Over the courtyard of the Kamisato estate, Ayaka stood with a wooden sword in hand and her eyes closed. She swung with flawless balance and sharp intent, executing the Kamisato swordsmanship style—a form so fluid and elegant it resembled a dance more than combat.
"Kujou Hibiki…" Ayaka murmured as, within her mind, a phantom opponent appeared wielding a sword. She charged at the invisible enemy, reading his movements, parrying cleanly, and striking him down. "Defeated."
"Kujou Sara…" A new figure emerged—Sara with her bow, raining arrows and lightning. Ayaka dashed forward, expertly weaving through the strikes until she reached her, pointing her blade at Sara's throat. "Defeated."
"Onii-sama…"
Again and again, phantom adversaries manifested, each wielding different weapons, fighting styles, and philosophies. Ayaka danced between them, countering and overcoming each flawlessly. To an untrained eye, it would appear that she instinctively adapted to each opponent.
But it was more than that.
These were not the reactions of someone adjusting on the fly—these were the practiced, rehearsed movements of someone who had faced these images countless times. She knew them all too well.
"Okaa-sama…"
"Defeated."
Ayaka took a deep breath, reaching the final stage of her mental training. Only one opponent remained.
"Allen…"
In her mind, a young Allen stood before her—just as she remembered him from years ago.
"Four years older," she whispered.
The illusion shifted. Allen grew taller, stronger, his stance more refined.
Clash!Clash!
Ayaka's wooden sword met his illusory blade again and again. Unlike the previous foes, this one didn't fall so easily. Their battle dragged on—five minutes… ten… twenty.
Clank!
After over half an hour of relentless sparring, Allen finally exploited a brief opening. With a swift movement, he disarmed Ayaka and brought his blade to her neck.
"Ha…" she panted, drenched in sweat, chest rising and falling. Again, it was her loss.
"Good job, Ayaka," a voice called softly.
Ayato stepped out from the shade, where he'd quietly observed her for some time. He approached, offering a towel and a bottle of water.
"Thank you, Onii-sama." Ayaka smiled faintly, accepting both and wiping the sweat from her brow.
"You've truly improved. I can't even last a few bouts against you anymore," Ayato said with a bittersweet smile. He knew how much she had sacrificed—her time, her freedom, her youth—all dedicated to this goal.
"It's still not enough," Ayaka said with resolve. "I must become stronger. Strong enough to stand before the Shogun-sama and be recognized. Only then can I ask her to forgive Allen's sins and allow him to return to Inazuma."
"I know Allen is important to you," Ayato said gently. "But you mustn't throw everything else away. If you keep going like this, Ayaka… you'll lose yourself."
"I'm still too weak," she replied. "Even in my mind, I am unable to even defeat Allen. And that's only a projection of him—enhanced by my assumptions. The real him is likely even stronger."
"Ayaka," Ayato said seriously. "You have immense talent. Your ability to perfectly recall everything you see, to recreate it in your mind and train with those illusions, adapt and evolve—it's incredible. It more than compensates for your lack of natural sword talent. But you're losing yourself to this imaginary world. That's why you struggle with Allen. He's become more than a sparring partner to you. He's become… an obsession."
"That's not it!" Ayaka shouted. "Yes, I care for Allen. He's special to me. And yes, I'm doing this for him—but I'm not treating him differently. He just… adapts. He evolves."
"Ayaka, everyone adapts with time and experience."
"Allen is different," she said, eyes narrowing in thought. "He doesn't just adapt—he transforms. He changes completely, like a reflection that shifts depending on the light. When I first fought him, he used the Niwa sword style. Now… his form resembles the Kamisato style more than my own."
She looked at Ayato. "He's a devourer of styles. He learns, dissects, and creates perfect counters. That's why he's the ultimate template. Until I can consistently defeat the image of Allen, I can't even dream of standing before the Shogun."
Ayato sighed. "I truly hope you reach your ideals, Ayaka."
Just then—
"Ayato!" Thoma burst into the courtyard, breathless, his face pale.
"Thoma? What's wrong?" Ayato asked, startled by his urgency. "Who's come to get you in such a state?"
"I-it's…"
Over the grand entrance of the Kamisato estate, a figure stood beneath the arch.
A woman dressed in a flawless white-and-sky-blue kimono, a mask veiling her face, her posture regal and commanding. She didn't move—but her very presence drew every eye.
Moments later, the gates opened.
Ayato and Ayaka stepped out together, standing side by side as they faced the mysterious woman.
"Nice to meet you, Ayato. Ayaka." The woman spoke their names directly, unbothered by the formalities or their status. Yet when she bowed, it was with such perfect Kamisato etiquette that it froze the air around her.
"Who are you really?" Ayato asked, eyes narrowed. "And what is your intention?"
"My intention?" she giggled, soft and melodic. The sound alone seemed to bend attention toward her. Then she dipped into another flawless bow.
"I am Kamisato Kagome. And I've come to reclaim my rightful place—
as the true head of the Kamisato Clan."
"Are you crazy?" Ayato glared at her. "Showing up unannounced, with no proof, claiming to be part of our family—and demanding our inheritance and the Commissioner's position?"
"I'm merely reclaiming what is mine," the woman said calmly. "Every member of the Kamisato Clan has the right to challenge for the position of clan head. All that's required is to prove your qualifications surpass the current holder's." She tilted her head slightly, analyzing the two siblings with cold confidence. "And I dare say—it won't be too difficult."
"You arrive here without identification, without notice, and expect us to acknowledge you? Preposterous!" one of the clan elders snapped, his voice echoing with outrage.
"If you want proof..." The woman—who called herself Kagome—slowly removed her veil.
Her radiant silver hair fell over her shoulders. Her face was graceful and refined, the only obscured feature being her eyes, hidden behind a silken band. Gasps echoed through the courtyard.
The resemblance was undeniable. Though clearly older than Ayaka, her features shared the same noble symmetry, the same cold beauty. The Kamisato blood ran strong in her face.
"And if that's not enough..." Kagome retrieved a small object from within her sleeve—a badge engraved with the Kamisato clan sigil.
"I–Impossible…" one elder muttered, stepping forward. Kagome extended the badge to him without hesitation.
He held it in trembling hands, studying it carefully. His eyes widened in disbelief.
"Elder Wang, what is it?" Ayato asked, concerned by the elder's stunned expression.
"It's real," the elder whispered. "There's no doubt. More than that—this badge belonged to the true Kamisato Kagome."
A collective gasp followed.
The name echoed like thunder among the elders—Kamisato Kagome, the clan's prodigy from decades past. A legend. The brightest sword and most brilliant mind of her generation. All had believed her to have perished in a duel against the Raiden Shogun herself.
"But she died. That's what the records say. It should be impossible…" one elder murmured.
"She didn't die," Kagome replied, her voice calm but carrying weight. "She was gravely wounded. I am her successor. Her student. Her heir. As such, I have every right to reclaim her legacy. And, as the rules dictate, I will do so by demonstrating I am more fit to lead than the current head."
The elders exchanged uneasy glances. Their silence spoke volumes.
"Seeing their reactions... it seems your claim holds merit," Ayato said carefully, stepping forward. "I accept your challen—"
He stopped as Ayaka stepped in front of him, resolute.
"Onii-sama," she said firmly. "Let me handle this."
Ayato looked at her for a moment—then nodded. He understood. Of the two of them, Ayaka was the clan's heart. Through sheer effort and unshakable will, she had become the model of what a Kamisato should be.
"I, Kamisato Ayaka," she said clearly, her voice strong and unwavering, "as the representative of the Kamisato Clan, accept your challenge, Kamisato Kagome!"
The crowd grew still.
"The disciplines shall be Tea Ceremony, Dance, and Swordsmanship," Ayaka continued, eyes burning with determination.
Kagome's smile widened. "Perfect."