He drew his sword for the first time in a long while. He couldn't remember how long it had been since he held it properly; the cold sensation of the hilt against his palm felt foreign.

How long has it been since he fought so many enemies? How long since he swung a blade to cut someone down? And how long has it been since he swung a blade toward you? No, this is likely the first time. The first time he has ever pointed a sword at you, and the first time you have ever looked at him with such an expression.

The blade glinted white in the moonlight. Edo was already burning, using the corpses of Amanto as kindling. People fled in terror, and the flames showed them no mercy.

He stopped his swinging hand. No, he had no choice but to stop. His sword had always existed to protect you, so he never learned how to cut you down. Is your sword the same, or is it merely pausing for a moment? The only certainty is the cruel reality that one day, the time will come when they must truly slay one another.