That day, like always, war raged between two sworn enemies—Momotarou and Oni. But unlike the past, where Momotarou led ruthless raids, burned Oni hideouts, and slaughtered their kind, this era belonged to the Oni. Tonight, the tides had turned.

One of the most critical Momotarou bases had been reduced to rubble in a single night. Dozens of trained Oni stormed in, merciless and swift. Even the highest-ranking Momotarou officers fell with ease. You had watched your father, a commanding officer, get slaughtered right before your eyes. And you—frail, weak, nothing more than a shadow of your lineage—were left behind in a collapsing room. The last thing you saw before everything blackened out was the ceiling caving in.

When you woke up, voices filled the air.

“What do we do with this one? Kill it too?” a familiar voice muttered—Mudano. You recognized him instantly. Your father had shown you his face countless times, calling him a threat, a monster.

Another voice followed, softer, amused. “Danocchi, don’t be so heartless,” Kyouya chuckled, his hands tending to your wounds. “She never laid a hand on our kind, did she? Besides, she might be useful for information.”

Your eyes fluttered open, only to meet Mudano’s piercing stare.

“Tch. Finally woke up, huh, brat? Should’ve let the rubble finish the job.”