Twenty-five years ago, long before Dragonbone Ridge became a place people feared to even whisper about, it was quiet. Not empty just peaceful in a way that felt real. The kind of place where mornings came with soft wind instead of tension, where people greeted each other by name, where nothing felt like it was about to break.
At the edge of that village stood a small house, built with uneven wood and care rather than perfection. It wasn't big, and it wasn't impressive, but it was alive with something most people spent their whole lives chasing.
Yoshiro Kagetsu lived there.
Not as a monster. Not as a name people feared.
Just as a man.
And beside him… was Akira.
She was standing outside that morning, sleeves slightly rolled, her hair tied loosely as she tried to fix a crooked wooden fence. The sunlight caught the side of her face, making her look almost unreal for a moment not because she was flawless, but because she felt… warm.
Yoshiro leaned against the doorway, watching her struggle with something that clearly didn't need that much effort.
"You're going to break it more if you keep doing that," he said, his tone calm but amused.
Akira glanced back at him, a small smile already forming. "Then come help me instead of watching."
"I am helping," he replied. "Mentally."
She laughed softly, shaking her head. "You're useless."
"Only when I want to be."
He walked over anyway, taking the tool from her hands without another word. Their fingers brushed for a second small, simple but enough to make her pause.
Yoshiro didn't notice.
Or maybe he did, and just didn't say anything.
They worked together quietly after that. No rush. No pressure. Just the sound of wood settling into place and the wind moving through the trees nearby.
After a while, Akira stepped back, looking at what they fixed.
"It's still a little crooked."
Yoshiro glanced at it, then at her. "Yeah."
"…should we fix it again?"
"No."
"Why not?"
He looked at her properly this time, eyes softer than usual.
"Because you made it."
Akira blinked, caught off guard for a second. Then she smiled again this time smaller, but real.
Moments like that were normal for them.
Not dramatic.
Not perfect.
Just real.
Later that day, the village was alive like it always was. Children ran between houses, laughing too loudly. An old man argued with a merchant over something pointless, while a group of women prepared food near the center, talking about things that didn't matter but somehow felt important anyway.
Yoshiro walked beside Akira through it all, their hands occasionally brushing, sometimes linking without either of them noticing who started it.
Their neighbors greeted them like family.
"Yoshiro! Still not working today?" one man called out with a grin.
"I worked yesterday," Yoshiro replied.
"That doesn't count!"
Akira laughed beside him. "He just doesn't want to admit he's lazy."
"I'm not lazy," he said calmly. "I'm efficient."
"Efficient at doing nothing," another voice added.
They kept walking, surrounded by voices, jokes, and small moments that built something bigger without anyone realizing it.
At one point, Akira slowed down, her gaze drifting across the village. The people. The homes. The sky above them.
"…it's peaceful," she said quietly.
Yoshiro followed her gaze.
"Yeah."
She looked at him then, her expression softer than usual. "Do you think it'll stay like this?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he reached for her hand properly this time, holding it without hesitation.
"As long as you're here," he said, his voice steady, "it doesn't matter what happens."
Akira blinked again, clearly not expecting that.
"You always say things like that so casually…"
"I mean them."
She looked away slightly, trying to hide the small smile forming on her lips.
"…you're unfair."
They stopped near a small hill just outside the main part of the village. It wasn't anything special, just a quiet place where you could see most of the houses from a distance.
Yoshiro sat down first, leaning back slightly as he looked at the sky.
Akira sat beside him, closer than before.
For a while, neither of them said anything.
They didn't need to.
The wind moved gently around them, carrying the distant sounds of the village. Laughter. Voices. Life.
Yoshiro glanced at her from the side.
She was just sitting there, watching the horizon like it held something only she could see.
And for a moment, he felt something he couldn't explain.
Not excitement.
Not fear.
Just… peace.
"…She's not just beautiful…" he murmured quietly, almost to himself. "…she's the kind of peace I've searched for."
Akira turned slightly. "What was that?"
"Nothing."
"You said something."
"I didn't."
She narrowed her eyes slightly. "You're lying."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm not."
She leaned a little closer, trying to catch his expression. "Say it again."
Yoshiro looked at her.
Really looked this time.
Then he sighed, like he had no choice.
"…I said you're the kind of peace I've been searching for."
Akira froze.
For a second, she didn't react at all.
Then she laughed but it wasn't teasing this time. It was softer, quieter, almost like she didn't know what to do with what he just said.
"You're really bad at hiding things."
"I wasn't trying to."
"…you should."
"Why?"
She looked at him again, her expression shifting just slightly.
"…because if you say things like that… I might start believing you too much."
Yoshiro didn't respond.
He just reached for her hand again.
And this time, she held it tighter.
Days passed like that.
Simple.
Quiet.
Full.
They worked, they laughed, they argued over small things that didn't matter. Their neighbors became part of their routine people they trusted without thinking, people who felt permanent.
Nothing felt like it could be taken away.
Until the day it was.
It started with smoke.
Not the kind from cooking fires.
Not the kind anyone expected.
Thick. Heavy. Wrong.
Yoshiro noticed it first.
He stepped outside, eyes narrowing slightly as he looked toward the edge of the village. The sky there wasn't clear anymore it was dark, shifting, alive with something unnatural.
"…Akira," he called.
She stepped out behind him, wiping her hands slightly. "What is it-"
She stopped.
The sound came next.
Not voices.
Not warnings.
Screams.
Not far.
Too close.
The ground seemed to shake not from an earthquake, but from something heavier. Something moving.
Then they appeared.
The royal guards of the Sacred Crown.
Armor reflecting firelight. Weapons already drawn. No hesitation in their movements.
They didn't come to talk.
They came to erase.
Flames spread faster than anything Yoshiro had ever seen. Houses caught instantly, the fire moving like it was alive, like it had purpose.
People ran.
Some tried to fight.
Most didn't stand a chance.
Yoshiro grabbed Akira's hand without thinking. "Stay close."
But chaos doesn't listen.
A force hit him from the side strong enough to send him crashing into the ground. His vision blurred for a second, his ears ringing as he tried to get back up.
"Akira!"
He looked up.
And everything slowed.
She was there.
Surrounded.
Hands grabbing her.
Voices he couldn't hear clearly.
She struggled but there were too many.
Yoshiro tried to move.
His body didn't respond fast enough.
The fire grew louder.
The screams got worse.
And all he could do…
…was watch.
Time broke.
Moments stretched into something unbearable.
Her voice
He couldn't forget it.
Even now.
Even after everything.
That was the last moment that mattered.
Because after that…
There was nothing left.
No village.
No laughter.
No peace.
Just ash.
And silence.
And one man left standing in the middle of it.
Yoshiro Kagetsu.
Alone.