Qwana led Yami and Rei deeper into the misty valley, his every step precise and calculated, with an elegance that seemed second nature. His violet eyes glinted in the low light as he glanced over his shoulder, speaking in a low, smooth voice that carried clearly through the dense silence.
"My brothers and I have been expecting you," he said, a hint of a smirk in his tone. "Fasmo #1 and #2 await your arrival." With a single, graceful turn, he motioned for them to follow him deeper into the valley. His steps were nearly soundless as he guided them forward, the mist parting slightly as they walked, giving way to the hidden village nestled within the valley.
The village itself was stark, with blackened wooden houses and high walls lined with peculiar runes. Shadows flickered here and there, shifting in a way that suggested the presence of others who watched silently from the corners. Qwana moved through the narrow, winding streets as if walking through his own domain. Yami and Rei followed him closely, their eyes darting from side to side as they took in the village's strange aura, each shadow and whisper heightening their senses.
Eventually, Qwana brought them to the village's centerpiece—a building that stood like a temple, ornate and imposing, with intricate carvings of mythical creatures and strange symbols woven into the woodwork. Its grandeur hinted at the respect and authority it commanded within the valley.
Inside, the atmosphere was thick with incense and shadows. Two figures awaited them, their presences as striking as Qwana's, if not more so. One was a large, statuesque man with a frame that seemed to fill the room. He had a shaved head, and his eyes held an intense, calm intelligence. His expression was serene, but there was a depth to his gaze that suggested lifetimes of knowledge and weighty secrets. He wore simple, dark robes with a crimson sash at his waist, and his entire demeanor exuded a quiet, restrained power. This was Buddha Naguyoto, the leader of the Naguyoto Clan.
Beside him stood a younger man with wiry, athletic build, and a piercing gaze. His hair was a shock of silver, pulled back into a loose braid, and his features were sharp and intense, as though every fiber of his being was coiled and ready for action. Dressed in dark clothes adorned with glints of silver jewelry, he had an almost feral aura, his eyes scanning Yami and Rei with a mixture of curiosity and caution. This was Nijira Naguyoto, Fasmo #2, Qwana's older brother.
"Welcome, Yami Shiyume. Rei Kurozai," Buddha greeted them in a voice as deep as rolling thunder, his calm gaze fixed upon them as he inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. The two exchanged a glance, taken aback by the oddly warm welcome in such a foreboding place.
"We've waited a long time for this meeting," Buddha continued, gesturing for them to sit. "You may have questions, and I assure you they will be answered. But first, a history lesson."
Yami and Rei sat, intrigued yet wary, as Buddha began.
"A long time ago, Enraoi was a very different land. It housed eleven villages, each of them bearing their own clans and traditions. Moukoku, the land you know, did not yet exist, though there were thirty smaller villages beyond the primary eleven."
Yami's eyes narrowed, trying to absorb every detail. He noticed how both Nijira and Qwana listened intently as well, as if the story carried a weight even they didn't fully grasp.
"Nakamaki, home of the Shiyume, was one of the mightiest of these villages," Buddha continued, his gaze fixed on Yami, the weight of his words sinking in. "Alongside Nakamaki were Honohama, home to the Kurozai Clan"—he nodded towards Rei—"and finally, Oushizawa, our village and home of the Naguyoto Clan."
A flicker of pride and pain crossed Buddha's face as he spoke of Oushizawa. He paused, looking between Yami and Rei to ensure he had their attention.
"Oushizawa was a place of power and mystery, a land where our clan practiced its forbidden techniques, developing abilities that could shape the fate of individuals or entire villages. But as history goes, power is rarely left unchallenged. Over time, our village faced turmoil and betrayal. Wars broke out, and lands changed hands. By the end, Oushizawa was left abandoned, its people scattered."
Buddha took a deep breath, his face unreadable. "And the Naguyoto were forced into the shadows, leaving behind our rightful place in Enraoi. What you see here, this hidden village in the valley, is the last remnant of Oushizawa. We have survived, holding on to our legacy and to our vengeance."
He leaned forward, his gaze intense, as though the full weight of the past had been distilled into his words.
"Your clans," he said softly, looking between Yami and Rei, "are woven into this history. We are all bound by the decisions and betrayals of our ancestors. The valley you have entered is not just a place of darkness and shadows—it is the heart of a long-buried legacy."
Yami felt the weight of Buddha's gaze settle upon him, a mixture of curiosity and expectation lingering in the old man's eyes, as if he had just handed over a piece of something sacred yet dangerous.