was a puppet wearing Shidou's face.
Later that day, Shidou appeared at a familiar doorstep.
Knock knock knock.
The door creaked open.
"Haru isn't home?" he asked.
Haru's mother smiled warmly. "Ah, Sensei Shidou! Welcome! Unfortunately, he isn't here. But would you like a coffee? We could use a drink."
Shidou's eyes flickered red for a moment, before softening into a charming grin.
"Sure," he said smoothly, stepping inside.
The illusion of his humanity remained intact—for now.
Far away, in the distant Ember Range, Kimikage trained within the hidden halls of the Mitsuki clan.
The wind here felt different. Lighter. Sharper.
He moved swiftly through the dummies in the courtyard, his strikes a perfect blend of light and shadow, grace and brutality. His cloak flowed with each spin, bearing the mark of the Mitsuki crest—symbol of a lineage lost and reborn in him.
Amaterasu herself watched him, her eyes glowing with divine warmth and sadness. She saw the pressure in his soul. The weight of prophecy. The burden of becoming the Sakukage.
"You are ready," she whispered, "but are you willing?"
Kimikage didn't reply.
And then it happened.
As part of the Mitsuki rite, one warrior stepped forward, blade in hand—not in hostility, but sacrifice. With no hesitation, they sliced through Kimikage's right eye. Blood fell like petals in the wind.
He dropped to his knees, gasping, clenching his face.
But then… the pain shifted.
In its place: clarity.
Light pulsed from within his empty socket as a new eye awakened—the Sakukage, the Eye of Singular Light, forged through loss, sharpened by legacy.
Kimikage sat beneath the ancient flame blossom tree at the heart of the Mitsuki sanctuary, blood still seeping through the cloth wrapped around his face. The pain in his missing eye had dulled into something quieter—something colder.
A glow shimmered beneath the wrappings. The Sakukage eye had awakened.
Yet power had never felt so... lonely.
His breathing was slow. Measured. But his thoughts raged like a storm.
He looked to the stars above, lost in them—hoping for a glimpse of something he had been denied all his life.
"My parents…"
He whispered it as if speaking to ghosts.
He couldn't remember their voices. Not clearly. No scent, no memory of laughter, not even a face. Just fragments. Echoes. Whispers.
Yami had raised him, yes—but the village had been tight-lipped, always brushing aside questions about where he came from. And now, even the Mitsuki clan—his bloodline—remained silent.
They said it was mercy.
"We do not wish to burden your heart," the Elder had said.
"There are truths that bring strength… and truths that destroy."
But Kimikage didn't care anymore. Not now.
Not after awakening a cursed eye with the power to change the fate of the world.
He clenched his fist, voice sharper this time.
"I want to know."
The flame blossoms stirred overhead, as if listening.
"I have to know who they were. Even if it hurts."
His other eye—white and pure—reflected the moonlight above. But the one hidden beneath the cloth… it pulsed with a soft silver glow, alive with mystery and sorrow.
This was no longer just a mission.
It was a journey to reclaim identity. To stand not only as a protector of the world…
…but as a son who deserved to know the truth.
Kimikage remained beneath the flame blossom tree, the soft rustle of petals falling like tears around him. The night had gone still—until a warmth descended upon the garden.
A golden light wrapped around him like a blanket. Divine. Comforting.
From the glow emerged a figure—Amaterasu, the Celestial Flame, matriarch of the Mitsuki bloodline. Her eyes burned like twin suns, yet her presence carried the gentle tenderness of a mother.
She knelt beside him.
"Come, my child. Listen and sit."
Her hand rested lightly on his shoulder, and the weight of generations seemed to lift.
"I will tell you all about your wonderful parents."
Later That Night…
A quiet knock echoed through the home of the family. Haru's mother opened the door to find a familiar figure standing in the twilight.
"Sensei Shidou!" she said warmly. "What a surprise! Come in, come in—it's almost night."
Shidou stepped inside with a polite nod, his crimson eyes briefly flickering under the lantern light.
"I wanted to see Haru," he said calmly. "There's something I wish to show him… something important."
His words carried strange weight—like silk covering steel. Still, the parents didn't hesitate. They trusted him. Everyone in the village did.
Haru, just around the corner, perked up with excitement. "Really? You mean it?"
His parents smiled. "Go on, Haru. If your Sensei believes it's important, it must be."
The young boy rushed to Shidou's side, glowing with hope.
"Please let me go with Sensei Shidou! I bet he's gonna train me or find a cure for Chernobog or something!"
Shidou gently placed a hand on Haru's shoulder, masking the faint twitch in his eye.
"…Of course."
At the Old Yami Outpost…
The journey was quiet, the path long. Haru barely noticed as they crossed into abandoned territory deep beneath the outskirts.
As they reached a cold, dark chamber filled with strange relics and ancient markings, Haru tilted his head.
"So, Sensei Shidou… what are we—?"
Pfft!
He collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
Shidou exhaled, removing the dart pipe from his lips.
"Forgive me… this is bigger than you."
But something was wrong. Haru's chakra wasn't entirely there.
Shidou hesitated.
"Why is there no chakra on this boy?"
Then—a slow clap echoed behind him
Katakuichi Appears
From the shadows emerged Katakuichi, his eyes glowing with something far darker than before. His presence sucked the warmth out of the air, and the shadows around him curled unnaturally, hissing like snakes.
"So… you caught the brat, huh?" he said with a sneer.
"Kuzu Endo's loyal little pawn." He laughed. But the voice that followed was not entirely his own.
"HAHAHA…"
It was guttural. Distorted. Demonic.
A second voice echoed from within his body—Chernobog, awakened and sharing his vessel.
Shidou took a step back.
"No… your chakra… it's—"
"You're not just Katakuichi anymore…"
Katakuichi grinned, his smile sickeningly wide.
"Chernobog doesn't need puppets like you anymore, Sensei."
"I am his hand now. His eye. His wrath."
Shidou's cocky facade melted. For the first time, he felt it—fear. Real fear.
Kimikage's breath trembled.
Tears streamed from his eye—the one he still had. He didn't speak at first.
Amaterasu gazed at him with sorrow.
"You were born out of love… but raised in a lie. Your parents gave everything so that you could live. And now… the fate of their dream rests in your hands."
Kimikage's voice was low, broken.
"They died… for me?"
Amaterasu nodded. "Yes. And they never stopped loving you, not for a moment. Even in death."
Kimikage unwrapped the cloth around his eye.
The Sakukage burned with silver fire—reflecting his parents' sacrifice… and his purpose.
"Then I will make them proud."
Still at the Abandoned Outpost
The air around them was suffocating.
The once-confident Shidou stood paralyzed—not from hesitation, but from something deeper. A feeling he thought death had stripped away long ago:
Fear.
His heart no longer beat. His blood no longer flowed. But the cold weight in his chest was unmistakable. As Katakuichi stepped closer, the ground itself seemed to pull inward, shadows tightening like a vice.
The boy he once trained—the once soft-spoken, curious, loyal Katakuichi—was gone.
What stood before him now was something unnatural. Something divine.
Or damned.
A vessel of Chernobog's wrath.
"Now, puppet…"
Katakuichi's voice was layered—his own speaking in unison with the distorted, deep rumble of Chernobog beneath.
He leaned forward, an amused smile curling across his face.
"…Come. Let's go to your boss."
"Or…" he tilted his head mockingly,
"Do you have any better ideas, hm?"
Shidou gritted his teeth, but his hands trembled.
The bravado he once held as one of Yami's finest, the certainty of being reanimated by Kuzu himself—meant nothing in front of this power.
The Outpost – Tension Turns to War
Katakuichi's taunting grin lingered in the air like poison.
But something shifted.
Shidou's eyes narrowed—no longer dim, no longer blank. The flicker of humanity returned. Not the corrupted servant under Kuzu Endo's reanimation… but the true warrior. The real Sensei Shidou.
His chakra flared—not decaying, but pure. Reclaiming control over his body, mind, and will.
"No."
He said it quietly, but the word carried the weight of an avalanche.
Katakuichi blinked.
Shidou slowly took a step forward, the ground cracking beneath his feet as his power surged.
"No… I won't follow Kuzu. I won't kneel to Chernobog. And I won't betray what I swore to protect."
His fists clenched as his shadow expanded behind him.
"I was dead, yes. But seeing what you've become… what you've let him do to you…"
His voice grew stronger with each breath.
"It's awakened something inside of me."
Suddenly, a massive surge of chakra burst outward—a thousand shadow clones forming in every direction. Each one glowing faintly with the resurrected flame of a true warrior. They filled the dark outpost like a rising army of vengeance.
Katakuichi stepped back slightly, the grin on his face growing rather than shrinking.
"Well, well…"
A deeper, inhuman voice echoed with his, oozing delight.
"If it isn't the legendary Sensei Shidou…"
The shadows behind Katakuichi swirled violently, forming wings of black void.
"Habaki's son… The Second Elite Ninja of Yami, before Tumoko ever drew a blade…"
Chernobog's voice cackled inside Katakuichi.
"This… is going to be fun."
Katakuichi raised his hand, darkness gathering like a whirlpool behind his back. The cursed relic embedded in his chest gleamed with violet light as his corrupted energy spiraled outward.
The ruins trembled.
"You ready to die again, old man?" he mocked.
Shidou's eyes blazed with determination.
"Only if it means protecting Haru. Protecting Yami. Protecting them."
He tightened his stance.
"This time… I die as myself."
"Witness"
The stone floor was cold beneath Haru's palms.
His head throbbed. His vision blurred.
He slowly pushed himself up, groaning softly, still dizzy from the blowdart. Shadows danced violently across the walls. He blinked—and then froze.
In front of him… two legends stood on the verge of war.
To the left:
Sensei Shidou, surrounded by a thousand shadow clones, eyes burning with resurrected conviction. No longer a puppet. No longer a servant.
To the right:
Katakuichi, twisted and grinning, with Chernobog's demonic presence seething through his body. Wings of writhing shadow stretched out behind him, his corrupted aura distorting the very air.
"Only if it means protecting Haru… protecting Yami… protecting them," Shidou said, his voice steady.
Haru's heart pounded in his chest.
"S-Sensei…?"
He whispered it under his breath, trembling.
He couldn't believe what he was seeing. The mentor he admired—once dead, once cold, once lost—now stood tall, fearless… alive again in spirit if not in flesh.
And the friend he once trusted like a brother—Katakuichi
"No…" Haru whispered, tears starting to fall.
"Stop… please…"
But it was too late.
The moment had arrived.
Both warriors surged forward—one with a thousand shadows at his back, the other with a god of death pulsing through his veins.