Kuro no Yūrei entered.


    Clad in dark, battle-worn armor, his presence was both commanding and spectral—like a ghost of war given form. Scars, both seen and unseen, lined his face. His eyes—deep, abyssal—met Ash''s without hesitation. Not a word was spoken as he lowered himself into seiza, mirroring his son.


    Ash and Kuro knelt in seiza, face to face, their bodies still but their minds in turmoil. The silence was unbearable. Years of absence, of unspoken truths, pressed between them like a drawn blade. Ash''s hands curled into fists against his thighs.


    Along the edges of the chamber, the Raiju Elders stood like statues—stoic, silent, their eyes hidden behind ancient, ritual masks. Their armor shimmered faintly under the torchlight, and their presence, though quiet, was impossible to ignore. Behind them, the Raiju warriors, clad in ceremonial garb and armed with ritual weapons, stood at attention, each man and woman as still and unyielding as the mountains.


    Only the distant crackling of torches filled the space between them. Then, Kuro no Yūrei lifted his gaze, the weight of years settling between them like an unseen force.


    "Tell me," Kuro finally spoke, his voice steady but laced with quiet curiosity. "What path have you walked in my absence?"


    Ash exhaled slowly, as if gathering the fragments of his past into something whole.


    "You left when I was still a child. I had no father to guide me—only the ghost of your legacy."


    Kuro remained motionless, listening.


    "I was raised in Shirogiri Manor under the watchful eyes of your ailing father. My only teacher was the Kenshiko AI—it drilled me in discipline, combat, and history. But it could not shield me from the world outside. To them, I was weak, an heir without enhancements, a relic of a bygone era. They mocked me. Bullied me. And I endured it—until I refused to be their prey."


    Ash''s fingers curled slightly. "Unbeknownst to me, the AI had enhanced my body, refined my reflexes. When I finally struck back, the fear in their eyes told me everything—I had become something more. But besting street thugs was nothing. Grandfather saw my potential. He knew the blood of Shirogiri could not be wasted on petty fights. He took me under his wing, revealing the true path—our clan''s forgotten techniques, the philosophy of the shadows, the discipline that made our ancestors feared assassins under the past shoguns."


    His voice dropped. "Then he sent Kaito Kaisho to test me. My first kill. A traitor."


    He exhaled slowly, as if recalling the weight of that moment. "When I returned, Grandfather had given everything—his last strength spent passing down our legacy. He was too weak to last the night."


    A flicker of something crossed Kuro''s face—pride, perhaps. Or regret.


    "After his burial, the Mori clan challenged me. Their terms were clear—if I lost, they would take everything, even our home. I accepted, but only if they risked the same." Ash''s eyes darkened. "I won. But victory meant nothing to men without honor. That night, assassins came for me. Kaito and I cut them down, leaving their bodies as a warning. I demanded compensation. The Mori paid in blood and gold. With that wealth, I rebuilt the clan, and with our Kaisho subclan, we erased the Mori from existence."


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    He looked up, meeting Kuro''s gaze. "And when I returned to school, I repaid every wound, every scar they had given me. I crushed them in the arena, and when I stood on the podium as the martial arts champion of Kurugami, they finally knew—Shirogiri was no relic. We are eternal."


    No one could stand against me. And yet, it was not enough. The world beyond the arena was still ruled by the Keiretsu—the very institution that had buried the Shogunate."


    Ash''s voice darkened.


    "I descended into the underground. I became more than a warrior—I became a force. I dismantled their power, piece by piece, until I stood at the center of it all. I was no longer just a fighter. I was the unseen hand, the shadow that dictated the fates of men."


    Kuro''s eyes narrowed slightly.


    "The underground Shogun."


    Ash nodded.


    "It was the only way. The Keiretsu had replaced the Shogunate, reduced the warriors of Kurogami to mere functionaries. I could not allow that to stand. When the time was right, I led the Shirogiri from the shadows. We tore down the Keiretsu, erased their corruption from our world. And when the dust settled, the people turned to me. They saw not just a warrior, not just an assassin—but a leader. I restored the Shogunate. I became its rightful ruler."


    Silence followed, heavy with unspoken emotions.


    The Raiju Elders remained unmoved, their faces hidden, but their approval was palpable in the stillness. The warriors shifted slightly, their gazes never leaving the father and son. Ash could feel the weight of their judgment on him as much as his father''s.


    Then Kuro let out a quiet breath, his gaze unwavering.


    "You have done all this... without me."


    Ash met his father''s eyes, his expression unreadable.


    "Would I have accomplished all this if you had returned? If you had guided me? Or would I have remained a boy in your shadow, never forging my own destiny?"


    Kuro said nothing for a long moment. Then, finally, he nodded.


    "You have honored the Shirogiri name in a way I never could. You have surpassed me. And for that... I am proud."


    For the first time, Ash saw something in his father''s face that he had never seen before. Not power. Not authority. But acceptance.


    Blood and Duty


    Then, in one fluid motion, Ash reached for his waist. The steel of the short sword caught the firelight as he unsheathed it, the blade gleaming cold and unyielding. He extended it forward, both hands steady, his voice forged from iron.


    "I have told you my story—how your son lived in your absence. If you cannot leave this planet, then there is only one path left."


    His grip tightened. "If your duty is no longer to the Shirogiri clan, then I, the last of the Shirogiri line, command you to commit seppuku."


    A sharp, involuntary breath from the sidelines—Kaito, his closest companion. Even the elder, long a master of control, stiffened at the words. The Raiju elders remained stoic, their silence adding weight to the command.


    Kuro, however, did not flinch. His gaze remained locked on Ash, fathomless and calm. Seconds stretched into eternity. Then, with slow deliberation, his fingers closed around the hilt of the blade. His posture remained regal, even as he prepared for the final act.


    His voice, when it came, was quiet. Steady. "Then you shall be my second."


    The chamber seemed to shrink, the weight of the moment pressing down like an unseen force. Ash''s breath came slow and measured, but inside, something twisted. The second''s duty was sacred—merciful yet absolute. A single, precise stroke to sever the head after the blade had done its work.


    Kuro straightened, his spine rigid, the blade now resting against his stomach. His next words carried the weight of a final request.


    "Take my head back. Bury me beside your mother. That is all I ask."


    Ash forced himself to nod. He would honor that wish.


    Kuro inhaled deeply, fingers tightening around the hilt. His muscles coiled, preparing for the final plunge...