The clang of steel on steel rang out, a harsh contrast to the frantic beating of my heart. Barely ten minutes. That’s all it took.

  Ten minutes of desperate running before they trapped me. A dozen samurai. A dozen men sent to kill a ten-year-old boy. Just a boy.

  Because my father… because my father, one of the strongest samurai in the land, was branded a traitor. And I, like a stray dog, was to be put down with him.

  My father… his face, etched with pain and resignation, flashed before my eyes. He had trained me relentlessly, pushing me to my limits. He’d taught me not just samurai skills, but the spirit, the will to survive.

  It was because of his training that I’d managed to fight off so many of them. More than half of those who chased me now lay still in the undergrowth.

  I’d surprised them, my small size hiding the deadly skills I had inherited from my father.

  But it wasn’t enough. They kept coming.“I, a child, wasn't even given a chance to live,” I choked out, my voice shaking, staring at the samurai who seemed to be their leader. “Your Daimyo is truly heartless.”

  The leader’s face twisted with rage. “Who are you to criticize Daimyo-Sama!?” he roared.

  “Huh, child? Half my brothers have been killed by you, a child!!” His eyes flicked to the still form nearby, one of his friends.

  He was right. I had killed them. One by one, their attacks were clumsy, predictable compared to my father’s rigorous training.

  But this man… he was different.

  Stronger, more experienced. He moved with a deadly grace I hadn’t seen in the others. He was the one who had finally cornered me.

  He lunged again, his sword a blur. My small sword, a gift from my father, felt flimsy and useless in my trembling hand. I parried the blow, the force of it shaking my bones. He was too strong. I knew I couldn’t win.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Despair threatened to drown me. Another attack was coming, I could see it in his eyes, the way he shifted his weight. This was it.

  Then, everything stopped.

  The world froze. The samurai leader, his sword half-drawn, hung in mid-air, his face a mask of fury.

  The wind, which had whipped my hair across my face, stilled. Even the leaves on the trees stopped moving. It was like time itself had paused.

  And then, words appeared before my eyes, glowing in the frozen air.

  |Please choose your new race!

  |Hollow

  |Soul

  My heart hammered against my ribs, yet my face remained a mask of calm. Father's voice echoed in my memory: Composure, Yamada. Always composure. Two minutes stretched into an unbearable eternity.

  Time itself hung suspended, waiting. The weight of my name, the son of a celebrated samurai, pressed down on me.

  This decision, though… this was unlike anything Father had prepared me for.

  My mind raced, weighing the options.

  "Soul…" The word resonated deep within me, a whisper of ancient teachings. Soul – the departed spirit. Hollow – empty. A chilling image formed in my mind.

  This wasn't about escaping the Daimyo's judgment. It was a choice beyond death, a grim acceptance of my fate.

  I was young, my life barely begun.

  Revenge, the burning fire in my gut, was now a distant, impossible dream.

  "Soul," I breathed, the word a strange release. Time snapped back into existence.

  The samurai leader's sword, so close I could feel the coldness of the steel, flashed. Darkness consumed me. My head, severed in a single, brutal stroke.

  Father's training had prepared me for death, yes, but not for this. Not for choosing the path of the soul, embracing the emptiness that lay beyond.

  The reek of rot stung my nostrils, a stark contrast to the vibrant market I’d been in just moments before. My eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dreary, grey landscape.

  This… this wasn’t the living world. Fear, thick and cloying, hung in the air.

  I saw them – shadowy figures huddled in doorways, their spectral forms trembling. What had happened? One moment I was haggling over a melon, the next… this.

  Time halted. A new sentence appeared before me, shimmering.

  |When you die, the Shinigami on duty in the living world sends your spirit to the Soul Society.

  |Congratulations on choosing the Soul race.

  |Sign-in system has been updated. You can now sign in every August 6th.

  Today date: August 6th, 1599

  "Sign In"

  I signed in.

  |You've signed in successfully! Please choose a reward

  |1,000,000 Kan

  |Shinsetsuna Gang Leader

  |Asauchi