Born To Outlast Blood

SHIMEI KUREHA POV

The night was eerily quiet.

Not a single breeze stirred the air. No crickets chirped their usual song. Just the soft rustling of leaves overhead from the gnarled branches of the tree where I always practiced.

I had completely lost track of time.

My fists were battered, my knuckles sore, and my breath came in ragged gasps. But the fire coursing through my veins? It wouldn't die down. Not now.

Then, I heard it.

A voice I both trusted and feared.

"You're late, little brother."

I turned slowly.

Iehiro was standing there, just a few paces away. No mask, no armor—just his familiar training gear, stained with blood that wasn't his own.

His expression was calm. Too calm.

"Iehiro... What happened?"

He didn't respond right away. Instead, he just stared past me, through me, into a realm I couldn't grasp.

"The flame only purifies when there's nothing left to grieve."

His voice felt distant. It was like he was reciting a line from a book that no one else could ever find.

"Our clan was already dead, Shimei. I just let the ashes tell their story."

I stepped closer, frustration bubbling up. "What the hell does that even mean?!"

Iehiro turned away.

And vanished.

No flicker of flame. No blur of movement. He was just gone, as if the shadows had swallowed him whole. I raced home. Each footfall echoed louder than the last. And then… I saw it. The estate was ablaze. Not in flames but in the aftermath. Smoke drifted lazily over the shattered roofs. Blood streaked the stone like a haunting script. The silence was overwhelming.

I dashed to the hall.

Father… lay crumpled in the corner. A clean cut through his neck. His eyes still open. Mother… collapsed beside him, her body twisted. A trail of blood led from the garden.

I followed it.

Iehiro was dragging her by the leg, moving slowly as if she weighed nothing. His face was still blank but his eyes…

His eyes were different.

They glowed faintly. Not with light. But with something deeper. Something ancient.

"Shimei you came at the right time.

"WHY DID YOU KILL MY PARENTS?!"

"So loud just shut up, and look deep into my eyes."

And then I blinked and the world split open.

I found myself outside the room, standing in the same spot as before, but everything around me was playing out like a haunting replay.

ONCE.

The massacre. My father's last moments.

TWICE.

Shuuno's piercing scream. The flames licking at the air.

TEN TIMES.

Mother's eyes, wide with shock.

A HUNDRED.

Iehiro's voice echoing those words.

"You're late, little brother."

A THOUSAND.

Each replay more vivid, more intense. I could smell the blood, feel the heat, taste the ash in the air.

TWO MILLION TIMES.

Again and again.

Until I was too exhausted to scream. And then, everything went black. I jolted awake, gasping, my hands clawing at the dirt beneath me.

Iehiro was there, standing close by, cradling something tenderly in his arms.

Shuuno.

She looked pale, blood soaking through her side.

"Shuuno—!"

"She's alive," Iehiro said softly. "For now."

I looked up at him, desperation in my voice. "Why? Why show me that? Why hurt her?"

"She wasn't meant to be here," he answered. "But you need to experience pain. Clarity comes from it."

He laid her down on the grass, as gently as a parent would handle their child.

Then, he pulled something from his belt.

A mask.

Bone-white, with a crack running down one side. A hollow where the mouth should be. It looked like it had been through hell.

He tossed it at my feet.

"When you can wear this without shame… come find me."

"Iehiro—!"

And just like that, he disappeared again. No fire, no footsteps.

Just gone.

I crawled over to Iehiro. Her pulse was weak but steady. Tears stung my eyes, but no sound escaped my lips. Then the pain began. It wasn't physical at first. It started behind my eyes, like needles weaving through my skull. Then the heat surged.

Unnatural, it coursed through my veins like liquid fire.

I screamed. My vision faded to darkness. Then it flared bright. Then red. My eyes burned and I watched as the world shattered. The air quivered. The ground around me cracked. A presence stirred within me. Not the black flame I was familiar with. Something deeper.

The pain subsided. I touched my face. My eyes…

I could feel them changing bit by bit. The pain was horrific my screams echoed. Images of the illusions came back to me the pain of seeing my family, my clan. Almost losing my younger sister throws through me.

The iris shifted to a deep crimson hue. 

The whites of the eyes turned pitch black. 

A faint, demonic line sliced through the center, resembling a crack in glass—not glowing, but alive, as if it were breathing. 

And then lights. 

Voices. 

Figures clad in armor emerged from the ruins of the estate. The Enforcement Guard. Official. Unyielding. 

One of them called out, "We have a survivor!" 

They closed in around me. 

I clutched Shuuno tighter, struggling to find my voice. 

But as they scanned the scene the bodies, the blood, the devastation… 

Their weapons were drawn. 

"Hands where we can see them!" 

"I didn't " I began to protest. 

They pointed their spears at my head. 

"You're under arrest for the slaughter of Clan Kureha!" 

I remained frozen. I couldn't move. My hands shook. I met their gazes. No one believed me. 

The mask Iehiro had given me lay abandoned in the dirt beside me. That was the first sensation that hit me when I opened my eyes.

Heavy. Cold. Not crafted from metal, but shaped by judgment.

The cell was made of damp obsidian stone, dark and softly humming with sealing glyphs. Even my breath felt constricted, as if the very air down here was pressing down on me.

They had shackled my wrists with iron mixed with nephrite salt poison, meant for those cursed by flame.

I'm a prisoner now, and I'm only five years old. How is this even happening? Just because they found me at the scene doesn't mean I'm the one who slaughtered my entire clan.

As I pondered the massacre, I heard footsteps approaching my cell.

"Oi, you brat, you're coming with me."

"Where am I going?"

The man didn't answer but yanked me toward some kind of interrogation room. I was thrown inside, and there was a man waiting for me.

THREE HOURS LATER

The tribunal happened just three hours later.

No trial. No chance to defend myself. Just straight interrogation, and I didn't even get a word in. Whenever I tried to speak, I was silenced.

It was just a room filled with stone-hearted elders, political puppets, and one man reading from a prepared statement.

"Shimei Kureha, son of Lord Ieharu and Lady Sakuyo of the Kureha Clan, you are charged with the wholesale slaughter of your bloodline."

I stayed silent. Even if I had spoken… who would have listened?

They presented "evidence." The dead, all from my clan, all beneath my roof.

And there I was: alone. Alive.

Shuuno had disappeared. Or was being kept somewhere I couldn't reach. The public was demanding blood. And I… didn't fight back.

The sentence was quick:

"Execution.

At dawn, you shall be cast into the Pit.

May you perish in the realm of the unknown."

No final meal.

No goodbyes.

No words from Iehiro.

Just a fall.

I was marched through the eastern gate, past ruined roads and broken flame towers, to the cliff edge that was never spoken of: The Maw.

A gaping hole in the earth. Miles deep. Rumored to lead to the Cursed World, the place where all broken flames are exiled.

Some said demons lived there.

Others claimed it was hell itself. I found myself standing at the edge, barefoot, my wrists still bound, and my eyes stinging from the transformation they had undergone.

One of the guards leaned in and whispered:

"Even now, he doesn't seem sorry."

I turned to him.

And smiled.

"Because I'm not."

They shoved me forward. As I plummeted toward my demise, a thought flickered in my mind: The trees had stopped singing.