The Boy and the Legend

Years Later – A Peaceful Village

Morning sunlight bathed the quiet village in gold. Birds chirped lazily as children ran through the streets, laughing and clashing wooden swords, pretending to be heroes from old stories.

Inside a small wooden house, an old woman sat on a tatami mat, sewing a torn sleeve with gentle hands. Her hair was silver, tied neatly behind her, and her eyes held the calmness of someone who had seen far too much.

“Grandma!” a small boy’s voice called.

He burst into the room, clutching an old scroll tightly against his chest. His face was round, his eyes bright with curiosity.

“Grandma, what’s this sword?” he asked, unrolling the scroll to reveal an illustration of a dark, sinister blade—its name written beneath in elegant brushstrokes.

The old woman smiled softly. “Ah… Kyushiba.”

The boy tilted his head. “Kyushiba? What’s that?”

“That, my dear,” she said, her tone turning distant, almost reverent, “is a sword of legend.”

His eyes widened. “Is it real?”

The woman’s smile faded.

She gazed at the scroll, her eyes shadowed by something old—something heavy.“Real,” she said softly.

“And far more dangerous than you could ever imagine.”

The Tale of Kyushiba -

Her voice grew quiet, yet powerful, carrying the weight of generations.

“They say Kyushiba was forged from a stone that fell from the heavens and burned through hell.

It was shaped by demons who mixed their own blood into the molten metal, creating a weapon that could slay even gods.”

As she spoke, the boy imagined it—the hammering of monstrous blacksmiths, sparks flying as they forged the glowing blade. Each strike echoed like a heartbeat, each drop of blood seeping into the steel, turning it darker, redder.

“But when the God of Fire saw what they had created,” the grandmother continued, “he feared its power. To prevent disaster, he sealed it with his divine essence. His flames became part of the sword so hot that even the Demon King could not touch it.”

In his mind, the boy saw it:A colossal figure of pure fire pressing his hand upon the sword, sealing it with light so fierce that the darkness itself recoiled.

The boy’s imagination ran wild. His small hands moved unconsciously, mimicking a warrior’s stance. 

“Did anyone ever use it?” he asked eagerly.

The old woman’s voice dropped, now barely above a whisper.

“Yes. Once. A samurai of unmatched honor and strength. Kyushiba accepted him… and together, they ended an age of darkness.”

The boy swung his invisible sword through the air, grinning with childlike excitement.

The Shadow in the Forest -

Outside, the day grew darker.
The peaceful wind fell still as clouds crept over the sun.

In the distance, deep within a mist-shrouded forest, a lone figure walked silently.

His cloak was torn and blackened.

From beneath it, a faint red light pulsed—emanating from the sheath at his side.

Each step he took left the ground faintly scorched.

“Soon,” he whispered, his voice like dry leaves scraping stone.“It will be mine.”

The air around him trembled. The forest fell silent.


The Boy’s Dream -

That night, the boy dreamed.
He stood upon a vast battlefield, surrounded by endless war.

Samurai clashed against shadowy demons beneath a storm of fire. In the chaos, a man appeared—a warrior wielding Kyushiba, his blade slicing through darkness like lightning.

Then came another.A dark samurai, armor black as midnight, his eyes glowing crimson.

Their eyes met—the boy and the dark warrior.

The world around him crumbled as the samurai raised his sword high.The boy couldn’t move. Couldn’t scream.
Just as the blade fell, a light descended from above.

Kyushiba.

The sword glowed fiercely, shielding him from the strike.

The world exploded into white.

The boy woke with a gasp, sweat beading on his forehead. The sun had just begun to rise, its light painting the room in gold.

“Time to wake up, little one,” came his grandmother’s gentle voice from the kitchen.

He sat silently for a moment, staring at his trembling hands. Then, slowly, he clenched them into fists.

Outside, the village stirred to life once more.

But far away, deep in the forest, a broken shrine lay half-buried in the earth.

Upon the cracked stone was a single, fading mark—the ancient kanji for Kyushiba.

And beneath it, something pulsed faintly…

like a heartbeat waiting to awaken.

To be continued...