Chapter 1 – The Wind That Carries Names
The wind rolled over the rice terraces like a long exhale from the mountains, brushing through bamboo forests and whispering across tiled roofs. Beneath it, the village of Yunlong Valley stirred gently. Mist clung to the stone paths like it always had — quiet, persistent, ancient.
Liang Akira stood at the edge of the cliff just beyond the eastern gate, the morning sun catching the edges of his black hair and igniting his cyan eyes with their usual soft glow. He rolled his yo-yo between his fingers absently, the metallic thread shimmering with quiet restraint. Down below, the villagers began their day as they had for generations — lighting incense, gathering water, exchanging early gossip with the neighbors. Nothing seemed changed.
And yet, everything had.
Behind him, the delicate clink of a flute's ornament announced her presence. He didn't need to turn around.
"You're not going to say goodbye to your parents?" asked Yuzuki Hoshiko, her voice a melodic contradiction — honey-sweet with a steel spine.
Akira smiled. "I already did. Twice. Your mother cried both times."
"She always cries," Hoshiko said, and walked beside him. The wind teased the sleeves of her silk-and-jade robes, the long trail behind her catching glints of red and silver in the morning sun. Her flute — the one that doubled as her blade — hung from her belt like a royal decree. It hummed with spiritual energy, quiet but alive. Like her.
She didn't say anything else for a while. Just stood beside him, letting the view settle around them like a blanket. The village below. The sky above. The road ahead.
It had been only three weeks since their marriage ceremony — and though they'd known each other all their lives, something had shifted. It wasn't just the rings, or the shared house, or the suddenly concerned stares from the elders. It was the silence. A silence that felt full — not awkward — but dense with understanding. When she looked at him now, she wasn't just looking at her childhood friend. She was looking at her husband, her companion in war and peace alike.
"The gate's opening," Hoshiko said finally, tightening the strap of her travel satchel. "We should go before the elders change their minds and try to give us more rice balls."
Akira chuckled. "They already gave us enough to survive a siege."
"I know," she smirked, "and I'm carrying most of them."
They stepped forward, past the outer post, the spiritual barrier around the village parting like mist under sunlight. Their journey — the one they had trained a lifetime for — was beginning.
---
Beyond the valley, the world felt different.
The moment their feet touched the outer road, Akira could sense it. Spiritual energy was stronger here. Wilder. It didn't flow like the gentle streams back home; it surged — chaotic and ancient. Old scars from the Collapse Era still marred the landscape. Cracked monuments, twisted earth, places where reality itself had split open under the strain of uncontrolled power.
Akira tapped his yo-yo against his wrist, letting it wrap once around his forearm, then unwind in a spiraling dance. "Still can't believe this place used to be part of one of the old kingdoms."
Hoshiko glanced at him. "You read too many ancient records."
"They're not records if they're true."
"Then they're dangerous."
He didn't argue. She was right — as always. Knowledge, in this new world, was as much a weapon as a sword. And what they were after… was forbidden.
---
They made camp near the ruined shrine of Kōryū, the Eastern Dragon Spirit once worshipped across half the continent before the degradation of spiritual energy made such beings vanish — or fall silent.
Hoshiko played a low note on her flute. The melody curled through the air like smoke, dispersing the minor beasts in the surrounding woods. She didn't even look up.
Akira raised his eyebrows. "You're getting faster."
She smiled without answering, but her eyes gleamed.
Night fell softly. Fire crackled. The sky above stretched wider than any painting could ever capture — stars dense and sharp, the Milky Way blazing like a trail of silver fire.
Akira leaned back against a tree, arms folded. His yo-yo rested on the ground beside him like a coiled beast. Hoshiko leaned against him, fingers lightly tracing the strings of her flute. Their silence stretched again, not needing to be filled.
Then she asked, suddenly: "Are you scared?"
Akira blinked. "Of what?"
"Of the world," she said. "Of what we might find. Of what might find us."
He didn't answer immediately. He reached for a pebble, threw it into the fire, and watched it spark.
"I'm scared," he said finally. "But not of the world."
"Then what?"
He looked at her. "Of what we'll have to become… if we want to protect what we love."
She didn't speak for a long time. Then, almost inaudibly, she whispered, "I'll be strong enough for both of us, if you fall."
"You won't need to," he replied. "Because I'll be standing next to you."
---
Far above them, in a tower that no longer belonged to any kingdom, a pair of eyes watched through a shimmering pool of light. A voice behind the glass whispered:
> "The 8th city's seed moves. And they're already married… how poetic."
From the shadows, a demon-warped creature, part beast, part human, shifted its head and bared jagged teeth.
> "Let them come," it rasped.
"We'll be waiting."
---
End of Chapter 1