The sun began to set behind the towering skyline of Ryuki City, painting the sky in streaks of orange and violet. Neon lights flickered awake across the urban sprawl, as the city's heart beat with both tradition and modernity.
At the top floor of Ryuki Dojo, past the busy training halls and meditation rooms, two men sat beneath a wooden canopy surrounded by incense and the scent of aged timber. A bottle of sake rested between them, half-empty, as the steam from their cups curled into the cooling evening air.
Hoshin Maru, the dojo master and the spiritual pillar of the Ryuki City, poured another drink for his old friend.
"Did you hear?" Hoshin said, raising his cup. "Raka, the old boss of Yuzen City, passed away. Illness took him, they say."
Ryden Ryuki, dressed in his guardian armor but with his hair down and his expression unusually tired, nodded slowly. "Yes. Word travels fast in cities like ours. But that's not what troubles me."
Hoshin looked up, curious.
Ryden exhaled sharply. "What worries me is who will take Raka's place. That power vacuum in Yuzen City... it's dangerous."
The dojo creaked slightly as a breeze swept through, as if the walls themselves were listening.
"You're thinking of the war," Hoshin murmured.
Ryden's face hardened. "More than two decades ago, the former boss of Yuzen was a madman who dragged our people into a meaningless war. Thousands died. It wasn't just soldiers—it was civilians, children. Entire neighborhoods turned to rubble."
He looked down into his cup, as if the reflection might show him those ghostly memories.
"I pray," Ryden continued, "that the new leader is someone wise. Someone who understands balance, not blood."
Hoshin sipped quietly, his eyes narrowed in thought. "If they assign someone soon, I intend to visit Yuzen myself. I want to greet them in person. Establish a good relationship."
Ryden's cup froze mid-air. "You don't need to do that," he said firmly. "It's risky, Hoshin."
"Risky?" Hoshin smiled faintly. "What, you're afraid something might happen to me?"
"Yes!" Ryden snapped. "You're too important to us. You're not just a dojo master. You're the foundation of this city's peace. If something happens to you, Ryuki City could fall into chaos. We both know there are many in this land—some within our own walls—who dream of grabbing power. If the pillar shakes, the wolves will come running."
Hoshin sighed, placing his cup down gently. "That's true. I have no desire to be the spark of another civil storm. But if something were to happen to me, Ryden… I want you to become the next boss of Ryuki."
Ryden's eyes widened. "What?"
"You heard me. You're Ryuki blood. You're loyal, strong, wise—and the people respect you. Who else could protect this city if I'm gone?"
Ryden placed his drink down, his hand trembling slightly—not from fear, but from the weight of that statement.
"No," he said quietly. "That's not what Ryuki is named for."
Hoshin tilted his head. "What do you mean?"
"This city…" Ryden looked out over the shimmering city lights, as if trying to find someone in the crowd. "Ryuki City is not named after a family. It's not about me, or bloodlines. It was named after him—the great warrior Ryuki. The orphan child who stood up when the world turned its back on him. He didn't have power. He wasn't born noble. But he became a symbol."
Hoshin's eyes softened, listening intently.
"Ryuki stood between warring clans and said, 'This land is sacred. I will not let it burn.' He brought peace when no one else could. We are just descendants—custodians of his legacy. The name Ryuki belongs to everyone in this city who believes in peace."
The silence that followed wasn't empty—it was sacred.
After a moment, Hoshin chuckled softly. "You've grown wiser over the years, Ryden. Maybe too wise."
Ryden smiled faintly. "That's what parenting does to you… even if you're not always doing it right."
A shadow crossed his face. He thought of his sons—Veon, strong and gifted in magic, already earning the respect of high-ranking city mages. And then… Auren. The quiet one. The one without power.
The one he kept forgetting was even there.
Hoshin noticed the change in his friend's expression. "Is something bothering you?"
Ryden looked away. "Nothing that can't be handled. Let's just hope Yuzen's future doesn't drag us all back into the darkness."
As the city pulsed beneath them and the stars began to pierce the veil of night, the two men drank in silence. But in the winds that brushed the rooftop, it felt as if something was coming—something neither of them could stop.
High above the bustling streets of Ryuki City, on a rust-stained watchtower overlooking the southern district, sat two figures bathed in moonlight.
One was massive—a wall of muscle wrapped in loose robes and decorated with intricate tattoos of a cat, monkey, and snake, each inked with mesmerizing detail. The tattoos almost looked alive, writhing with each breath he took. His long silver hair fluttered in the wind, and a scar traced down the left side of his jaw like a mark left by destiny.
He took a long sip of sake from a traditional gourd, the drink barely strong enough for a man like him. His name: Okabaru Vincent, a man whispered about in city corners as a ghost, a myth… or a living weapon.
Next to him sat a much smaller man, youthful and wide-eyed, with slicked-back black hair and comically large goggles that always slid down his nose. He had a notebook in one hand and a steaming cup of tea in the other. Despite his innocent look, Toji was no fool—he was Okabaru's disciple, technician, and companion.
Toji watched his master silently for a moment before speaking up, his voice light but curious."Okabaru-sensei… why are you staring at the city like that? You look like you're trying to see something that's not there."
Okabaru didn't reply at first. The wind caught his robe, revealing more of the tattoos beneath—marks that told stories of battles and beasts no textbook could ever record.
Finally, he spoke, voice deep and grizzled like it had been aged in smoke and fire."Because I was born here."
Toji blinked, surprised. "Really? You never told me that before."
Okabaru chuckled, a low, rough sound. "There are many things I've never told you, Toji. Just because we share a rooftop doesn't mean you know my past."
Toji laughed nervously and scratched his head. "You're so mysterious, Sensei. Sometimes I think you're a manga character."
"I'm worse," Okabaru smirked. "At least manga characters get a happy ending."
They sat in silence for a moment, watching the neon lights flicker across the city like tiny souls trapped in glass. The hum of airbikes zipped through the night, and the loud, distant chatter of youth echoed from alleyways and ramen stalls.
Toji sipped his tea thoughtfully. "So… are you watching for someone?"
Okabaru didn't answer. He narrowed his eyes instead, gazing toward the heart of the city—toward the Ryuki Dojo.
"That boy," he said finally. "The second Ryuki son."
"Auren?" Toji asked, eyebrows raised. "The one without magic?"
Okabaru nodded. "I heard the wind whisper about him today. Beaten by kids. Ignored by his father. Marked by fate... yet still unbroken."
Toji frowned. "But why would you care about him? He's just—"
Okabaru raised a finger, and Toji immediately fell silent.
"No one is just anything," Okabaru said. "You know what I see when I look at him?"
Toji shook his head.
"A spark," Okabaru said. "The kind that starts a forest fire."