đźŽThe Kurobane Forest was quiet.
Too quiet.
The fog moved slowly between the trees. Leaves did not shake. Insects did not sing.
Deep inside the forest, the Nanaira Mask lay hidden. Moss covered it. Dirt and roots pressed around it. The seven marks on the mask were dull and cold.
Shirugami stood nearby.
His shape was faint. Thin. Almost empty.
He had been like this for a long time.
Every battle had taken something from him.
Every night made him weaker.
Still, he watched.
Then—
He felt something.
Not a demon.
Not fear.
A human presence.
Small. Untrained. Steady.
Shirugami turned toward the village.
A child was training alone.
His sword was heavy.
His hands were shaking.
But he did not stop.
Shirugami felt something he had not felt in many years.
Hope.
"…You are still trying," he whispered.
At the same time, something else moved.
Deeper in the forest.
Demons felt it too.
They opened their eyes.
They smelled weakness.
The fog thickened.
Shirugami moved back toward the place where the mask slept.
He looked down at it.
"If I wait longer," he said softly,
"this village will fall."
The mask did not speak.
But one of the seven marks glowed—very faintly.
Far away, at the forest's edge, the child took a step forward instead of running away.
Shirugami closed his eyes.
"…Then it has begun," he said.
The forest breathed.
The legend moved forward.
đźŽ