Tale of the Mutant Knight

by Ouroboros Snake

This history is all wrong. You've mistaken the ripples in the water for your reflection. But the rock has already been thrown, proving wrongs are wrongs and that it's only water in the end. Where did the ripples start? Well that's obvious, from the moment the Shikizaki Blades appeared in the hands of the Knight of Gremory, Kiba Yuuto.

PREFACE

Usually these things start with an Author's note but for those of you who skip those I've decided to call it a Preface to grab your attention better, and because it sounds fancy. This is merely a warning that the story to come is written in a rather eccentric style, since I made the foolish, fool hearty, foolproof mistake of trying to copy the style of how Nisioisin wrote Katanagatari. Luckily, I'm not good at puns, so it's not particularly bad, but you may find the writing to be a bit weird at times. That being said, I'll see you all in the afterword. Later.

---

Western fairy tales are commonly thought to start with the words 'Once upon a time' but the truth is that this tale has decided to mutate from the norm and take on a life of its own, one hailing from the Far East where the sun rises upon the land. Nevertheless, regardless of origin, it is true that some folktales start with calling upon times long gone and in this regard, this story is no different.

Readers, do you remember the story of swords? A tale long faded into the memory of history, but not so long ago that peach walked among humans and a bamboo stalk could become a princess. How in the peace after the end of the warring states, came a war of blades? A grand old swashbuckling tale of government sanctioned robbery by the swordless swordsman and the proud schemer? For those who have read the musty old historical records, this author congratulates you. For those that haven't, please, be at ease.

It's only to be expected after all. In these times, words on ink would never color skin pink. How could a dead tree ever bring a story to life, some might cry. Not that that really matters. Indeed, despite the historical roots this tale derives from, this is still a mutated tale, following a western man, with an all too familiar western plan. Even the time is all wrong too. While modern people live the modern day in the modern way, he wields his blades for the sake of chivalry long past when the time for such was necessary.

That's right, this is a Contradistory. The tale of a western knight wielding an eastern blade in the modern day with his olden ways. A story whose deviations have mutated the legends it inherits so much that it hardly resembled them at all.

Yes, that's a good place to start.

Please enjoy.

Tale of the Mutant Knight Chapter One - Of Lifeless Blades And Names That Fade.

A bamboo stalk clacked against a rock. To be more accurate, it made a sound similar to 'don', but since that word would conjure up images of pasta and Italy, readers should feel free to imagine whatever sound they like as water rushed through it and into a fountain. It was, of course, an essential part of a relaxing scenery, for as stormy as an ocean may be, the lake will forever stay still. Water has that calming effect, and it was probably why some myths begin with calling water a reflection of the sky. However, since such words are quiet pretentious enough, let us smash, bash, and crash their ridiculousness by pointing out that the sky was actually a quiet oppressive shade of red.

Of course, despite this atmosphere that would send chills down the spine of any human who entered it, the two people near the fountain had currently entered a makeshift form of peace. One, a boy of twelve years who so clearly hailed from western descent with his blonde hair and blue eyes, yet gripped tight in his hands the blade that captured the heart and soul of Japan, the Katana. In front of him, was a man that embodied the image of a samurai with his top knot hair and his bright blue robes, practically defining the aesthetic. They both stood in front of each other, blade in hand, standing so perfectly still that the only thing that the gentle breeze that brushed passed them was only able to carry their breaths. As the bamboo fountain released the second Italian mob boss, a single word was spoken.

"Begin."

The silence was cut by the young boy letting out a roar so bestial it couldn't be rendered in text as he proceeded to charge forward. The calm serenity he had just moments before had shattered like glass as he slashed wildly. It was quite amateurish, especially to the eyes of the samurai. Still, it was better then the level of some no name thug who had merely picked up a sword. With a simple twist of his wrist, the man blocked the young boy's sword strikes without any sign of effort showing on his face. The high-pitched whine of metal on metal clanged and banged throughout the battlefield before the boy's opponent let out a simple grunt before shifting his feet and twisting his body. The sudden change in momentum caused the young boy to stumble forward, followed quickly by the loud bash of the samurai smashing the pummel of his katana into his back. A loud shout escaped the boy's lips before being quickly silenced by the smothering embrace of not death, but the dirt floor below.

"Five seconds. Not bad." The samurai nodded to himself as he glanced at the young boy. "Your footwork and posture have improved quite a bit, though you need to learn how to react better to sudden changes. And of course those swings of yours…"

"Pah!" The kid spat out a clump of dirt from his mouth. His eyes turned to glare at the older man, a steely gaze though of caution and frustration, not one of resolve. "You're the one who hasn't taught me any swordplay."

"Of course not. You aren't a sword genius, no matter how sharp your words may be. I'd rather welcome another hundred nights in my body then teach a kid who has barley mastered how to use a sword any techniques of the Tennen Rishin-Ryu." A loud, visceral cough escaped the man, interrupting his chastising. To someone versed in the history of a certain small island nation, the phrase 'Tennen Rishin-Ryu' would've set off a few alarm bells when combined with the samurai's outfit. Indeed, as long as you were Japanese, even if you were a certain dumb, dull, dimbwitted demonic dragon emperor, you'd be able to recognize the striking uniform of the Shinsengumi. If you were not Japanese however, and that's fine since we do live in a quiet globalized world, you would never even think such a thing besides maybe recalling a mad berserker screaming it at the top of his lungs. Indeed, it fills this author with shame to say that the legendary Shinsengumi and their unique outfits, which were so steep in Japanese culture that they could hardly be described in another language, say English for no specific reason, were not something one could briefly summarize without paragraphs and even pages of exposition. If this was a story desperate for a high word count, or was written by someone particularly interested in regalling you with such matters, this author would've happily obliged. However, since that is not the case, such things must be forgiven while a reader not in the know uses the benefits of living in a modern world to gather the needed context. Tangent aside, the samurai quickly composed himself before raising an eyebrow at the kid. "Besides, I'm not wrong in assuming you don't acknowledge me as your master, am I?"

The young boy averted his eyes before he pulled himself up off the ground before getting into the fighting stance that the man in front of him had carved into his body. The words that left his lips escaped in a growl. "Fight me again."

"Mmh, no." The samurai shook his head. "I think we've sparred enough for today. Physical training isn't all we're here for, remember?"

The blonde sighed before putting his sword away, if one were to call letting it disappear into a burst of light 'putting it away' instead of 'a highly economical form of garbage removal'. His eyes glanced at his palm as he opened and closed his fist before once again, in another burst of light, the katana forged itself into existence once more. The boy clicked his toy he before shaking his head. "Nothing's changed. Are you absolutely sure that my sacred gear is Sword Birth?"

"I've studied magic for more than a century, and I've run all the tests I can think of." The samurai who was surprisingly a sorcerer answered, "What you have in your hands is without a doubt, Demonic Sword Creation."

If one were confused about the current conversation, the correct thing to do is to quite literally, blame God. The holiest of holies, hallowed be thy name, who blessed humanity with the tremendous powers known as Sacred Gears. Though some would argue that only needing to be at least partially originally human or the fact that these holy powers could be, as in this case, quite literally demonic, kind of defeats the point of the whole system doesn't it? Then again, like a certain deviant blacksmith, the sacred gear system is evidence that God was quite an eccentric person, so who knows what was going through their mind as they designed it. Certainly not this author, and as that's enough catching up for the average reader, the answer may never be known.

"...Someone told me about what Sword Birth could do, should be able to do." Of course, the young boy neglected to reveal just who exactly had spoken to him. It was not as if he had particularly wanted the conversation to happen after all, there had just simply been no way for him to refuse. "Being able to summon numerous demonic swords is something I should be able to do and yet-"

And yet, the simple truth of the matter was that he could not. There wasn't any sword that could absorb holy energy nor was there one that could freeze fire itself. All he could summon was the katana in front of him and nothing else. With a sigh of deep frustration, he willed Sword Birth to activate once more, yet all that appeared were two more copies of the same weapon in his hands, blade sunken into the earth so the demonic swords stood upright.

"Well it's not that I can't see where you're coming from. To be told that you should be able to do something only for it to be out of reach is a frustrating feeling. But at the same time…" The samurai sheathed his sword before plucking one of the katanas like a farmer ready for harvest. Carefully, he examined the blades before nodding. "It's not like these are bad swords. Quite the opposite, really. Back during the Meiji era- No to go farther back, samurai of the Warring States would've killed to get their hands on a blade like this. It's clearly got the touch of a master smith. Simple, efficient, deadly-"

"But it's just a normal sword." The boy interrupted. "That's all it is. It breaks when damaged, it's got no special abilities, all it is, is just a sword."

And just a sword is not good enough, those words went unspoken but both parties could feel it. One would be forgiven for thinking that the boy was being quite ungrateful at the moment, and indeed perhaps he was. However, having seen the things that he's seen, and lived the life he's had in those twelve short years, the boy would not concern himself with that of humbleness or gratitude. The complaints of his were only partially due to an inferiority complex, most of it was born more out of practically than anything else. After all, if he were to attempt to pull off his mission with 'just a good sword', then without a doubt, he would be killed instantly.

The samurai looked into his eyes and understood this immediately. It was not a gaze that any kid born in the modern era should have, but over a century ago and it wouldn't have been out of place. With a deep sigh, he placed the sword back into the earth before watching it flicker out of existence. "Make no mistake, Demonic Sword Creation will without fail create swords that are demonic. I do not know much about your past, and I don't wish to pry, but you should at least acknowledge that your blades are tinted with the energies of hell. Don't be so focused on what your swords are able to do. Holy Eraser, Flame Delete, while there are those who rely on the magical abilities of such blades, a technique-type swordsman will without fail find himself enhancing said blades, not being consumed by it. Focus on your own skill, and it will take you far."

'Watch this', he said, before gripping his blade once more. The boy took a few steps back, but continued to stare intently at the samurai's form. Once second passed, then two, before with a confident iai the man unsheathed his blade and began to cut through the air. Now Tennen Rishin-Ryu is not exactly a lost art. If one wished to learn it, be they our young protagonist or your average Joe Schmoe, there were plenty of small schools that would be glad to teach it to the next generation, for a price of course. However the samurai was no ordinary practitioner, having mastered the school at the age of eighteen (back during its heyday in the Meiji era to boot!), he had over several human lifetimes to evolve the style to a state of near perfection. With every cut, slash, and thrust, the boy could feel it. That the person in front of him was someone who had long ago transcended the level of a mere sword master and instead have become a genuine Sword Saint, or in this case, a Sword Demon.

Have you guessed this samurai's identity yet? For those who haven't connected the dots, please allow this selfish author to reveal this formidable man's name. The dreaded captain of the Shinsengumi, Okita Souji.

With one final swing, he placed his katana once more back in it's sheath before turning to the young boy. "Do you understand?"

"...Not really." The kid admitted. He knew, deep down to his bones, that what he just witnessed was a once in a lifetime thing, that it was the skill of a master. However, asking a twelve year old to understand something so deep and complicated was the same as asking a bird to swim in the ocean. They could try, and maybe even grasp a bit of technique, but unless they were a literal duck taking to water, it just wasn't something to be done.

This was something that Okita clearly understood as well, letting out a deep laugh before walking over to ruffle the blonde's hair. "I can see that. Nothing I can do about that I'm afraid, as long as you get the gist of it for now. As long as you walk the path of swordsmanship, you'll become enlightened one day."

What followed next was mostly more of the same thing for the boy, carefully studying and perfecting his footwork and posture. Still, his mind was quite distracted by something else. A question wiggling inside his skull as he tried to examine his dilemma and the sight he had witnessed. Which exactly was the most important, a swordsman or their sword? Of course, if one were paying attention to the conversation, the answer should've been obvious. A swordsman without a sword is just a man, but a sword without a man is just a sword. The two were complementary, and an imbalance on one side would weaken a swordsman over all. Legendary technique and a legendary sword would make a legendary swordsman, this is a truth so obvious you'd find it being spouted in the shonen manga you buy every Sunday morning.

If only such a thing were true.

If only this boy were born with a regular Sword Birth, then this would be the case.

If only it hadn't been those twelve deviants, whose venom had poisoned the greatest swordsmen to swing their blades with the intent to kill.

If only he hadn't been so broken that he had to forge himself back together.

If only all this wasn't true, then history would have gone on it's usual course, and he would become the princely knight that readers would be familiar with. However, things had mutated, bringing with it twelve pain-in-the-butt incidents the boy didn't have an inkling were about to occur.

Time ticked down, but history had already mutated.

---

"Are you sure you're alright?" A worried, feminine voice whispered into his ear. Not from any one near by mind you, but from the rectangle brick in his hands. That is to say, a cell phone. "You've been training really hard right?"

"...I'm fine." The boy slowly answered, only partially out of caution, but mostly it was just due to awkwardness. You'll have to forgive him for this, dear readers. As a poor, orphaned, twelve year old who had only just recently escaped from the shadow of the Catholic Church, technology such as a 'cellphone' was still something magical and mystical. Then again, we'd find the specific model of cellphone he was using, that of the flip phone, to be an ancient relic of the past. While this work takes place not so long ago that it would be classified as a period piece, please remember that in those days having a flip phone was that of the norm.

"That's good! That's good!" The girl on the other end of the call repeated. "Okita-san is one of the best swordsmen around so make sure to learn a lot from him okay?"

The blonde paused before furrowing his eyebrows. "...San?"

"Ehehe, do you want to know?" There was an ominous giggle that sent a shiver down the boy's spine. Suddenly there was a loud bang and he was sure that the hammer of injustice had just abused some poor piece of furniture. "Listen up and listen well! In the island nation of Japan, people put 'san' after people's names in order to show respect! There's also 'kun' and 'chan' but in your case you'd refer to Okita-san as Okita-sensei! Isn't that amazing!?"

"Ah, yeah. Sure." Even as a kid, the young boy held some princely features, so it was double the impact when his face twisted into a specific kind of disgust. Unfortunately for him, the word to describe the specific kind of insanity that courses through this girl's veins had yet to escape outside of niche internet corners so he couldn't exactly put a label on what exactly he was feeling. He quickly coughed and tried to shift the conversation. "Did you need anything else from me?"

"Yeah! There's so much I want to talk about!" God save him- Ow! He had almost just forgotten that praying hurts now, meaning nothing was coming to grant him salvation. "Like, have you learned any ultimate moves?!"

"It's mostly just footwork and posture." The boy responded curtly. "Nothing else."

"Ehhhh~? Really?" The girl whined in disappointment. "Nothing like 'rasengan!', 'Gomu gomu no punch!', or even 'You are already dead'?"

"Uh- What?" Blue eyes glanced around to make sure he was still in reality. "I- I don't-"

"Jeez~" The kid could practically feel the pout coming from the other end. "Didn't you read any of the manga I gave you when you first woke up?"

"Those were the comic books righ-"

"No! No! It's Manga! Ma-n-ga! Ahhhhh!" With a wince he instinctively pulled the phone away from his ear to avoid the loud screech from the other end of the line. "Listen, you gotta read those soon okay?! And you gotta get an ultimate technique soon too! Every swordsman has an ultimate technique!"

"O-kay?" The boy stumbled as he tried to figure out how to respond. "I'll read those soon? I haven't read a lot of books before so…"

Luckily that served as enough of a distraction for the young girl as she began to calm down. "Huh? Then what have you read?"

"...The bible." He admitted. "That's it."

"The Bible, huh?" The girl mumbled as she pondered over it. "What's it like? I haven't read it."

"Really? I would've thought you had." Being what you are, were the words unspoken.

"Don't you remember? I'm a devil." She declared. "Just hearing the name of that guy causes me pain, let alone the words in that book. You at least had the chance to read it, but from the moment I was born that had always been a forbidden book. So?"

It's a book for liars and hypocrites, the boy thought to himself, but instead spoke something else. "It's boring. The first couple books are okay but most of it after that is just a bunch of history, numbers, letters, and other stuff only the boring pastors cared about."

Still, it was the only book he had, so of course the young boy had read the whole thing cover to cover multiple times. Forget those exercises where he had to memorize one or two verses, he could probably spout off the whole thing if it wasn't liable to kill him.

"I see, I see. Then, two more things before I hang up." The girl said. "You're at Okita's place right? The one in the middle of nowhere?"

The young boy shifted his gaze past his baren room and out the window. A full moon shone on a forgien wilderness that he still hadn't gotten used to even after a month of living here. "Yes."

"There were some reports of Stray Demons around the area." Stray demons, it was a concept that the young boy knew very little about. From what he could briefly recall, they were devils who had gone against their master and become criminals. "They're far enough away so they shouldn't get anywhere close to you but stay safe, okay?"

It was a valid concern, one that most would find heartwarming. However, a different question left the young boys lips. "...Hey, why do you care so much about me?"

"What?! Isn't it obvious?!" The girl shouted outraged, "I'm your king and you're my knight! Of course I care about you, we're family! I even thought of a new name for you and everything!"

"...A new name?" The boy blinked. "Why?"

"Well it's because someone won't give me his name!" She growled. "And I can't go around calling you Nameless no matter how cool that may sound! No, wait, what about Mumei? Maybe I could get away with a reading of 'six lights'? Ah! No no no! I already decided! Your new name is Kiba Yuuto! What do you think?!"

There were, in fact, about three different puns associated with that name. However, even with his newly acquired ability to understand languages, there was no way a twelve year old boy who didn't even know what a kanji was would understand any of it, so it all sounded like gibberish to him. Still… "It's alright."

"Great! Then it's decided!" The girl cheered. "Stay safe, okay Kiba? Rias out!"

There was a loud beep as the phone hung up, and the young boy let the phone fall down on to his side before staring up at the full moon outside his window. Coaxed by the moonlight sonata, the boy admitted to himself one thing. "Family… liar."

The girl who had found him lying on the snow, who saved his life in exchange for his humanity. Rias Gremory, had declared that they were family. And, as was natural, he didn't believe a word of it. How could he? After all, it was the same thing that happened last time.

The church had given him a name, the church had given him a home, the church had given him a family-

And when they were done with him all his friends, one by one had been disposed of like trash. He could still recall it vividly. The night of the opera, the coir of damnation. The boy would never forget it. No matter how much he ages, no matter how many ages pass, he would remember that symphony until time immortal.

"...Huh?" The boy blinked as he glanced towards his hand. Sometime, while he was lost in reminiscence, a single blade had formed itself without him knowing. The orange sheath sat comfortably in his palm as he began to grip the handle. It was almost like his fingers had frozen, unable to let go of the sword. Blue eyes could only stare at the blade before he took a deep breath and let it fade back into nothing. The boy glanced at the moon before sighing. "It's getting late."

He stumbled into his makeshift bed before closing his eyes, awaiting the embrace of Morpheus. However, the dream that came to him, was something much more vicious.

---

Before the young boy had even become aware of it, not knowing how or why, he found himself at the base of a long staircase. It climbed up so high that it seemed like a Stairway to Heaven, whose peak was nothing more than a tiny blue to the young boy's eyes. Cautiously, he gripped the handle of his blade-

Wait a minute, when had he used Sword Birth? This wasn't- this wasn't right. Something was very wrong about this world, from the air he didn't breathe to the ground he didn't stand on. With a panicked glance, his blonde hair whipped around only to find that the path behind him didn't exist. Nothing, empty, void, null. The only way he could go was up.

Before he could even comprehend what was going on, the sound of footsteps grabbed his attention. Flanked on both of his sides where two women, dressed all in black robes. Their faces couldn't be seen, hidden behind a mask with an unreadable symbol drawn upon it. However what drew the young boy's attention wasn't their odd style of dress or the ethereal way in which they moved, but rather what resided at their hip. Yes, in contrast to their black outfits, was a certain bright orange scabbard, the exact same as the one in the boy's hands.

As if to say they were waiting for him, both women gave a deep bow before gesturing towards the stairs. The boy glanced towards them and back to the girls before speaking. "...Do you want me to climb?"

They said nothing and spoke nothing as they continued to bow. Hesitantly, the boy took a step forward before beginning his climb. Up and up he walked, ascending to a destination he knew not. It was, if he was being honest, a fairly monotonous task for one that had him so on edge. The only thing that broke the silence was the occasional time he passed by another one of those black robed women. The boy had tried once or twice to call out to them, but they never responded or even act like they heard him, leaving him alone with his thoughts as he climbed up the staircase with an uncountable number of steps.

Actually, despite the dreamlike realm he had found himself in, the stairs held a quite concrete number of steps. There was, no more no less, a grand total of a thousand steps. It was just that ultimately, climbing up the steps was a very boring endeavor. If one where particularly bored, they could pass the time while counting the stairs, but seeing as how the boy began this trek without doing so, and had long past the point where he possibly could, all he could do was think and wonder what was at the very top.

The thousandth step brought with it the answer. A large, red gate that he vaguely recognized from somewhere he couldn't recall and a building stood tall. Despite its foreign origins, there was something quite familiar about this place. It took him a few seconds to realize where he had felt this feeling before. It was almost like he was standing in his previous home all over again. He just knew that this place was, if not a church, then a place of worship. The worship of a god.

"How do you do?" A frozen voice called out to him. It was then that the boy noticed that standing in front of the shrine, broom in hand, was an ethereal beauty with long black hair that swept down to her waist. She was tall, quite so, and though she looked quite young she gave off the same air of mastery that Okita Souji did. But then again, the boy was just that, a boy. When you're twelve years old, the difference in age over two years is absolute. That's why, despite the ageless looks that she held, the boy could only see her as nothing but an adult.

"Where… am I?" The boy asked in both confusion and wonderment. Confunderment.

"Can't you tell by the miko? You're in Izumo obviously. You can't have Izumo without miko, and you can't have miko without Izumo. That's just the way it is." She chuckled to herself, laughing at her own private joke. "You're a bit late kiddo, but I suppose it's my fault for arranging this meeting so out of the blue."

Of course, the only proper way to respond to that was to increase the grip on his blade and ask, "Just who are you?"

"Not a ghost or a vestige, but merely a memory. Though I suppose if you need a name you may call me Meisai Tsuruga." She waved dismissively. "I'm the mistress of , Izumo's Triad Shrine, or former as the case may be, but the past is neither here nor now so you can ignore that bit. Come with me."

With a calm leisure that held a deathly edge, the woman known as Meisai turned around and walked inwards towards the Shrine. The boy blinked before hurrying to catch up with her, all the while she continued to talk without even giving him a glance. "A sword never forgets you know? Not those it kills, it doesn't concern itself with that, but those who wield it. That's how we can have this conversation I suppose, should I perhaps find that flattering?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." The boy admitted as they navigated through the halls. "Are you implying that you were a previous user of Sword Birth?"

"You're about a twelfth right on the mark." Meisai answered, citing an oddly specific number. Even more oddly however, was the fact that the boy couldn't see any sign of a blade on her person. She was completely unarmed, a fact so bizarre it was hard to believe her claim. "In life I never knew anything about Demonic Sword Creation or even sacred gears but you'll figure out what I mean soon enough. Ah, here we are."

Sliding open a paper door, the strange woman walked inside and took a seat on a cushion, before patting the ground in front of her. "Come on, take a seat."

The boy's eyes shifted around the room, taking a glance at the women in black standing around the room before slowly sitting down with his hand at his blade. Meisai held up a cup of some sort, and the boy watched as one of the servants poured liquid out of a gourd. With a wild swing, the black haired beauty proceeded to down the entire thing like a starving man in a desert. "Ah, that's the good stuff. Normally it's my policy to not discuss anything important with someone who won't drink with me, but I'm not interested in forcing a kid to drink."

My brigand days are over, thank you very much she continued as she took another swing. "Now then, shall we get down to business?"

"...Alright, but I apologize for being lost." The boy stated. "So whatever you say, please make sure to state it clearly."

"Heh, cheeky brat." Meisai chuckled. "Then I guess I should establish what this is first. Just like how a priest is the bridge between man and Gods, I, a miko, am here to act as an embassy between you and the Legion."

"The Legion?" The boy parratoed as his eyebrows furrowed. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh I'm sure you know exactly what I'm referring to." The miko chuckled before pointing her finger. "After all, you've been gripping a piece of it quite intently from the moment you arrived here."

Blue eyes shot towards the orange scabbard in his hands, knuckles turning white. Realization flashed through his mind as he took a breath. "You're talking about the sword. Then you know why Sword Birth isn't working correctly?!"

"Oh it's not that there's anything wrong with that Sacred Gear of yours." She declared as she drank her alcohol. "Listen up, because I have no intention of going easy on you just because you're a kid. This isn't something like a bug in the system. The fact of the matter is that all twelve blades that reside in what you call Demonic Sword Creation have judged you, and they all find you lacking."

"...Lacking?" Blue eyes narrowed. "So you mean, they all reject me."

"Not quite. Rejection is a word that implies refusal. No it would be more accurate to say that you can't wield them rather than that they won't let you wield them." Meisai explained. "There's a qualification each blade is looking for, and you don't meet any of them. Don't ask me either, because I've got no clue. All I know is that the only reason you're able to wield pieces of the legion is because the blade is following my wish."

"And that is…?" The boy asked, causing the woman to sigh and gesture to the black robed woman pouring her drinks.

"You've seen the kuromiko, have you not?" She began, nodding to them. "The ones here are nothing more than placeholders, but in life they were real girls who had led tragic lives. Abused under the cover of the night so far past the breaking point that they broke even that. One way or another, they ended up here. Their outfits aren't some cheap way to save on animation budget you know? The masks give the much needed anonymity while I gave them a piece of the Legion in order to let their hearts heal."

"You keep saying 'part of the legion', but if you're referring to the blade then don't they have the whole thing?" The boy gestures to the weapon on their hips. "It looks intact to me."

"Hm, well, I'm afraid I can't give you any hints regarding that. It's against the rules apparently." Meisai shrugged. "But continuing on, it seems that the Legion found your situation to be quite similar to those girls, and thus you were granted a piece of it, though you still don't qualify as it's wielder."

"Though personally, I think that there's quite a bit of nuance that disqualifies that theory. Perhaps it merely just finds you and I to be similar." She continued, tapping her chin before a sharp glint appeared in her eyes. "After all, we're both people who abandoned their names. Isn't that right, ****?"

The reaction to hearing that name was instantaneous. White hot lightning coursed through the boy's veins as he shot upwards and drew his katana, only for the sound to be drowned out by an identical sound as he soon found himself surrounded by three kuromiko. His eyes glanced at the sharp blades pointed directly at his neck, completely identical to the one in his hands. Despite the threat to his life however, his grip only tightened as he glared down the woman in front of him with all the ferocity of a cornered beast.

"...Heh. Well that confirms some things." Meisai declared as she stood up from her seat. "Did you know? The blades in that Sacred Gear of yours are commonly known as the Twelve Possesed. Blade's so well made, that wielding them is akin to injecting poison into yourself. A poison that makes you want to kill."

With absolutely no fear the black haired beauty gently took one of her fingers and pressed it against the tip of the blade pointed at her. A small droplet of blood formed, dripping on to the temple floor with an audible drop. "It's already begun coursing through your veins from the moment you first wielded that piece of the Legion. But the fact of the matter is, you're young. Too young. Filled with hate and anger to boot. Even I, someone who uses the poison of the blades to heal the broken hearted, would never prescribe such a treatment for you. The full dosage from just one of the deviant blades would consume you whole, let alone all twelve. My advice to you is to cripple yourself now so that you can never wield them again, or the path in front of you will only lead to misery."

"...So what if the poison makes me want to kill?" The boy growled as his grip on the blade only tightened. "That's fine by me, because killing is already what I want to do!"

"You misunderstand. What you want is vengeance." Meisai took a step closer. All of the muscles in the boys body stiffened as he felt her entering his absolute territory. They were close, too close for either of them to feel comfortable, yet the expression on her face was frozen, never once changing. "The only thing the Shikizaki Blades will give you is madness."

The boy didn't elect that with a response, merely continuing to stare down the oppressive woman. The two, child and adult, found themselves at a deadlock. Their gaze becoming a deadline as one attempted to murder the other with their hot glare while the other respicorated with an inversely porportional cold gaze. How long this continued for, who could say, but the silence was broken by the woman giving a sigh. "If you're going to keep this up then there's one thing you should know about me."

"And that is?" The boy spat out, never once wavering. Don't be fooled though, what he held in his heart was neither confidence or determination. It was merely-

"Holding a weapon in front of me is the worst mistake you could make." Meisai declared, bursting into action as she thrusted her first forward. Her body became a blur of expertise that transcended the amateurish realm that the boy resided in. Before he could even comprehend what was going on, there was already a snap, crackle, pop before his body exploded with agony as the bones in his arms broke. The blonde hit the floor screaming in a phantom pain, while Meisai watched from above, her wintry form never moving. "You got that?"

Yes, when the boy held his ground it was due to neither confidence nor determination, but merely the arrogance of a beginner. It was now he realized that regardless of his burning anger, Meisai Tsuruga could coldly snuff out the candle of his life at any moment. The boy was faced with an insurmountable wall, and when confronted with obstacles, humans had two main responses. The first was to give up and despair, but there was no way that could happen here. No our young protagonist chose the second option, rising to his feet despite the pain and shouting at the woman above. "You were a previous user right?! If that's the case, then teach me how to use Sword Birth!"

The black haired beauty merely closed her eyes and sighed. "I can't and I won't."

One of the kuromiko calmly handed her a new cup of alcohol, which Meisai gladly took as she began to dump down the contents even while she continued to talk. "I can't, because the Legion has forbidden me to do or teach you anything regarding it, so figure that out yourself. I won't, because unlike what you seem to think, I'm not a swordswoman. What I practice is the Sentoryuu, a form of kenpo. It's nothing like the swordless swordsmanship of the Kyotouryuu. To us, swords are expendable, and our enemies carry our weapons for us. It's a useless school that died when I, the twelfth master of the Sentoryuu, lost my life, understand? I have no intention of letting it walk the face of the earth again, so if you want to learn how to use the Legion then figure that out for yourself."

"And how am I supposed to do that?!" The boy cried. "How can I do that when apparently I can only summon parts of it!"

"That stems from your fundamental misunderstanding of what the Legion is. How can you wield a blade when you don't even know it's name?" The woman paused before shaking her head in mumbling to herself. "Apparently I can give you one hint so pay attention because I'm going to only say this once. There is only one Legion. Regardless of how many parts there are, only one is truly alive. The blades you summon are empty, lifeless, null. You could summon one, two, three, however many of them you like but though you grasp pieces of the Legion, until it deems you worthy it will never show itself before you."

The Miko paused before staring off into the distance, her gaze far away from the boy as she locked eyes with the past. "There's a saying out there, that a katana doesn't choose who to kill, but it will choose who wields it. Only as a memory, do I fully realize the truth of that statement. I feel sorry for that Schemer, all that hard work only for the island monkey to realize the truth… Well, with that, I think that our conversation has drawn to a close."

"Wait a minute!" The boy cried. "I don't understand anything about what you just said!"

"Eh, you will someday, and that's good enough for me. If you don't, well, tough luck." Meisai shrugged before pausing to realize something. Suddenly, there was a change in her frozen face as her gaze melted into a more heartfelt. The look in her eyes reminded the boy of how the nuns at the church used to look, and how one by one they lost their hearts to apathy. The miko took one last sip of her alcohol before picking up the boy and ruffling his blonde mop. "Oh right, one last thing. I'm not one to say such cheesy stuff like this, but I suppose I must for myself if nothing else. You need to be more grateful, kid. Saving the most hopeless of people is what makes the gods the gods, and in that regard it seems that they favor you. Not everyone who lost everything was given the chance that you have, so don't go throwing it away you hear?"

The temple around them began to fade away, vanishing like a piece of artwork reverting into an empty canvas. Through it all though, Meisai continued to talk. "Forgive me for being unable to save you from walking the path you'll take in the future. But if one day, the poison of the twelve possessed are able to mend your heart, you'll be saving me too, so do your best okay?"

The boy fell silent. He could feel himself returning to reality, but he couldn't leave just yet. There was still one thing he had to ask. "Hey… Just who are you?"

"I already told you, I'm Meisai Tsuruga, mistress of , Izumo's Triad Shrine." She simply stated. "Well, before that, as the twelfth master of the Sentoryuu…. If I recall correctly, my name was ****"

...Well, there's no point in remembering a forgotten name.

---

How was one supposed to pay tribute to the dead, when there was no place to pay tribute to them? It was a question the boy pondered as he stared into the bubbly water of the lake before him.

His teacher had decided that today was the day that he was to take a break from his training. Of course, it was not like the boy had any real hobbies that he could partake in during this free time, so Okita had directed him to this location. Supposedly, it was some sort of spiritual location people go to when they wanted to give their respects to the dead. The boy didn't really see it though, as there were no shrines or graves or anything to mark such a thing. It was just a lake that boiled on the surface, letting steam rise up and cover the surrounding area in a humid air.

...Which would be where the description of the lake would end if the culture buffs didn't have their way. Since they do, it must be noted that regardless of the boy's ignorance, the reason Okita had sent him here was due to its rich history. Nobody exactly knows when, it could've been in the Great War, the civil war, or any other time, but this spot was the resulting clash of two powerful armies. One whose leader blazed a fire so bright ash never seeketh ember and another a leader whose ice closed the door to summer lock and key. An astute reader can already guess the resulting immovable object meets unstoppable force. Like how the sun and moon rise and fall, the ice and fire wrestle for control, creating a lake which froze at night and boiled in the day. Even now, he could spot traces of the ice beginning to freeze over the hot water's surface. This landscape was one of many that symbolized the tragedy of war, and more than one devil had visited in order to pay their respects for the souls lost in conflict. All this and more was explained on a sign the young boy had missed because of the immense steam.

Incidentally at the bottom of the lake there existed the possibility that some of those devils were alive and once the magic powering both spells finally ran its course they'd rise up and seek revenge upon the world, but since this isn't a b-rated horror flick, the boy wouldn't have to worry about this today. It was probably what contributed to the eerie feeling that made the boy's skin stand on edge. Despite the fact that he was literally in Hell, it was this lake in particular with it's warm bodied, cold bodied oddity that made him feel like he was standing between life and death.

A second question came to the boy, one much more pressing then the first. How does one pay tribute to the dead? Going by everything he learned in the past-

"Dear God- Ow." He hissed out, gripping a hold of his head. As someone who was raised in the church, his first automatic response was to pray to god. A devil, praying to god in the middle of hell. The headache that assaulted the boy's brain might as well be the same one that God felt at the sheer gall of such an action. With the light refusing to answer his prayers, the boy could only drudge up the painful memories out of the dark. The warm summer days he spent playing with **** and the cold winter night when **** was…

...This was a mistake. Far from a respectful tribute to the dead, this was becoming nothing more than a brooding session. He shouldn't, he shouldn't have come here alone. The only thing that he felt was the murky, muddy, murderous emotions that threatened to burst from his skin. With no regard for time and place, the boy grit his teeth before letting out a visceral roar tore through his throat. It was the only message he could give, not conveyed through logical words but emphatic emotions. For a few seconds he heaved great breaths, listening to the echoes of his shout on the wind.

It didn't make him feel better. Obviously, as if one shout could make up for a whole character arc. In fact it only made him feel worse if he was being honest. Yet, he didn't have any time to stew in his emotions as the hair on his skin suddenly stood up. Now, if one were to guess what the boy's talent was, they'd obviously first mention his actual super power, Sword Birth. But, the sacred gear given by god was not the god-given talent the boy was actually born with. No, if anything could be described as his talent, it would be the danger sense that he was born with.

An instinctive intuitive intuition. The boy had learned throughout his life that it was the children who didn't listen to their senses that died the cold lonely deaths when the world decided to betray them. That's why in an instant, his body moved. As a devil, more specifically, as a Knight, his body was fast and light. With no conscious thought weighing him down, for if there had been then he surely would've died, the boy dodged the boy's feet shifted to dodge in the way that had been drilled into his body.

A sharp slice through the wind grazed his skin. What met his eyes was a long, white staff with a sharp and noticeably pointy hook at the very end of it. A hook that swirled through air as the one who wielded the staff twirled it around his body like a baton before letting out a whistle. "Damn, nice moves kid."

He was dressed in a garishly green and brown outfit, with a fashion sense that looked like he had visited a thrift store from every era and picked the cheapest option he saw save for the rings on his hand. And yet, in it's own way, it was a look that could be said to uniquely represent him, all bound together by the weighty rattle of chains that wrapped around his body. It was not, however, his outfit that caught the boy's attention, but rather the look in his eyes. He was not so far gone in his murderous rage, or rather, maybe it's because he was, that he could feel the unmistakable sensation of killing intent that poured from the man like a waterfall.

The boy didn't respond, pulling himself together into a stance before sword birth activated, the plain blade responding to his call. His assailant let out a throaty chuckle before moving into his own combat form. "Ha! You have a Sacred Gear?! And I was just going to murder you for the fun of it!"

"...And just who are you?" The boy let out through gritted teeth.

In contrast, the man let out a blase shrug of his shoulders. "Right, right, introductions are important. Well, I'm no one special, but they call me Platnyum Eden. I work the regular 9 to 5 job of being a Sacred Gear Hunter. Not the most glamorous of jobs I will admit but ya know, fools will respect anyone for anything. That's just how it is!"

"Sacred Gear…" The boy sucked in a rush of steamy air as realization struck him. "You're a stray devil!"

"Bingo was his nameo!" Platnyum took a hand off his staff to give the boy a finger gun. "Of course there's a lot of shady devils out there that engage in the trade, but I'm the only official one there is! My last job went a bit sour and the authorities were on my tail so I booked

it out here into the middle of nowhere and what do you know, there's a kid with a sacred gear ripe for the taking! I'm not sure what it is but sword gears always make a killing on the market, in both senses of the word. So just sit right there so I can fish out the prize and get the hell out of this dump of a forest."

The fingers on the boy's sword tightened around the hilt. "Why are you even telling me this if you're just going to kill me anyways?"

"Oh, that?" The stray devil let out a casual laugh. "It's to distract you from the binds at your feet."

And just on cue, a great rumble shook through the air. The boy let out a shout as dirt erupted from the ground and thorny vines manifested themselves, wrapping around his legs and sinking into his skin. A cough escaped his lips before the boy let out a murderous glare at the Sacred Gear Hunter. "Cheap bastard!"

"Hey now, sin is just how us stray devils live." Platnyum modified his stance. "Now let's try this again. Souldance!"

Green fire blazed in the stray devil's eyes as his hook carved through the air. It was a relatively simple movement, but as someone who had begun to take the path of martial arts training with a sword demon himself, the boy could see a mastery in Platnyum's pole dance. However, this was not something to appreciate. In a bright light, a second sword appeared in the boy's free hand before in a blur they moved to catch the hook in an x locked cross with his blades. The blonde's heart beat in his chest, as the point of the hook was moments away from gutting him.

"Oh la la. The stock in your sacred gear is going up and up!" Platnyum smiled hungrily before he twirled his body around and the boy had barely any time before the smashing sound of metal on metal rang through his ears as the stray devil's hook attacked from the opposite side of his body. What ensued afterwards was a fast paced clash of weapons as the boy frantically moved to block the sacred gear hunters strikes. Shing shang shung. The sounds of battle matched in time with the popping of steam bubbles on the lake's surface. "But just so you know, in a battle of Sacred Gears, it's going to take more than a blade to fight back!"

It was then that the stray devil moved, and the hook didn't. Or rather, to be more accurate, it's body didn't. Instead what replaced the devil's attacks was the hook's soul. A translucent, ephemeral weapon that held as much weight as the air itself. What started as a barely held blockade quickly became a frantic dodge against the invisible weapon, the boy squirming his body even as the vines dug harder into his feet. It could probably only be chocked up to luck that the boy managed to hold out, even as his attempts began to fail him and the hook rend his body. And yet, no wounds formed even as he felt the phantom pain. The blades in the boy's hands shivered, and he knew that the moment Platnyum pulled off a solid cleave, the boy would be done for.

Moving fast, the blonde ducked underneath another horizontal swing before using his two blade's to slice into the vines at his feet. He let out a hiss of pain as he cut the plants apart from his body and watched as the plants ensnaring his legs withered into dust before forcing his sliced muscles to jump to the side. Blood gushed down his legs, but the boy held firm. He was, after all, a reincarnated devil who had stood at the edge of death itself. Pain of this level wasn't enough to make him waver.

"You know, most people wouldn't be able to handle the pain of having their soul be cut into." Platnyum mused as the spirit of the hook returned to its body. "Let me guess, you have some kind of traumatic backstory? Wait, don't answer that. We're reincarnated devils, that's practically a given."

"...You're awfully talkative for someone who's trying to kill me." The last time this had happened the only words spoken were calls for help and screams that were soon smothered out. Needless to say, Platnyum's faux affably friendly attitude was beginning to grind the boy's gears as his teeth hammered down.

"It's just market research." The Sacred Gear Hunter waved. "You need to be a certain kind of people-talking, trust-breaking, anti-social bastard like me in order to survive long in this line of work. Sacred Gears are finicky, wonky, literal desu ex machinas and having an encyclopedic knowledge of them all won't do you shit when the piece of shit will mutate and deviate all according to the user's desires. Take my lovely work partner for instance."

Platnyum gave another flourish of the hook in his hands as he traced his finger down it's length. "Good old Fish Styx, a sacred gear with the ability to call upon the souls of the dead, supposedly. The guy who owned it apparently could already see the dead and he despised them, which led to the Sacred Gear mutating into a subspecies that hooked the souls of the living instead."

The boy stared at the stray devil as he cautiously opened his mouth. "...As far as I know, Sacred Gears can't be transferred."

"Can't be transferred nonlethally. And practically, come to think of it." Platnyum shot back with a shrug. "Usually it's a routine of kidnapping and some overly complicated ritual, but Fish Styx makes it quick and easy so I've got more experience stealing and dealing sacred gears then any other devil out there. And if there's one thing that I've learned throughout the years… It's that we're used by our sacred gears just as much as we use them."

The garishly dressed man let out a victor's chuckle. "Go ahead, talk or don't, you're already dyed in its colors. I'll figure out your sacred gear soon enough."

A cold, vapory breeze blew through the air as the man and boy stared down at each other. The knuckles gripping the hilt of the orange swords whitened. Neither of them made a move as they scanned each other, though for the stray devil, the wait was more of a taunting invitation. The blonde boy grimaced as an anchor sat in his gut. This wasn't like a training spar with his instructor. No, this was a duel to the death, if one could even call it a duel.

Once again the boy was faced with an opponent that was more skilled than him. His back was up against the wall, but his knees weren't weak and his palms weren't sweaty. He had survived a night of death before, this was no different. He knew what it took to get out of this alive.

Instinct.

Planning- No, Scheming.

And finally Pure. Dumb.

"Luck." The boy whispered to himself.

He took a step forward.

Don.

The match resumed.

A sharp, beastly cry escaped from the boy's lips as he ran throughout the battlefield. The grin on Platnyum's face grew wider as the blonde drew closer, green fire illuminating his face as he twisted the pole so that the hook faced the boy. To the young devil's eyes, a zone of absolute territory engulfed the stray. The moment he took a single step inside of that sphere, Fish Styx would come to tear out his soul. Every step he took was another inch closer and finally when he reached the edge of life and death- His feet made a sharp turn, kicking up dirt beneath him as he suddenly threw his body to flow around the territory.

"Running away?! Seriously!?" Platnyum exclaimed as he began to stomp down on the ground, thorny black vines bursting out to shoot towards the kid as the stray began to chase after him. "And here I thought that you were going to be the honorable knight type!"

"My hands have only just learned how to use the sword…" The boy grit his teeth, pain coursing through his legs as he dodged to the side and rolled his body into a slashing flow, slicing through the vines chasing after him. "But my feet have never let me down!"

The Sacred Gear Hunter let out an uproarious laughter, "Are you sure you aren't a stray devil kid?!"

Of course he wasn't. The trust he put into his steps weren't just based on instinct. His movements had been forged into him, sharpening his survival instinct. This was not the footwork of a desperate young boy, but rather the steps of the legendary Tennen Rishin-Ryu! Fashion and fighting were both founded on the lower body, you know? It wasn't long until the blonde had made it to the edge of the boiling lake, trailing along its side as steam mixed in with the sweat dripping down his face. Vines still occasionally shot towards him but the moment he glanced back, he spotted that the largest mass seemed to be underneath the green wearing stray devil as he crouched down and adjusted himself.

"Vinyl Pop!" The stray exclaimed as the vines flung him into the air, soaring through the sky arcing to drop in on the blonde. A million and one thoughts raced through the boy's head as the stray devil quickly descended. There was no time to dodge, he was going to land too close. But that was okay, because his scheme led him here. Getting flustered would mean death, he had to accept things not going to plan. A way to strike, the conclusion that he reached was childish. Enough that no adult would ever think of it. But then again, he was a boy.

When his body entered into Platnyums range and the stray moved to hook him in, the boy moved to strike. Not the sacred gear hunter, but rather the water of the lake in front of him. The orange metal of his swords treaded the surface before, with the full force of his shoulders, the boy splashed the water into the air.

The splish splash hit Platnyum dead on, the water scalding hot, as evidenced by the sharp hiss of pain that escaped the stray devil's throat. There was only a single moment, a single point where the pain and disorientation of the sudden splash lowered the stray devil's guard just enough, and the boy took it. With not a shout or a cry, instinct guided his body as he thrust the metal of his blades into the falling stray devil, squeezing him as the swords pierced his flesh with a sickening sound and the splattering of blood. In one final go, his hands let go of the blade's handles as his feet kicked the devil back with as much strength as his young body could muster, his eyes watching as the devil smashed into the ground below.

The boy took a few steps back, heavy breaths escaping his lips that quickly turned into an angry growl as he watched Platynum's body begin to twitch.

"Heh… Ha ha.. Ahahaha!" The stray laughed as he threw his head back, pushing himself up onto his feet even as his blood continued to paint the floor and mix into the water of the lake. Platnyum gave a glance to the swords inside of him and let out another mad laugh, gripping the hilts and taking it out of his body with a casual pull. With a quick sneer at the blades, the Sacred Gear Hunter opened his mouth revealing his teeth, namely, his canines that had been replaced by a dark, rotten bone. Saliva dripped down his mouth as he spoke, "Jaw Dropper."

And then, Platnyum bit into the blades, and the boy could only watch as the orange metal quickly turned to rusty brown before rotting away as if it was nothing more than a single flower, becoming a hunk of scrap on the ground that vanished in a burst of light. With a casual wave of his hand, the stray devil brushed a hand through his hair. "Wow, gotta say, I didn't think I'd have to use my original sacred gear against a kid like you, but I guess what they say about nothing is ever simple underneath the surface in this world is true."

"That… was your original Sacred Gear?" The boy guesseed, summoning two more blades into his hands once more. His body was beginning to ache, but adrenaline coursed through his veins.

"Hah! No, Jaw Dropper is just a Sacred Gear I picked up that has the ability to destroy any metal it comes into contact with. I've told you about Fish Styx already and you've seen plenty of Vinyl Cord but the actual sacred gear I was born with, well…" With a flourish, the man took off his shirt, revealing the wounds that the boy had inflicted on him. Blood poured out of the wounds, but a closer look revealed a second color. A faint, green glow that clung to the inside of Platnyum's body. It was then that the boy noticed that the sword wounds were rapidly closing, the green glow stitching him up until soon they were nothing more than faint scratches on his chest.

The stray devil cracked his knuckles, and gestured too his hands, revealing two silver rings on his hand. "They call it Twilight Healing."

The boy didn't even need to hear the name to realize what the sacred gear did. "So you can just heal any damage that I do to you?"

"Close but not quite." Platnyum wagged his finger. "I don't need to heal any damage that you do because my body is always, at all times, already using Twilight Healing to heal itself. Of course, that's about the only thing it can do since it mutated."

There was a reason that he had taken on the name Platnyum, with his entire invoking the image of the infamous platypus. He was the mix-and-match sacred gear hunter, breaking the rules and using multiple sacred gears as his own. And it was Twilight Healing that made such a thing possible. But how? Explaining in detail what Twilight Healing does is just a waste of words. The answer lied in what the stray devil had mentioned earlier, that Sacred Gears will mutate and change depending on their users. It was quite clear now that Platnyum himself was a prime example of that. His past was irrelevant, for a stray devil like him chooses their own path, but what needed to be known was simply that he was born with the gift of Twilight Healing by god, and his own twisted personality had changed it.

He called it a mutation, it was more of an exchange. At one point, the sacred gear had become poisoned by it's wielder's selfishness. The subspecies it grew into lost the ability to heal other people, but limb loss, sickness, exhaustion, it had become a sacred gear that could heal him of anything short of death itself. A deviant sacred gear. He had become the only one the holy mother would smile at. Even as he committed taboo and filed his body up with Sacred Gears that by all rights should have torn his soul apart, Twilight Healing kept him going.

One foot in light, the other in dark. In health and decrepitness. Life and death. The man who stood in this Twilight Zone was the one who called himself the mix-and-match Sacred Gear Hunter, Platnyum Eden.

The stray devil grinned as realization started to spark in the boy's mind. "You're a smart kid so you get where this is going right?"

The boy nodded grimly. The truth was simple albeit hard to comprehend. Platnyum's existence was a direct denial to any effort that he could make. No matter how many swords he creates, they'll be broken. No matter how lethal the attack, the devil would heal from it.

"So," Platnyum cocked his head and idly twirled the Sacred Gear in his hands. "You're going to die."

He was. That was the most likely outcome. Even still though, he stared the Sacred Gear Hunter in the eye. "...But I want to live."

"Don't we all. That's why we became devils in the first place after all." Platnyum admitted with a wry smile. "But no fancy swordplay will do you any good here. You've reached the bad end kid, better luck next time."

"Even if I am at the end, as long as I'm still alive, I want to live. No, I have to live." It was really that simple. And when faced with an insurmountable enemy, there was only one strategy that had saved him in the past. "A swordplay won't do anything… but I don't know any swordplay yet!"

And in a move that would make a certain sword-swinging miko both disgusted and proud, the blonde boy promptly slung the orange blades in his hands at Platnyum barely having enough time to watch as they sunk into the stray devil before he turned around and began to book it out of there.

"Pfft, that throw was terrible!" The stray devil shouted as the young boy dashed into the forest. And thus began their game of cat and mouse, the blonde dashing forwards with no direction in mind other than 'away'. Platnyum was right of course, the blonde was no master of the Sentoryuu, he didn't even know what the school entailed. The only thing that made his throws deadly was the fact that it was a sword he was throwing. Still, it was about the only thing he could do to slow down the Stray Devil, so every time he heard that rattling of chains and blur of green, the young devil would fling another of his blades.

He couldn't die here though, there was something that he had to do. And so the boy fought back, kicking and screaming for every inch of life as he looked for a way to escape his predicament. It was after he had gotten a few seconds away from the stray devil after one of his sword throws smashed into the garish dressed man's head that he tripped over a tree root. Pain coursed through his legs but was quickly suppressed by the adrenaline coursing through the blonde as something clattered against the forest floor. Something that had fallen out of his pocket.

The flip phone that the strange girl called Rias had given him to contact her. His hands hurriedly snatched the device off the ground and his fingers pressed the call button when a chill crept down his spine. A feeling of chains, of dread. The sound of the phone ringing buzzed through the forest as he burst into a run once more, pressing the phone against his ears. But, he was listening to the thoughts in his head more then the one in his ear.

The phone connected. "Moshi moshi, Rias here! What's up Kiba-kun?"

He ignored the nonsense in favor of his own nonsense. If he actually told her what was going on, would she really come?

"Um, Kiba? Are you there?"

She claimed that they were family, but that wasn't right. Anyone who claimed to be family had to be lying. They were strangers at best. She had saved his life before, and he still didn't know why.

"Kiba are you running?!"

The boy's thumb moved to hang up on the call, when the memory of a certain dream, the words of Meisai Tsuruga, came to mind. Saving the most hopeless of people is what makes the gods the gods. Not everyone who lost everything was given the chance that you have, so don't go throwing it away you hear?

"Hey, Kib-"

"Why did you save me?" The blonde boy bluntly asked. "Can I trust you?"

"Uh, what?" He could feel the startled look the girl was giving from the other end of the phone. "This is a bit sudden-"

"Answer. The. Question." The young devil spoke through gritted teeth before a slight sigh left his mouth. "Please."

"...There's no real reason for it." She spoke softly. "I saw you dying, and so I saved you."

He mulled over the words for a brief moment. "So it was just a whim?"

"Nothing like that." Rias denied. "I understand that becoming a devil after living in the church for so long must be quite a shock but I want you to know that, well, even if I am a devil, I still want to be a good person."

"A good person…" The boy repeated, to himself more than to his partner. Trusting those who seemed like good people made him lose everything but there was a slight distinction between seeming like and wanting to be. And the crimson devil had already decided to go as far as saving and welcoming into her family a hopeless person like him. So with that being said… "A miko told me that you're more like a goddess."

"Wha-Kiba!"

The boy didn't have any time to respond as he was forced to dodge the thick vines that tore through the trees. Platnyum's voice growing louder as the stray devil approached. "Whoever you're on the phone with, calling for help isn't going to do you any good!"

"I'll be putting my trust in you for now." The boy declared. "But since he's already here I'm going to have to hang up."

"What?! Who's there?! Kiba what's going on-" And then her voice was silenced as he pressed the handy dandy hang up button and slipped the phone into his pocket, turning around to face the stray devil that had been hunting him down.

"You know, it's sad to see that. It really is." Platnyum admitted, as he approached the blonde. "But I think I've figured out what your Sacred Gear is, threw me off for a minute since you kept using the same blade but it's Sword Birth isn't it?"

The boy remained silent as he glanced at his empty hands. The Sacred Gear Hunter kept on talking, not even bothering to hide how unafraid he was by the young devil. "A sacred gear that creates swords sounds identifiable enough but you'd be surprised how far you can bend that description. At first I thought it might have been Blade Blacksmith but those wielders tend to be ah, what's the word? Zealots, faithful, ah yes, loyal."

Platnyum stared the blonde in the eye, and he smiled. "But you, I could only hear what you were saying but the look in your eyes tells it well enough. You don't have a shred of loyalty to your master, and I don't blame you. It also couldn't be Blade Blacksmith because those swords of yours only inflict stabbing wounds instead of holy wounds but that's besides the point because listen up!"

The stray devil lunged forward, hook sweeping through the air as the boy dodged to the side, tossing his sword at the gaudy man. With a quick spit, the swords withered into junk, before fully disappearing as the two began to circle one another. The sacred gear hunter grinned as he spoke up again. "Here's some advice to ya, from one reincarnated devil to another. We lost our humanity when we sold our souls to those devils, and that includes our human rights. You're not a Knight, you're nothing but a game piece to those 'high ranking devils'."

With a flick of his hands, Platnyum gestured to the rings on his finger. "Sword Birth is a valuable sacred gear yes, but you're like me, aren't you? Your sacred gear has mutated into near uselessness. Sure that master of yours will keep you for a little while, but you know what happens to pieces that lose their value? They get traded away, tossed aside and used like a commodity. Oh, they'll encourage you to become a high class devil yourself, but do you know how many of us actually reach that point? Very, very, little."

The boy let out a breath. "Are you going somewhere with this?"

"Right I'll get to the point- you need to go stray." The devil declared. "That's the only way Reincarnated devils like us keep our freedom. The only thing waiting for you in that peerage system is nothing but pain in misery. Get out while you can. Hell, if you choose, you can come with me and I'll even let you live!"

"And how can I trust you, the one who was literally trying to kill me not five seconds ago." The young devil glared.

Platnyum's smile turned bittersweet. "You can't, after all, sin is just how us stray devils live. But at least we're honest about our dishonesty, and you can always trust a dishonest man to be dishonest!"

There was silence for a moment as the boy stared at the man who was waiting for a laugh that never came. Platnyum's eyebrows furrowed as he gave the blonde a strange look that cast blame on him for his punchline's failure. "What? Nothing? Come on! Kid like you hasn't seen that movie?"

"I've never watched a movie." The boy admitted.

"Okay change of plans. Come with me and I'll show you all you've been missing in the modern world." The Sacred Gear hunter stated, more serious then he had been throughout the entire fight.

"I put my faith in the church and they betrayed me." The young devil spoke slowly as the memories came to him. "You're right, I'm not loyal, I don't trust my master, everytime I think about it doubt and fear get in the way. That night pushed me so far past the breaking point that it broke even that, but… I…"

Platnyum watched him carefully. "They're born devils. Nothing more than schemers. Any kindness that they've shown you could turn to disdain in the end."

"I know that!" The boy shouted, his voice echoing through the forest. "But even so, I want to place my trust in something! In someone! That's why I'll believe in her, who saved a hopeless person like me when the gods didn't! I'll pledge allegiance not to those who seem like good people, but to those who want to be one!"

"That's your choice huh?" The stray devil snorted as he pulled up Fish Styx. "Well it's been nice meeting you, but I don't have time to waste with a game piece. No one's coming to save you! Our fight ends here!"

The two fighters, both men and boy, charged at each other, their cries shaking the trees as the young devil reached into his sacred gear and called. It appeared in a brilliant burst of light as he already had moved to swing the blade, colliding into the fishing pole with a resounding ring. The two sacred gears pushed against each other but as it finished forming, it was clear that something was different.

Not physically, at the very least. The blade that the boy had summoned was exactly the same as all the rest. Yes, it seemed to be just another of those normal swords. But both of the combatants could feel it with the sixth sense that their new lives as devils had granted them. The shape of the blade was the same, but unlike the others this one had a soul. A blazing, demonic life force that burned brightly, sending shivers down both of their spines. And unlike the rest of the blades that Sword Birth created, this sword felt right in the boy's hands.

A sword doesn't choose who to kill, but it does choose its owner. And the moment that the young swordsman had met the requirement, to be able to place a part of one's self in someone else, the sword had chosen him.

"What is that sword?" Platnyum growled, but the faux friendly facade had been thrown away, his eyes replaced with pools of madness. The young boy could see it, how the stray devil's gaze was transfixed on the blade. Reasoning rapidly uncurling in his brain as he reached out to grasp for the blade. "Give it to me… Give it to me!"

The rusting drool from Jaw Dropper slobbered all over the place as he lunged forward, the boy's feet quickly moving in trained fashion as he sidestepped the crazed devil's lunge, lightning sparking through his mind as he recalled the dream he had. "I get it now… I get it!"

Meisai was right about him having a fundamental misunderstanding about what exactly the blade was. There was only one Legion, it's template, which had just now shown itself to him. The rest were just copies, pieces of the whole thing that he had been mistaking for individual blades.

Real. Empty. lifeless. null.

One. Zero. Zero. Zero.

He could no longer tell if it was his own thoughts or the sword in his hands that was guiding his thoughts. It didn't matter. He could see exactly how to use the Legion, with an ease that only it's new residence in Sword Birth allowed it to do.

"It doesn't matter what your sword can do, you still can't hurt me!" Platnyum screamed, hair covering his eyes as his body twitched. "I'll kill you! I'll kill you and take that sword! Then it'll be mine and.. Haha.. HAHAHAHA!"

Such a stark contrast from the man a few minutes ago didn't surprise the boy. He could feel it as well, at an intensity far stronger than even what the stray devil was using. That strange miko had been right. The power that he had dismissed as a normal sword, had now become the poison that coursed through his veins as he began to properly wield the blade for the first time.

"Then let me show you, just what exactly it is that you seek to wield!" The boy gripped the Legion in his hand as he activated Sword Birth to a degree he never had before. Demonic Sword Creation acted on it's name, blades forming in glowing lights all throughout the forest as the blades formed themselves. Rias had told him that every swordsman should have an ultimate move and while this wasn't his, it was the ultimate technique of the Legion. The name formed itself on his lips, as the swords burst into existence. "Terrain Effect - Thousand Sword Odyssey!"

Instantly, the forest was filled with Legions. In the ground, Legion. On the trees, Legion. Up and down, Legions. Left and right, Legions. Legion. Legion. Legion. Legion. Legion. Legion. Legion. Legion. So many Legions that one could go on for three whole pages saying nothing but the word Legion, but even a copycat has his pride so this author will spare readers from going through that.

"Behold!" He didn't know how, but the name of the blade finally revealed itself to the boy. And it was so obvious. "The Thousand Blade, Sento the Legion!"

It was a bit of a dorky way to introduce the blade, but the sword itself was anything but laughable. Sento the Legion, a sword built with the concept of overwhelming numbers. A thousand swords in one blade. It's history was long, finding it's way from Brigand to Miko before meeting it's end in the castle of the Owari Bakufu. And yet, in the depths of hell, it had resurfaced from the waves of history. And it's life force burned proudly from the blade in the young boys hands, as if to announce the arrival of the twelve possessed!

Platnyum pulled a hand to face as he tried in vain to recompose himself, but his jaw remained loose as he took heavy breaths and his drool dripped to the ground. Thousand Sword Odyssey was the cumulation of the Legion's might, and both devils could feel it. It's power, it's pride, it's poison. To a human, the possessed are insidious, sneaking its way into it's bodies. A devil's instincts however were designed to seek power, and in that regard the Legion was a beacon of temptation.

The time for idle chatter had long since passed. Even if it was poison, they would indulge in it. A devil's gluttony and greed knew no bounds. Now was the time for murder and madness, violence and blood.

"I will take that blade from you." Platnyum managed to get out, though he was no longer looking at the boy. "And I will wield it for myself!"

"There's something else you're wrong about." The boy stated as his body shifted into a fighting stance once again. However, he felt loose, ethereal, like a chain had been taken off of him. "Even if you heal from every wound I make, that doesn't mean I didn't hurt you. For every wound you heal, I'll just carve another one into you."

"I'm already standing in the twilight between life and death." The stray devil replied as he lunged forward at the young devil. "So just try and push me off the edge!"

The match resumed. No, it would be more accurate to say that this is where the duel between the two devils really started. Seconds flew by, but every one of them felt like an eternity. The fight between the two of them turned into a dance of intwereving and flesh piercing blows. It was a contest of endurance, though the word had different meaning for the two foes.

For every strike that carved into Platnyum's body, it healed almost instantly. For every sword that the boy pulled out, Jaw Dropper would wither the blades. He was an endless fighter, reckless in his assault as he abandoned even his own limbs as he tried to hook the boy with the pole in his hands. Vines grew and died as his opponent sliced into everyone of them. The swings of Fish Styx however, grew more and more wilder and desperate as the fight went on, the mastery of his former beloved Sacred Gear began to decline as his mind was consumed by the Legion in front of him.

The boy, no, the new wielder of the Legion however had no such cheat code. He was a glass canon, one good hit and he'd be dead. And of course, he was no sword-swinging Sentoryuu wielder, though there were a lot of sword tosses in his moves. His swordplay was amateurish at best, the only thing he had was the survival instincts he had honed and the speed that reincarnating as a Knight had given him. It was this speed however that let him soar through the battlefield and fly to the nearest sword, his hands light on the grips of the Legion as each sword was discarded after a swing or toss. The two devils entered a deadlock, a twilight.

Every fatal injury healed, had another one swiftly take it's palace.

Every sword that was destroyed, another blade was soon in the boy's hands.

Physically, Platnyum held the advantage, but the Legion dominated it's might in the mental battle. Ignoring for the moment the poison that coursed through the devils veins, when one hears that there was a large number of swords that made up the Legion, it was hard for the brain to understand it. Thousand Sword Odyssey however, forced the realization of the entire might of the Legion. Destroying the opponent's weapon would usually trigger the end of the fight, but the battle continued again and again and again until no longer was the stray devil fighting a battle but instead he was fighting a war. The weight of the thousand blades weighed down on the victims of the Thousand Sword Odyssey. A fact that Meisai Tsuruga had used in her own battles, about the only inheritance she could've chosen to pass down to the one loosely called her successor.

The boy was no longer a boy, he was a One Man Army.

Unfortunately, he was still human.

How long is this going to go on for? He thought as his blade sliced through the arm of the stray devil for the twentieth time. He quickly chucked the sword at his opponents head before stepping back and pulling another copy of the Legion out of a nearby tree, renewing his assault.

It was hard to think of Platnyum as anything resembling a human anymore. His body was a mess of wounds, blood constantly sputtering out of him as Twilight Healing began to give his flesh a sickening green glow. Somewhere in the middle of the fight the boy sliced into his eyes in an attempt to blind him, they quickly grew back but he wasn't sure if the thing could see anymore. His pupils swirling abyss, his clothes tattered, his mind clearly consumed with only Legion. Legion. Legion.

In the brief moments between assaults, the boy realized exactly what Platnyum had become. Or rather, who he had always been. How could this thing be called human? There was only one word to describe an abomination like him - Demon.

"Legion legion legion legion-" His maddening murderous mantra continued, neck snapping as his head turned to look for the only blade of the sword that had life.

The boy's lungs burned, his nose assaulted by the rusty smell of blood and gore. He already knew it's taste, and the young devil hated it. Quickly taking a breath for air, the blonde devil dashed for the next of the Legions blades only for the moment his hand touched the handle, his legs decided to give in and turn to jelly. He fell to the forest floor with a quick thud, spitting dirt out of his mouth as he used the rest of his strength to grip around the handle and use it to push himself up.

The adrenaline rush was over. He was out of gas. Even for a devil, one could not expect a young kid to have endless stamina. Every muscle in his body was screaming at him to stop but he knew the moment he fell back down to rest would be the moment his soul would be torn to smithereens. In the past, the weakness of the Legion had been that the sword would be useless once the blades began to break. Sword Birth counteracted this by just summoning the blade again, but in doing so it revealed a weakness in the boy's own style.

An army was made of people, and people can not fight forever. The Sentoryuu which previously wielded it were not swordsmen. Their enemy carried their weapons for them, and set up their own death for them. It was in this manner that Meisai Tsuruga fought with trickery and psychology, hiding in the trees as she whittled her enemies down with the Legion's might. The boy however, forget not knowing the Sentoryuu, was much too honest for that. As long as I can grab onto another sword, He thought. Then I can keep fighting.

And so, he refused to let go of the handle of the sword. To stop fighting.

...What a poisonous train of thought.

"Legion legion legion." The devil who had gone astray, once called Platnyum, mumbled to himself as he turned to face the blade in the boy's hands. One step. The devil stumbled forward before pausing, shifting his feet as power gathered in his legs. Then, with what was more a pop then a boom, the entire of the demon's lower body exploded in a gory mess. His upper body shot towards the boy, one hand on his sacred gear the other crawling as a beastial roar escaped his lips. The young devil couldn't move, his body refused him. He could only watch as the stray devil flew closer. He tried to gather strength in his arms, to unsheath the copy of the Legion in his hands. Just one strike. One strike and he would die, one strike and he would survive.

It was close but… As he could feel the chilling heat of the elusive green flames around Fish Styx, it's hook moments away from skewering into his soul. Just before a glint of metal could be seen leaving the katana-

"The match is over."

-The need for it was lost.

Carving into the battlefield, with a single swing from his katana, was the Sword Demon himself. Okita Souji, his blue robes dyed a sudden red as Platnyum's body split in half vertically. What remained of the stray devil crashed into the ground as the swordsman turned to face his student. Despite the scene of carnage, there was not a single trace of violence on his face. Instead was the same serene calm that the Shinsengumi veteran always seemed to possesed, although it was tinged with a trace of sorrow.

"My apologies. I had intended to give you a moment of respect it seemed I had let my guard down. When Rias-sama called me begging for help, I came as fast as I could." The swordsman bowed to the young student before turning to face the stray devil on the ground. His eyes squinted. "Still, those chains… To think you'd be assaulted by a devil from the infamous Eden so soon after you got out of the hospital. I can only hope that you will forgive him."

"Watch… Out…" The boy rasped out as he pointed towards the stray devil. "His… Sacred Gear… Twilight…"

"Twilight Healing?" The swordsman mused to himself. Indeed, the green glow from the sacred gear had already begun to fix his body, stitching him back together and already having restored his lower half. "I suppose that means he's the one called Platnyum. I heard he was classified as either an S or SS-Class stray devil but there must have been some kind of mistake, in this state he's nothing more than a stray that's lost their mind."

His blade glinted in the green glow as he moved in to prepare another strike. "At the very least, the rumors about his healing abilities seem to be true. Immortal enemies are always a hassle to fight but listen well young man. If nothing short of death will kill them, then simply give them death."

What followed could not be called a fight. It could not be called a slaughter. It was nothing more than a butcher carving meat. There wasn't as much of a twitch of Okita's facial expression as he sliced up the stray's body into tinier and tinier chunks. The thing once called Platnyum could not even scream, for it had no head. Eventually, the Knight of Lucifer seemed satisfied with himself, reaching down to pick something off the ground. Two fingers, with two metal silver rings rusted green.

"I wonder, who should I call upon to solve this conundrum, ah yes that will do." From the depths of the man's shadow, something escaped. It was not human, a monster through and through and through, though the young boy couldn't quite make out what it looked like. Yet, he couldn't take his eyes off of it. The bewitching mystery viciously snatched the fingers from the swordsman's hands and proceeded to swallow them. There was a pause before the creature and the devil shared a nod to each other before the monster vanished back into the swordsman's shadow.

"And for the finishing touches…" Okita pulled out a small piece of paper and an ink pen, quickly scribbling in an unknown symbol on it and tossing it on to the body. "The ritual should keep his sacred gear sealed long enough for his body to start to break down. That being said, it would serve you well to pick up some hobbies other than the sword. Musashi was a painter as well as a swordsman, you know?"

Of course, if anyone who recognized a former darling of history like himself learned of his proficiency in magic in addition to his sword skills, they would probably never step foot in the same country as the swordsman.

The boy remained silent throughout the whole thing. His master calmly walked over to him and patted him on the back. As his hand hit the young child's back, the sword keeping him up right vanished in a burst of light and he collapsed into the swordsman's arms. The exhaustion he had put off hit him all at once as his consciousness began to fade.

"Go on and rest up." Okita said as he picked the young devil up. "You're safe now."

For the first time, in a long while, he decided to trust those words.

---

In the end, the young boy's training arc in the woods had to be drawn to a close. After all, though Okita Souji had picked up some medical practices over the years, it was still better to have him checked over by an actual expert. Which is how the devil found himself once again back in the underworld's hospital just a month after he had finally left the place.

If there was one benefit of hell's hospital healthing homes, it was magic made it so that for someone who had miraculously taken a few injuries over the encounter with the stray devil, he only needed to stay the night before he would be allowed to leave. And their beds were soft as silk…

"Kiba you idiot!" A shrill shriek interrupted the calm of his particular room in the hospital as the door slammed open to reveal the girl that he now called his king. The one and only Rias Gremory. Despite the fact that she claimed to be a year older than him, there wasn't much a difference between a twelve and a thirteen year old so she was around the same height as him. Still, her crimson hair clashed strikingly with the white walls of the hospital as she proceeded to march on over to his bedside, crystal blue eyes glaring directly into his own. "How badly hurt are you?! Do you need a magic fruit to heal your wounds?! I can get the dragon balls if you need it!"

"I'm fine, I'm fine." The knight sighed as he waved away her concerns. "The reason I'm still in here is mostly just muscle exhaustion. The worst of the damage was to my legs and they already used magic to heal that up."

Frankly to him, it was more like a miracle that not even the sisters of the church could perform but in his time here he learned that devils didn't exactly like it when he started to use the M-word around them.

"Oh thank goodness." Rias let out a relieved sigh and began to relax her shoulders only for the tension to spike right back up as the spark of her anger reignited. "You got into a fight with an S-Class Stray Devil?! From Eden no less?!"

"Is that so bad?" The boy blinked. S-Class, SS-Class, these words held no meaning to him. Despite the devil's tongue making him worldwide, slang was just nonsense language if he didn't have the appropriate context. He could guess what Eden was, though since Platnyum used it as a last name it seemed to hold a different meaning for his master.

"Yes!" Rias shouted, before realizing the boy's confusion. "Um, S and SS-Class Stray Devils are some of the underworld's greatest criminals. Of those, the most deadly, dangerous, disastrous of the bunch gathered under the name of Eden. I… Don't really know much about them since despite their flashy nature, they've kept themselves well hidden. Everything I know about them is just part of my education as a pillar heir and all of it, well, it scares me- And you fought one?!"

Without any warning whatsoever, the young girl's fist went flying into the patient's chest as it crashed into the boy with a loudshout. "Cheerio!"

"Hey!" The boy cried, though to be honest the punch did have much hurt in it. "I am a patient here!"

"You're the one who said you're fine!" Rias shot back. "Besides, I should be giving you twenty, fifty, no a hundred spankings instead of just a measly punch! In fact I'll be doing just that when we get back to the mansion!"

Oh great, he had had enough of those back when he was living with the church. Time to divert the subject away… "What kind of shout is 'Cheerio' anyways?"

"Hmph!" The Gremory Heiress puffed up her chest with pride. "I'll have you know that it's a special battle cry used only by the bravest of warriors from the land of Japan!"

"Uh." Now the boy was barely even aware that Japan existed before he came into Rias's peerage but being from Europe, that didn't exactly sound right to his ears. The joke was on him though, because the red haired girl was one hundred percent spot on in her description but he wouldn't find that out until he visited the land of Japan for himself in another chapter. And so he was about to speak his mind before Rias interrupted him, grabbing his collar as tears welled up in her eyes.

"What do you think would've happened if I hadn't called Okita-san huh?!" She shouted, and the boy let out an exclamation as she began to shake him. "You would've died and I would even know how until it was already too late! I'm your Master, your family, you're supposed to tell me these things!"

"Alright. I get it." The boy tried to claw him off his collar, only to find that she was gripping with surprising strength. Still, there was one thing he could do, and so he looked his master in the eyes and bowed his head. "I'm sorry."

There was a tense silence between the two of them before Rias finally let go, slumping over to a nearby seat and heaving a sigh. "Just don't worry me like that again, please."

"I'll… try not to." The boy declared as they descended into an awkward silence. The air in the room felt stale as he struggled to find any words to say. Though once again, it was the great bulldozer that claimed it was a gremory heir that started the conversation once again.

"Hey um, by the way…" She awkwardly fidgeted in her seat, twirling her thumbs. "You seem a bit different? Like you're less on edge? Does it have something to do with that weird phone call of yours?"

"Ah, something like that." The poison of the Legion seeped in his veins. Meisai had declared that she wouldn't recommend such a treatment for him, and she was still most definitely right, but the poison could still be used as medicine for now. "Let's just say I had a bit of a revelation during that fight and I figured out some stuff. Like how to use my Sacred Gear correctly, for one."

"Woah seriously?! That's awesome!" Rias exclaimed, clapping her hands. "Did you get an ultimate technique?!"

"Somewhat?" The boy flicked his hands and in a burst of light a copy of the Legion formed itself. "I'm not entirely sure about the specifics but it turns out I was using the blade itself incorrectly because I didn't know what exactly it was. But in the middle of the fight the real thing showed itself to me and I was able to learn its name Sento the Legion."

"Sento Tsurugi…" Rias's eyes practically held stars in them at this point, even as she repeated a name that the boy was very sure was not what he said. "And?! And?! What does it do?!"

"Well on its own it's just a normal sword but by using a technique called Thousand Sword Odyssey-" And so the knight began to regale his master with everything he knew about the sword, leaving aside what it's previous wielder had told him about it's poison and how it affected the stray devil that attacked him.

Platnyum was still absolutely right, he held no loyalty towards his King. They were ultimately still acquaintances at best and the family she claimed them to be. But throwing away the chance that she was genuine would make him the most hopeless person of them all who not even the gods could save. So for now, he let the poison of the Legion serve as medicine and relaxed. Sento the Legion was not the only name that he had learned today. For now, until the day that she broke his trust, he would allow himself to be embedded with the name of Kiba Yuuto as he sharpened the sword in his heart.

He didn't know at that point. That in less than a year from now, the one who would be breaking that trust would be him.

---

Sitting in a room, in a Japanese styled castle, were two people, a man and a woman, were drinking tea together. No, saying that they were together wouldn't be accurate. Sure, they occupied the same space, but it was in an awkward position. Their knees were folded in the seiza position as their backs pressed against each other. It was a clear refusal of the other's presence, unwilling to even face each other. They drank tea all by themselves, together.

"That's right, That's right - Sento the Legion has resurfaced once more." The man spoke, as he took a sip of his tea. "And in one of your precious little 'darlings of history' as well."

The woman didn't respond for a brief moment, holding her head high in the air as she closed her eyes. "...You didn't come this way just to mock me did you, Yes-Man?"

"Correct - I would never do that." He laughed. "I was just wondering how you were feeling, since you had put so much effort into that little project of yours only for the quirks of history to reappear once more."

"It doesn't matter. History is still on it's proper course." The woman declared. "In a few years, history's shining star will enter the stage, and the world will know a peace unheard of."

"Of course, Of course - it was your family who put that history in jeopardy in the first place."
The man reminded her. "And it looks like the rest of the Twelve Possesed will soon be coming into the spotlight once more."

"It will soon be corrected, this second draft won't last for long. But don't you take that as me saying I'll just sit by and do nothing." She adjusted her hat so that the brim of it covered her eyes. "For the sake of our Restoration, I won't let any piece of that discarded, wrong year throw ripples in the water."

And on that declaration, Tale of the Mutant Knight - Of Lifeless Blades And Names That Fade Ends.

Sento the Legion: Check

Chapter One: End

To Be Continued

Next Time: Of Situations Dire and Resolving Fire

---

Afterword

Usually these things are called author's notes but well, I still want to feel fancy and we're after the word of something are we not? Then again, calling this a chapter is about as accurate as calling a Star Wars movie an 'episode'. Am I really willing to drop an entire Novella and call it a single chapter? Yes. Yes I am. Well I'll cut it with that sort of nonsense here since I can finally relax a bit. There's something I want to make a bit clear right now: I don't really know when the next chapter will happen, or if it even will. This fic started life all the way back in October when I thought to myself 'Man, I sure wish I could use the Katanagatari swords, they're super cool' when I hadn't even finished reading Katnagatari. Then I read the last three books and my motivation to write this story shot all the way down because of the greatest boss rush of jobbers everywhere. Somehow, I ended up getting my muse for this fic back though, so here we are! Unfortunately, due to some circumstances, I currently don't have access to the Katanagatari light novels that I use as reference for this story, so you probably won't see a chapter two until I finally manage to get those back. I'm using the translation by Vertical by the way, and it's a really good series. Go read it. Unlike Nisoisin however, I do know where this story is heading, but I'd be lying if I said I knew how it'll get there. Anyways, I'm not so much of a copycat fanboy that I'll spend the rest of this afterword talking about the nature of April Fools or some shit, so since I've said everything I've had to say, I think I'll just call it here for now. Later!

Platnyum Eden

Age: 29

Occupation: Sacred Gear Hunter

Affiliation: Eden

Status: Stray Devil

Possesed: Twilight Healing/Jaw Dropper/Fish Styx/Vinyl Cord

Height: 6'2

Weight: 134 Ibs

Hobby: Watching Movies

List of Special moves

Souldance: (Direction) + Down + Up + Slash

Vinyl Rock: Down + Direction + Bind

Vinyl Pop: Down + Down + Up

Jaw Dropper: Up + Down + Thrust

Twilight Zone: (PERPETUALLY ACTIVE)