The mountain always whispered.
Most couldn't hear it, or they chose not to. But Kaito had grown up beneath Mount Kurokami's looming shadow. The sound was always there, low and deep, like the breathing of some ancient beast beneath the stone.
Boom… boom… boom…
Not that it mattered to the other men in the mines. They only cared about the weight of their baskets, and whether their next shift would be their last.
Kaito tightened his grip on the pickaxe. His palms burned from the work, but he swung again.
Clang. Sparks leapt into the shadows.
The shaft was narrow, dark, hot. Miners coughed and cursed as they hacked at the earth. Sweat dripped from soot-streaked faces. The deeper they dug, the worse the air became.
Don't think. Don't feel. just swing and breathe.
Seventeen years old, and already stronger than most of the older men. Life had forced him to be. The son of a dead ronin had no place in a world ruled by the Great Clans. Not in a village like Kurokawa, where coin was scarce and honour cheaper still.
"Your stance is shit, boy." The voice came from behind him. It was rough but not unkind.
Kaito glanced back. His adoptive uncle, Hajime, stood there, arms crossed. Thick arms, even thicker beard, and a stare that had once scared off a whole gang of road bandits.
Kaito adjusted his feet without a word and swung again. Sparks danced.
"Good." Hajime nodded. "Keep your elbows in and save your shoulders."
Kaito grunted. His uncle was a miner now, like all the broken swords that ended up in Kurokawa. But once, long ago, Hajime had been a soldier. His lessons came sharp and quick.
Swing. Swing. Breathe.
Then a shout from deeper in the mine.
"Oi! OI! You lot! Come look at THIS!"
Pickaxes were abandoned in an instant. Kaito wiped his brow and followed the rush of grimy bodies down the shaft.
At the end of the tunnel, torches had been brought close to the rock face. And there, glimmering in the torchlight, was something no one had seen in decades, at least not in this forgotten village.
A vein of shimmering black-blue ore ran through the stone, pulsing faintly as though alive.
"Tamaishi…" one of the older miners breathed, voice trembling.
Kaito swallowed hard.
Tamaishi. Soulstone. The metal of legends.
They said the Forgemasters of old had used it to create Tamayōgu—weapons and armour capable of channelling the very elements. The Great Clans still fought endless wars for the rare veins that remained.
"It's beautiful," Kaito whispered.
"Beautiful? It's cursed." Hajime's voice was grim. He pushed through the crowd and stared hard at the glowing vein.
More men arrived, faces pale.
"What should we do?" one asked.
"Seal it. Now." Hajime's gaze swept over them. "No one touches it. No one breathes a word."
Grumbling rose from the miners.
"But the Clans..."
"Will bring fire and blood to Kurokawa if they learn of this!" Hajime snapped. "You think the Kagutsuchi-ke or Raijin-ke would leave us in peace? They'd gut us and take it all."
Fear rippled through the crowd. They knew he was right. Even a whisper of Tamaishi could doom a village.
Kaito stared at the vein. His chest ached with longing and dread.
One of the younger boys leaned toward him. "Do you think they'll come?"
"They always come," Kaito said softly.
Unfortunately people never listened and by midday, the rumours had already spread beyond the mine.
Kaito sat on the steps of the shrine, staring at the clouds that gathered over Mount Kurokami. His arms ached from the morning's labour. Hajime stood beside him, eyes fixed on the distant road.
They had closed the shaft and posted guards, but it was too late. News of a new Tamaishi vein travelled faster than the wind.
"They won't wait long," Hajime said.
Kaito nodded. He knew what that meant. The nearest Clan stronghold belonged to the Kagutsuchi-ke, masters of flame and forge. Their agents would already be on the move.
As if summoned by the words, a distant horn blew on the mountain path.
"Shit." Hajime's mouth became a thin line.
On the road, armoured riders approached, their banners trailing flame red silk. Kagutsuchi-ke envoys, dressed in lacquered armour that gleamed like molten gold.
Kaito's stomach twisted. "What do we do?"
"Nothing," Hajime said. "We pray they don't find what they're looking for."
The sun dipped behind the peaks.
Kurokawa huddled in uneasy silence. No one dared light too many lanterns. The Kagutsuchi-ke had ridden through earlier, speaking with the elders, offering polite smiles that hid knives beneath.
Now the village waited in the gathering dark.
Kaito sat at the window of their small house, fingers drumming on the wooden sill.
"Uncle," he said quietly, "why does it have to be like this?"
Hajime sipped bitter tea. His eyes were tired.
"Power calls to power, boy. A stone like that…" He exhaled slowly. "It brings only death."
"But what if..."
"No." Hajime's voice was steel. "Don't even think it. You want to end up like your father? Chasing dreams of honour in a world ruled by monsters?"
Kaito's mouth went dry. His father, a ronin who'd believed in the old ways, had died for nothing. Cut down on some forgotten battlefield. Kaito remembered his face only faintly now,a shadow in the smoke of memory.
Hajime set down his cup. "We survive. That's all that matters."
Kaito said nothing but a part of him burned.
Survive. Always survive. While others ruled with blades of flame and lightning, they dug in the dirt and prayed not to be crushed beneath the boots of the Clans.
He wanted more.
That night, the storm broke.
The first boom of thunder shook the rafters. Wind howled through the village streets. Kaito rose from bed and went to the window.
A second horn echoed through the darkness.it was louder, shriller.
Then came the screams.
Fire bloomed in the distance. The red glare of burning thatch lit the sky.
Raijin-ke.
Lightning split the night. Figures in crackling armour surged through the streets, cutting down anyone in their path. Shock troops. Warriors bred for speed and slaughter.
Kaito's blood turned to ice.
"Hajime!" he shouted.
But his uncle was already moving, sword in hand. "Run," he barked. "Hide in the forest. Now!"
Kaito hesitated for one heartbeat then bolted for the door.
Outside, chaos reigned. Villagers fled through the mud, chased by Raijin warriors whose spears spat lightning. The Kagutsuchi envoys were nowhere to be seen.
It hadn't mattered. In the end, the stone had doomed them all.
Heart pounding, Kaito sprinted toward the trees. His mind burned with questions, with fury, with helpless fear.
Above the village, Mount Kurokami watched in silence.
Its whispers had become a roar