Below a thatched roof, a boy with black curly hair—messy strands falling over his eyes and the rest tied back in a ponytail—sat quietly on the wooden walkway lining the exterior of the Minka, a traditional Japanese house. His gaze drifted to the serene garden ahead, vibrant with blooming flowers and a pond rippling from the occasional splash of lively fish.
An old man sat beside him, posture upright and refined, his eyes gently closed. When he spoke, his voice was clear and calm.
"Kagerō, do you know why we are known as the Hikagami Clan?"
"No, Grandfather."
Kagerō turned his head toward the old man, who continued after a brief pause.
"The Scarlet Mirror. That was the title bestowed upon the first leader of our clan. His blazing eyes could ignite the battlefield, and his [Authority], said to replicate anything he saw once, carved his legend into history."
Kagerō's grandfather then turned his face toward him, eyes opening slowly. In that moment, Kagerō felt it—heat, like a fire burning from within those crimson irises.
"These eyes are the proof. We are of the Hikagami Clan. No matter what others say, never forget who you are. You are a Hikagami."
Kagerō's dark eyes widened under the shadow of his bangs, flashing red for just a split second.
The calm and reserved Hikagami Keishiro, known for his stoic nature, now spoke with pride and unwavering conviction—something Kagerō had never witnessed before.
But that pride didn't settle in Kagerō's heart.
His expression dimmed, his face falling blank.
What even defines a Hikagami?
Is it the ability to copy something after seeing it once? Then why doesn't it feel like I belong?
As those thoughts swirled within him, his grandfather shut his eyes once more and said,
"Tomorrow, during the sparring matches… show them who you are. Don't disappoint me like your father. You may leave."
Kagerō bowed quietly, then stood and walked off toward his training ground by the river, a short distance from the house.
As he passed through the wooden corridors, servants reluctantly bowed to him. But the moment his back was turned, he could hear it—the whispers, the insults, the curses muttered under breath. He quickened his pace until he stepped out into the yard.
The dirt path crunched beneath his wooden sandals as he made his way through the village. Traveling merchants and pedestrians passed him by, indifferent, until he finally reached his destination.
A gentle slope led down to the riverbank. Kagerō crouched beside the water and stared at his reflection.
He pushed the hair away from his face, revealing freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose and dull, black eyes staring back at him.
He frowned.
In a clan where flawless beauty was everything, anything less was considered shameful. That's why he kept his face hidden—both for the freckles and more importantly, his eyes. Unlike every other Kagami, his weren't scarlet.
"…The 'Broken Mirror', huh."
He whispered the nickname people used to mock him. Kagami—mirror. A cruel irony.
Just as he started to rise, a shadow loomed over him.
Then—
Splash.
A kick to the back sent him stumbling into the river. Luckily, it was only ankle deep.
Dripping wet, Kagerō looked up.
Standing above him was Hikagami Gorōta—a genius and one of the leading candidates to become the next Clan Lord.
With silky black hair and eyes like gleaming rubies, Gorōta sneered, flanked by his lackeys whose stifled giggles echoed mockingly.
"Trash," Gorōta spat. "I told you not to show your face again. So why am I looking at this pathetic mess?"
His voice rang out with disdain, making the laughter from his followers die off awkwardly.
Kagerō said nothing. He didn't flinch. His eyes were dull—almost dead. That only irritated Gorōta further.
"Tch. Let's go. I've wasted enough time on filth born from a commoner."
With that, Gorōta and his entourage strutted away, their dark kimonos fluttering behind them like banners of arrogance.
Kagerō remained kneeling in the shallow water, soaked and silent. But something inside him cracked.
His eyes twitched—and for just a split second, they flashed scarlet again.
He slowly stood, fists clenched.
Mock me all you want. But to insult my mother… the woman who gave her life to bring me into this world…
He grit his teeth.
"That's one thing I won't forgive."
"Gorōta… I'll make sure you never mention her again."
With that vow burning in his heart, Kagerō's [Authority] quietly awakened—for the first time.
And not a single soul noticed not even he.
***
The Demon Realm. A giant continent to the east of the mainland.
A bloodstained land, where even the air reeked of iron. The ground, the sky, the wind—it was all red.
Two men stood atop a mountain. Below them, hordes of mindless Ghoul-class Majin twitched and waited.
One wore a straw hat that hid the upper half of his face. His voice was low and raspy.
"Old man, is this all you managed to convert?"
Beside him stood a hunched figure in black robes. The old man didn't answer. Instead, he raised a hand and pointed toward the sun.
"Don't let your eyes deceive you. Look again."
The younger man squinted. "Are you going senile? There's noth—"
He froze.
A massive skeletal dragon soared across the horizon… then vanished into thin air again.
A wide grin broke across the man's face. He adjusted his hat with a chuckle.
"Heh! You've outdone yourself, old man. Who knew you could still pull off tricks like that at your age?"
He clapped the elder on the back.
The old man just sighed.
Youngsters these days… no respect at all.
***
The day of the sparring matches arrived.
Nobles, elders, and high-ranking members of the Hikagami Clan gathered to witness the growth of the next generation.
The current Clan Lord observed from a private viewing platform, his crimson eyes sharp and regal. Before him stood five young Hikagami.
Katsuya — The Talented Prodigy.
Said to surpass even the First Clan Lord in raw talent, with a personality that radiated dignity.
Kurenai — The Hidden Flower.
Katsuya's younger sister. Known for her beauty that captivated all who saw her. Yet she always wore a red veil, never revealing her face. Her aura was soft… like a silent song.
Yuri — The Saintess.
She awakened her [Authority] at the age of five, capable of bestowing blessings. A girl so kind that she would gladly die if it meant saving another.
Gorōta — The Wicked.
Though he detested the title, it suited him. After killing half his servants for spilling a drink in front of the Saintess, he earned her eternal hatred.
And finally…
Kagerō — The Broken Mirror.
Mocked as weak, called ugly for hiding his face, and ridiculed for having no trace of the Scarlet Mirror's legacy.
Rumors filled the air like smoke. And today, those rumors would be tested.
The matches began.