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Prologue:The Shattered Moon

  Blood. That was the first thing Seiji noticed when he opened the door. The smell hit him like a wave—metallic, sharp, wrong. His heart raced as he stepped forward, eyes scanning the room in disbelief. His family—lifeless on the floor. His mother, father, and little sister.

  Earlier that day

  Seiji woke up, excited to start his first day of school. He rushed downstairs and shouted warmly to his family, “GOOD MORNING!”

  His father replied, “Good morning, bud. Breakfast is ready. Go eat before it gets cold, and be sure not to be late for school.”

  Seiji nodded. “Yes, sir!”

  Seiji sat at the table with his family. His mother asked, “Did you prepare your things for school like I asked last night, Seiji? Shina?”

  His sister Shina replied, “Yes, Mom. Everything’s organized.”

  Seiji pulled a silly face. “A bit...”

  His mother gave him a stern look. “Seiji, I’ve told you—stop playing and start organizing your things!”

  “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ve got everything I need anyway. I’m done eating. Gotta go! Love ya all!”

  Seiji rushed off, exploding with excitement.

  At school, he went straight to his room, eager to meet his old friends and maybe some new faces.

  But as time passed, a strange discomfort settled in his chest. He couldn’t explain it—just a quiet, nagging urge to go home.

  Just an hour left before dismissal, he thought. I’ll head straight home after.

  An hour later, the bell rang. Seiji bolted out of school and ran straight home...

  As he reached the gate, an eerie silence unsettled him. He pushed it open—and a foul stench hit him.

  What was that smell...? He opened the door. There he saw—“Mom? Dad?” Seiji called out, his voice trembling.

  “Shina... Please wake up...” he whispered, bursting into tears, wishing this was just a nightmare.

  Memories flooded his mind—his father making him and Shina laugh, his mother comforting them with food whenever they were feeling unwell, his sister’s smile lighting up their home.

  Seiji collapsed to the floor, sobbing—his cries echoing in the silence as the bodies of his family lay lifeless.

  Who? What did this? Why my family?

  Questions surged through him, his sorrow boiling into rage.

  So consumed by emotion, he didn’t notice the presence behind him.When he finally turned around, he saw a man standing behind him.

  Without hesitation, Seiji lunged at him.

  “Was it you?! Did you murder my family?! Why?! What did they do to you?!”The man caught Seiji and pushed him back gently, then knelt beside the corpses.

  Tears filled the man’s eyes. He whispered, “Brother... Brother... what happened? Who did this?”

  Despite the quiet tone, Seiji heard him. “Were you the one who did this? answer me or else!” he demanded, his tone full of rage.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  The man stood up, his voice firm, with a Japanese accent. “Your father was my only friend. A brother to me. After he ran here to the Los Angeles suburbs from Tokyo, I hadn’t heard from him in a while. I was planning to surprise him. And now... the first time I see him again, he’s lying dead on the floor.”

  Seiji stood in shock, trying to process it all.

  I knew we were Asian—except Mom, but I thought Dad was born here in the U.S...

  “From Tokyo? I dont believe you! I don't even know who you are.” Seiji retorted

  “You may call me Mr. Yasashiku Krueger,” the man replied. “Your father and I go way back.”

  Seiji asked, “Do you know who did this? Was it you? Old man. Answer me!”

  Krueger replied softly, “Kid, this is tragic. I’m just as mad as you are, I wouldn't be if I was responsible for this—but we will find whoever did this.”

  He paused. “Why don’t you come with me to Tokyo? I’m sure we’ll find answers there.”

  Seiji gave him a worried look. “Why Tokyo? This happened here. What does Tokyo have to do with it?”

  Krueger asked, “Think for a moment—did your father ever have enemies here in the U.S.? Did he offend anyone?”

  Seiji knew his father was kind, peaceful, and always avoiding conflicts.

  He shook his head, Seiji still didn't trust the man, but he knew he had nowhere else to go, “Okay, Mister... I’ll go with you. But... what about my family? What about their bodies?”

  Krueger put a hand on his shoulder. “Let me take care of it. But we have to leave—immediately. You might be a target too.”

  Seiji nodded, eyes full of grief and fear. Together, they left the house—and the life he once knew—behind.

  In Tokyo, 2012.

  Seiji and Krueger had arrived at their destination—Krueger's home. As they entered, Seiji noticed it was a cozy place with a backyard resembling a traditional dojo. Inside the house, swords were neatly displayed, and the backyard was filled with traditional training equipment. Seiji's eyes were filled with admiration.

  He wandered around, touching everything, until Krueger said, “Please do not touch anything. You might hurt yourself.”

  Seiji quickly apologized and sat down, doing his best to behave.

  Krueger joined him and said, “Before we begin investigating what happened to your family, I want you to understand something: you are now a target. You are the only survivor of your family’s murder. If we dive into this investigation without preparation, we risk your life—and that’s a hindrance to both of us.”

  “But we have to find out immediately! We can’t let them get away with this!” Seiji protested.

  Krueger patted his head and replied, “I understand your concern, but rushing in will get us nowhere. Seiji... I suggest you train under me. I can turn you into a capable fighter—strong enough to protect yourself. That would save us a lot of trouble.”

  Seiji hesitated. “But... I... Alright, fine. When do we even start?”

  “I’ll give you a few days to rest,” Krueger said.

  The day finally came, the first day of hell.

  Krueger spoke in a firm and commanding voice, “Starting today, I am not Mr. Krueger. I am not Mr. Yasashiku. I am your sensei. Understood?”

  “Umm... alright, Mr. Kru—I mean, Sensei,” Seiji stammered.

  “Again?” Krueger barked.

  “Yes, Sensei!” Seiji shouted.

  Krueger handed Seiji a gi, a karate uniform—with the word “Sei” stitched on the back.

  After changing into the gi, Seiji began training. Krueger taught him the basics: the fighting stance, how to throw a punch, and more.

  Once Seiji got the hang of it, Krueger said, “Now that you know the basics, the real lesson begins. Seiji, get into your fighting form. We’re going to spar.”

  “But isn’t it too early for that?” Seiji asked.

  “Oh... I didn’t know you were the sensei here, Seiji,” Krueger replied, sarcasm layered over a serious tone.

  “Sorry, Sensei,” Seiji muttered and got into position.

  Krueger stood across from him in an unbalanced stance—one that looked weak and wide open.

  This is going to be easy, Seiji thought.

  Krueger signaled him to attack. Confident, Seiji charged forward. But in a blink, he found himself flat on the ground.

  What just happened...? he wondered.

  Krueger stood over him. “Deception,” he said. “It’s one of the most powerful tactics I’ve learned. When facing a stronger opponent, tricking them may be your best shot. Deception comes in many forms. Mastering it will give you an edge in battle.”

  “That is your first lesson. I want you to train until you can use this tactic against me effectively. Only then will we move on.”

  A month had passed.

  Seiji looked restless and scarred—yet his eyes burned with determination. “This time for sure, Sensei! You will fall!” he shouted.

  Krueger smirked and waved his hand, gesturing, “Bring it on!”

  Seiji charged forward, as he always did—but this time, his blows were sharper, more calculated. It was clear he’d grown.

  Just a month and this kid is already a beast, Krueger thought—now forced to take the fight more seriously.

  Seiji gave it everything,full speed, full power—with strategy behind every move. I should end this now, Krueger thought. The longer this drags on, the more likely he’ll get me.

  Then came a shift—Seiji appeared to slow down, his breathing heavier, movements less aggressive.

  Krueger saw this opening and closed the gap, aiming for a final strike—but just as he committed, Seiji shifted to full power as if he never was exhausted, swiftly dodging and sweeping Krueger’s leading foot.

  Krueger stumbled—almost. At the last second, he used his hand to spring into a roll and landed back on his feet.

  Seiji’s smirk faded. I was so close...

  In the next instant, Krueger landed a clean blow that knocked Seiji to the ground.

  Seiji got up slowly, disappointed.

  “You did well,” Krueger said. “We’ll move on to the next lesson next week. You may rest now.”

  Seiji blinked in surprise. “But I still lost.”

  Krueger grinned. “You weren’t supposed to win, Seiji. Don’t expect to beat me on your first real lesson. Your task was to deceive me—and you did it. You caught me off guard. Almost had me. Too bad I’m just too good to be kissing the ground.”

  He gave a short laugh. “Rest now. You’ve got more to learn, so be patient.”

  The two bowed to each other. Seiji turned and went to his room to rest.

  In his room,

  Seiji sat silently, staring at the family photo he had brought with him before moving to Tokyo. His fingers slowly brushed over its surface, as if trying to absorb every detail. Faint traces of dried blood still clung to the photo—remnants of the night that changed everything.

  The same questions haunted him every night.

  What if this is all just a dream?

  What if they're still alive?

  Why did that have to happen?

  I was happy… and it was

  all taken from me.

  His fingers—bruised and scarred from training—trembled as he clutched the photo tighter. His eyes bawled with tears, burning with grief and rage.

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