The Devils Fruit

The cave behind them hissed with fading mist and ash. Reika stepped into the cold breath of the forest, legs still weak, a phantom heat crawling beneath his skin. The man walked ahead without a word—silent, swift, like the shadows obeyed his presence. His black cloak flowed with each step, and the katana at his hip moved like it had a heartbeat of its own.

Reika clenched his teeth. "Hey—what's your name?"

The man didn't turn. Didn't stop.

"If you want answers," he said, his voice deep but indifferent, "you'll need to be patient."

Reika exhaled hard, frustrated. After everything—after the fire, the demon, the blue flames—he still knew nothing. And yet… for the first time, something beneath his chest twisted—not fear, not pain. Desperation. Like his life was slipping through his fingers and only this man held the thread.

They walked in silence, branches snapping underfoot, moonlight bleeding through the trees like silver scars. An old shrine lay ahead, long abandoned—stone steps cracked with moss, statues of forgotten gods crumbling, the altar half-swallowed by roots.

The man stopped at the base of the steps. His hand hovered over his sword.

That's when Reika felt it—pressure.

The air turned heavy, as if the sky had dropped a hundred feet. The shadows twisted unnaturally. And from the shrine's rooftop, a figure stepped into the moonlight, arms folded, eyes like sharpened ice.

Zariel.

His coat rippled in the wind, pristine white streaked with golden trims, a symbol of the Exorcist Order burning on his shoulder.

He looked down.

"Of all the people to find him…" Zariel's voice was venom wrapped in velvet. "It had to be you."

The man below raised an eyebrow. "Still dramatic, I see."

Zariel leapt down, landing without a sound.

"You were a curse then. You're a curse now. The Hitzikaya name deserves better than you."

Reika blinked. Hitzikaya?

He looked between the two—they looked alike. In posture. In poise. But where Zariel stood like a blade forged by prayer, the other man moved like a flame dancing on a funeral pyre.

"Family?" Reika whispered.

Neither answered.

Zariel stepped forward, hand resting on the hilt of his katana. "He's dangerous."

"So was I once," the man replied. "You didn't kill me then."

"I should've."

They both stopped. Eyes locked. No words now. Just centuries of betrayal between breaths.

Swords unsheathed.

Zariel's blade hummed with divine light, glowing brighter with each breath he took.

The man whispered something ancient, and his blade responded—dark flames licking its edge, the metal warping with shadows.

They lowered their stances, both murmuring power.

Zariel breathed, voice calm and sacred:

"Spirit of Light… Angel's Sword: Lightfall."

The man chanted low, voice vibrating the air:

"Forgive me, demons of the past… Demonic Sword: First Experience."

And just before they moved—

The ground shook.

Violently.

The shrine trembled. Trees cracked. A low rumble echoed from the east, like the mountain itself was growling.

Then—

BOOM.

A brilliant red explosion lit the horizon. Fire spiraled into the sky like a second sun, and a wave of power slammed through the forest, knocking birds from trees and sending dust and leaves scattering like ash.

Reika stumbled back, eyes wide. "W-What the hell was that?"

Both swords froze mid-swing.

Zariel's expression hardened. "That's… not possible."

The man lowered his katana, eyes narrowing as he stared into the smoke.

"They're here sooner than expected," he muttered. Then to Reika, quietly:

"You'll see why you need both of us… soon."

Reika stood between them, caught in the space between light and shadow, both chasing something inside him they hadn't yet said aloud.

But somewhere in the distance, something older than hate had awakened.

And it was getting closer

---

The forest wasn't quiet anymore.

The trees shivered. The air thickened. And somewhere beneath the roots, the world held its breath.

Then they came.

Wolves—at least, once upon a time.

Now they were twisted, malformed, like someone had fed them shadow and fury instead of meat. Their fur was matted smoke, their eyes bleeding red, some with too many legs, others crawling with barbed tails or spines that clicked as they moved. They came crawling, climbing trees, walking on air. And they weren't looking to kill.

They were looking for Reika.

"The Key…"

"He bears the mark…"

"The fruit of Asmodai…"

"Deliver him and be blessed…"

Reika stumbled back, heart pounding, "What… what are they talking about?"

Kaien stepped forward, eyes narrowing. "They can smell it. Whatever's inside you."

He unsheathed his sword with a whirl that cracked the silence like lightning.

"Back up, kid. You'll only get in the way."

Then he slammed his right fist into his chest, muttered something ancient under his breath, and said aloud—

"Demonic Sword: First Experience."

His blade erupted in black fire. The air around it twisted, warping like heat off a furnace. Reika gasped.

"What the hell…"

Kaien looked over his shoulder and grinned.

"You can call me Kaien. Don't worry, you won't die tonight… probably."

Reika opened his mouth to protest—but didn't even get the chance.

Because the first demon lunged.

It was like watching a nightmare on fast-forward—the thing blurred forward, teeth out, its legs barely touching the ground. Kaien didn't flinch. In one sweeping motion, he ducked low, spun, and sliced the beast in half mid-air, sending its corpse spiraling in flames.

Reika's jaw dropped.

"W-Whoa."

Another demon leapt from a tree above, this one twice as big, snarling. But before Reika could even shout—

Zariel moved.

He was a blur of white and gold, his angelic blade glowing as he vaulted into the air, flipped, and struck downward with a cry:

"Spirit of Light—Heaven's Slash!"

A beam of light carved the demon in two, and it exploded into dust.

Reika was frozen. These two—monsters.

"Are you two even human…?" he muttered.

"I don't need your help," Zariel muttered toward his brother, slashing through another wolf charging from the left.

Kaien rolled his eyes, casually beheading two beasts with one spin. "You sure? 'Cause you look like you're breaking a sweat."

But before Zariel could reply—another demon, silent and deadly, lunged for him from behind.

Reika shouted, "LOOK OUT—!"

Too late.

Almost.

Because Kaien teleported, or at least that's how it looked to Reika. He appeared behind Zariel in a blink, blade flashing.

SHHHRRRIKK!

The demon fell in two.

Kaien raised an eyebrow. "You're welcome."

Zariel gritted his teeth, nodding slightly. "Fine. Just once."

More demons poured from the shadows. Reika backed up, stunned. They weren't just fighting—they were dancing. Every slash, every dodge, every block—flawless, practiced, beautiful in the most deadly way.

Kaien spun his sword behind his back, kicking a wolf into a tree hard enough to snap it in half. Zariel struck down three in a flash of holy light. Their blades sometimes crossed as they fought side by side, not in conflict—but in rhythm.

Reika could barely breathe. This was the first time he'd ever seen real power. Raw. Controlled. Dangerous.

Then it was over.

The final wolf dropped, black blood hissing on the grass.

Zariel fell to one knee, gripping his ribs, blood staining his robe.

Kaien turned to him, blinking. "You alright?"

Zariel gave a tight smirk. "Custom says to kneel before someone who saves your life…"

He looked up, something sad in his voice.

"You'd know that if you weren't always out hunting demons, Kaien… never around. Not even when our parents walked the earth."

Kaien looked down. "...I didn't forget."

The words fell like stones.

Then, as if nothing happened, Kaien turned to Reika. "Come on. I know a place nearby. Looks like hell, but it's safer than it seems."

Reika nodded, eyes still wide.

As they vanished into the woods—brothers in flame and light—Reika walked behind them, his heart beating too fast. Not just from fear…

But from hope.

He whispered under his breath:

"I want to fight like that someday…"

Far away, in a tower wrapped in bone and storm, Asmodai grinned.