The sun bathed Kawakami Academy in a warm afternoon glow, casting long shadows across the schoolyard. Laughter and lively chatter filled the air as Yamato Naoe and his friends enjoyed a break between classes.

Nearby, a figure sat atop a grassy hill, cloaked in tan fabric, blending into the swaying vegetation. His smirk was amused, yet dark, his golden eyes gleaming with a dangerous edge. Jīku Naoe, a man of a forgotten past, had returned to the world—reincarnated into the very bloodline that had once sealed him away.

"To think that my descendant has become this… soft." Jīku thought, watching Yamato, his modern counterpart. Identical in appearance, yet worlds apart in strength. This was no mere coincidence—it was fate's cruel irony.

"Yamato, you're not listening!" Momoyo Kawakami flicked his forehead, making him wince.

"Ow! What was that for?" Yamato rubbed his head, looking up at her.

"You were zoning out," Chris chimed in, arms crossed.

"Probably thinking of some new scheme," Kazuko teased, her bright grin infectious.

Miyako wrapped her arms around Yamato's from behind, pulling him close. "Maybe he was thinking of me~?"

"Not likely," Gakuto snorted, stuffing his face with a rice ball. "The only thing Yamato ever thinks about is survival."

Yamato sighed. "Can't a guy just enjoy a peaceful moment without being accused of scheming?" He looked at the sky, then glanced toward the grassy hill in the distance. He had a strange feeling, as if someone was watching them.

For a brief second, his gaze met Jīku's.

A wave of unease washed over Yamato. His own reflection… but distorted. He blinked, and the figure was gone.

"Weird… Was I imagining things?"

The day passed, and evening descended upon Kawakami City. The usual vibrancy of the town dulled under the night sky, but Yamato couldn't shake off the unease from earlier.

As he walked alone near the riverbank, the air shifted.

"You're sharper than I thought," a voice echoed.

Yamato spun around. A man stood before him, still wearing that tan cloak.

The cloak unraveled slightly, revealing Yamato's own face staring back at him.

"…What the hell?" Yamato instinctively stepped back, his mind racing.

"Shocked? I'd be too, if I saw my own face staring back at me." Jīku's grin widened. His eyes—golden, predatory, ancient.

"Who are you?" Yamato demanded, his hand inching toward his phone. If this was some doppelgänger trick, he needed backup.

"Jīku Naoe. Your ancestor." His tone was playful, but there was an unmistakable malice beneath it.

"Bullshit," Yamato shot back.

"Believe what you will. But I am your blood—except, unlike you, I was feared in my time. And now, I am here, after a century of imprisonment… and I find my descendant has grown up in such an insultingly peaceful era." Jīku shook his head in mock disappointment. "Pathetic."

Yamato kept his cool, despite the growing sense of danger. "And what? You want to pick a fight with me because I'm not a warlord?"

Jīku chuckled. "No, no. Fighting you now would be unfair. You're weak. But I am curious about your little friends."

A sharp chill ran through Yamato. His harem. His friends. If this lunatic got involved with them—

Before he could react, Jīku vanished.

"Shit—!" Yamato turned, scanning the area. Nothing.

Then—

BOOM!

A massive impact shook the nearby street.

Dashing toward the disturbance, Yamato arrived at the schoolyard, where a crater had formed.

Standing in the middle of it—Jīku.

Around him, Momoyo, Chris, Kazuko, and the others had taken battle stances.

"So this is the strength of the legendary Kawakami warriors?" Jīku mused, flexing his fingers. "Entertaining."

"Who the hell are you?" Momoyo demanded, fists clenched. She could tell—this guy was dangerous. "And why do you look like Yamato?"

Jīku simply chuckled. "Someone who's disappointed in modern warriors," Jīku smirked. "Let's see if you can entertain me more than my weak descendant."

He vanished.

And then—he was behind Kazuko.

Her instincts flared—but it was too late.

Jīku delivered a single tap to her gut—yet it sent her flying through the air, crashing through three trees.

"Kazuko!" Chris rushed forward, her blade slicing the air—but Jīku caught it with two fingers.

Chris's eyes widened. "Impossible—!"

Jīku's foot lashed out, sending her skidding across the dirt.

Only Momoyo stood unfazed, a grin forming. "Finally, someone worth fighting."

Jīku smirked. "Let's see if you live up to the hype, strongest woman of Kawakami."

Momoyo lunged.

A shockwave burst from the impact of their fists clashing, shaking the very ground beneath them.

Yamato clenched his fists.

This was bad.

Jīku wasn't just strong—he was beyond reason.

If they didn't stop him here, this could be just the beginning of something far worse.

And worst of all—he wasn't sure if even Momoyo could take him down.

Miyako, lurking in the shadows, drew her bow. She had seen how fast Jīku moved, how he played with his opponents like a predator toying with prey. But that didn't matter. A well-placed arrow could turn the tide.

She inhaled deeply, focused, and—released.

The arrow whistled through the air, aimed precisely at Jīku's blind spot.

Just as it was about to strike—

Snap!

Without even looking, Jīku caught the arrow with two fingers.

Miyako's eyes widened in shock. He didn't even flinch…!

Jīku turned his head slightly, a condescending smirk playing on his lips. "Cute trick."

He flicked his wrist—a blinding energy blast shot toward her.

Miyako had no time to react.

The explosion engulfed her.

"Miyako!"

The cry of Yamato and his male friends echoed as Miyako's body crashed into the dirt, rolling lifelessly across the ground. Smoke billowed from her form as she groaned in pain.

Jīku chuckled, clearly amused. "Tch. I held back and she's already out of the fight?" He shook his head. "Pathetic."

A fierce killing intent erupted.

"You bastard!"

Momoyo charged, her aura flaring violently.

Jīku barely raised an eyebrow as Momoyo's fists came at him like a relentless hurricane. She struck with deadly precision, her speed surpassing the sound barrier as shockwaves shattered the earth beneath them.

But—not a single hit landed.

Jīku dodged everything, his movements minimal, precise. It was as if he could see into the future, swaying lazily between her blows.

Momoyo's anger boiled. She wasn't just any fighter. She was the strongest woman in Kawakami.

Yet, to Jīku?

It was a joke.

SMACK!

Jīku's palm slammed against her stomach. Not a punch. Not a blast. Just a simple push.

And yet—Momoyo's body was launched like a meteor, slamming into the ground with such force that an entire crater formed beneath her.

"Ugh…!" Momoyo gasped, pain wracking her body. She hadn't been hit like that in years.

Jīku scoffed. "Your Kawakami style is outdated. You must've learned it from that foolish old man."

Momoyo's eyes flickered in surprise. How does he know about Gramps…?!

Before she could react—Jīku grabbed her by the throat.

Then—he slammed her into the ground again.

BOOM!

The impact shook the battlefield.

"SIS!"

Kazuko screamed in fury, her body moving before her mind could even process the situation. Her Berserk Mode activated, her aura exploding as she charged toward Jīku.

Jīku didn't even look at her.

He simply vanished.

Kazuko's heart skipped a beat—Where—?!

A crushing force slammed into her back.

She was hurled across the field, spinning uncontrollably before crashing into a pile of rubble.

The dust settled.

Silence.

Chris and Yukie's eyes widened. They had never seen Kazuko get defeated so easily.

Yukie's fingers trembled as she tightened her grip on her sword. "I won't let this stand…!"

Summoning all her courage, she rushed forward, her blade a blur of silver. Her form was perfect—the finest technique of a true swordswoman.

For the first time, Jīku seemed slightly intrigued.

"Ah… this style…" His golden eyes flickered with nostalgia. "I know this form… but your execution is sloppy."

With a single backhanded strike, Jīku snapped her sword in half.

Yukie's breath hitched. No way…!

Jīku's palm met her chest—BOOM!

Yukie was sent flying like a ragdoll. She skidded across the dirt, coughing up blood.

Yamato and his male friends stood frozen.

This wasn't happening.

In mere minutes, Jīku had utterly humiliated the strongest warriors in Kawakami.

And he wasn't even breaking a sweat.

Jīku turned his gaze toward Yamato, his smirk never fading.

"Are you just going to stand there?" he mocked. "Or do you have at least a sliver of the warrior spirit I once had?"

Yamato's fists clenched. His entire body was screaming at him to run. To survive.

But if he ran—his friends would die.

For the first time in his life—Yamato had no schemes.

No plans.

Just raw, unfiltered terror.

Inside the dimly lit Kawakami Temple, the scent of burning incense filled the air, its soothing aroma at odds with the palpable tension in the room.

Tesshin Kawakami, the revered monk and grandmaster, sat in deep meditation—yet his mind was anything but calm. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead as an ominous presence made itself known.

A presence he had not felt in over a century.

His eyes snapped open. "No… Impossible."

His grip on his prayer beads tightened.

Across from him, the doors to the temple slid open.

Kagekiyo Naoe—Yamato's father—walked inside, his expression unusually grim. Beside him stood Saki Naoe, Yamato's mother, her face calm yet burdened with a silent worry.

"You felt it too," Kagekiyo stated. It wasn't a question.

Tesshin exhaled sharply. "How could I not? That damned monster... his presence should have been erased. After a hundred years of confinement, he should've been weaker. And yet—"

"He's stronger," Kagekiyo finished. His tone was cold, firm.

Tesshin narrowed his eyes at the warrior. "Explain. Now."

Kagekiyo hesitated for a brief moment before speaking. "It took me a while to piece it together… but the truth is—Jīku wasn't reincarnated into my bloodline."

Tesshin's eyes widened. "Then whose—"

Kagekiyo turned to his wife.

Tesshin's breath caught. "You… you're saying he came from Saki's side?"

Saki closed her eyes, nodding slightly. "It seems so."

Tesshin stood up abruptly, his fists clenched. "That's impossible! We made sure to seal his abilities from being passed on! Even if he were to be reincarnated, he should've been nothing more than a shadow of his former self!"

Kagekiyo sighed. "That's what I thought too… but something changed."

Tesshin's mind raced. It was true—they had gone through extensive measures to ensure that Jīku's monstrous power would never resurface. Yet here he was, stronger than before.

"Somehow, his essence wasn't just reborn," Kagekiyo continued. "It regained what was lost. And more than that…"

He paused.

Tesshin stared at him suspiciously. "More than what?"

Kagekiyo sighed heavily. "There's something I never told you, old friend."

Tesshin's frown deepened. "What did you do, Kagekiyo?"

Kagekiyo crossed his arms, his voice carrying an unusual weight.

"Jīku's power isn't just his own anymore. The reason he looks exactly like Yamato…"

Tesshin's stomach twisted into a knot.

"…is because my idiot son holds the other half of his power."

The temple fell into silence.

Tesshin took a step back, his mind struggling to process the words.

"You hid this from me?" His voice was laced with rare anger.

"I didn't want Yamato to know," Kagekiyo admitted. "That kid is many things, but a fighter? No. He's not ready to handle something like this. If he found out, he'd do something stupid."

Tesshin's jaw clenched. "You absolute fool. If what you're saying is true… then Yamato isn't just in danger. He's the key."

Saki finally spoke, her voice calm yet firm. "We don't know if Jīku has realized this yet… but if he does…"

Tesshin's eyes darkened.

"Then he won't just kill Yamato… he'll take back what's his."

Meanwhile…

Jīku stood over the fallen warriors of Kawakami, his smirk never fading.

His golden eyes gleamed as he looked at Yamato.

"You're different," he mused. "You're weak, yes… but there's something inside you. Something that belongs to me."

Yamato felt a chill run down his spine.

Jīku's smirk widened.

"Let's see if you're worthy of keeping it."

Yamato's breath hitched. His body refused to move. Fear gripped him like an iron vice.

Jīku's golden eyes gleamed with amusement as he watched Yamato freeze in place. "Pathetic. You don't even understand, do you?"

Yamato clenched his fists, his mind racing. Understand what?!

Before he could even speak, a sudden movement caught his eye.

"Yamato, get back!"

Takuya, Gakuto, and Moro stood in front of him, shielding him despite their own shaking hands.

Jīku's smirk faded slightly, his gaze scanning the group. "And what exactly do you intend to do?" His tone was mocking, but there was genuine curiosity behind his words. "Why is someone with my face… surrounded by such weaklings?"

Takuya's eye twitched. "Weak?!"

Moro gritted his teeth. "Screw you, you bootleg Yamato!"

Gakuto cracked his knuckles. "You don't know who you're messing with!"

They charged.

Jīku didn't even blink.

In the next instant—

Pain.

Takuya was sent flying into a tree. Moro crashed into a pile of rubble. Gakuto coughed as he was flung backward, landing hard on his back.

It had happened so fast that Yamato barely processed it. His friends lay motionless, groaning in agony.

"Takuya! Moro! Gakuto!" Yamato yelled, his voice laced with desperation.

His panic blinded him to the real danger—

Jīku appeared in front of him in an instant.

Yamato barely had time to gasp before a strong hand wrapped around his throat.

His body lifted off the ground, feet dangling uselessly in the air.

Jīku's grip was like steel. Yamato clawed at his arm, struggling, but it was no use.

"Your growth disappoints me," Jīku muttered, his golden eyes filled with disdain. "To think my other half ended up this weak. No matter—I'll take back what's mine."

Jīku raised his free hand, his palm hovering over Yamato's chest.

Yamato's vision blurred. His lungs screamed for air. A creeping, unnatural force coiled around his chest, making his body tremble violently.

Was this… what death felt like?

"Yamato!"

Momo and Kazuko struggled to their feet, their bodies battered and bruised. Desperation filled their eyes. But their injuries kept them from moving fast enough.

Jīku chuckled darkly. "Pathetic. Look at you all. Crawling. Bleeding. Weak."

A flicker of violet.

A shift in the air.

BOOM!

Jīku's eyes snapped to the side—just in time to dodge a high-speed strike.

He released Yamato, leaping backward with narrowed eyes. A fist crashed into the spot where he once stood, splitting the ground beneath it.

A woman straightened her stance, rolling her shoulders.

Her waist-length gray hair swayed in the wind.

Ageha Kuki.

"Sorry, but if you wanna kill Momo's little brother," she said, cracking her knuckles, "you'll have to go through me first."

Jīku's sharp eyes zeroed in on the X-shaped scar on her forehead. His smirk returned.

"A Kuki." His tone was laced with amusement. "Still meddlesome after all these years."

Yamato rubbed his sore throat, gasping for air. Ageha…?

Before he could say anything, an obnoxious laughter filled the air.

"FWAHAHAHAHA! Such audacity! To impersonate my rival?! Unforgivable!"

Yamato felt a migraine coming.

Hideo Kuki.

And standing beside him, as always, his ever-loyal maid, Azumi Oshitari.

Hideo tossed his cape dramatically. "A fake Yamato? Unacceptable. There is only room for one cunning strategist in this world!" He grinned. "And only I am allowed to torment Yamato!"

Yamato coughed. "Hideo… seriously, now?"

Hideo ignored him, standing tall with his hands on his hips. "Very well! I shall personally rid the world of this imposter! Azumi, take note of my heroic stance!"

Azumi adjusted her glasses. "Understood, young master."

Jīku looked genuinely irritated now. His gaze flicked between Ageha, Hideo, and Azumi.

"The Kuki bloodline… even after a century, you continue to be pests."

Ageha smirked. "And you're just some cocky bastard, faker." She cracked her knuckles again. "Let's see if you're as tough as you run your mouth."

Jīku's smirk returned, but this time, his eyes were colder.

"Very well. Let's see if the Kuki name still holds weight."

To be continued…